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godmadeaterribleerror · 3 days ago

Text

Along the Line

Main Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, sex pollen, smut (fingering, oral f!receiving, handjob, p in v sex), angst, light fluff, humor, no use of y/n, love confessions

Summary: After you get hit with a chemical on a mission, Bucky has to take care of you. But he won't do the one thing that will fix it, no matter how much you want him to.

And he wants it too. Maybe more. And, at some point, something has to break.

Author's Note: Sex pollen won the poll. First Thunderbolts fic. Big things happening. Enjoy!

Word Count: 11.4k

“I told you this was a bad idea, Walker.”

“Yeah, you’re a genius. Do you want a trophy that says I knew it was a bad idea, or a sash-“

“Can I have a trophy?” Alexei pops into the screen, and you really don’t think this has to be a group activity. “I could make it into a very fancy cup!”

You’re lying flat on the granite counter of the safe house, Bucky stiff at your side as he glowers to the video feed, and you might be dying. Or just burning alive. There’s a hot prickle over your skin that’s only getting worse, a series of cramps in your gut that feels like you’re being shredded apart then slammed back together, and an ache between your legs that isn’t foreign—at least, not when Bucky’s present—but is far too powerful given the circumstances.

Maybe you’ve just lost it. You had been giggling an awful lot while Bucky killed all those Hydra agents, but he’d also called you doll again, and there had been a blissful, fuzzy feeling over your skull. And you’d moaned—really loudly, too—right in Bucky’s ear when he’d hauled you over his shoulder and carried you out of the building.

“Fuckin’- Gonna throw Walker off a roof- We all told him this was a stupid new protocol-“

You’d hummed along to his grumblings, and most of your attention had been fixed on his hair. It was longer now. And he’d been taking care of it, so it was soft, and kind of smelled like vanilla. You’d wanted to tug on it. To run your fingers through it and see if he’d hum. Maybe yank on it while he was deep inside of you-

His muscles had flexed around you, and you’d whined that time.

Whined and buried your face in his neck, before biting back tears as he’d tensed.

The line.

You’d had to remember the line.

Bucky smiles at you more than most people, but the line means that smiles are all you get. He sticks to your side most days, but you’re pretty sure he just feels responsible for you. You’re the lost puppy they picked up off the street. Sweet and likable, but mostly useless.

You aren’t useless.

You try not to be useless.

That’s part of the line, too.

You do a little more for Bucky than the rest of them. You’ll make sure Yelena has all the hamster food she needs, track down Bob all those coloring books he likes so much, and explain to Alexei that no, the government does not know how this season of Yellowjackets is going to end, so you’re not going to ask. But they can figure those things out themselves.

You think.

The point of your job is that none of these people have ever lived normal, 21st century lives, and they need to be likable to the public so please teach Ava about knocking, but none of them are stupid.

They could all live without you.

Bucky maybe the most of all. He has lived a life. He managed to—some fucking how—get his way into congress.

So the line is do everything for him, because you’re a pathetic idiot with a crush on her boss, but also don’t do so much that you’re over stepping.

Prioritize all his questions but don’t neglect the others. Return all of his smiles, and talk to him whenever you can, but he always has to initiate it. Always come when he calls—you really are a puppy—but don’t abandon other conversations for him.

Be an idiot, but keep your dignity.

You’ll let him flirt with you—he doesn’t flirt with you, he just makes polite conversation, and you look at him like he’s sprouting gospel—but you won’t encourage it, because you really do like this job. It pays well. It’s morally questionable, but no well-paying job isn’t. And you’re going to use this money to pay off all your debts, and then your family’s debts as well.

So if Bucky offers you his arm at an event, take it, and pretend you don’t want to grab him by the collar and climb him like a tree.

If someone makes a comment—passing jokes from Walker about how you’re supposed to work for all of them, not just Barnes, or a dry look for Yelena when Bucky says good job and you flush like he just called you pretty—brush it off. Don’t make it weird. It’s obvious, and everyone knows, but don’t make it weird.

You’d whined, though. Whined and tried to nuzzle into Bucky as if he’d want that.

You made it weird.

And you’d pulled back with a mumbled apology, but Bucky had just grunted. You hadn’t spoken for the rest of the walk back to the safe house. If Bucky’s hand on your thigh had been squeezing on purpose, you’d bitten your tongue until you’d tasted the tang of blood. He couldn’t have been doing it on purpose. And you couldn’t make it weird. Again.

You’d gagged yourself with a cloth, when Bucky had set you down on the counter. If he’d thought anything of it, all you’d gotten was raised brows and a small frown before he moved on. Gotten you a second cloth—cold and wet and resting on your brow to combat the dry fever—and called the tower to report that the new protocol was, in fact, a stupid fucking idea.

“Nobody’s getting any trophies.” He grunts, his arms crossed over his chest, and you want to spring up and tackle him.

Maybe the metal arm could go inside of you, while the other one wrapped around your neck and kept you still against his chest, and that low, commanding voice would be right in your ear-

You’re moaning again. And your hips are jerking off the counter.

It’s a good thing Bucky positioned himself where he did. You don’t need everyone to see you humping the air to the thought of metal fingers inside of you, cold and hard, pressing deep into your cunt at an abusing pace and-

That might have been another moan.

The sound might have been too close to Bucky.

Fuck.

“Hey, I’m not handing them out,” Walker raises his hands on the screen. “And Yelena’s the one who started it-“

“No, I did not-“

“Uh, yeah you did. You said my idea was stupid-“

“It was stupid! It is going to get the bumblebee killed-“

Walker voice becomes almost a whine. “She’s not dying, she just got drugged! We’ve all been drugged, it’s not that big a deal-“

“Walker.” Bucky grunts, and that’s his everyone shut the hell up and listen voice, and your nails are digging into your skin with the effort not to grinding onto your hand. “Shut up. It was a stupid fucking idea-“

“But-“

“She’s a civilian-“

“She should know how to defend herself-“

“She shouldn’t have been here.” Bucky’s yelling now. The world is blurring slightly, and he’s not mad at you, but it’s still making your heart howl.

He’s not mad at you.

He still said he didn’t want you here. With him.

The line says you should swallow that, then cry in your room later.

But whatever is making your heart burn and your skin feel raw doesn’t care about the line. It’s just pressing on your eyes and feeding the sting behind them, lumping in your throat and shaking at your lips-

The first sob is soft, and weak. Muffled in the gag. If you’re lucky, too quiet to hear-

You’re not lucky.

Bucky turns to look at you with wide eyes, his brow furrowed in tight lines your fingers are literally fucking itching to trace, and you shake your head.

No attention. If he’s kind, he’ll pretend he can’t see the tears rolling down your cheeks and he’ll ignore you and let you just choke on it. On the overwhelming soreness in your chest and the way your heart is pressing into itself until hairline fractures start to form, and soon they’re going to turn into chasms and why is he moving, he’s a good man that should let you deal with your own problems, so why the fuck is he moving-

A warm, calloused hand rests on your face, wiping your cheeks before moving to your brow, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut. If you look at Bucky hovering above you, you’ll either cry more, or moan his name again. If you turn your head you’ll see the rest of the team on the computer, and they’ll be looking at you with all that sympathy—the kind that calls you weak—and you’ll scream.

Eyes shut.

Don’t lean into his touch, even when his finger tangle slightly into your hair. Even when thumb brushes over your lips—why the fuck is he doing that too, he must secretly fucking hate you—hold the line. Don’t open for him. Don’t moan his name into the gag. Don’t-

“Shit.” Bucky’s voice is low, and you squeeze your eyes tighter. “You’re- Shit-“

“What is wrong with the bumblebee?” Alexei calls from the computer, and you can hear Yelena’s sigh.

“Walker’s brilliant plan got her exposed to something. She’s sick.”

“It was a brilliant plan-“

“She is crying, you dickshit-“

“I think you mean dipshit-“

“I am going to kill you-“

“Alexei.” Bucky grunts, his hand still on your face. You’re losing resolve. You’re going to lean into his touch. “Don’t let them kill each other.”

“Do not worry, Barnes. I will stand right between them, and their attack will not affect- Ow!”

Bucky’s hand moves away.

Thank Christ.

“Yelena, why did you punch me-“

“I was trying to punch John, and you were in the way-“

“Yelena.” Bucky’s voice is a little further away now.

You’d wanted him to move away. It was best for everyone that he moved away. You can open your eyes and stare at the ceiling now.

But where his hand had been now feels white-hot, like he’d lit you on fire then poured liquid nitrogen over your skin. And it’s spreading. Through your blood before pooling in your gut, then leaking between your thighs-

“I need you to focus. Walker, shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything-“

“Good. Keep doing that.”

“Whatever-“

“That’s not shutting up.” Bucky says your name, and you really hope he’s still blocking you from view. You’ve started to palm at your breasts—just for something—and you don’t really want to be a full, on display sex show. “We need to focus on her.”

Fuck. Your eyes roll back in your head, and his words are sending shivers through your whole body. Up your spine and over all your nerves, and he’s nowhere near you now, but he’s still fucking talking, and that seems to be more than enough.

“Whatever was in that gas, it’s making her- She can’t walk without falling over. And she’s got a fever.”

“A fever?” You can hear the frown in Yelena’s voice. “How bad of a fever?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a thermometer. But,” you turn your head slightly to see the screen, just in time to watch Walker’s mouth snap shut. “I can feel her skin burning. It’s bad. I need options.”

“Options?”

“What can we do.” Bucky mutters, and you can’t see his face, but there’s a strain in his voice that just makes you want to moan for him again. “We’re miles from a hospital, and it’s a two-day flight back. I gotta know how to make it better until we get pickup.”

Yelena hums, her eyes meeting yours through the camera. “Why is there a gag in her mouth.”

“I- Uh-“ Bucky glances over his shoulder, and you choke on another whimper. “She did that. To herself.”

“Can she talk?”

“Yelena-“

“Take the gag out.” Yelena shrugs, still holding your gaze. “She can tell us what she feels.”

No.

That’s a horrible idea.

And you’re trying to tell Bucky that, before it’s too late. Trying to plead with him, using an open, desperate expression. Begging him with your eyes to ignore Yelena and say that he can see that you’re in pain, so the best thing to do is just send the jet.

But he just glances at you, his jaw tenses, and he shakes his head.

It doesn’t look like it’s for you.

It still pulls an almost broken howl from your throat. Like he’s driving a blade right into your chest.

His knuckles brush your lips as he moves the cloth out of your mouth. He won’t look you in the eyes.

The howl splits through the room, falling into more of a whimper by the end, and if the ground opened up, you’d jump down to hell without a second thought.

There’s a long, taut silence—Bucky still won’t look at you—and Yelena clears her throat.

“Are you in pain?” She says your name carefully, and you nod. “Can you speak?”

“Yes.” Your voice is barely a breath, and Yelena’s lips move into a thin line.

“Bucky, she needs to be closer. I cannot hear her from there.”

Bucky grunts, and suddenly you’re being scooped up into his arms. Your face is near his neck again, and you’re being cradled right against his chest, and you can’t tell if that’s your heartbeat, or his-

“Why didn’t you just move the computer, man.”

Bucky tenses around you. “Shut up, Walker.”

“No, I’m not insane about this one. I mean, Alexei, he could have moved the computer right- Fuck!”

“You are not helping.” Yelena snaps, and Walker groans from somewhere off the screen. “Be quiet, or go.”

Walker sighs, but doesn’t move away. There’s a tightness to his face that’s mirror on Bucky and Yelena’s, and that can’t be a good sign. You haven’t even said anything yet.

Yelena says your name carefully, leaning closer to the camera. “What are you feeling.”

“A- a lot.” You whisper, and someone’s—you’re still not clear on if it’s yours or Bucky’s—heart stumbles slightly. “My- Skin. It’s on fire. And, um- I- My throat hurts, and it’s so much and empty and cold-“

“Cold?” Yelena cuts you off with a frown. “You are feeling cold?”

You nod, then shake your head. “It- I’m feeling everything. I- It’s- It’s like I’ve been turned up to a million and it all hurts-“

“Does anything feel good?”

Bucky. Bucky feels good. The feeling of him all around you and the smell of that shampoo and his woodsy body wash. The strength of him around you. Bucky feels so good-

The line.

You nod, and bite your tongue again. You can’t say it. Everything falls apart if you say it.

And Yelena sighs, scanning over you carefully, and shakes her head.

“Bucky, leave the room.”

He goes rigid. You don’t love the idea either. “What.”

“Put her back on the counter and go outside.”

“I am not-“

“Do you want to help her?”

“Of course I-“

“Then go.”

No.

No, no, no. He can’t leave. If he pushes you away it will be like shooting you with a toxin, he can’t, no-

Bucky sets you down with far too much care, and you’re not fast enough to squeeze your eyes shut. He’s cupping your face. Forcing your gaze onto his, looking right into you with an unreadable expression, and your mouth is falling open—a split second from begging him to stay—but he shakes his head.

“Call for me. If you need anything.” His grip tightens, and your hand flies up to his wrist. “I’ll be upstairs. I-“

“Bucky.” You whisper, and something flashes over his face. “Please.”

You don’t even know what you’re asking for. It doesn’t really matter anyway.

Bucky flinches back as if you’ve burned him, grumbles something to Yelena you can’t hear over the ringing in your ears—it was his heartbeat—and then stomps away. When your vision clears—it’s unclear when you started crying, but you’re really starting to lose track on everything—the laptop is right next to you, and nobody is on the screen but Yelena.

“Are you done?”

You nod, wiping your nose with your sleeve, and she lets out a slow breath.

“Good. I mean, keep… Letting it out. As you have to. But if you are done, we can talk.”

“Yelena-“

“I am going to ask you a question.” She holds your gaze, and your arms wrap around your stomach. It’s honestly a miracle you haven’t collapsed to the side. “And you will need to be honest.”

Your voice is still too soft. “Okay.”

“What are you thinking about, right now. And,” Yelena raises her brows before you can answer. “Honest. Whatever you are thinking, I have seen and thought worse-“

“Bucky.” You whisper, and the floodgates open. “And his hands. And arms. And legs. And his face, his face is so nice, and his beard and hair look so good, and I- I need him- His hands- In me. And he smells so good, and I think he’ll taste good too, and if he kisses me I’m going to die- And if he doesn’t touch me I’m going to die- and he- he won’t look at me-“ You’re fucking crying again. You can’t stop. “And if he doesn’t look at me I’m going to die- But if he does look at me I’m going to- Shit, I want him to look at me and touch me and kiss me and his hands-“

You take a long, shaking breath as darkness creeps at the corner of your vision, and Yelena blinks at you.

“So you are… Thinking about Bucky.”

Fuck.

You give a tiny nod, and she-

Grins.

“Oh, thank God.” Yelena leans back in her chair, running a hand over her face. “I was actually worried. I mean- If I say Bucky’s cock, what-“

You let out a loud, lewd moan, and Yelena’s still grinning.

“And if I say we all hate you-“

It’s immediate. The rush of pain tightening in your chest, almost like an electric shock. You burst into tears, pulling your knees right up to your chest, and Yelena’s eyes widen.

“Oh, shit-“

Something slams, and Bucky’s shouting your name far too close to your body. He shouldn’t be close to him. He hates you, they all hate you, you’re going to get fired and die alone and empty and you can’t breathe-

“What the fuck did you do to her-“

“I was testing it! I’m sorry, I didn’t think-“

“Obviously you didn’t fucking think-“

“Don’t yell at me, Bucky, I was helping-“

“She’s fucking crying-“

“I know, I-“ Yelena says your name, and you curl into a tighter ball. “We don’t hate you. Nobody hates you. You’re the bumblebee. You do all the work, and you’re sweet, I was- I was just kidding-“

“Just-“ A hand rests on your shoulder. You’d recognize it as Bucky’s even if there were a million others, pulling you right down into Hell. “You told her we hate her?!”

“It was a test-“

“What the hell, Yelena-“

“I can fix it! Listen,” she repeats your name, and you choke on the air. “We do not hate you! Shit, it’s- Bucky loves you!”

That’s your heart. Doing the scratch and break and rewind. Stumbling over itself before kicking up to pace that’s going to burst right out of your chest. And the silence in the air is too long, and too heavy, and you want to keep crying but you also feel like you’re sort of high. He loves you. Yelena might be lying, but she’s not the type to lie about that, so Bucky loves you-

You’re giggling again.

Something is seriously fucking wrong with you.

“Yelena.” Bucky grunts, and at least he’s still touching you. Because he loves you. “What the hell is wrong with you.”

“A lot, but- Look! She’s smiling! And I know what she got hit with!”

There’s a long pause, the only sound your soft, breathy laughs—Bucky’s starting to rub circles on your back, and you can feel the moan building back up—and Bucky clear his throat.

“Are you going to fucking tell me?”

“I was getting to it. Keep your pants on.” Yelena laughs. “I mean, for now-“

“Yelena-“

“It is an old gas. The red room used to use it for torture.”

Broad, strong fingers still on your back. “Torture.”

“Yep, that is what I said-“

“What kind of torture-“

“Physical and mental. Her brain is scrambled soup. All of her feelings have been dialed up to a bajillion, so she is going to be very suggestive, and very overwhelmed.” Yelena sighs. “Emotionally. And, ah- Her reservations maybe be… Broken.”

Bucky’s silent for a little too long, and all you can do is focus on your breathing. That explains a lot. You really wish it didn’t.

“Do we wait it out?” Bucky’s voice is impossibly neutral. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t love you, Yelena had been lying to calm you down, and the tears are pricking back into your eyes-

“No. It has to be sweat out. Exercise or torture.”

Fuck. Something low and heavy, dreadful and tight, is starting to bubble in your gut. You can’t walk, let alone exercise. And you’re not strong enough to withstand torture. Not from anyone, but definitely not from Bucky, that’s going to shatter you into nothing more than scattered sand and glass on the floor-

“Or,” there’s a drawling kind of glee in Yelena’s voice, and you keep your face buried in your knees. “Sex. Sex should work.”

Your head shoots up, your eyes land on Bucky’s own, wide ones, his mouth hanging open and something that’s either sweat or the other thing is wet between your legs. He’s still touching you.

“I-“ He coughs, still staring at you, and you’re feeling a little light-headed. “I can’t-“

Oh.

Okay.

You don’t get a chance to cry this time.

Everything just goes black.

———

“No.”

“Bucky-“

“I won’t.” He snapped, narrowing his eyes at Yelena. “Stop trying to convince me.”

“I’m not trying to convince you, I am trying to get you to save her life-“

Bucky shook his head. She didn’t get it. Didn’t understand that what was being painted as the solution was really just the worst crime he could ever commit.

He’d done a lot of fucked up things, as the Soldat. And being at war hadn’t exactly been a picnic before that. But he’d never crossed that line. There were some fogged over memories—the kind that stung at his brain when they bubbled to the surface—where Hydra had told him to, but he’d resisted. Throttled that last bit of his humanity by the throat, and said no. He wouldn’t.

