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luvemmdubb · 18 days ago

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never late is better | joaquín torres x f!reader

pairing: joaquín torres x f!reader

summary: Joaquín is late for your anniversary dinner.

warning: 18+ content mdni!!!!, oral (m! & f! receiving)—69ing, dirty talk, overstimulation if you squint, pet names ("baby" multiple times, "mr./mrs. torres" once jokingly)

note: ok who ordered the smut w/ a splash of angst and a side of fluff? lololololol. no use of (Y/N). established relationship—reader&joaquín are married😁. mentions of the events of thunderbolts* so kinda spoilers. reader drinks wine. ty as always to @buckyspancakes for betareading :*) i heart u, babe. this was crossposted on ao3.

word count: 4098

Nursing the glass of wine in your hand, you watched the clock tick past 7:00, then 8:00, and before you knew it, it was 9:30 PM. It was pitch-black dark outside, dinner (which you had spent hours to make sure it was just right) was beyond cold, you’d nearly drunk half of the bottle of wine you were saving for dinner, and Joaquín had yet to walk through the front door.

Sure, you were upset he was late. I mean, it was your anniversary.

But the icing on the cake was that you’d insisted you not celebrate on your actual anniversary since Joaquín worked that day. “I know you’re busy,” you’d told him. “I’d hate for you to have to rush home.”

It had been a tradition to eat dinner at home, and in your four years of marriage, you’d yet to break that tradition. Joaquín, despite being insanely busy, asserted that you not break this streak.

Usually, you’d cook dinner together, but you knew this time that it just wasn’t feasible—Joaquín hardly came home from work on time, so you knew it’d be impossible for him to leave early. This resulted in a compromise: you’d have dinner ready when he got home so he wouldn’t have to leave work early.

When you initially suggested it, he looked so offended that you would’ve thought you told him you wanted to move out. “Wha—but baby, we always cook dinner together!”

However, after some thought, he knew that if he really wanted to honor your anniversary tradition despite his busy schedule, this would be the best way to do it.

He claimed it wouldn’t be a problem to leave work on time, but you still highly doubted that. He and Sam had only gotten busier, especially with the “New Avengers” fiasco and the impending lawsuit. But Joaquín seemed so set on not breaking the tradition that you relented.

That morning, after he got ready, like every morning, he gently nudged you awake.

Through blurry eyes you peered up at him before wrapping your arms around his waist, your ear pressed to his torso. Inhaling deeply and squeezing your eyes shut, you let his cologne fill your senses.

He combed a hand through your hair before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. “Happy anniversary,” he mumbled into your hair, making a sleepy smile stretch across your features. He let you pull him back into the bed, like he did every morning, your face smushed into the curve between his throat and shoulder.

Now, you glared fiercely at the clock on the stove. “So much for ‘tradition.’”

You weren’t angry that he was working—you understood that when he took on the role of the Falcon, it would be important and demanding work. It was the fact that he’d been so adamant on not changing your plans.

The more you stewed on it, you weren’t sure if you were angry at him for thinking it’d be possible or angry at yourself for believing him.

And sure, maybe it wasn’t a big deal—but you missed your husband. Severely. He worked late nearly every night, and it seemed like he had to catch a flight somewhere every other week. You were hoping your anniversary would resemble some sort of normalcy: he'd leave work on time, you’d eat dinner together, have a couple glasses of wine, and then stuff pillows behind the headboard so it wouldn’t bang against the wall and wake the neighbors again.

On the table, your head rested heavy against your hands, the exhaustion of the day finally making itself known.

I’ll just rest my eyes for a second.

You woke yourself up choking on a snore. Rolling your neck with a wince, you stretched your arms out in front of you, squinting at the time.

11:16 PM.

“Quín, where the hell are you?” You pulled yourself up from the table, limbs stiff from sitting so long. You set your wine glass in the sink, not bothering to move anything else. Trudging along to your bedroom, you switched on the lamp in the hallway.

You changed into one of Joaquín’s shirts—a Miami Hurricanes one, its graphic dull and faded from its various washes. Crawling into bed, you buried your face into Joaquín’s pillow. You were surprised when you pulled back and noticed it was wet. Wiping your face, you realized you were crying.