It had been the only thing he’d always been able to fight back against, even when he couldn’t remember his own fucking name. The last thing he’d been able to identify as wrong.

And doing it to Her- When She was trusting him to take care of Her, and it was his own fault this was happening at all, because that gas had been meant for him-

Bucky would rather jump off a tower or shoot himself in the goddamn skull.

“This isn’t saving her life.” He muttered. “It’s ruining it. We’ll wait it out until you can send a jet to us, and then we’ll put her in a sauna or some shit.”

Yelena’s nose wrinkled. “Or you could just fuck the girl you are obviously in love with-“

“I am not-“

“Yes, you are. Do not lie to me, Bucky. You make a really pathetic expression at her, it’s all-“

Yelena’s face went slack, her brows raising and drawing slightly, and Bucky scowled.

“I’m hanging up-“

“No, wait- Just-“ Yelena sighed. “I know you’re a man, and feelings are scary, but this gas is- It will be the worst days of her life, if you do not just get over yourself, and stick your dick inside of her.”

Jesus Christ. If She hadn’t been trying to kill him before—moaning his name and opening Her mouth when he touched it, looking at him with pretty eyes and snuggling into his chest—Yelena was trying to kill him now. All Bucky could see was Her sprawled out below him, Her eyes blown-out with lust as he slid into Her, head thrown back as she whined for more, and Bucky gave it to Her with his lips biting and sucking on Her throat-

These were the type of things he shouldn’t be thinking about. Not now. Not when She was rolling around in bed upstairs, and the last time Bucky had checked on Her, he’d gotten too good a look at Her breasts. Flushed with peaked nipples as the sheets stuck to Her skin, and he could’ve goddamn sworn She’d moaned his name in her sleep-

Not thinking about it. He couldn’t think about it. For so many reasons, Bucky couldn’t think about it, and he’d never do it.

He’d sworn to himself he’d never do it. That the well-played fantasies would remain fantasies, because he had no right.

He was Her boss had been the first reason. The obvious one, when She’d been bouncing in Her heels and looking around the meeting room with an open, sweet expression. Valentina had said meet your new admin, it had clicked in Bucky’s head what that meant, and then suddenly asking Her to get a drink or something had been forcibly tossed out the window.

Then that reason had become… less effective. She’d kept being beautiful—which just wasn’t fucking fair to anyone—and She was smart and charismatic and patient, and her hips swayed a little when she walked, and Bucky’s attraction had grown. Bloomed and spread and burrowed roots over his ribs, where it was impossible to dig them out. He liked Her wide smile, and he liked Her voice, and he liked how She could shut Walker up with just a look.

He liked Her enough to take risks. Risks like walking closer to Her than he needed to, and convincing the rest of the team that She did actually need a room in the tower. And they’d all seen right goddamn through him—he’d heard Bob whisper to Yelena it’s because he has a crush on her, right, after the meeting was over—but they’d let it slide. So he’d taken more risks. Eating lunch with Her in a very professional way. Bringing He to events and keeping Her on his arm, for safety. Casual, flirty comments that were nothing if She didn’t want them to be, but did manage to take an edge off of his own pent-up hunger for Her.

Boss hadn’t been enough.

So he’d turned to young. She was too young. Bucky was over a hundred and She was younger than Bob.

Then he’d walked in on Her watching a TV show with Alexei and Ava, the former looking downright terrified about the comments that were being thrown at the screen. About how hot the actors were. And She’d pointed to one with a beard and longer hair—this hadn’t helped the situation—and said I’d let him do whatever he wanted to me.

Bucky had been a fucking idiot and googled the actor. The guy was almost fifty.

He’d needed another reason.

Too kind. She was nice to everyone, and it wasn’t just for Her job. She never got frustrated at stupid questions, and She’d listen to anyone’s stupid rants—She’d somehow sat through a whole I just think I’d have been a good Roman General speech from Walker without one eyeroll—and Bucky wasn’t rude, but he didn’t deserve that.

The too kind reason had lasted the shortest amount of time. She’d kept being kind, and then She’d made Bucky cookies for his birthday, and he’d wanted to kiss Her right goddamn there.

His current reason was She deserved better. That one had been serving him well. She deserved someone who hadn’t done the things Bucky had, who was all smiles and kindness, who She’d want. That was a second, incredibly useful reason. She didn’t want Bucky.

So he wouldn’t think about Her breasts anywhere but in the privacy of his own room, alone, while he beat his cock into his hand. And he wouldn’t stick his dick in Her, because it would be wrong. He’d be taking advantage of Her while she was vulnerable.

He wouldn’t cross that line.

“Just send the jet.” He grunted, moving his hand the top of the laptop. “I’ll call you if anything changes.”

Yelena’s eyes narrowed. “Bucky-“

He closed the laptop, and let out a long, heavy breath.

He wouldn’t.

No matter how much this was one of his fantasies come to life, Bucky had to remember that it was really more of a nightmare.

For Her.

For Her, she was stuck in a painful looking state of unpredictable emotion. Bucky tried to bring Her tea, and She’d started crying again because he’d remembered the way she liked it and that was apparently tear-worthy. Then he told Her that she needed a shower—she was drenched in sweat and other things that Bucky was trying really fucking hard pretend he couldn’t smell—and Her odd, soft and happy tears changed to weak, broken sobs.

“Shit- What’s-“

“You think I’m disgusting.” She looking up at him with glossy, watering eyes and trembling lips, and Bucky felt like he was being goddamn shot. “You- You hate me-“

“No.” He grunted. “I don’t hate you-“

“Yes, you do-“

“No. I don’t.” Bucky grabbed Her face between his hands, forcing Her attention onto him. “Trust me. You’d know if I hated you, doll.”

It was a sight, before him. Her lips parted, literal drool falling from them—that Bucky would like to kiss away, but he wasn’t allowed to—and Her hands wrapped around his wrists with an almost strangling grip.

“I don’t hate you.” He muttered, forcing himself to hold Her gaze. “Got it?”

She nodded, sitting up a little up She was on her knees, and Bucky didn’t have enough willpower for this-

His thumb moved of its own accord. Wiping just a little bit of drool from away.

She moaned.

Fuck.

“Bucky.” Her voice was breathless, and almost songlike. “Please. I- I need it, I need it so bad-“

“Doll-“

“Please.” Her eyes were welling with more and more tear, and a few were starting to slide down Her cheeks. “I- I’m sorry- It just hurts- You can fire me after or call the cops-“

He frowned. “Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because I’m-“ She hiccupped slightly. “You’re saying no, and I’m asking again-“

“Jesus- I know you can’t help it, doll, it’s the gas-“

“So fuck it out of me.” She rose higher, and Bucky wasn’t sure if she was pushing Her boobs up on purpose or not. “I- I’m sorry- I need you, Bucky, I’ll do anything, I’ll suck your cock first or after and it can be however you want but please-“

Bucky had to let go of Her. He had to release Her and take a stumbling step back, or else he would have damned it all and listened to Her. She was drugged. Her mind was being altered, and when it left her system, She’d already be embarrassed about what happened. Bucky would rather still be at Her side to assure Her, then cast out into the dirt because he’d been a selfish dick and taken advantage of Her. She only wanted him because he was the only option. If Walker was here, She’d be throwing herself at him, too.

That made Bucky feel fucking sick. Walker wouldn’t do that—at the very least, they all seemed to clear that last, impossibly low bar—but now Bucky was fucking thinking about Her on her knees, whining for Walker to fuck Her. Promising to suck his dick. And now he was thinking about Her under Walker, and there was a bad taste in the back of his throat, and he didn’t even care that it was Walker, Bucky just goddamn hated that it wasn’t him-

No right. Bucky had no goddamn right over the sour feeling in his chest, or the sickness in his gut. If he had a right, none of this would be a problem. She’d actually want him, and there wouldn’t be any complexities, and Bucky could help Her.

But this was Hell for Her. And all Bucky could do was help Her.

She was all that mattered.

So he wouldn’t cross the line.

The rest of the night was hell. The two days for a jet thing hadn’t been an exaggeration. It was even looking more like three. They were trapped together. And Bucky was doing everything he could to make it better, but it only seemed to be getting worse. Bringing Her more tea just led to Her begging for sex. Avoiding Her just meant he could hear Her crying about how much he hated Her, but when he’d try to remind Her that he didn’t, She’d just ask him to fuck Her again. Then She’d start apologizing for asking, all while still pleading, and Bucky would shuffle away to hide in his own room.

A lot of sleep was lost trying not to get a boner to the sounds of Her fucking herself into Her pillows. As the next day progressed, Her activities seemed to be limited to cry, beg for sex, sleep, masturbate.

It was going to drive Bucky goddamn insane.

And She had no way of knowing. No way to understand exactly what She was doing to him.

She’d plead with him, and he said no, and his heart split in two as She’d start crying once more. There had to be some way he could help. He couldn’t just fucking sit here and-

“Bucky.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. She was calling for him again, and he couldn’t ignore Her—what if something was actually wrong—but he didn’t know how many more Bucky, please fuck me’s or I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ask, it just hurts he could take.

He murmured Her name as he opened the door, but She didn’t respond.

The whole room smelled like sex.

He had to ignore it.

“Bucky.” Her voice was breathy. Soft.

And when he moved to the mattress, She was knocked the hell out. Holding the sheets bunched around Her legs and pressing her face into the covers.

Bucky whispered Her name, moving to pull a little hair out of Her mouth, and she snuggled further into the mattress.

But his knuckles brushed Her cheek, and she let out a sweet little sound that was going to haunt him for the rest of his goddamn life.

She was shivering. Breathing too shallow, with Her fever building, and Bucky didn’t know what the hell to do. Yelena said She needed to sweat, but She was only shaking and whimpering. Running wasn’t an option. They didn’t exactly have warm, sunny days outside. Torture had never even been on the table, and touching Her-

She leaned into his hand. The human one, cupping Her cheek because Bucky had gotten lost in thought, and failed to realize what he was doing.

But She leaning into him. Into the warmth of his skin.

That wouldn’t be crossing any line. Body heat was body heat. Soldiers shared it all the time. It was a necessity.

He stared at Her for another long moment, trying to weigh it out in his mind, and then She whispered his name again. Whispered it and shivered, and that was enough. Bucky wouldn’t do that.

But he wouldn’t just let Her fucking suffer either.

“Hold on, doll.” He muttered, and She shifted slightly on the mattress. “You’ll be alright.”

She would be. Bucky would make sure of it.

He detached his metal arm, first. She’d never had a problem with it—that was one of the things he’d liked about Her a lot, at first—but it wasn’t warm.

Then he crawled into bed at Her side, and used his remaining arm to pull Her right into his body. Her face tucked under his chin and Her fingers curled against his chest. She wasn’t sweating, but She was getting warmer. She stopped shaking, then a lot of the tension left Her body, and within what could only be an hour, Her breathing was steady.

Bucky should go now. His work was done.

He couldn’t move.

And maybe if he moved, he’d have to come back. They hadn’t gotten it out of Her system. It might be better, just for it to worsen the moment he was gone.

It was a good an excuse as any. The closest he’d ever get to Her without losing Her.

So Bucky stopped trying to force himself to move. She felt to right in his arms to push Her away.

And he held Her until morning.

He’d like to hold Her longer.

But he could also die a happy man with only this.

———

He was here. It wasn’t a fever dream.

You know Bucky was here.

The mattress is still dipped where he’d lain. The sheets have been more awkwardly shoved into your arms than caught in them by restless sleep.

You can fucking smell him. Vanilla and cedar, hanging in the silent air around you.

He was here.

But he’s gone.

You don’t understand why he’d be here, just to go. Why he won’t help you.

He must know about your crush, and he thinks that once he indulges you, you’ll be weird. You won’t be weird. You’ll suck it up. You know he’s off-limits, and this would just be a favor to stop how much this hurts. He can see that you’re just in pain from the drug, and it’s amplifying all your emotions, and one of your emotions just happens to be love for Bucky.

Maybe he’s disgusted by that.

By you.

Maybe he hates you, and that’s why he won’t just save you from this hell and fuck you.

But if he hated you, he wouldn’t have been in bed with you. He would have heard you moaning his name—you’ve done that before, only in the privacy of your own room, but the drug doesn’t seem to be doing wonders for your self-control—and curled his lip and turned a blind eye.

He hasn’t turned a blind eye all day. He’s brought you food and made you drink water and helped you stumble to the bathroom. He checks on you every hour, and his jaw always clenches whenever he tells you no, and you burst into tears.

It could be frustration. He’s told you no, and you keep asking, and that isn’t cool. It’s mean. Cruel. Wrong. And a lump is forming in your throat because he’s trying to take care of you and you’re pushing him-

But he crawled into bed with you. Without you asking him to.

And you don’t know why.

You don’t call for him. Your legs feel like paper underneath you, but you’re standing on them. Taking shaking steps to the door, and-

You fall in a second.

Bucky’s there faster.

“What the hell,” he’s scooping you into his arms. They’re so big. “Do you think you’re doing.”

You swallow, trying to fight off a whimper at the firmness of his tone. He hates you-

The bed. He’d been in your bed.

You’re going to figure this out. Your brain feels like a hazy of very loud songs about pain and Bucky and love and it hurts and Bucky again, but you’re going to get to the fucking bottom of this.

“I was walking.”

“You were walking?” Bucky’s expression is incredulous, as he sets you down. You’d laugh if you didn’t think you’d cry at the same time. “Why-“

“Was coming to find you.” You mumble, staring at your hands, and Bucky sighs.

He’s holding your face between his hands.

Why does he keep doing that.

“Could’ve just called, doll.” He mutters. “Nothin’ is so urgent you gotta hurt yourself-“

“Why were you in bed with me?”

He freezes. “What.”

“You were in bed with me.” You whisper, ignoring the blur in your eyes as you hold his gaze. “I know you were. And I- I don’t understand why you’d do that-“

“I-“

“But you won’t fuck me!” You push up on your knees, and Bucky’s so tall over you. Tall and firm, and you want to him to wrap around you forever-

Not now.

Bucky’s staring at you, and you’re trying not to fall into him, and no matter what this ends—either in your head, or real life—with Bucky over you. Right now you just have to push through the white-hot pain in your gut and over your head, and get through this.

“You-“ Bucky clear his throat, his voice suddenly a little hoarse. “You’re not mad. That I was in bed with you.”

“Yes. No. I-“ You take a shaking breath. You won’t moan. “I- I’m mad you were in bed with me and didn’t fuck me-“

“I’ve told you, I won’t-“

“But you will get in bed with me? Without me asking?” You raise your brows, and Bucky lets out a long breath.

“I- You don’t get it.”

“I don’t. Bucky I- I know you don’t want me like that-“

“I never said that-“

“But it hurts.” You sound pathetic. You can’t remember how to care. “I- I just need it to stop hurting, and I’m sorry, I know it’s- I shouldn’t be asking more than once, but it hurts, and if you really don’t want to I’ll survive, but-“

Stop telling me what I- Fuck.” Bucky snaps your name, and pain shooting through your head. “I never said I didn’t want to.”

You’re both silent. Far too silent, for a little too long, and the air grows thin as you stare at Bucky, and he stares right back. Jaw clenched and arms folded over his chest, and you’re either floating or falling but you can’t really fucking tell. You can still smell him. Feel the heat from his body, only a foot away.

Words come slow. Everything that isn’t Bucky is sort of far away.

“I-“ You swallow, your skin on fire and an iron is wrapping around your lungs. “You- Bucky-“

“Breathe.” He mutters. “Slow.”

You take a loud, stuttering gasp, and his eyes flare in slight surprise.

“You should lie back down, doll-“

“No- I-“ You shift around, bunching the sheets between your thighs to alleviate some of the pressure that’s pounding in your core.

Bucky’s nostrils flare slightly, and you’re really trying to not make him uncomfortable—if not only because, if his lips curl in disgust, you’ll start sobbing again and maybe pass out—but it hurts.

“Bucky.” You whisper, and he grunts, his eyes suddenly fixed right over your head. “Can you please-“

“I won’t.”

“Look at me.” You dig your fingers into your thighs, just to stop them from reaching for him. “Please keep looking at me.”

His throat bobs, and if he says no, that will be fine. Right now it feels like a death sentence, but in the long run you’ll get over it. You will get over it. You’ll change your name and move to Mongolia. You don’t speak Mongolian. You’ll figure out how to speak Mongolian, then move to Mongolia. You’ll build a life there. And Bucky will never find you, and nobody will ever have to think about you ever again except for your future Mongolian husband-

Bucky’s eyes drop to yours, and they’re darkened and pretty, and the whine that escapes your throat is involuntary. But Bucky’s jaw only ticks, and he holds your gaze.

You try to mimic Yelena’s cooperate or die tone when you speak.

“I’m going to ask you a question.” You whisper, and in your voice, the authority just comes out as breathless and needy. “Can you please be honest with me?”

Bucky grunts, giving you a tight nod, and you let out a slow breath.

“Do- Do you want to?”

“Fuck-“ He runs a hand over his face, and your whole body braces for the no-

“I’m sor-“

“Of course I want to.” He snaps, and this is floating, not falling. “You look so- I can fucking hear you, and I’d do goddamn anything to make this better for you-“

“Then please-“

“No.”

You gape at him, your heart shooting right into your throat. No. He wants to, but no, and every single nerve in your body is burning and freezing all at once. You can’t even find tears. It’s all just fogged thoughts and pain, torn between Bucky wants to help, wants to fuck you, and no.

“Why?”

Bucky mutters your name, and you shake your head.

“You don’t have to, Buck, I’d- It’s your choice and I’ll be fine-“ You won’t be. But that’s not Bucky’s responsibility, how you broke your own heart into a million pieces because you were an idiot, and this was how it was always going to end, but picking up the mess you made of yourself is still going to slice your hands open and leave your heart bleeding and lonely on the floor. “I- I’ll be okay, but tell me why-“

“I wouldn’t be right.” He mutters, and your chest is going to split open.

“Why not-“

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer-“

“Doll-“

“Please, just tell me-“ You take a stuttering breath, curling slightly away from him. You can’t be close. It’s only making the pain worse. “I promise, I’ll stop asking, but I- Just tell me why-“

“Be-“

“Don’t say because.” You glare up at him, and his mouth snaps shut.

Now there’s a pain in your gut that’s hot and bitter. Sore. You were mean, and it’s not his fault-

“I- I’m sorry.” You whisper, staring down at his knees. “It hurts, Bucky, and you say you want to, but you won’t, and that doesn’t make any sense-“

He grunts your name, and you wrap your arms around your stomach.

“I just- I want to know why-“

“Because it can’t happen like this!”