You rubbed harshly at your face. “It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine,” you mumbled, not because it was true, but more so to convince yourself.

It didn’t work—if anything, it had the opposite effect.

Before you knew it, you were blubbering pathetically. You rested your palms over your eyes in an attempt to pull yourself together. Taking a deep breath, you glared at Joaquín’s pillow beneath you before flinging it off the bed. You knew it was petty, but you couldn’t deny the satisfaction that came from the quiet thump of it hitting your dresser.

Pulling the duvet to your chest, you rolled over and let yourself succumb to the day’s exhaustion.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Joaquín took two steps at a time up to the front door, fumbling with his house key before eventually flinging open the front door. “Baby, I’m so sor—”

The house was dark, save for the lamp you always left on in the hallway when Joaquín worked late. He furrowed his brows, quickly kicking off his shoes before making his way into the kitchen, flicking the light switch on.

Everything was exactly how you left it.

The table was still set for two, the pan of spaghetti sitting cold on the stove. His wine glass sat lonesome at the table, whereas yours sat in the sink. He knew it was yours because you always insisted on using the cheesy “his” and “hers” wine glasses his mother bought as a wedding gift. You thought they were hilarious.

“Well, we have them,” you had laughed. “Might as well use them.”

It sure seemed you did tonight—the bottle of wine was less than half empty.

Sighing, he made his way down the hallway and quietly pushed open the bedroom door. The light from the street lamp outside peeked in through the curtains, illuminating your face—well, the back of your head, really. Your face was pressed into your pillow.

Joaquín shrugged his jacket off his shoulders, navigating in the darkness to the dresser to lay it there. He pivoted, moving to approach you. “Baby, I’m so sor—shit!” His foot caught something in the shadows, sending him stumbling into the side of the mattress, arms scrambling for purchase. He landed against your sleeping form, causing you to roll over with a start.

“What the—Joaquín?” You reached over to your bedside table and pulled the string to the lamp; the room suddenly illuminated. Shifting so he wasn’t narrowly crushing you, he peered at your face in the warm glow.

His heart dropped to his stomach when he noticed your flushed face and puffy eyes. He reached a gentle hand out to your cheek, swallowing deeply when you flinched away to curl in on yourself.

“Where were you?” Your voice was small and shaky. “I waited on you for hours.”

“I’m so sorry—I just got caught up at work. You know Sam and I just got in contact with Murdock, so we’ve been trying to get this ‘New Avengers’ shit—” He shook his head. “It’s no excuse. I told you I’d be home…I should’ve been home.”

“Yeah.” You looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table. “It’s not even our anniversary anymore, Quín.”

He flinched, turning to look at the clock. Sure enough, it was 12:18 AM.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” He shifted closer to you on the bed, his arms outstretched. You easily dodged him, rolling over and pulling the duvet back up to your chin.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not. We had plans, our tradition—you cooked dinner—and I just—” He threw his arms in the air. “It is—was—our anniversary.”

“It’s fine.”

“You know it’s not—”

You swiftly turned back over to face him, sitting back up where you were face-to-face. “Yes! I know it’s not fine. I spent the evening all alone again. And usually it’s fine. Whatever. I get it. You have important work to do. But seriously, Joaquín, tonight? On our anniversary? When we always eat dinner together?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but you weren’t finished.

“We literally talked about how busy you are! You haven’t gotten off work on time in weeks; we both know this. That’s why I just…don’t understand why you didn’t want to just wait.”

“Well, I know I just…” he trailed off, studying the wall behind you. “I didn’t want to let you down,” he eventually said.

“Quín,” you sighed, your heart lurching. “You could never let me down.” Wrapping your arms around him, you continued, “I’m proud of you and the work you do. You’re a hero, and not just because of the suit you wear. You give people something to look up to. Rearranging our plans wouldn’t be a letdown; it’s just…” You pause. “Life.”

He stared at you, a wide smile spreading across his face. “I’m a hero, huh?”

“Is that seriously the part you’re focusing on?”

He rubbed circles along your back, jaw clenched in thought. “I’m gonna do better, okay, baby? Work’s important, but you’re more important to me.”