Your world does the sane little stutter-stop from yesterday. That must be your own heartbeat in your ears, but- Maybe you’ve just lost your mind, and this is all a dream, yet the sound of Bucky’s ragged breathing is very loud. And you’re leaning forward. To Bucky.

When you drag your gaze up his body—your mouth hanging open and your heart still stumbling in your ears—he’s staring at you. His voice is hoarse when he speaks.

“You’re not in your right mind, sweetheart.” There’s a softness to his words, and this must be a dream. “I’m not gonna do this to you, when it’s not even you askin’ for it.”

“I- I am-“

“No. You’re not. It’s the gas talking-“

“And where do you think it’s getting the words?”

Bucky blinks at you. “What.”

“Nothing I’m feeling is new.” You stare at him, and his frown deepens. “I- I’m not- Yelena said it amplifies things, not creates them-“

“You’re looking for relief-“

“Why do you think I need relief?!”

His stare is cutting right into your body. There’s no fucking way it’s been this easy. That he thought that you just- That you wouldn’t, all the time, every single time you take a breath or lay in bed alone-

“I- I giggled.” You whisper. “And cried. When Yelena said you- That you felt something for me.”

“You were crying about everything.” He counters, but even his voice is dropping to a rasp. “And- Sex is just one of the ways to get rid of it, and I’m here-“

“I wouldn’t be desperate for sex if I didn’t want you.”

Bucky’s eyes widen, his mouth opening and closing, and you push a little higher off the mattress.

“I- I want you, Bucky. It’s not the drugs, it’s me, wanting you, and I- It hurts how much I want you-“

He whispers your name, but you just fucking push on. Too late to turn back now, anyway.

“I want you to touch me and fuck me and use me and let me touch you and- And I want you to sleep next to me and kiss me and l-“

Your words fall into a long, loud moan as Bucky grabs your face between his hands. You don’t fight him. You could never fight him. It’s just waiting for him, and you’re really good at that.

He’s examining you so carefully. Slowly. Trying to give you one last chance to tell him no.

You’re not going to take it.

So you hold his gaze, and let out a soft little sigh when he licks his lips.

That seems to be what he was waiting for.

Bucky leans down, his nose bumping against yours ever so slightly, and then he’s kissing you.

He’s fucking kissing you.

And God, you were right. It’s going to kill you. It’s slow and deliberate, Bucky humming against you as his mouth slots perfectly over yours, taking far too much—and still not enough—time to let you sigh and get lost in the taste of him. Somehow exactly what you imagined—coffee and mint and vanilla—and far, far better.

His tongue starts to trace over your lips before pressing down, and you open for him without a thought. Letting him push in deeper, until you’re moaning into his mouth and he’s eating the sound with low grunts, angling your head in his hands to grant him further access. All you can think about is the warmth spreading through your whole body in a way that doesn’t hurt, and how euphoria is building up like fireworks and light under your skin, and if this is just one kiss, sex might kill you.

It will be a good way to go.

When Bucky pulls back—his gaze blown out and your mouth still hanging open—you’re not above begging again. If he kisses you like that then walks away, you’ll crumble into a million, dented pieces that will scatter on the wind and sink into gutters-

“Is that okay?” His brow is tightened, his thumb toying slightly with the corner of your mouth. “I can do more, but-“

“More.” You nod a little like a bobblehead. “More is good, Bucky, please-“

He shakes his head, and a sob almost breaks out of your throat—he can’t do this to you, not after kissing you first—before you hear the borderline awe in his voice.

“You’re- I can’t believe you’re real.” He murmurs your name, and his hands are so careful on your face. “You need to tell me-“

“I’m real.”

Bucky chuckles, and the sound only spurs your need for him, rushing right between your legs. “Was going to ask if you were sure, doll.”

“Oh.” You swallow, and nod. “I- I’m sure. I’m so sure, Bucky, I- I want you- So bad-“

“How bad?” There’s something dark and hungry in his voice, and you don’t bother to stop your moan.

“So bad, I- I need you, Bucky- Just you, I- I love you-“

There it is.

The second kiss is a little harsher than the first. More demanding, with teeth and spit and Bucky pressing you down onto the mattress. You let him move over you, his hands finding your thighs and slowly pushing them apart-

You gasp into his mouth when the metal hand traces over your core, your hips jerking slightly off the bed your fingers scratching at his back, and Bucky chuckles.

“You like that, babygirl?”

Oh.

That’s nice.

And whatever sound that escapes you must echo that—high and blissful—because Bucky only laughs again.

“Yeah, I think you like that.” He nips at the corner of your mouth, then starts to trail a line of open-mouthed, sloppy kisses down your throat. “Been waitin’ for this so long, think-“

He cuts himself off, pushing up to frown at you.

“You think you can take it slow, doll? Or, uh-“ He slaps your pussy lightly over your underwear, and you squeak. “Y’know.”

He’s still rubbing you with his palm, as he waits for you to answer. And slow sounds like fucking torture, but it’s Bucky asking, and there’s already some sort of relief being offered by him liking you back, he likes you back and it’s making the world slip from under you as your heart floats away-

Bucky grunts your name. “Words would be helpful.”

“Slow is fine.” You whisper, trying to spread your legs a little wider. “Just- Don’t stop touching me, please.”

His nostrils flare, his hand gliding up your stomach to palm at your breasts with a look of what might be wonder on his face. “You want me to touch you?”

You nod weakly, and his tongue flicks over his lips as he mimics the movement.

“Yeah, alright.” His thumb starts to flick over your nipple as he examines your face. “I can do that. Think you can take what I give you?” He lowers back down, just enough for his lips to brush yours as he speaks. “Think you can be good?”

Jesus fucking Christ. “Ye- Yes. Please.”

“Yeah.” His face splits into a wide grin, right as his hand moves away from your chest. “I think you can too.”

You’re about to shove him for the teasing tone—or just whine about how he’s not touching you anymore—but then his hand returns to your core, and he’s just rubbing, but his mouth has attached to your breasts and he’s sucking small marks all over your body, and you’re going to fly out of your skin from nothing at all.

“Jesus, I can feel how wet you are.” Bucky words are muffled against your skin, and you start to grind against his hand. “Slow down, doll, I told you-“

Bucky cuts himself off with a groan that rolls through your body, and in the effort to stop your own movements, you’d yanked on his hair.

Hard.

And you swallow when he tilts his gaze up to yours. He looks like he’s going to eat you alive.

“Don’t stop doin’ that.” His voice is almost a growl. You might be able to cum from only that. “You like these?”

You frown at him. “Like wha- Oh.”

A metal finger shoves your panties to the side, his finger shoving right into your cunt without warning, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan.

He’s moving so slow. Pumping in and out at a torturous pace, holding your gaze as he kisses his way back up your body. Then Bucky slams his lips back over yours right as a second finger splits you open, and his thumb finds your clit.

“Feel good?” He mutters, and you make a weak sound into his mouth. “Words-“

“So good.” You mumble, clenching around him slightly. “I- I like it- want more-“

Bucky hums, kissing the tip of your nose with mock charity, picking up the pace ever so slightly. “Can you tell me what kinda more you want?”

“I- I don’t-“

He slows down again, and you shake your head, your fingers tugging at his hair.

“Bucky-“

“I want to hear you, pretty girl.” His drawl is lighting a small fire over your skin. “Tell me what you want-“

“I-“ He presses his thumb right over your clit, and gasp. “Mouth. Want your mouth. And your fingers. At- Shit- At the same time.”

Bucky’s brows raise, and if it wasn’t for the way his was still slowly pumping in and out of you, you would’ve pleased for the mattress to swallow you whole. “You want my mouth.”

You nod, and then add. “And the metal hand. Keep using the metal hand.”

“You- Jesus.” He shakes his head, and before you can try to take it back, he’s kissing you again. It’s getting rougher every time, and your hips jerk sightly as his fingers find that deep, spongey spot inside of you.

“I- Bucky- Fuck-“

“Such a good girl, using your words.” He starts to kiss back down your body, following the trail of spots he left before with perfect precision. “Hold on, doll.”

Before you can register what’s happening, Bucky’s shoving your legs fully apart, and-

“Oh- Bucky-“

You arch off the bed as his mouth replaces his thumb, and the speed on his fingers triples in half a second. Pumping in and out of you at an inhuman pace, pressing up and stroking inside you as his tongue leaves small, teasing licks on your clit. His free arm is pinning you down with a splayed hand on your abdomen, and his lips are latched around you and sucking, and every time you tug on his hair it only spurs him on-

It’s building so fast. The tight, hot coil in your gut. And it might be built up frustration from the gas, or the hypersensitivity of your body, or just fucking Bucky, but you’re-

“Fuck- I- I’m gonna-“ You can’t get the full sentence out. Bucky doesn’t seem to care. “Bucky- Please-“

He understands. He hums against you and nods slightly, and you know he understands.

But he doesn’t slow down.

And when his fingers press into your already burning g-spot and rub so fast it feels impossible, you cum with a high scream of his name. Stars cloud your vision and warmth crashes through your whole body, but when the fog clears, you’re not coming down.

Bucky’s not stopping. He’s finger-fucking you harder than before, his tongue moving with almost a fervor and his beard scraping at your inner thighs, and before you know what’s happening you’re flying over the edge again, and again, and soon you can’t tell where one orgasm is ending and the next one is rising. It’s all just a rolling, swirling storm of Bucky and heat and perfect, torturous pleasure.

It’s only when you’re shaking below him that he pulls away. Leaving a soft, gentle kiss over your swollen clit before crawling back over you, and you’re a needy, dazed mess, but he’s the best thing you’ve ever seen.

“You doin’ okay down there?” He brushes a little hair from your face, and you nod weakly.

“S’- Yeah.”

He grins. Your arousal is stuck to his beard. “Yeah?”

You hum, finding enough strength to trail your fingers down his chest. “You’re so big. And hot.”

“Thanks.” He says your name, and when you drag your gaze away from his, there’s a slight blush near his ears. “You look like a painting, doll.”

Your smile is love drunk and stupid, and you don’t care. “Thank you. Bucky?”

He hums, and you let your fingers trail a little lower.

“Can I?” You palm him over his pants—why the fuck are those still on—and he jaw clenches.

“You want to?”

You nod and give him your sweetest smile, and he lets out a long, slow breath.

“A- Just a little, but- Shit.” His eyes flutter closed as you squeeze him. “You’re the one who needs to attention, sweetheart-“

“I feel better.”

That earns you a flat look. “Really.”

You hum, your smile widening. “I feel good, Buck-“

“Uh huh.” Bucky rolls his thumb around your clit, his mouth lowering to rest back over yours. “I love you.”

You go slack beneath him in a second, and breathless sound escaping you as tears prick at your eyes and a giggle bubbles out of your lips, and Bucky looks way too fucking smug with himself.

“Look at that.” He hums your name, and you pout up at him.

“That’s not fair, James-“

He groans, his cock jumping against your hand, and that’s a fun discovery.

Your mouth opens, and he silences you with a deep, rough kiss.

“You can touch me a little, baby. Since you’ve been so good for me. But then,” he ruts into your hand, and you moan into his mouth. “I’m fuckin’ you until you can’t walk.”

He’s trying to distract you from the James thing. Trying to make you forget by rising back up and ripping his pants away, displaying his impossibly pretty cock—the perfect length and thick and making your mouth water—before stroking himself over you with a lazy grin. He’s trying to divert your attention by helping you sit up and guiding your hand up to replace his.

The strategy is working.

He fits so well in just your hand, and he’s making the most sinful, beautiful sounds you’ve ever heard as you pump him slowly. His head is thrown back, letting you suck and kiss at his neck, and deep rumbles roll from his chest whenever you squeeze the base of him or swipe your fingers over the angry head of him. You’re all but folded against him, grinding against his thigh as your hand picks up speed and he moans your name-

You’re being flipped back in a second. Bucky grabs your wrists and moves you back to the mattress with your hands pinned over your head and his mouth attacking yours. Bucky teases his cock against your dripping pussy for only a second—sliding between your folds and slapping it against your clit—and then he’s pushing into you with one, long thrust.

“Shit-“ Bucky’s face drops to the crook of your neck, his breaths ragged against your skin. “You’re so tight, and- Fuck.”

He cuts himself off with another groan, and you understand. You didn’t know you could be this full. That someone could fit so right. And he’s staying so still, trying to let you adjust, but-

You clench around him, and Bucky hisses your name in your ear.

“Don’t do that, babygirl, you’re lookin’ to start something-“

You roll your hips, and Bucky draws over you with a narrowed gaze.

“Askin’ for trouble, doll.” He gives you one, sharp thrust, and you gasp. “Yeah, I said you’d take it. And you told me you’d be good. You gonna keep bein’ good?”

You nod, not bothering to hide the eagerness on your face, and Bucky leans back down with one sharp thrust.

“Say it.”

“I- I’ll be good-“

Another thrust, this one impossibly deeper. “Say you love me.”

“I- Bucky-“ His free hand is hiking your legs up, and he’s so big- “I love you-“

He groans, and his movements start to pick up. “Tell me- Fuck-“ His brow presses against yours. “Say you know I love you-“

“You love me, James, please-“

Tears are just starting to prick at your eyes when Bucky kisses you, and this one is borderline feral. The time for words seems to be over.

Now it’s just Bucky.

You can’t move, with his weight a heavy comfort over your body. He’s hammering into you and bruising against your humming and aching g-spot, but your hands remain trapped above you and whenever you try to bite at his lips he only moans and fucks you harder. Splitting you open on his cock as the bed squeaks below you, and twisting his on your thighs to rub furious circles on your clit, and you’re already ruined but now you’re never going to recover-

This orgasm hits you like a hurricane. Flipping the world on its head and drowning you in the high of Bucky, still pounding into your cunt and roaring your name against your lips as he fucks you through your orgasm, and there’s dirty praise falling out of his lips but it only sounds like a song. Then he’s kissing you down into the mattress and you can feel him painting your insides and inner thighs as he jerks a last few times, and a small, sweet aftershock hits you with a fucked-out sigh.

Bucky’s face drops to your neck as he lets out a long, slow breath, and your smile might look fucking insane.

You don’t really care.

You let your fingers tangle in his hair, and you’re going to sit in the feeling of him as long as he lets you. Breathing him in and letting this last, small waves of pleasure wash away the rest of the pain.

There’s still an ache between your thighs, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You might need help walking to the jet, in the morning.

You’ll ask Bucky to carry you. And maybe ask him to keep putting that ache there, until he gets bored of you-

“You feelin’ better?” Bucky mumbles in to your skin, and you swat that last thought far away.

He might get bored of you. Right now, he’s still buried in your cunt and kissing a soft line over your neck. You won’t ruin this before you even have it. If you do have it. Maybe you’d just pressured him, and you’re going to lose your job, and Bucky, and he won’t get bored of you because he was never even interested in the first place-

Bucky mutters your name, pushing up over you, and you swallow. “What’re you thinking.”

“I-“ You shake your head, fixing your gaze on his neck. On the little bruises you left there. “Nothing.”

He chuckles, and there’s something so open on his face. Like all the smiles he’s given you in passing, but with a veil lifted. “You’re not a good liar doll.”

You frown at him. “Yes I am-“

“No,” Bucky lowers himself down, ghosting a soft kiss over your lips. “You’re not. You’re thinkin’ about something. Tell me.”

You shake your head, but wrap your arms around his neck all the same. You don’t want him to move away. Not yet. “It’s- It’s stupid-“

“Doubt that.”

“Bucky-“

He repeats your name back to you, his gaze driving right into yours that makes you somehow feel more bare than you already are. “If it’s- If you’re having second thoughts-“

“No!” Your voice is almost a yelp. “It’s- It’s not that-“

“Thank Christ.” Bucky lets out a slow sigh, his grin a little sheepish. “Damn near gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry-“

“No, you’re not.” He squeezes a hand on your hip, and you all but melt into the mattress. “Tell me, pretty girl. What are you thinking.”

“I- I’m-“ He’s still inside you. And when you squirm slightly, his cock jumps. “Bucky-“

“Shit-“ He groans, and suddenly his hand is pinning you down, stopping your movements. “Nope. No distracting me.”

“But-“

“I won’t fuck you again until you tell me.”

Again.

He’s going to fuck you again.

And some of the drug must still be in your system, because your face splits back into a wide, easy smile, and Bucky raises his brows.

“Did you…” He tilts his head slightly. “Were you worried we were done, doll?”

You nod, not trusting your voice, and Bucky sighs.

“Did you miss the part when I said I love you-“

“No. Told you it was stupid.”

“Yeah, well.” Another kiss. This one softer, and a little more on your cheek. “We’ve both been kinda stupid today. Think I’d like to keep being stupid together, though. If you’re up for it.”

You blink at him. “Like, together together?”

He nods. “You can keep your job. I’ll do all my own shit, or we can get a second admin who’s not fucking me-“

“But what if you fall in love with that admin too?” You whisper, keeping your smile wide on your face, and Bucky rolls his eyes.

“I wouldn’t worry about that. Nothin’ is coming close to you.”

You can’t stop the clench that his deep voice and promise spark in you, and a low groan is pulled from Bucky’s throat.

“You want a round two?”

You nod, and he grunts, rolling his hips slightly.

“Tell me what you want, baby-“

“You. All of you.” Your hands move to cup Bucky’s face. “This and… that. Please.”

He nods, and the last kiss is just as slow as the first. Deep and gentle, filled with the knowledge that now, you have the time in the world.

“You’re mine?” He mutters, and you don’t know why it’s a question.

You have been for months. Maybe, even without knowing it, your whole life.

“Yes.” Your voice is soft against his lips, and Bucky grins.

“Good.” He nips on your lower lip, and the gas might be gone, but you don’t think anything about him is ever going to make you not want more. “Cause I’m yours.”

End Note: his hair in the post-credit scene.... nature is healing.

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fic-girlie · 3 days ago

Note

Would you write something about Joel and reader (established relationship) having a big fight, like, raising their voice at each other and reader holding back tears and all that. Ellie comes home to it and stops them. Reader leaves and Ellie gives Joel shit for screaming at her. Happy ending please!!

After the storm

Pairing: jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader Summary: A late-night fight leaves you in tears and walking out. Ellie steps in, forcing Joel to face what really matters—and fight to fix it. Warnings: established relationship, argument, shouting, crying, make-up, slight angst

The front door slams harder than it needs to.

It rattles through the quiet house, a sharp clap of wood and metal that startles the dog off the rug and leaves a bitter silence hanging in its wake. You pause halfway through drying the dishes, towel clutched between your damp hands, fingers curling into it like it might anchor you.

You already know it’s him.

Joel.

He’s late. Again.

You count the seconds it takes him to hang up his coat, to toe off his boots, to toss his rifle somewhere you’ll have to remind him to clean later. Each sound from the entryway feeds the weight pressing behind your ribs — not worry anymore, but frustration. Sharp. Heavy. Exhausting.

When he rounds the corner, he doesn’t look at you.

And that’s what does it.

"You're late," you say, trying to keep your voice even. Not accusatory. Just... saying it. But it comes out brittle.

He grunts, shrugging off the last of his flannel. "Ran into Tommy. Needed help movin’ somethin’. Wasn't plannin’ on bein' out that long."

No apology. No explanation beyond that.

You dry your hands on the towel slowly, methodically. “I waited for you. Dinner’s cold.”

Joel runs a hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s already tired of this. “Didn’t ask you to wait.”

And there it is.

That familiar, subtle sting. Like a match struck too close to your skin.

“You never ask me to wait,” you say, quieter now. “I just do. Because I care.”

He doesn’t answer. Just walks over to the plate you left out and starts eating, cold potatoes and overcooked venison, like it’s nothing. Like your disappointment doesn’t even register.

Your throat tightens.

You cross your arms. “This is the third time this week.”

Joel’s jaw ticks as he chews, but he still doesn’t look at you. “Why’re you makin’ this a thing?”

“Because I’m tired of pretending it’s not a thing, Joel,” you snap, voice rising despite yourself. “You disappear for hours, you barely talk when you’re home, and I’m just supposed to smile and say nothing?”

He sets the fork down too hard on the plate. “I told you—I was helpin’ Tommy.”

“Today you were. What about the other days?”

Joel stands slowly, arms folding across his chest as he looks at you, finally. His eyes are dark and stormy and full of something heavy you can’t name.

“What’re you sayin’? That you don’t trust me now?”

You blink. “No—Jesus, Joel, this isn’t about trust—”

“Then what the hell is it?” His voice cuts through the room like a blade. “You mad I’m not sittin’ at your side every minute of the day? You mad I got other responsibilities?”

Your mouth falls open.

“That’s not fair,” you whisper. “I never asked you to stay glued to me. I just—Joel, I want to feel like I matter to you. Like I’m not just some afterthought.”

“You think I treat you like that?” His voice is louder now. “After everythin’? After all we’ve been through?”

“You’re treating me like that right now!”

The silence that follows is razor-sharp.

Your chest is heaving. You didn’t mean to shout. Didn’t mean to let your voice crack like that. But he just stands there, mouth a hard line, like he doesn’t even see you.

You turn away, blinking fast. “I—I’m not doing this with you, Joel. Not like this.”

But he’s already speaking, words hot and bitter. “Maybe you shouldn’t, if this is how it’s gonna be every damn time I come home.”

Your breath catches.

There it is. The thing you didn’t think he’d say.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until the first tear hits your knuckle. You turn your head away, jaw trembling as you force yourself to breathe.

The front door opens again.

“Uh...what the hell is going on?”

Ellie.

You both freeze.

She’s still half-in her coat, backpack slung over one shoulder, brow furrowed as she stares between the two of you. Her voice slices through the tension like a gust of cold wind, and suddenly you feel stupid. Small. Embarrassed to be crying in front of her.

“I was just leaving,” you mumble, grabbing your coat off the hook. Your hands fumble the zipper. “I’ll be back later.”

Joel takes a step toward you. “Wait—”

But Ellie puts a hand on his chest, blocking him.

“No.” Her eyes flash. “You don’t get to yell at her and then stop her.”

“Ellie, this ain’t your—”

“The fuck it isn’t.” Her voice is sharp, furious. “You think I didn’t hear you from halfway down the street? You think she deserves that?”

You’re already halfway out the door.

——

The cold hits your cheeks like punishment.

You walk fast, trying to ignore the burning behind your eyes, the throbbing in your chest. Jackson glows warm behind you, windows full of firelight and laughter and comfort, but you feel like a ghost drifting past it all.

You end up near the stables. Alone.

You sit on a wooden bench, pull your knees up to your chest, and let yourself cry for real.

You’re not mad that he came home late. Not really.

You’re mad because he shut you out. Because you let yourself believe that he had room for you in the fortress of grief and guilt he keeps around his heart. Because he made you feel like you were asking for too much just by wanting him to see you.

You sniff, wiping at your face. The wind bites harder now.

You don’t know how long you sit there before you hear footsteps.

And a soft voice behind you.

“Hey.”

Ellie.

You quickly try to clean your face with your sleeve, but it’s useless. She plops down beside you anyway, setting a thermos between you.

“He’s not good at this shit, you know,” she says after a moment.

You say nothing.

She sighs, resting her elbows on her knees. “He’s got this...broken wiring. Like, when he’s scared or sad or overwhelmed, it comes out as angry. Like it’s the only way he knows how to feel.”

You stare at the dark sky.

“I know,” you whisper. “But it still hurts.”

“I know.”

You glance at her. She looks older tonight. Not just tired, but worn-down in the way only people who’ve been hurt too many times can be.

“I gave him shit,” she adds casually. “In case you were wondering.”

A huff of air escapes you. Almost a laugh. “Thanks.”

Ellie nudges the thermos toward you. “It’s hot cider. Maria’s stash.”

You take it. Warmth seeps into your fingers. Into your throat.

“I care about you too, you know,” she says. “You’re good to him. Good to me. We’d be stupid to lose you.”

You blink hard. “Thanks, Ellie.”

She shrugs, but her face is soft. “You gonna go back?”

You hesitate.

Then nod.

——

When you return, the house is quiet.

No lights except the lamp in the living room, where Joel sits on the couch with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped like he’s been sitting there for hours.

He looks up when you walk in.

You don’t speak.

Just look at him.

And he...looks wrecked.

“Hey,” he says softly. He stands. “You warm enough?”

That’s the first thing he says.

Are you warm enough.

You nod. "Ellie gave me cider."

“She’s got a hell of a glare when she’s pissed,” he murmurs. “Might’ve yelled at me more than you did.”

You manage a small smile. But it fades.

Joel steps closer, his voice tight.

“I’m sorry.”

You look at him.

“I shouldn’t’ve yelled,” he says. “Shouldn’t’ve made you feel like you don’t matter. You do. You do, more than I can ever say. That’s the damn problem. I get so scared of losin’ you that I shut down. Get mean. Push people away before they can leave on their own.”

Your throat tightens.

“I’m not trying to leave you, Joel.”

“I know,” he whispers. “But sometimes my brain...it don’t catch up to what I know. Just what I’m afraid of.”

You step closer.

He reaches for your hands.

“I’m sorry I made you cry.”

Your eyes sting again. You wrap your arms around his middle, press your face to his chest.

Joel exhales shakily and holds you like he means it.

Not like he’s afraid you’ll leave.

But like he wants you to stay.

“I don’t wanna fight like that again,” you whisper.

“Neither do I.”

“I just want to be let in. That’s all.”

He nods against your hair. “I’ll try. I promise.”

You stay there for a long time, wrapped in his arms in the quiet glow of your shared home.

And when you finally pull back to kiss him — slow, tender, trembling with forgiveness — it feels like the start of something stronger.

Not perfect.

But real.

And worth it.

#pedro pascal #pedropascal #joelmiller #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #pedro pascal fandom

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mewfistoe · 3 days ago

Text

You feel needy for cuddles but don’t want to disturb Sylus from his work.

This is just completely pointless indulgent fluff. idek

————

Sylus is in the middle of a business conference when he notices the door to his office crack open. He knows that it’s you immediately, no one but you would risk disturbing him in the middle of work. He watches as you peer in before carefully stepping into the room. You close the door slowly and take small quiet steps toward his desk.

He’s about to disconnect his camera and mute his microphone to ask you if you need anything, but you shake your head, and put a finger in front of your mouth to make a hush motion.

Once you reach the side of his desk, you crouch down and crawl over to the side of his chair. Sylus stares, wondering exactly what you have planned. He watches as you scrunch yourself up and forcibly shove your body underneath his desk, squeezing past his chair. You shift around under there for a bit until you finally settle down in the little space between his feet, facing away from him.

You proceed to wrap an arm loosely around his calf and rest your head against the inside of his knee. He hears you let out a soft satisfied sigh and sees you pull out your phone, set it on silent, and start up a mobile racing game. He stretches a hand down to stroke against your hair and you gently push your head against it to get more contact.

The conference can’t end soon enough.

****

Twenty-five minutes later, his business is finally concluded. He shuts off his computer and looks down at you, still half-curled up around his leg.

“Kitten? What are you doing sitting down there? That can’t be comfortable.”

You keep playing your game, wanting to finish one more race. “I missed you.” You say, looking up at him briefly, “Felt like cuddles, but you were busy and I didn’t want to bother you.”

His heart squeezes in his chest.

“I’m never too busy for you, kitten. You can bother me anytime. I Iike it when you ‘bother’ me.” His hand slides down from the top of your head to cup your cheek and he smiles, “In any case, my meeting has concluded and I’m all yours now.”

You finish up the race on your phone and smile back. You turn your head to press a kiss against his palm. “Wanna cuddle in bed? I finished my race!” You turn your phone screen to show him.

He looks at the screen declaring you as the first place winner and lets out a light laugh, “Should I compliment you?”

“Yeah.”

His rubs his thumb against your cheek, “Well then. Good job, kitten. Excellent racing.”

He gently pushes his chair back before setting out to extract you out from under the desk. He bends down to take your phone in one hand and pick you up with his other arm. You wrap your arms around his neck and tuck yourself snugly against him. “Comfortable?” He asks, and you nod.

He doesn’t say anything else but you can tell that he’s pleased and walking in the direction of his bedroom.

****

Once in his room, he lays you down on his bed carefully and places your phone on the bedside cabinet next to you, before heading over to close the door.

You make a small whine as he walks away from you, “So far away, Sylus…”

He chuckles, “It’s just for a second, kitten. Are you really that needy?” He teases.

You respond with another frustrated whine.

He sighs in response, but there’s only resigned indulgence behind it. He’s already walking back towards you, “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he says. And he sits down on the bed next to you with a small smile.

You smile back at him, “Yay, you’re back.” And suddenly he can’t help himself. He bends down and presses kiss after kiss against your face.

“You are completely spoiled…and so demanding. But how can I resist when you say and do the sweetest things.” He says between kisses, “You’re so cute. You’re so cute I can hardly stand it.” He punctuates his words with a gentle bite at your cheek.

You giggle and try to pull him down so he’s laying next to you. He acquiesces without a fight.

You return his kisses with your own. Peppering them wherever you can reach. “You’re the cute one, Sylus. Look at your pretty pink face! So so so cute!” You say.

He flushes more at your words and gives a small snort, “Nobody but you would say that I’m ‘cute’, kitten.”

You give a small huff, “That’s because they’re all stupid and don’t deserve to see how cute you are.” You cup his face with both hands, “I don’t understand how anyone can see your handsome face and not want to kiss and cuddle it.” You press a kiss against the tip of his perfect nose, “See? Look at how cute and perfect you are!”

Sylus laughs throatily and wraps his arms around you to hold you close. He’s so charmed. He kisses the top of your head, “You’re so silly sometimes. I love you so much, kitten. You’re everything.”

You move to smush your face against his neck and press another few kisses there too, “I love you too, Sylus. Very, very much. You make me so happy.”

You can’t see his face from your position against his neck, but you don’t need to. You already know that he’s smiling.

#l&ds sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lnds #sylus lads #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus love and deepspace #sylus fluff

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studiogrimm810 · 3 days ago

Text

Hate What You Do To Me

// Est. Dean Winchester x you

summary: dean has been unable to understand the emotions he feels when he's with you so he defaults to pushing you away to avoid the creeping ache in his chest, that is until he jarringly realizes what those feeling actually mean and decides to act on that // 2.1k // base content: quick enemies to lovers vibes, protective dean, make-out scene

A/N: pulling this one from the vault cause i’ve got nothing else to post atm😎 (i am completely wrapped up in a series i’m working on heheh)

He can’t do this right now. Watching your lips part to welcome the rim of an icy beer is fucking killing him. He could deck Bobby just for thinking of inviting you.

God, you.

You got under his skin and prickled like barbed wire, anchoring deep into his bones and refusing to escape his subconscious. He hated the feeling, of which he had no name for, that you awoke in his chest. It was his best guess that it was anxiety or maybe a type of annoyance he had never experienced before, whatever it was, he hated it.

Your laugh echoes through the room as Sam tells some joke that makes Dean roll his eyes. The belt of your joy only worsens the ache in his chest and he wonders if a hatred this deep was actually a common occurrence or rather a special instance for people like you.

Your voice is sweet and misleading, as if you were actually as kind and innocent as your tone insinuates. He’s not falling for it. He’s especially not falling for the warm gaze you give him that makes his stomach clench and ricochet like a ping-pong ball in his abdomen. He swears his lungs even cinch when your tongue darts out to wet your lips.

“Well that’s what I tried to tell him, but he was not having it,” Sam shrugs, taking a swig of his beer. You laugh simply out of a polite response, but it seems Dean’s cold glare has affected your mood. He was surprised when the reaction didn’t cause him pride but instead.. shame?

“Maybe next time you just give ‘em my number like you’re s’posed to,” Bobby grumbles, fingering the neck of his beer to bring to his lips.

Voices continue to carry but it’s mellowed down to just Sam and Bobby. The buzz under Dean's skin is almost numbing, like he missed your contributions. Of course, not because he actually liked listening to you speak, but because he didn’t feel like a dick for acting so cold towards you. But that wasn’t his fault. It’s not his fault you irk him like you do. He has to remind himself of that.

A phone chirps and you check your device, your face falling further. If Sam or Bobby notice, they sure don’t say anything about it. The irritation in Dean's chest ignites again, a burning restless feeling that makes him want to know who put you in a sour mood. Who overstepped Dean's effect on you? He couldn’t have that.

His eyes peek at the lit screen but it’s not like he can read anything.

“Excuse me,” you mumble, standing and leaving the room without raising much suspicion, at least not to a common onlooker of the conversation. Dean knew though. He knew your tells and mood shifts, he had to in order to be able tolerate your presence. He had to.

What really irks him too is how little he knows right now. God, you’ve left the room and you still have your claws sunk into him. It killed him to not know what was wrong with you. He’ll claim it’s because to be a hunter, you need to have a level head. All it is is hypocritical avoidance and unrecognizable emotions that he was never accepting of before.

He takes a deep gulp of his beer, trying to wash away the bubbling anxiety you’ve caused him.

And another gulp. And one more. But none of them make the time pass quickly enough and he’s even more restless in your absence. He can’t help himself, he has to know that you’re okay.

He stalls at the thought. He doesn’t have to. He just wants to. He wants to?

Doesn’t matter.

Dean excuses himself and goes off to find you. He follows the flow of an agitated voice and his brows furrowed slightly in confusion. The voice, your voice, leads him to the main entrance of the home. The door creaks open and he can hear you better, as if you just came in from talking with whoever was bothering you outside.

“Just leave me alone, I’m serious,” your tone is demanding and a little scary if he’s being honest- something that’s rare for him as of late.

He rounds the doorframe as soon as you hang up the phone and his presence startles you.

“Everything okay?” He asks, unsure if he actually even cares. He shouldn’t- he doesn't. He’s just curious about whoever seemed to have more of an effect on your state then he did. Dean is just a little cold and annoyed with you, that warrants a sour mood for the recipient, but who the hell thinks they have the right to make you talk to them like that?

“What-, like you care?” You ask in a dull bite, he scoffs.

“Shouldn’t’ve even asked,” Dean rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and turning to leave but he hesitates. “Just-,” he clears his throat, “sorry ‘bout whatever you’re dealing with.” He turns to leave but the sickeningly sweet pull of your voice keeps him put. He holds back a sigh.

“I worked with a hunter a few weeks back and he’s just been.. clingy,” you cringe, looking down at your phone for a moment. Dean didn’t like that.

“Clingy?” He echoed, turning back around and furrowing his brow.

“Yeah…” you sigh, pocketing your phone and glancing back up at Dean. “It’s probably nothing, but he’s just lonely I guess and keeps trying to get me to work these cases with him,” your shoulders slouch, almost like the situation has exhausted you. Dean’s chest tightens again- annoyance, he deems. You turn to face the screen door, letting the breeze kiss past your tired face.

“And you don’t want to?” Dean completes for you, his tone indicating impatience and misunderstanding.

“Of course not, he’s a creep!” You turn back at him, your face contorted in disgust but your eyes glint something that eases the tightness in his chest.

“Just block him,” he says, like it’s that simple. You just scoff and look back out the door. You can’t even find the energy to walk through the whole situation with Dean on why you can’t simply ‘block him’. “Do I need to have a talk with this guy?” Your body stills and brows pull together as you look back at him.

“What?” You ask, completely caught off guard by the offer.

“I said,” Dean rolls his eyes subtly, “do I need to take care of him?” He repeats, staring right at you with a deep rooted anger burrowed towards someone else for once- it makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Why do you even care? Don’t you hate me?” You scoff, trying to remind yourself of the pain in the ass he’s made you feel like to him. He hated you. He did, right?

Something in your snap cracked some capsule in him and infected his veins, all the way to his fingertips, with a cold rush of realization.

“Hate you?” He asked himself as well as you. His chest cinched tightly at the accusation, that he hated. It’s like every memory of you flashed in his mind and in every scenario, he never remembers actually hating you but how you affected him. How you made him feel unnaturally unsettled and antsy, like he couldn’t stand the edge you teetered him on. His eyes watched your expression go from frustration to confusion and then to impatience and even then, as he watched your features melt along its expressive path, he realized that he did not hate you. “How could I hate you?” His words escape before he can filter them, but then he can watch as your annoyingly pretty features contort yet again to something indescribable for him.

He felt selfish, extremely selfish, for the way he’s pushed you away and treated you because he knows it’s not really your fault for how he feels. But then, why does he feel such strong and uncomfortable emotions for you? Why the fuck did you settle so deep into his very being that it’s uncomfortable for you to be here in front of him?

Your head tilts and you look so lost. Your tongue peeks out to wet your lips and it clicks.

The ache in his chest isn’t anger or annoyance, it’s a craving. Here you are, dangled right in front of him with your pretty eyes and soft confusion and he’s forced to just stand back and watch as you exist without him. Every time he’s seen you in the past, it washed over him that he’s just been needing something he subconsciously knew he could never take.

“You-,” he tried to start, his hands dropped to his sides as he figured out his next move. He wants so badly to just cross the invisible line he’s made for himself but you think he hates you.

“So you don’t hate me,” you try to state, keeping a suspicious eye on him as he shuffles through whatever is rattling behind his eyes.

Dean only shakes his head, taking a step forward without even knowing he’s moved until your face is just a wish away.

“Dean?” You ask, looking up at him and taking in details you never thought you’d get close enough to notice.

The sink in his stomach as you say his name scares the hell out of him but he doesn’t know if he has the strength to turn away now. Something so cosmic holds him still like he’s stuck in quicksand, ready to drown in you.

It happened so fast, that switch, like seeing your vulnerability as you admitted you felt hated by him made him fix his shit real quick. He couldn’t have that, he wouldn’t allow you to go on thinking he hated you.

“I’m an idiot,” he admits in a whisper that echoes faint beer, from the round just a few moments ago, over your cheeks.

“That’s one word I’d use,” you scoff lightly, your attitude altering the rest of your body towards turning away but you just can’t seem to get your eyes to listen and follow.

“Can I try something?” He asks, his eyes stuck into yours like glue, like he’s scared to rake over your skin and down to your lips, like he’ll jinx himself and lose any shot he never had.

“You’re a free man,” you challenge, narrowing your gaze and starting to expect his next move. But even with anticipation, it doesn’t soften the electricity that sparks as he pushes you against the screen door and directs your lips to his. His hand holds the back of your head so that the screen isn’t split and his other hand, without much planning, hooks just two fingers in your belt loop, unable to wait on finding a more suitable place.

Another fresh breeze falls past the slits of the screen and runs through your hair and over your exposed skin, tickling every exposed nerve that he bloomed under your skin.

With his lips fitting perfectly around yours and taking you in, he pulls in a deep, full breath to inhale your scent. The sweet pine from outside accompanies your signature scent that he convinced himself to hate long ago, but now he can’t get enough. He could actually laugh at himself for how stupid he’s been to think you would be nothing but perfect to him if he just welcomed it.

Because now that he has finally allowed you in, he doesn’t think he can ever let you go.

He pulls out of the kiss, his lungs burning for air but his skin aching for more of you. As you lean back to look at him, his greedy lips follow like a lost puppy, making sure he’s able to latch back on when he needs another fix of your taste.

“I’m being serious, y’know,” he breathes, his eyes still glued to your, now swollen, lips glistening with his spit. Fuck.

“Hmm?” You hum, studying the lazy droop of his eye lids, but your breath is sucked out of your lungs as his eyes snap right back into yours with a contrastingly serious switch.

“That prick that won’t leave you alone, I’ll take care of him,” he says, looking into your eyes long enough to make sure you understand. His hand at your belt loop now snakes around your waist and pulls you flush against him and his eyes melt back down to your parted lips. “Won’t ever have to worry about that again,” he barely gets out before eating you right back up.

thank you so much for reading!! <3

>>check out my other works here

tags: @blossomingorchids @areswasneverhere @bejeweledinterludes @funkenniffler @iamaslytherin0

#supernatural #fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #fandom #dean winchester #spn fanfic #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader

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bullet-prooflove · 2 days ago

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Brown Eyed Boy: Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @flyinglama @yousigned-upforthis @oklahomapeach

Summary: The birth of your son doesn't quite go the way you'd planned.

Companion piece to:

Lines - It’s been a long time since Robby’s been attracted to someone like this.

Lipstick (NSFW) - It's love at first blow job for Dr Robby.

Crisis - Robby has a bad day.

ASMR For The Soul - Robby doesn't sleep when you're not around.

Bunny - Robby discovers you've been keeping secrets.

Something To Complain About (NSFW) - You ignite the ire of Robby's neighbour with your bedroom noises.

Noise Cancelling - Robby discovers his neighbour keeps a spreadsheet of your antics.

Poolside - When Robby's had a really shitty day he always ends up whereever you are.

The Betting Pool - Robby discovers that his collegues have been taking bets on his relationship.

Fifty Shades of Robby - Robby's collegues see the truth of his relationship when they find your Instagram.

Dumb Bitch - Robby exhibits his protective side when another man steps on his territory.

Stop Compressions, Start Compressions - Robby loses everything in the aftermath of Pittfest.

24 Hours - Robby refuses to leave your side in the aftermath of the shooting.

Saftey Rail - Abbot gets real with Robby when he finds him on the roof.

Baby, It's Gonna Be Alright - Robby wonders if he's fucked things up with you for good.

Exorcism (NSFW) - Robby and you finally find a way to be honest with one another.

Ready - Robby and you discuss starting a family in the aftermath of Pittfest.

The Rose - You give Robby a special gift for your anniversary.

Heartbeat - Robby finds something to help him sleep.

Jinx - Robby discovers a particular superstition of yours.

The Scary One - Robby and you face concerns during your second pregnancy scan.

Pop Tarts - You and Robby decorate the baby's nursery.

Brave Little Boy - Robby wakes up to the baby kicking and gets a suprise.

The baby takes after you, high speed, always in motion.

He wants to see the world, experience it but Robby isn’t ready and neither are you. In fact nobody’s ready for his appearance because he’s a month early but here you are on all fours on the rug as Robby’s hand rubs soothing circles on your lower back, his reassuring voice in your ears.

Jack is Lord knows where behind you, getting a front row seat to the messiest fucked up show on this earth.

“You put the towel on the radiator?” He asks Robby as another contraction hits you, the urge to push is all consuming as you grind your teeth and press your cheek into the pillow on the floor.

“Will somebody tell me what the damn towel is for?” You snap, your hair plastered to your face as you huff out a pained breath.

“It’s just a precaution.” Robby reassures you but you do not feel reassured. You feel exhausted, pissed off and so close to your breaking point, every second word out of you mouth is a swear.

“Alright Allegra, I can see his head, I’m gonna need you to give me one big push to get him all the way there.” Jack tells you as you take a deep shuddering breath. “Come on, I know you can do it.”

“I fucking hate you.” You growl him, sweat running down your brow, your thighs trembling.

“Hate me later.” He responds with that rage inducing calmness of his. “But right now you gotta push.”

“Fuck you Jack, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you…”

The cursing helps, you don’t know why. Robby tells you later it’s because it triggers the "fight or flight" response, leading to increased pain tolerance and potentially a more powerful push. You don’t give a damn, you just know that your baby is born to the sound of you cussing out one of his guide parents.

You feel him leave your body and you sag forward into the cushion listening for his cry, but his cry it doesn’t come and something inside of you just dies because its happening all over again. You’re losing another baby.

“Robby…” You whisper, your hair falling over your face as the tears chase down your cheeks.

“This is what the warm towel is for.” He murmurs, his lips brushing over your temple as he leans down to your level. “Jack’s going to rub it on his back to stimulate him into taking his first breath.”

You understand now why they didn’t tell you about the towel, they didn’t want that thought in your head while you were trying to bring your son into the world. Robby helps you turn onto a sitting position, your back pressing against his chest as Jack snatches the towel off the radiator and begins to rub it over your son’s back.

“Come on baby.” He whispers, his motions becoming more vigorous. “I know you’ve got it in you.”

A loud wail cuts through the air and the relief hits you like a wrecking ball, flooding your nervous system as you watch your son take his first breath.

“He’s got a nice set of lungs for a preemie.” Jack approves as he leans forward and places the baby on your chest. You fold him into the shelter of your arms as he nestles against your heart looking up at you with those big brown eyes. Ones that look exactly like his fathers. “You guys pick out a name yet?”

“Not yet.” Robby says, his chin comes to rest upon your shoulder as his fingertip trails over each of the baby’s tiny toes. “For now he’s just our beautiful brown eyed boy.”

Love Robby? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won’t be added.

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#dr robby #dr robby x reader #the pitt #michael robinavitch #michael robinavitch x reader #michael robby robinavitch #noah wyle #robby #robby x reader #the pitt fanfiction

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disparatemind · 2 days ago

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The argument I'm seeing that's consistently being made against abortion here is that a parent having the responsibility of taking care of their child after they're born is somehow the same as a pregnant person being forced to carry and give birth whether they want to or not.

They are not the same fucking thing.

You really want to argue that a fetus is a person?

Medically, a human baby is considered a fetus from ~week 9 until birth.

You cannot claim them on your taxes until they are born, and they must be born alive (no stillborns).

The Social Security Administration cannot issue a number to someone who hasn't been born yet.

You cannot claim child support until after giving birth (though the Unborn Child Act that was just resubmitted to Congress last year would change that if passed).

Even if none of that were the case, by insisting on no abortions, you are condemning millions of people to death. Some people cannot be pregnant at all due to medical issues that would cause their risk of death to skyrocket. Some people are reliant on daily medications that would cause severe deformities to any child that was born. Some people cannot self-abort. When someone has a miscarriage and the body does not go into labor on its own to remove the dead tissue, medical intervention is necessary to save the parent's life. This happened with my own mother, between me and my older brother.

Through no fault of her own, no accidents, no nothing that could have conceivably caused it, that fetus stopped growing at around five or six months. In order to evacuate the fetus, my mom was given progesterone—that's the drug you're given to induce labor (it was given to me with both of my pregnancies, one was late and one was early). If the doctor in charge of that procedure had determined that there was too much legal risk for him to do that procedure, he would have refused and my mom would have died, and I would not be here today.

There is no good reason to deny an abortion to someone. None.

we seriously need to stop conceding to the personhood trap when it comes to abortion rights. is a fetus a person? thats a spiritual question. i dont care about the answer. should another person dictate what someone can do with their body? simple answer: no.

#abortion is a human right #bodily autonomy

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mrspiastri · 3 days ago

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stop pretending!

wc: 1.9k words

an: i was so overcome with excitement i had to write this blurb sorry :D based on this req!

“Don’t even think about it.” Y/N almost growled at her boyfriend as he moved to sit next to her on the couch.

“What? Why?” Oscar questioned, still frozen in a sitting position in midair.

He got no response, just Y/N huffing and looking back at the TV screen.

“Darling, are you still mad at me?”

Still no response, just another exaggerated huff as she turned away from him.

Oscar almost wanted to laugh, but he knew she would positively kick him if he did. It was just really difficult for him to take his girlfriend seriously when she looked like a disgruntled puppy.

Y/N had been in a pretty bad mood ever since she woke up; her clients at work were being nuisances, her friend had cancelled on their lunch plans, and the couple’s cat Sylvia decided to throw up on the very expensive rug they had in the living room.

Not to mention, Oscar had been out the whole day, promising to come home for lunch. She decided to make up for the day’s negativity by enjoying some time with him, which she hardly ever got, only to get a text at 3:30 pm, saying he would only be home in time for dinner.

That one text was Y/N’s final straw. She decided she would do nothing about it and simply decided to ignore him.

Oscar sat down anyway, carefully, like the couch might explode under the pressure of her silence. He placed his hands on his knees and leaned forward just enough to peer at her face.

“Alright. That’s fair. But just for the record, I was going to come home for lunch. I had every intention of doing that. I even imagined the whole thing. You, me, some pizza. Maybe a nap after. Sylvia purring between us. The dream.”

She blinked slowly. Unmoved.

Oscar frowned and scooted an inch closer. “But then someone needed to run the meeting late. Someone else wanted us to check our seat fittings again. And then my phone died, which is completely your fault, because someone keeps stealing my charger.”

Still no response.

Oscar tried to look into her eyes, but she angled her face away just enough to keep him out. He could see her mouth set in a tight line. The same mouth he usually kissed good morning, goodnight, and roughly seventy-nine times in between.

She stood up. No warning, no words, just got up and walked toward the kitchen.

Oscar sprang to his feet and followed her like a puppy. “Oh. Oh we’re going to the kitchen, good thing I’m hungry.”

Y/N reached the fridge, opened it, then stared inside with what Oscar could only describe as aggressive purpose. He leaned against the counter beside her and waited.

She closed the fridge and walked to the dining table. Sat. Crossed her arms again.

Oscar followed, pulled out the chair beside her and sat sideways in it so he could face her. “You know, I read this article once that said couples who laugh together live longer. So technically, by ignoring me, you’re putting us in danger. Are you okay with that?”

Nothing. Not even a blink.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

She stood up again. Oscar groaned dramatically and stood too. “You know, most boyfriends would’ve stopped following you by now. But not me. I am persistent.”

She made her way to the bedroom. Oscar kept talking behind her like some sort of lovesick narrator. “Do you remember when you said I was the most patient person you’d ever met? I feel like this is a test. Is this a test? Am I being punk’d?”

Y/N walked into the bedroom and sat on the bed, pulling the blanket over her lap like it was a barrier between them.

Oscar leaned against the doorway, then slowly walked over and knelt in front of her. He just quietly knelt, eyes searching hers even though she was refusing to look at him.

“I know you’re upset. And you have every right to be. You had a crap day. Work was horrible. Your friend cancelled. Sylvia turned our rug into modern art. And then I went and messed it up more. I said I’d be here, and I wasn’t. And I’m sorry.”

She shifted but didn’t look at him.

He rested his chin on her lap, arms folded on top of her thighs like a sleepy golden retriever. “I missed you all day. I kept thinking about how nice it’d be to just come home and lie next to you for a bit. I didn’t want to ruin the day for you. I wanted to fix it.”

No reply.

He pouted slightly. “You’re being very stubborn, you know. Cute. But stubborn.”

Still silent.

Y/N’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. She picked it up, glanced at the screen, and answered it without a word to Oscar, who was still half-sprawled across her lap.

“Hey,” she said, voice softening just slightly for her friend on the other end.

Oscar perked up, trying to catch snippets of the conversation, tilting his head like a curious dog.

“What are you up to?” her friend asked, cheerful and unaware of the storm cloud hovering over Y/N’s head.

Y/N glanced at Oscar, who wiggled his eyebrows at her hopefully, trying to earn a smirk or a flicker of mercy. Nothing. She looked away and sighed dramatically into the phone.

“I was supposed to have lunch,” she said. “But I got bailed on.”

Oscar sat up straighter.

“Oh no,” her friend gasped. “Is Oscar not at home?”

Y/N looked him right in the eye. Cold. Unwavering. She spoke into the phone with deliberate calm. “No.”

Oscar’s mouth dropped open. “Alright, that’s it,” he said, voice all mock scandal and playful outrage.

Before she could react, he snatched the phone out of her hand. “Hi, yes, lovely to meet you. She’ll call you back later. Don’t worry; I’ll make sure of it.” He hung up with a cheeky grin and tossed the phone onto the bed.

“Hey!” Y/N reached for it, but he was already moving.

Oscar wrapped an arm around her waist and stood up, lifting her off the bed like she weighed nothing. She squeaked in protest, legs kicking gently in the air, but he just laughed and hauled her out of the room.

“Put me down!” She tried to sound angry, but her voice betrayed her with the tiniest laugh.

“No can do. You revoked my 'boyfriend's rights'. Now I’m reclaiming them by force.”

He marched them to the living room and dropped onto the couch with her in his arms, carefully manoeuvring her so she ended up sitting on his lap. She immediately tried to wriggle away, but he locked his arms around her thighs, holding her in place like a seatbelt made of affection.

“You’re trapped. Accept your fate.”

She gave him the flattest look she could manage, arms crossed again, face tilted away. But she didn’t move to actually get up. And her cheeks were just a little pink.

Oscar leaned forward and rested his chin on her shoulder, squeezing her legs gently. “I’m sorry, Y/N. Really. I know you were looking forward to lunch. I was too. I should’ve let you know sooner that I wouldn’t make it. I didn’t mean to ruin your day.”

She didn’t reply, but she wasn’t fuming anymore. Just quiet.

“And I know you don’t want to talk right now. But I’ll sit here as long as it takes. As I hold you hostage on my lap.“

She sighed, but it was just a whisper of breath.

He reached out slowly and poked her side. Just a little.

Nothing.

He poked again. “Come on. You know you want to smile. I’ll even let you yell at me after. You can scold me for being late. For working too much. For not bringing you the chocolate you like. For looking like a kicked puppy every time you glare at me.”

Y/N finally looked down at him. Not a smile. Not forgiveness. But the tiniest glint of soft amusement in her eyes.

“You’re stuck with me, you know. This is your life now. Me, following you around like a lovesick fool until you forgive me. Or until Sylvia kicks me out of the apartment. Whichever comes first.”

Y/N let out a long sigh. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Only because I love you,” he said, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “And because you’re cute when you’re mad. Even cuter when you pretend not to forgive me but secretly want to kiss me anyway.”

“I do not,” she muttered.

Oscar gasped softly. “Lies. I can feel the affection radiating off of you. It’s like a hug with no arms.”

“You’re so dumb.”

“I thought that’s what you love most about me.”

She finally cracked a smile. Small. Barely there. But it was enough for him to light up like a kid at a candy store.

He pulled her closer, arms tightening just a little around her. “There she is. My favourite person.”

Y/N shook her head but leaned back into him just slightly, letting her head rest against his chest. “This isn’t over; I’m going to hold out on you longer next time.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll ever let there be a next time.” He glanced down at her hand, which was resting rigidly on her thigh like it had no interest in being touched or noticed. Slowly, as if she might swat him, he reached out and gently tried to lace his fingers through hers.

Her hand shifted ever so slightly away.

Oscar narrowed his eyes. “Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be.”

She didn’t say a word, but a tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

He scooted forward on the couch, wrapping one arm tighter around her waist and reaching again with exaggerated patience. This time, he grabbed her hand outright. She didn’t fight it, but she didn’t help either. Her fingers stayed stiff, pointing upwards like awkward little sticks while he tried to slot his fingers in.

Oscar frowned.

Y/N raised her eyebrows innocently, lips pursed, like she had no idea what he meant.

“Oh, we’re playing hardball,” he muttered and carefully started to push her fingers down.

One by one.

She bit her lip, trying not to laugh. He could feel her shoulders shaking slightly as she fought it off.

Oscar used both hands now, fully committed. “You’re really going to make me fold your hand into mine like I’m trying to wrestle a kitten into a sweater?”

Y/N lost it a little, a quiet giggle slipping out as she turned her face away from him, but he caught the crinkle in her eyes.

“There it is. I knew you were pretending.” He finished curling her fingers around his hand and held it triumphantly, giving it a dramatic shake. “Look at that. We’re holding hands. Like a couple in love. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Y/N tried to pull away, but he held on tighter, both of them laughing now in quiet bursts, trying not to lose the silly, playful silence they had built.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head but not letting go.

“You say that like it’s new information,” he whispered back, squeezing her hand once more, gently this time. “Now shut up and let me cuddle you. It's my turn to be clingy.”

#f1 x reader #f1 driver x reader #op81 #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri drabble #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #f1 requests #f1 fluff #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri requests #requests

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elliekuma · 2 days ago

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part 2 to this ♡

୨୧ cw. stalker! ellie, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, fingering, strap use, praise & degradation, manipulation, overstim, dubcon

♡ very dark content, be cautious .ᐟ.ᐟ take care of yourself ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ♡

it's been a month since ellie had kept you in her basement. days of lifeless hope that maybe someone would stumble across you, some repair man fixing her breaker or something, but no. no one had come—she knew how to do everything, even when you had purposely destroyed her power so that she'd have to call someone. she fixed it herself. "aw, c'mon. don't do that please?" she cooed, hands caressing your cheek like you were a little kid that knocked their cup of juice over. you wondered if the news ever talked about you, or if your family had visited to search for you. but they didn't. and you knew they wouldn't. ellie never allowed you to watch television either, cutting you off from the outside completely.

eventually you became pliant by the beginning of the second month, accepting your fate and all the dirty kisses that ellie had planted on your body—as much as you wanted to run, ellie kept you fed. kept you warm and always gave you what you wanted. that heavy part of you was lightened just a bit, because you didn’t have to live pay check to pay check anymore. you didn’t have to worry about an empty fridge, and ellie was much nicer than you imagined. she cradled you in her arms when you panicked, held you close to her heart and muttered promises into your unkempt hair. the first time she let you upstairs and into her own bedroom, your stomach turned with how close her skin was pressed against yours. it was comforting now. warm, and you couldn’t deny the fact that you had found yourself waiting for her to come home when she left.

ellie bought you pretty clothes, things you’ve always wanted to wear but couldn’t afford—beautiful tops and bottoms that matched. you’re trying on a dress she had ordered for you a week prior when you hear the familiar sound of keys outside your door, footsteps down the stairs. she smiles when her eye catches you, adorned by the pretty dress over your body. “i see you’ve kept yourself busy,” you nod, feeling warmth spread across your cheeks at her wandering eyes. you don’t say anything in response, you haven’t really talked at all actually. only quiet affirmations and only ever answering questions about yourself when she asked. she steps closer to you, her fingers finding the bottom of your dress. “looks so pretty on you,” she leans in to your bare neck, nose against your skin—“and you smell so good.” you smile in return. “have you been good today?” she asks, setting down her bag and sitting on one of the chairs she left for you.

“yes, ellie.” you’re twirling your thumbs together, watching as she stares at you. she takes her time taking you in, the way your skin perfectly complimented the fabric, that sweet small smile across your face, how you got so shy under her gaze. it’s not long before ellie gets desperate, and she pulls you onto her lap and spins the chair around so you both fit into the frame of the mirror you had. “tell me about your day.” she mumbles into your shoulder, her hands trailing to your tits, groping them gently, a hitch in your breath when she rubs around your clothed nipple. “i—i didn’t do much, just laid in bed and ate.. ah, and tried on stuff..” you whisper, feeling vulnerable seeing yourself in the mirror. ellie’s hands are all over you, enveloping your body, it looks so dirty. your head turns to the side, avoiding your own gaze in your reflection. ellie clicks her tongue in response, “keep your eyes on the mirror, keep talking.”

“i um… just napped, showered too.. um, that’s all,” you continued, your eyes finding ellie’s in the mirror when you look back. your insides feel hot, gushy, seeing her eyes swallow you like you were nothing. “mm, good girl. didn’t think about running away again, right?” one hand is pulling up the bottom of your dress, your panties on display—ellie’s slipping her other under them, fingers grazing over your heat. you whimper. “n—no.. i wasn’t.” ellie hums. you’re already wet, soaking even, spotting that wet translucent patch on the bottom of your panties as she tugs them off. “promise?” you nod, tears edging your waterline. she’s rubbing at your folds, sticky to her skin, making your pussy even messier. “spread your legs for me, then.” your thighs part, legs over ellie’s, so open and exposing your entire lower half to the both of you. you almost look away from the mirror when you see how you twitch, your hole pulsing around ellie’s fingers teasing your entrance. but you don’t. “look at you, so spread open for me, aren’t you glad you have me?”

your head flickers to your life before the four cement walls that kept you captive. late night drinks with your coworkers after a shitty shift, listening to your favorite playlists in your car while you drove home, the stray cat that roamed around your apartment—your heart beats just a little faster, something close to sadness growing in your stomach. but it flutters away when ellie dips her finger inside of your wet pussy, watching her finger disappear into your cunt. “ellie.. p-please…” your moans go straight to ellie’s core, her pussy throbbing at the sounds spilling from your lips. “don’t want you thinkin’ of anything else,” a curl of her finger, brushing over that spot inside of you—the one she spent days memorizing, pressing against you and taking you for herself even when you cried for her to stop. “i’m—not, ah,” she pushes in another finger, jamming into your cunt as deep as she could. ellie was addicted to the feeling of your warm walls clenching down on her, tightening around her fingers and covering them in slick, “i’m gonna ruin you, make sure you—fuck, baby, make sure you don’t get any silly ideas about trying to escape.” you can tell ellie is slowly losing composure too, her eyes locked onto her fingers diving into your cunt over and over again, dribbles of your arousal dripping onto her crotch whenever she pulls out, an obscene squelch at every thrust. your eyes are glossy, face fucked out just from her fingers.

“look at you,” ellie chuckles, her breath against your skin. “moaning like this just from my fingers?—a week ago you were fighting back,” another hard thrust, rubbing right against your sweet spot, a strangled moan of ellie’s name from your lips. “what happened to that, huh?” ellie drags your dress up even higher, your tits splayed out and open for the both of you to look at. she groans at the sight, watching as you squirm on her lap, digging into you like she was trying to find something. ellie’s gaze flickers from your tits to your cunt, doesn’t know where to look because she’s so overwhelmed—you’re so pretty like this, and you’re everything that she’s ever wanted. you’re even more beautiful when you aren’t punching or kicking, or filling ellie’s ears with screams every time she touched you. she can take what she wanted from your body. and she had been. “m’ sorry ellie, i’m gonna c—cum..” you feel her fingers still, the horrible feeling of emptiness inside you, watching as ellie brings her hands to her mouth so she can lick herself clean. “don’t want you to come yet, baby.”

your head is fuzzy, the same feeling you had whenever ellie gave you something to calm down, so you’re not too sure on how you got onto your mattress—not too sure when ellie had left, the distant noises of a door opening and footsteps in your ears, and suddenly she’s on top of you, your dress bunched up to your neck and the sound of something wet, looking at ellie to see a black harness around her waist, a long thick strap and slender fingers moving up and down the toy. “want you to come on my cock,” ellie smiles, shifting her hips so the tip laid right onto your cunt, your arms coming up to wrap around ellie’s neck. “what if i can’t take it?—“ she ignores you, hand gripping at her strap and slapping your pussy with it, ellie groans when she hears the plap! “you will.”

her hands find the bottoms of your thighs, lifting them up while she pushes herself inside of you, your gummy walls tightening around her immediately—it hurts, it’s nothing like her fingers, it’s big and it fills you up completely. the stretch knocks the breath out of you, and you swear you can feel her in your throat, it makes you panic. “ellie! no—no please, it hurts!” her teeth are sinking into your skin while you beg, the sting hard to bear when you’re jolting up the mattress in pain, her thrusts never getting any gentler. “it won’t hurt when you get used to it,” ellie mumbles, “please, i’ve waited for so long.. fuck, shit—to have you like this, under me,” ellie kisses where the marks of her teeth laid, licking a stripe to the bottom of your jaw. “spent so many nights coming home, and ah, fuck you’re tight—“ her tip is basically thrusting into your cervix, a loud moan of ellie’s name again and again, the abuse to your soppy pussy loud and pornographic. “came home after seeing you, in that tight apron—rubbing myself on my pillow till i came,” ellie’s thrusts get more desperate, fast, her hips slamming into your ass every time her strap was inside you. “you don’t know… how fucking bad,” a harder thrust, like she was enunciating her words with how far she could push herself into you, “i needed you, wanted you.. wanted to get you alone and fuck you till you cried,” ellie whimpers, the back of her strap bumping right against her clit, “i can give you everything you want.”

your fingernails are dragging red lines across her back, spit spilling down the sides of your mouth, gurgling on the words you wanted to scream—it still hurts, the way she’s dragging herself along your sensitive walls and licking at your ear with no remorse, and you find yourself coming all over her—squirts of your arousal messily coating the silicone, hitting ellie’s lower half and dripping down your cunt. but she doesn’t stop, figured that since you came, it was her turn. her back is completely covered in your scratches now, painful, but ellie relishes in the way that your hands had given her those. she bullies her strap into you with no mercy, thrusting in impossibly deeper, as hard as she could to have it push up against her clit like it had moments before. she delivers a few more excruciating drives into your puffy pussy before she cums, her entire body shaking violently as she grinds into you—you can’t tell if you were screaming, but your throat hurts, and when she pulls out it makes you twitch. you see ellie’s face appear in your blurry vision, warm hands brushing hair out of your face. “you’re perfect, you’re so perfect.. you belong to me, say it.. please.”

you gulp, the soreness of your throat making it difficult, but your wet lips move to answer. “i belong to you.” ellie knows that everything had been worth it when she cradles your sweaty face, your eyes somewhere far away and your pussy covered in your own mess. it was worth it. she can’t feel the way your stomach tightens when you realize this is all you’ll ever know now. her face and the four cement walls keeping you in place. she can’t feel the way your head spins when you realize no one will come looking, because if they had been, you would be home by now. so you accept the clammy hands holding yours, squeezing. you bury your face in ellie’s neck and accept it.

tag list ♡

@livvietalks @ellies-dinosaur @l0veylace @therealhexstrap @morticeras @whisperingcherub @hyperbabes

#ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ella writes ── .ꔫ ellie williams ♡

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companioncute · 3 days ago

Text

Syncopate my skin to your heart beating

Pairing: Mark Grayson (Invincible (2021)) x fem!girly!reader

Summary: Unlikely friendship, even more unlikely relationship… or is it?

Notes: hey divas… I am soooo bad at posting sorry :(( I get stuck on the nsfw part bc I honestly suck at writing it, but I see the differences in how my nsfw vs sfw posts do, so I guess I’ll be a sellout

Cw: making out, penetrative sex, reader is very stereotypically feminine, reader implied to be upper middle/upper class (or have a suspicious source of income? Up to interpretation), reader is a nerd at heart, reader described as able-bodied (can stand/walk), reader attends university, idiots in love, friends-with-benefits (?) to lovers

Tw: graphic descriptions of sex

From an outside perspective, sure, you and Mark Grayson are an odd pair of friends. By outward appearances, Mark is comic posters with frayed edges, wobbly vintage second-hand vinyl, collared shirts underneath sweaters his mom has bought for him, and windswept hair that not even the usual pound of hair gel he used could tame. You, on the other hand, are glittering tennis jewelry, style section, alabaster pink matelassé nappa leather, and lace-trimmed silk.

On the inside, however, you and Mark are one and the same… to some extent.

“Does it look weird on me?” You ask, your upper body twisted 180 degrees as you look at the back of your new skirt in the mirror. “Is it the slit? I’m not sure I have the legs for this.”

The embroidered sequins catch the light, causing a shimmering effect to draw attention to the pink mini skirt (though Mark would argue that it’s a micro skirt). Two chunky leather buckles clasp the item together at the front, buckled one hole up so that it hangs as ideally low on your hips as you desire.

“Where would you even wear that?” Mark asks, his cheeks flushed as his eyes trace the way the skirt digs into the fat of your hips. “Seems… impractical.��

“It’s cute,” you say with a shrug. “Do you not like it?”

“I— I love it,” he laugh nervously, giving you small grin. “Just not much of a fashion guy. I’m sure I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m trying to give, like, Sydney Sweeney for Miu Miu meets Lily-Rose Depp for Chanel,” you sigh, continuing to twist around yourself to look at the skirt.

“I’m not even going to pretend to know what that means,” Mark snorts, rolling his eyes as he return to the comic you’ve drawn his attention away from. “But… you look, um, good. Great. You always do.”

A part of you wants to tease him, to draw out that pretty flushed pink color on his face, but instead you simply smile.

“Thank you, Mark. That’s really sweet.”

“Yeah, um, don’t mention it,” he laughs softly, unable to look up at you.

You slip out of the skirt, uncaring for the way your lower half is only covered by a pink lace thong and a pair of scrunched-up white ribbed socks that dig into your upper calf.

Changing in front of each other is nothing new. Back when you’d barely grown out of being a toddler, the two of you would run naked around in his backyard while jumping over Debbie’s garden sprinkler system. The difference now is that you’re not children anymore and you certainly don’t look it either. The weight of adulthood is taxing on you both, shown both physically and mentally.

There’s a permanent crease etched into marks forehead, right between his brows. His jaw always looks a little more crooked than the last time you saw him, and whenever he needs to regrow his teeth, they don’t always assume the correct position.

He’s still beautiful.

You’re tired, too. Although you’re no Atlas like Mark, the responsibilities of your education and student assistant jobs and clubs are also taking their toll on you. You hide it well, your concealer always brightening the chronically dark circles around your eyes.

You unbutton your top as well and slip out of your bra before throwing on something more comfortable. A trusted staple; a pink negligée, trimmed with lace. You’re a regular Naomi Lapaglia.

Crawling into the plush pink sheets, you curl up in Mark’s arms.

“I missed you,” you murmur into his neck.

Mark slides the John Constantine, Hellblazer omnibus across your bedside table to wrap his strong arms around you tightly.

“Missed you more,” he replies, running his fingers down your spine.

Your room, your home, is his sanctuary (not that his own home isn’t, but yours is different). It’s just the two of you here, just you and Mark—not Invincible. He’s never Invincible here. Lines tend to blur and you’ll spend hours tangled up in each other only to still call it friendship later.

“Missed you most,” you say, smiling sweetly up at him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispers, fixing the morganite pendant of your necklace. His fingers are warm as they brush against your skin, holding onto the pale pink gem while sliding the hook on the chain onto the back of your neck.

“I’m not doing anything,” you whisper back, blinking heavily as you struggle to keep your eyes open. You’ve spent too many hours staring at a computer screen today.

Mark laugh softly, shaking his head.

“Liar.”

“Nuh-uh,” you murmur, grinning softly. Finely manicured nails scrape gently along his forearm, running over the fine layer of dark hair.

Mark only smiles, then leans down to kiss your forehead.

“Is this new?” You murmur, fingering the material of his shirt—a deep blue boxy t-shirt.

“Mhm,” he hum softly. “My mom got it for me.”

You chuckle softly.

“Debbie has good taste. Blue is your color.”

“Yeah?” He whispers, his breath hitching. It doesn’t matter whether or not it was before… blue is suddenly his favorite color. In fact, he might only wear blue from now on.

“Uh-huh,” you say, your nails carefully trickling down his chest. Your fingers dip under his shirt, splaying out against his abdomen. A sigh leaves you as you rest your head against his chest.

Mark tightens his grip on you, tugging the pink covers up over your shoulders.

“I love you,” he whispers; words he’s spoken many times before, yet never so tenderly. “You know that, right?”

“I love you, too,” you respond, angling your face up to look at him. “More than anything.”

“You can’t just say things like that,” he laughs quietly, his chest rumbling underneath you. His fingers run over your scalp, down your neck and spine again. “You’re gonna give a guy the wrong idea.”

“It’s different when it’s you,” you say, delicately tracing little hearts into the warm skin of his stomach.

It’s things like that which take Mark back to when he’d first introduced you to William, who had been all but bug-eyed at 17, staring at you with wonder. According to him, there was simply no way a girl like you had any reason to show interest in Mark other than to bully him. Then, within the first ten seconds of you opening your mouth, you’d begun gushing about William’s ‘cunty’ LEGO Batman: the video game (PS3) t-shirt which sent you off on a tangent about your chronic overuse of Poison Ivy’s toxic kiss back when you were eight years old, which, yeah, was totally a moment of self-discovery for you.

And then William got it, but Mark still finds himself mulling over his words.

Is he only good enough to be your friend (whom you may or may not kiss every once in a while)?

No. You’ve never made him feel less. If anything, his dorky personality and cringe one-liners only seem to make you adore him more.

“Does it have to be?” Mark asks softly, tapping his finger against the tip of your nose only to get some of your highlighter smudged onto the pad.

You tilt your head, laughing softly.

“What do you mean?”

“Just…” he begins, swiping his thumb across your cheekbone (much to your displeasure, as he always manages to smudge your otherwise perfect blush placement), “no, nothing. Forget it.”

You purse your lips (cutely, Mark notes), smacking your glossy pink lips as you sit up to straddle his lap. Routinely, Mark’s hands find your hips.

“Don’t give me that tone,” you say, raising a brow. “Defeated. Pathetic. Like nothing you have to say has any value.”

He sighs, shaking his head.

“It’s stupid,” Mark argues, his fingers dipping underneath the lace trim that lays flush against your creamy thighs.

“Nothing you ever say is stupid,” you say softly, then grin. “Okay, maybe some of the things you say are… but not this time.”

Mark laugh softly, then leans up to kiss you. It’s not the first time he’s kissed you, but it’s not something you ever really talk about.

A hum leaves you as you melt into the kiss, his strong arms circling your hips and pulling you closer.

“Don’t try to change the topic,” you murmur in between kisses. “I’m not gonna let it go.”

“Stubborn as a mule,” he laughs softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your jaw. “I just… do you never get tired of this?”

You pause, frowning.

“What— us?”

“Wha— no! No, no,” Mark reassures you, his fingers running up the sides of your ribs. “Never us, never you. Just… this uncertainty. I mean, sometimes I… I don’t know if you’re just not looking for more or if it’s because I’m me and—“

“Stop,” you say, curling your fingers around the nape of his neck. “What’re you talking about?”

Mark sighs, his shoulders slumping.

“If there’s one thing I know to be true about you, it’s that you always just go for what you want. If you want something, you take it. And sometimes I just wish you would…”

“What?” You ask, a smile tugging on the corner of your lips. “Take you?”

He laughs, his head slumping down against your shoulder.

“Okay, not great phrasing, but you know what I mean.”

You snort, grinning crookedly at him.

“I know what you mean,” you repeat, sliding your hand delicately up his neck to cradle his jaw, tilting his head back.

He sighs, closing his eyes.

“Consider this,” your murmur, leaning down to kiss his forehead, then both eyelids, the tip of his nose, and finally his lips, “me taking what I want.”

Mark swallows a moan, his grip tightening on your hips as he leans into the kiss. Strong, deft fingers dig into your flesh, then slide down the curve of your ass.

“Mh, love you so much,” he whispers in between kisses, sliding your negligee up alongside his hands’ movement back up to your waist. “You’re too good for me.”

Part of you is tempted to counter with ‘you’re literally Invincible’, but Invincible isn’t a name allowed inside your home—only Mark, your Mark. You’re not going to equate his worthiness of being with you to how strong he is; Mark is enough.

“Love you more,” you whisper, smiling sweetly as your lipgloss gets smeared across his own lips. “It’s always been you.”

You swipe your thumb across his bottom lip, tugging it down as you apply pressure.

“Desire suits you,” you murmur.

Marks stares up at you, pupils blown wide. There’s something about your tone…

“Oh,” he says, grinning boyishly and proudly. “Oh, I get it. That’s the shade name.”

You grin brightly, letting an undignified giggle escape your lips.

“Sure is,” you laugh, kissing him again. “This is a 38 dollar lip balm.”

“That price has to be a criminal offense,” Mark chuckles, his hands running up your sides. “But I’m honored that you’re wasting it on me.”

“It’s never a waste if I’m kissing you,” you tut, brushing his hair back.

“You really mean that, huh,” Mark states softly, smiling to himself.

“Mhm,” you hum, cradling his face in your hands. Long, pinkish nails scrape against his scalp as you run your fingers up and through his hair again, then settling them behind his neck. “I could also just let you borrow some. It suits you.”

“Don’t make me get the spray bottle,” he jokes, pinching your hip.

“Oh, bite me,” you counter, rolling your eyes playfully. “Like there’s anything you wouldn’t let me get away with.”

“Okay, yeah,” Mark says with a soft grin. “Maybe I’m biased when it comes to you.”

“Just a smidge,” you murmur, punching your thumb and index finger together for emphasis.

“Just a smidge,” Mark repeats, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose.

With a giggle, you capture his lips in another slow, deep kiss. You tug lightly on his hair, tilting his head back before letting your lips trail down the column of his throat.

A strangled groan leaves Mark, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulls you closer.

“Baby,” he whispers, “don’t— don’t start something you’re not gonna finish. I’m not strong enough for that.”

“I’ve been considering getting the Tom Taylor Nightwing omnibus when it comes out this summer,” you say simply, peppering soft kisses further down his neck and leaving behind a shimmering pink smudge. “Thoughts?”

“There are literally no thoughts in my head right now,” he laughs softly, smiling dazedly down at you. “Go for it. I’ll— I’ll get it for you.”

“Yeah?” You whisper, smiling sweetly. “You will? Oh, Mark, you’re the best.”

“Uh-huh,” he murmurs, still grinning. “That’s me. The best.”

You reach down, tugging on shirt.

“Off, please,” you say in a polite tone.

“As you wish,” he laughs softly, reluctantly letting go of you to shrug the t-shirt over his head—and not without struggle.

“No, no, I got it,” he says sheepishly, smiling brightly through the darkening of his cheeks as he manages to discard the shirt.

“There we go,” you murmur, running a hand down his chest. “Handsome. You’ve gotten really big these past few years, y’know.”

Sometimes it’s almost too easy.

Mark’s spine straightens and his grin brightens.

“I know, right? Cecil has me on this tight program—“

You slip the negligee off your shoulders, letting the silk pool around your hips and expose your breasts.

“Hoo, boy,” Mark murmurs, grinning boyishly as his train of thought is interrupted. “You don’t know how hard it is having you change around me. I mean, the— the girls are just out, y’know?”

“That’s just, like, on purpose,” you snort, grabbing his strong hands and sliding them up your waist and settling them on top of your breasts, squeezing through his hands.

“Oh, fuck me,” Mark exhales with parted lips and furrowed brows, leaning down to press warm, wet kisses down your sternum.

“About the Tom Taylor run,” you begin, letting go of his hands and settling your fingers in his hair, “I know the art is gorgeous, but is the storylines actually worth it? Oh, who am I kidding? I’m a slut for beautiful comics.”

“Uh-huh,” Mark murmurs, nosing up the underside of one of your breasts. “S’probably fun. I don’t know.”

His tongue runs over your pebbled nipple, closing his lips around the peak with a gentle suction. He mouths at your nipple repeatedly, groaning softly against your skin. The calloused pads of his fingers trace down your back and slip underneath the lacy elastic band of your thong, digging into the fat of your ass.

“Let’s get you out of these, handsome,” you sigh, gently chewing on the inside of your cheek as you reach down to unbutton and unzip his (honestly fugly) khakis.

“Wha— oh. Oh, yeah,” he pants softly, letting his forehead thump down against your chest. He lifts his hips enough to tug the pants down, shuffling to kick them off his ankles without moving you too much. “Got it.”

“You sure do,” you murmur, your voice a soft purr as you brush your lips against his temple . “So strong and capable.”

“Fuck you,” Mark laughs breathlessly, kissing down your sternum again. “I’m trying so hard not be easy right now.”

“I thought you were Invincible?” You whisper with a soft grin.

Mark draws back with a crooked grin.

“Nuh-uh. You just broke the first rule of—“

“If you say Fight Club, I’m kicking you out,” you laugh, gently pushing him down against your covers.

He rests his weight on his elbows, then looks up and smiles softly.

“I’m just Mark, right?”

You nod, kissing him tenderly.

“Mark. Sweet Mark, my Mark.”

“Oh, out the window with not being easy,” he laughs softly, tugging you down and steadying you with his hands as he switches positions so that you’re below him. He hooks your knees over his shoulders, then lifts your hips with his left arm while peeling the negligee off you with his right. Gently lowering you back to the bed, he begins to plant soft, wet kisses up your stomach.

“Mh, oh,” you sigh, your nails scraping down the nape of his neck. “You know how often I’ve thought about you? Just— just thinking about you?”

“If it’s anywhere near as often as I have,” Mark pants, slipping your thong down your legs and ghosting his fingers across your sensitive flesh, “yeah. I think I have an idea.”

“Kiss me again,” you command in a soft tone, and Mark complies.

His lips capture yours in a slow, tender kiss that speeds up your heart rate. His thumb circles your clit, slow at first, then faster as he’s overcome by sheer excitement of being close to you.

“Mark,” you whisper shakily, losing your concentration on the kiss and dipping your face into the crook of his neck. “Mark—“

A soft laugh escapes you, followed by a small moan as you press your lips to his neck.

His middle finger slips inside you—long, strong, deft—as he continues the stimulation on your clit. Moments later, his ring finger follows.

“Mh-“

Long nails dig into his firm back as you claw him down closer.

“C’mere, c’mere,” you whisper, tilting your head up to kiss him again, and when you come, it’s with a soft moan against his mouth.

With a confident grin, he retracts his hand and slips his finger into his mouth to suck them clean.

“Dirty boy,” you comment playfully, brushing his jet black hair back. “Someone’s been getting laid these past few years.”

“Yeah, as if. No, I— I just wanna make sure I treat my girl right, yeah?” He murmurs, leaning down to kiss you again.

“Oh, your girl, huh?” You tease.

“You agreed to it,” he laughs, kissing your cheek, “just before.”

“Mhm,” you hum, kissing his cheek back. “I just like hearing it.”

“Yeah?” He responds, excitement lacing his tone. “My girl? My pretty girl? My sweet girl?”

He plants soft kisses up your jaw.

A silly, girlish giddiness overcomes you much to your own embarrassment.

“You do like it,” Mark laughs, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Shut up,” you laugh, tugging on his boxers. “Off.”

“Bossy,” he says with a grin, slipping out of his boxer shorts before slotting his hips against yours. “Now be still.”

He reaches over you, his hand blindly fumbling through his wallet before retracting with a condom. Biting the inside of his cheek in concentration (definitely not a habit he’s picked up from you), he rips the package open and rolls the latex down his hardened dick. He grips your hips firmly but gently as he lines up with you before slowly, gently, pushing inside.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his hand sliding up to splay out against your stomach. “Easy. There we go.”

“Who’re you reassuring?” You exhale with a dazed grin. Your stomach is slightly tensed up, struggling to relax at the foreign intrusion. “Me or you?”

“Both,” Mark responds softly, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he bottoms out. “You make me nervous sometimes, you know.”

“Yeah,” you whisper with a soft nod, eyelids fluttering. “You and me both.”

Slowly, gently, carefully, Mark begins to rock his hips into yours. His lips ghost over the junction between your neck and shoulder as he connects with you through languid strokes. His thumb returns to your clit, and you jump at the sensitivity.

“Mh… ah,” you laugh softly, smiling as you find his lips with your own. “S’nice. That’s— that’s good. Yeah, jus’ like that.”

Your voice turns more and more breathless, the sound partially swallowed by Mark’s mouth against yours.

“Love you so much,” he whines, panting into your mouth. “God, you don’t even— you don’t know.”

“I get it,” you whisper, arms wrapped around his neck tightly, practically clinging to him. “I get it. It’s just us, yeah? For the rest of our lives.”

Mark lets out a groan as he nods, the snap of his hips becoming more fast-paced as he loses his rhythm. It doesn’t take long before he comes, his hips stuttering into yours and his voice breaking as he utters your name. You fall apart in the same moment, underneath his fingertips and safe in his arms.

“You mean that?” He whispers carefully, and you pretend not to notice the sheen to his eyes.

“What?” You ask, dazed and confused.

“Forever,” he reiterates.

You nod.

“Just you and me. Forever.”

#invincible #invincible x fem!reader #invincible x reader #invincible x you #mark grayson #mark grayson x fem!reader #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson x you

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puppysuh · 1 day ago

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so… we all know how i feel about meanie!haechan, but what about nerd!haechan who’s never seen or touched a pussy in his life but is surprisingly really freaky?

if you’re wondering why i’m so obsessed with him, just watch a couple of clips of him from the university festival performance. those glasses… ouh get him in me NOW!

you approach him because you feel bad for him. he’s always alone, nose in a book or fingers tapping rapidly at his laptop, and whilst your girlfriends like to make fun of him for being such a loser, you’re surprisingly quite intrigued by him.

when you approach him the first time, you begin to see what your friends mean. he’s shy, his glasses falling down his nose as he avoids eye contact with you like the plague. he’s right to be cautious; what are you, the campus sweetheart, doing talking to him, the guy who’s rumoured to only shower once a week and lock himself in his room to jerk off to cheap porn?

you should be laughing in his face, ridiculing him for being such a freak of nature but no, instead you stand in front of him, voice sweet like honey whilst you twirl your hair and await his responses with bated breath. and when he finally looks up at you, into those beautiful eyes he spent so long avoiding, he’s completely gone, and he decides that he must have you.

nerd!haechan would overthink your interaction for the next week. seriously, why were you talking to him? did you like him? did you want to get to know him better? or worse… did you just want sex? that’s what most people are after nowadays anyways, so he begins to train himself up for the next time he talks to you.

instead of avoiding your group like a disease, he begins following you discreetly, taking note of everything you like. that coffee shop just opposite your dorm? he’s memorised your order. your seat in the library? he scares off anyone who tries to sit there by sitting directly opposite it, only moving when he sees you come through the door. and he’s stalked your social media too; all of your highlights are screenshotted and placed into a special album in his phone, reserved solely for you.

he also has another album, a hidden one, full of… other photos.

at first glance, it looks normal. a picture of you at the beach holding an ice cream, or another of you posing in a party dress. all standard highlight posts, posts nobody would suspect nerd!haechan would jerk off to almost every night, glasses fogged up as he memorises every curve of your body, toes curling as he focuses on the way your tongue flicks out to lick the top of the ice cream, a dribble of white cream running down your chin.

he doesn’t know how he manages to face you at school, but he does anyways, and when you finally ask him for some ‘tutoring’, he happily accepts, pushing his glasses up on his nose and trying to divert his eyes away from the cleavage displayed by your dangerously low cut top.

he’s surprised how quickly you jump on him the moment you get through the door of his apartment. you probably think you’ve caught him off guard, slamming your lips into his and grinding your hips forward against his crotch. you think you’re doing charity work, fucking the college loser so nobody else has to.

you couldn’t have been more wrong.

you see, along with his extensive jerking sessions to your instagram posts, haechan has been doing some studying, and not the academic kind. he knows how to make you feel good despite never having a chance to, and when he lifts you up against the door and presses your back flat against it, you’re nothing short of shocked.

“you thought i didn’t know?” his voice is quiet, and whilst his tone carries little to no conviction, it travels straight to your core. “i’m your little passion project, right? fucking the loser so you can feel less bad about yourself.”

before you can open your mouth to answer, he’s pushing his hips upwards into your clothed core, and any protests are replaced by a soft whine. “haechan, that’s not—”

“shut. up.” he thrusts forwards again, and the back of your head meets wood, arms wrapping around his neck as shocks of pleasure roll up your spine. “i’m not some fucking charity case.”

it’s safe to say he’s rendered you speechless. you look down at him, and where before you saw an unkempt loser, now you see someone hungry with lust, and you like it. “kiss me,” you breathe, and he complies, his mouth crashing into yours as he carries you across his living room.

you’d always wondered if he would keep his glasses on during sex, and that night, you got your answer. they slide down the bridge of his nose as his rams his cock into your cunt at a dizzying rhythm, one hand clasping your wrists together above your head, the other rubbing at your clit furiously.

“say you were wrong,” he grunts, sounding almost pained as he repeatedly bumps the tip of his cock into that spot that makes you squirm. “say i’m good, better than anyone you’ve ever had.”

“you’re s-so good!” you can barely speak— barely even breathe, not with the way his hand moves from your clit and to your throat, forcing your chin upwards to look at him. “f-fuck, ‘m sorry, haechan.”

and for the first time since you met him, he smiles a genuine smile, one that almost seems deranged, obsessive. “that’s right,” he says, “the best you’ll ever have.”

a/n : i’m so obsessed with the idea of him being borderline evil its insane. please feed me more haechan delusions guys i think i might love him 💔💔

edit : I MADE A PART 2 check it out if you love me (or nerds)

#★ puppysuh presents .ᐟ #★ neoposting .ᐟ #nct #nct haechan #nct smut #nct x reader #nct haechan x reader #nct haechan smut #nct 127 #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 smut #nct dream #nct dream x reader #nct dream smut #kpop #kpop smut #kpop x reader

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seasidefallenangel · 1 day ago

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being fixated to you — that is the problem

they're so in love with you, but you just don't seem to get it ft. riddle rosehearts, jamil viper

notes: fluff, reader can't read between the lines, was playing amnesia and shin's whole "wanting to be seen as more than a little brother" thing... mhhhm

༄ riddle rosehearts:

napkins perfectly folded, pink flamingos elegantly roaming the lawn, hours spent practicing a tart recipe that you were sure to praise riddle for -

… instead replaced with you cooing at him like he’s some child.

“you’re so cute, rids!” you grin while pinching his cheek. if you were less close with him, you’d assume the cherry red of his face was from anger and not pure embarrassment.

quite frankly, he’s at a loss. it couldn’t be more obvious that he loves you to the point of it hurting his chest. every attempt and compliment he gives you, earnest confessions of attraction, are simply met with laughs and something along the lines of him being, “like a cute, younger brother.”

it was mortifying.

setting his teacup on its plate, he grips the handle just a bit too tightly as his head hangs down. you’re about to ask if he’s okay when he mutters, “... is that really all you see me as?”

his hands slam on the arms of your chair and he leans in, eyes intense and expression deadly serious. it’s not as if riddle is a generally goofy person, but the sudden shift from your casual meet-up is a bit jarring.

“why do you refuse to take me seriously? am i not enough of a man for you?” he asks with desperation in his voice.

you’re taken aback at how earnestly he says it. there’s no hesitation nor even a hint of dishonesty in his words. such a blunt confession style isn’t really within his personality, but sevens is he tired of giving hints and pseudo-admissions of his unwavering devotion to you.

“would you consider, even just once, that i truly have an interest in you?” he says, leaning in so close you would think he’s about to kiss you. he’d never do such a thing without explicit consent from you, but the thought of it is exhilarating.

testing the waters, you offer him a teasing grin in response, boldly stating, “will you kiss me if i do?”

he freezes at your words, the severity of the situation sinking in - realizing just how much he’s invading your personal space. his typical red face is now a much softer shade of pink ; cuter, even.

as the full weight of his actions invades every section of his brain, he opts to just mumble, “... maybe later,” before sitting back down and stewing in his own humiliation.

༄ jamil viper:

“you’re making a mess,” jamil chides you lightly, tenderly swiping a napkin across your cheek to clean the remnants of the dolma he made you for dinner. it was rare for scarabia’s dining hall to be deserted so early in the night, but you were grateful for a more peaceful setting than usual. (he told the entire dorm he’ll stick laxatives in every meal for the next month if a single one of them bothered you both tonight. none of them wanted to find out if he meant it.)

jamil’s eyes are trained on you while you lift the fork for another bite and a sigh follows him as more of the glaze drips down your mouth. he presses the napkin to you once more and quietly admonishes, “where would you be without me?”

you swallow and playfully poke his nose while responding, “lost, probably. you’re like a reliable baby brother, y’know?”

the smile on his face drops in an instant and he clenches his teeth, shutting his eyes for a few moments. the reaction is so unexpected that you’re unsure of how to even follow up until he speaks. “you’re an absolute fool.”

he slowly stands, placing his hands on the table with you in between them. his legs slot against your own and you can feel the wood from the table’s edge pressing into your back, but the pain doesn’t register as he gets closer to you.

“between you and kalim,” he says while holding your jaw between his thumb and pointer finger, “i must have a penchant for attracting idiots to my side. do you honestly think all of this was done simply in good faith and nothing else?”

to his credit, he has a point. jamil isn’t exactly a selfless person (not by choice, anyway) but he’s not easy to read either. if there was some kind of hidden intent, you sure as hell weren’t gonna find it.

“humor me for a moment,” comes his low voice while his forehead rests against yours. “if that’s all i’ll ever be to you, if you’ll never give me the grace of being viewed as a true suitor for your hand, then tell me now so i can stop wasting my time on inevitable failure.”

a proper answer evades you completely. jamil has never struck you as someone with romantic interest in anything, nevermind you specifically — but that doesn’t mean you’re against being in a relationship with him.

“what if i do see you in that way, then?” you ask with a growing grin, curious to see how far this adrenaline rush will take him.

when his lips eagerly descend onto yours, his thumb moving to press against the junction of your throat, you find out how tough it is to swallow your own words.

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #jamil viper x reader #twst x reader

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russo-woso · 2 days ago

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Finding out

Y/N Williamson has just been called up to play along side her older sister for the Arsenal senior team but everything halts when she finds out she’s pregnant.

-> The Unexpected Masterlist

3 weeks

“Good morning, is this Miss Williamson I’m talking to?” A woman asked over the phone.

You had picked up the phone hesitantly, having seen an unknown number displayed across your screen.

You never had people ring you unless it was your parents, your sister or your brother so having a random number meant one thing - a spam call.

You had picked it up nonetheless, a gut feeling running through you.

“Yes it is.” You confirmed, moving out of the busy changing rooms to a private area much quieter.

The end of training was always loud, even more so with the senior team.

“Hi, I’m doctor Moore. I did your endometriosis examination three weeks ago.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. There being no reason as to why she would’ve been calling.

“There’s been a bit of a mess up within our system and your file got mixed up with another woman’s file.” Dr Moore continued, clear anxiousness evident in her voice.

“Okay…” You said, not really understanding what she was getting at.

“This other woman was scheduled in to have an artificial insemination. Due to the system malfunction, we did this procedure on you instead.” She explained, your heart dropping.

“What’s an artificial insemination? I’m only 16, and failing biology. I don’t think I’m supposed to understand what it means.”

“We injected sperm into your uterus. This woman was going through IVF alone. But instead of her, we inseminated you.”

“You’re joking. Because what you’re saying is that you impregnated me? I could be pregnant right now? It’s a fucking joke. I’m sorry but I don’t believe this. This is a fake call.” You said, shaking your head in disbelief and shock.

“Miss Williamson, I can assure you that this is a serious call from the clinic. I’m so sorry for the mix up but what you’re saying is correct. We have unintentionally possible impregnated you.”

“You’re sorry? This is fucking ridiculous! I’m sixteen years old and you might have gotten me pregnant by accident. But it’s okay because you’re sorry?” You shouted, quieting down because you didn’t want any of your teammates to hear you.

“I get you’re going to have to take a legal route. I understand that. I’ll have my legal team contact you soon. For now, I suggest you take a pregnancy test. We can—”

“—Who set you up to this? Did Leah set you up for this? That little—”

“—Miss Williamson, this isn’t a joke. You need to take this seriously.” The doctor said, her voice stern and serious.

“You really expect me to take this seriously. It’s a fucking joke and I know it is. Go to hell.”

And with that, you hung up on her.

Clearly it was a joke. There was no possibility a professional clinic would have messed up that big.

You walked back into the changing rooms, heading towards your compartment but a hand landed on your shoulder, stopping you from walking.

“Who was that?” You sister asked, furrowing her eyebrows in a protective manner.

“It was spam, Le. No need to get protective over it.” You lied but send her a smile, your big sister being your best friend as well as yous sister.

“It’s only because I love you. Now, Hurry up and get changed, we’ve got dinner at mum’s tonight.” She told you and you hummed in response.

“I need to stop at a shop on the way there.”

“Why? What do you need?”

“Nothing big. Just a few bits.” You lied, praying Leah would just let it go.

She nodded, clearly believing you, before continuing to change.

You had wondered into the shop, Leah having stayed in the car.

You walked round looking for the toiletry section, hoping they had a pregnancy test.

A part of you knew that the phone call wasn’t a joke.

In fact you knew it definitely wasn’t a joke. The doctor’s voice was identical to the woman’s on the phone and when you googled the clinic, it was the same number that had called you.

There was also a part of you that begged for it to be a joke.

As you walked towards the checkout, you picked up a bag of maltesers, that way if Leah did ask what you’d gotten, you would show her the bag of chocolate.

You paid for them both quickly, stuffing the test in the pocket of your hoodie before walking to Leah’s car.

“They were so important that you had to make me stop to get them?” Leah questioned, her eyes focusing on the red bag of chocolates.

“Yes.”

“Well are you gonna open them or what?” Leah questioned, opening her mouth as she began reversing out of the car space.

“If you give me the money for them.” You teased, moving the Malteser away from her mouth.

“You live in my house for free, yet you still expect me to pay for a small bag of chocolates just for me to have one?”

“Yes.”

Leah looked at you before quickly moving her head to try and bite the malteser out of your hand.

“Ew! Leah! You got your saliva all over my hand.”

“Are you okay, love? You seem quiet tonight.” Your mum asked you as you took a sip of your drink.

“Yeah, all good. Training was just a bit difficult. Tired me out.” You explained, half of it being true, half of it being a lie. “I’m actually just gonna pop to the bathroom.”

You got up, sending a weak smile to your mum and sister before making your way to the toilet.

Grabbing the pregnancy test from your pocket, you read the instructions carefully.

You did what it said, placing the test face down on the sink countertop.

You waited a few minutes before turning it over.

Your breath got caught, your mouth dropping, your heart stopping.

You stared at the single word in the test - pregnant.

“Are you alright in there, kiddo?” Leah asked through the door

“Yeah! All good.” You replied, despite feeling like your whole body was shutting down.

You were a virgin but you were pregnant.

Surely it’s wrong…

You were… pregnant?

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #womens football #woso fanfics #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader

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fairestwriting · 1 day ago

Note

I was wondering if I can request a Savannaclaw with a reader who is feels very cold one day like they are just sitting there shivering because they think they are ok (sorry I’m bad at explaining stuff and I’m awkward :])

dw you explained this really well!! i hope you like it <3 post sponsored by It’s been slightly chilly where i live and ahhhhh hhh so freezing …..

𐙚 Leona Kingscholar

Leona was raised in the savannah, so yes, he doesn’t really get along with the cold. As soon as autumn starts, he’s grumbling about how awful the weather is that day. How glad he is that Savanaclaw stays at reasonable temperatures all year long, really, he doesn’t get how anyone could even enjoy this kind of weather—

”What’s so good about this damn snow, people look like stupid kids getting excited over it…” He’s ranting absentmindedly as you walk together when he glances at you, and sees how you’ve been shivering through every step. Leona’s look twists from mildly annoyed to actually kind of disturbed.

”Herbivore, did you forget your coat or something?” …Immediately, he pretty much forgets about his own complaints. Has he ever even seen anyone shaking this hard? And you expect him to just believe you’re fine? Did you freeze your brain off during this walk? He’s not having any of that, no way.

If you just keep insisting don’t even need an extra scarf, he’ll just decide that you know what, there’s no reason for either of you to be out in this hell weather— Keeping you closer to him than usual during the walk back to Savanaclaw. Where he, of course, will deny any claims of him getting worried over a small thing, and/or that he was cold himself and just wanted an excuse to go back to his room.

𐙚 Ruggie Bucchi

Like Leona, Ruggie also dislikes cold weather, he just expresses it differently. Less straight up cursing the general existence of winter, more laughing about how he’s freezing his ass off. He doesn’t comment on it as much either, because thinking about it just makes you feel even colder.

He does see a kind of aesthetic appeal in the snow, though. “I mean, who doesn’t? Leona-san doesn’t count, he just complains because he’s cranky about being cold.” He tells you when he’s explaining why he’s invited you to come to the courtyard with him to look at the first snowflakes to fall that year— Then he turns to you and you look like you’re straight up vibrating, and he’s actually horrified.

”Wha… What do you mean you’re fine? Are you crazy?” He’s even more wide eyed when you give him your response, are you seriously this stubborn? Isn’t this a hypothermia symptom? Ruggie scrambles to get his second jacket off himself and onto you. He’s freezing even before it’s no longer on his body, but that’s not his main concern right now. You’re getting dragged out of that courtyard.

…Ruggie has picked up on a few things from classmates who are familiar with snowy winters, yeah. And it just so happens that some of the stories might’ve been a little exaggerated. He insists you keep his jacket even after he calms down, then ends up getting a cold from the whole situation. Yeah, pretty embarrassing. Still better than risking you getting hypothermia, though, he’ll always say whenever you bring this story up.

𐙚 Jack Howl

The fact that you’re dating Jack itself prevents this scenario from taking place, honestly. Because if you’re together, then he has plans of introducing you to his family. And if he has those plans, he’ll make a point of gifting you a very nice, very warm winter coat for you to wear the day on the day of your trip.

That, and he’s actually knowledgeable on the dangers of cold weather and the signs of hypothermia. And the fact that he’s kind of built for colder weather in the first place means he’s actually pretty energetic during the winter. ”It’s getting colder soon, so don’t forget to bring your jacket to class.” That’s the text you wake up to, sent at five in the morning, the exact day before the winter solstice.

You also hear it often, it might not feel too cold now, but it will later, he explains as he reminds you once again. Even if you also come from a place with colder weather— So, if he meets you for lunch and you’re shivering in place, it’s either because your clothes aren’t keeping you warm enough, which Jack is constantly trying to prevent, or you could be sick.

And it’s not going to make him straight up freak out, but he already regularly fusses over you, so he’s just going to do it more. ”If you’re shivering like that, you can’t be fine. Were you feeling unwell earlier? You know it’s not a good idea to go out in the cold, if you do…” He’s already dragging you to a warmer area where he can get you a hot drink, asking you if you felt off at all today, and giving you his jacket — all three at once, and that drink is firmly in your hands very quickly too.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #jack howl #leona kingscholar x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #jack howl x reader #twst headcanons #twst imagines #lis writing

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slut4christopherr · 2 days ago

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dealer!chris x innocent!reader.

—save a cowboy, ride a man.

warnings for this story: mention of drug dealing, smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it!), fingering, dirty talk, riding, pet names(baby, ma, etc), pure filth.

—————————————————

authors note: i haven’t wrote for so so long but hello again guys, hope you enjoy the story. <3 and also if you have any fic requests or if you want to ask me anything don’t be afraid to hop into my inbox, anon or not:)

Chris feels like he’s going insane. Never in his life have his thoughts been consumed this much by someone, especially not by an innocent girl at that.

Chris doesn’t typically do sweet girls, doesn’t find himself drawn to the all too people pleasing demeanours they present but you’re different — there’s just something about you which he simply can’t stay away from, can’t find himself wanting to steer from your alluring persona.

Quite frankly, the way you originally met doesn’t even make sense to him, at a party which he was sure he could bet his entire life you were dragged to.

What confuses him even more though, is the fact that you chose to befriend. You’re polar opposites yet you seem to get along as though you share all the common casualties in the world. It’s honestly both amusing as well curious.

Still he finds himself drawn to you regardless of the questions circling his mind and when he finds himself in your neighbourhood dealing, he’d be a fool to pass up the opportunity to see you.

“Was passing by doing some deals and i couldn’t not visit,” he says once you open your front door.

A surprised look flickering in your eyes as you register the sight of him before a soft smile breaks on your face, allowing him into your humble abode.

"You got anything to drink? M’gnna die from thirst." his voice carries a smooth, almost joking tone.

As he sits down comfortably on your couch, getting as comfortable as if he lived there. His eyes scan your place casually, taking in details, noting how clean and neat it is.

“Yeah, i’ll grab you a water.”

He watches you walk to the kitchen, his gaze lingering on your back. He can't help but feel a sense of familiarity and comfort in your home, even though he's never been here before.

When you return with a glass of water, he takes it from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours briefly.

“Thanks.”

As he drinks the water, he can't help but notice how your house smells - like vanilla and something uniquely you.

He sets the glass down and stands up, walking over to where you are standing in the kitchen. Without thinking, he reaches out and gently pulls a strand of hair behind your ear.

His hand lingers by your face for a moment, his thumb lightly caressing your cheek. He looks into your eyes, seeing the surprise and slight blush that appears on your face. He smirks slightly,

"You look really pretty today," he says, his voice low and gentle.

You blush slightly deeper at his compliment, caught off guard by how genuine it sounds coming from someone known for their tough exterior.

"Don't say things like that, Chris," you teasingly scold, but your eyes betray your amusement. "You'll make me think you actually have some manners."

He chuckles, his hand falling from your face as he steps back, amused by your response.

"Shut up, you know I got manners when I want," he retorts playfully, moving back to the couch.

He sits down but his eyes remain locked on you as you stand in the kitchen.

"Mhm, 'when you want'. That's real romantic," you joke, leaning against the counter with a small smile playing on your lips.

"Though honestly, I think you've shown more manners today than you usually do around your... 'business associates'.'" you give him a knowing look.

He laughs heartily at your comment, shaking his head slightly as he watches you. "Well, I'm not around my associates right now," he says, his voice dropping slightly lower. He pats the couch cushion beside him invitingly, gesturing for you join him.

"Come here," he says softly.

"You want me to just sit next to you like some obedient puppy?" you teasingly reply, but your feet slowly carry you towards the couch anyway.

You deliberately take your time, making him wait. "Though I gotta say," you say, leaning against the arm of the couch rather than right beside him

"You're being really annoying right now," he comments, his lips curling up slightly in a smirk as he watches you lean against the arm of the couch. But instead of being irritated, he finds himself enjoying the playful banter between you two. "Come sit next to me like a normal person."

You sigh dramatically, rolling your eyes at his demand. "Fine, fine," you say, caving and sitting down next to him on the couch. But you make sure to leave a small distance between you two, not wanting to get too close just yet. "Happy now?" you ask, looking at him with a small smile.

As you sit there, the distance between you two starts to feel a bit too much for Chris. Without thinking, he reaches out and gently pulls you closer, closing the gap between you two.

His arm wraps loosely around your waist, pulling you close enough that your shoulders are almost touching. A slight smirk plays on his lips as he catches your surprised expression "Nope. Not that happy," he says, his voice Purposefully casual "You're way too far away over there."

"So?" you respond, trying to sound nonchalant but feeling a slight flutter in your chest at his proximity. “I'm comfortable here."

You try to maintain a small distance between you two, your hands folded in your lap as you keep your gaze fixed on the TV screen.

His smirk widens slightly, clearly amused by your attempts to keep some distance between you. Without warning, he suddenly shifts, turning his body towards you and lifting his other arm to rest on the back of the couch, effectively caging you in with his arms. "Comfortable, huh?"

Your heart beats a little faster, and you try to play it cool. "Very."

You maintain eye contact, trying not to show how his presence is affecting you. "Shouldn't you be watching the game?" asking casually, despite being fully aware of how close he is.

He chuckles lowly, the sound vibrating slightly against you since he's so close. His arms remain firmly placed, one around your waist and the other behind you on the couch. "Nah, the game can wait."

His gaze drops briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

You feel your breath hitch slightly as he looks at your lips. You try to keep your composure but can feel your cheeks starting to flush. "Oh yeah? What can't wait then?" you ask playfully, trying not let him see how much he affects you.

He leans in a little closer, his face now only inches away from yours. His voice drops to a low, husky tone. "This." Before you can respond, he closes the gap between you and presses his lips against yours in a soft, gentle kiss.

The kiss catches you off guard, but you find yourself melting into it almost immediately. His lips move against yours with surprising gentleness, coaxing a soft sigh from you as you part your lips slightly. He deepens the kiss briefly before pulling back, his forehead resting against yours. “Much better."

"You..." your voice comes out slightly breathless as you touch your fingers to your lips "You cheated." you try to say it with mock indignation, but your voice is too soft to be truly annoyed. “Shouldn't have kissed me when I wasn't expecting it."

He smiles against your lips before kissing you again, this time more confidently. “I'm a dealer," he murmurs between kisses, “I always cheat when I can." His hand moves from your waist to cup your cheek gently.

You laugh softly into the kiss, your hands coming up to rest on his chest. As the kiss breaks this time, you're both smiling. "Asshole," you whisper affectionately.

He chuckles lowly, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Language." He teases lightly.

He grins, his arms tightening around you as he pulls you closer. “Shut up and kiss me again." His tone is playful but commanding, all traces of the smooth dealer gone as he acts on instinct.

He kisses you deeply, passionately, his hands roaming over your body as he presses you back against the couch. His lips trail down your neck, sucking and biting gently as his hands unbutton your shirt slowly. He breaks the kiss to whisper, "I'm going to fuck you right here on this couch."

Heat grows inbetween your legs just by his words. How does he have this effect on you by 10 words? “Oh really Christopher?”

"Mmm...” He smirks against your skin as your reply encourages him. "Dirty mouth..." His hands push your shirt open roughly while he captures your mouth again with a dominating kiss. He lifts you suddenly so that you're straddling him on the couch.

"Fuck, you're wet." He groans against your mouth as his fingers find your soaking wet pussy through your underwear. “You're already dripping for me." He bites lower your lip hard and pulls your lacy underwear to the side, sliding two of his thick, long fingers inside you. “Look at that..."

Your breath increases, his fingers curling to hit your g-spot. Perfectly every single time. You squirm around him. “O-ooh chris—“

"So tight and wet..." He pumps his fingers in and out of you slowly, watching as your juices coat his hand. “I bet you'd feel incredible around my cock." He leans in to whisper in your ear, "Why don't you show me how well you can ride a man?"

Chris quickly pulls down his grey sweats, followed by his boxers and lets them both pool by his ankles. You’re now hovering over his length, precum making the tip shiny.

He watches as you slowly lower yourself onto his thick, hard cock. He groans loudly at the feeling of your tight pussy enveloping him. "F-fuck yeees... just like that, jus’- mmm..." He grabs your hips and starts to thrust up into you as you ride him on the couch. Your jaw falls slack, not even needing to move as the intensity of chris’ thrusts makes your body jolt every time.

"Damn ma.." He mutters as you bounce on his dick, your breasts jumping with each movement. "Where did you learn to move like that?" He slaps your ass hard making you moan and ride him harder. "You're like a damn porn star..." He growls.

The familiar knot builds up in your stomach, your movements going slower. Your chest rising and falling rapidly, you never knew this is how today would have went. “mmmph- chris- m’gnna-“ his name falls from your mouth like a string of prayers.

His eyes flash with intensity as he feels you start to lose control and your pace slows. "Shit, you're gonna cum already? Fuck, that's hot." He pulls you down harder onto his cock, hitting that spot deep inside you as he reaches up to pinch and twist your hardened nipples.

"Come on my cock, baby. I want to feel that tight pussy squeeze me as you cum." He thrusts up into you with all his strength, his knot beginning to swell inside you. The sensation is overwhelming and you can't hold back any longer. You scream his name as you cum hard, milking his cock.

He watches your face as you cum, your eyes rolling back and your mouth open in a silent scream. He pulls you down hard onto his cock one last time and holds you there as he starts to knot inside you. "Fuck... fuck..."

His knot swells inside you, locking you together as he releases his hot seed deep inside your pussy. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you down for a rough kiss, his hips still jerking slightly as he fills you up. “Goddamn... that was good...why haven’t we done that before?”

He keeps you flush to his chest for what feels like hours, his hands roaming your body possessively as you both come down from your highs. Eventually, his knot starts to shrink enough for him to pull out slowly. "Fucking hell..." He lies back panting, “Come here..."

You slowly come down from your high, still panting and sweating. You can’t even comprehend his words. Your fucked out of your mind.

He pulls you down onto his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly as he kisses the top of your head. "You're a mess... look at you... all fucked out and full of my cum." He laughs softly,

"And I think I'm in love with your pussy already."

authors note: i enjoyed writing this sm 😭 i started it ages ago and decided to finish it, enjoy sturntumblr!!!!

taglist (let me know if you want to be removed!!): @ariastur9z @angelottie @angelisaslutforthesturniolos @blushsturns @bernardmatthews @chrattsbrat @chriscantwhisper @chrissonnyangel @dollieskisses @darksturnz @delilahsturniolo @eph3merall @evieolo @flvvffy @floweredsturn @gilbertscurls @girliemattitude @hannahsturniolo @hyunlixgirl @immaqulate @iloveduckssm @judyvan @jazzyss-blog @kxxnia @kittymarrow @lovesickbb @likeumeanit9497 @mattscoquette @mattsweethart @nvtstvrns @natesfavoritehoe @owenstar @oopsiedaisydeer @plasticferal @phone4pills @rafesslxt @rubyychriss @rinnzsturns @sturnswiftie @sturniolobliss @sonnystarniolo @thechrissturniologirly @trustinsturniolos @vanteguccir @viviansturns @whore4-chrissturniolo @whor3ing @whore4mattsturniolo @xoxbunni @ykimlexa

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris smut #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #sturnsvelocity #fem reader #x reader #reader insert #female reader #chris sturniolo imagine #fyp #fypシ

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