You shook your head, a light smile on your face. “Don’t say that—”

“No, no, it’s true.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Spending these past nights alone. You don’t deserve that—especially on our anniversary.” He shook his head. “When we got married, I promised you I’d make you happy for the rest of your life, and it seems like I’ve been doing a pretty shitty job—”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.” He rubbed his thumb along your cheekbone. “But I’m gonna do better. I’m gonna come home on time.”

You pressed your lips together in a thin line, causing him to envelop your hands with his own. “I promise.” He peered into your eyes. “How about I take next week off?”

“Joaquín, you’re busy—”

“I think Sam can handle a week without me.”

“The lawsuit—”

“Isn’t going anywhere.”

You shook your head. “I’m serious—”

“So am I. Work will be there whenever I get back.” He paused, sighing. “Just like it’d be there in the morning if I left on time.”

At that, you didn’t say anything. Your eyes wandered throughout the bedroom, your gaze pausing abruptly behind Joaquín, making him furrow his brows.

“What?” He watched as a flush crept up your cheeks before peering over his shoulder to see what you were looking at. Squinting, he asked, “Is that my pillow?”

“Dunno how that got there,” you mumbled, moving your hands back to your lap. He looked back and forth between you and the pillow.

“Did you put my pillow on the ground?”

Silence.

“Were you trying to trip me?”

“No!” You exclaimed with a laugh.

“You…you were trying to trip me!” He crowded your face to peer into your eyes, making you erupt into more laughter. “And it worked.”

“...I didn’t mean for you to fall,” you eventually stated, making Joaquín shake his head in disbelief.

“My wife’s trying to kill me.”

You playfully nudged his shoulder. “Oh, hush. I mean, you had me waiting in the kitchen for four hours; I think it would’ve been justified.”

Joaquín winced. “God, baby, I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you this week, I swear. The whole week’s gonna be our anniversary, okay?”

You shook your head with a laugh. “You’re something else, Mr. Torres.”

“Is that right, Mrs. Torres?”

You nudged him again, rougher this time. “Hush.”

He held his shoulder like you stabbed him and let his mouth drop open in mock offense before nodding. “Guess I deserved that.” He leaned forward to press a kiss on your cheek. “How about I start now?”

You pulled back to peer at him quizzically. “Start what?”

“Making it up to you.”

His lips met yours immediately, catching you off guard. You quickly recuperated, relaxing against his mouth with a sigh. His hand tangled into your hair, holding you securely against his mouth. Feeling his tongue prod your lower lip, you welcomed it into your mouth ardently. Sitting up further, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He pulled back, his nose nudging yours. His fingertips played with the hem of your (well, his, really) shirt. “As much as I like seeing you in my shirt, I think we should take this off, hm?” He whispered against your mouth.

You nodded eagerly, letting him pull it quickly over your head. He paused for a moment to shamelessly gape at your bare chest, licking his lips. “Quín,” you whined. He shook his head like he was snapping himself out of a trance before latching onto you and peppering kisses along your jaw.

You ran a hand through the curls at the back of Joaquín’s neck as he continued his onslaught of sloppy kisses down your throat and to your chest. When his soft mouth nudged your nipple, you couldn’t help the whine that left your throat.

His lips continued their path down your stomach, pausing to plant featherlight kisses along the lace at your panty line. He stopped abruptly to move to the edge of the bed and stand up, pulling you with him. You watched as he lowered to his knees so he was eye level with your cunt.

You felt him run a finger along your cunt through your panties, teasing. Your hand made its way back to his hair, causing him to let out a low chuckle. “She missed me, huh, baby?”

“Thought you were supposed to be making it up to me,” you spat petulantly.

His mouth dropped to plant a kiss right where you wanted him, causing your entire body to go slack. “Yeah, this is what you needed,” he mumbled, giving no heed to your impatience.

Your hands flew to the lace along your waist, beginning to pull your panties down, when Joaquín grabbed your hands, placing them at your sides. “Be patient; I’ll give you what you need.”

You opened your mouth to argue further when you felt his nose nudge your clit through your panties. “Oh.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, more so to your pussy than to you. He licked a line from your hole to your clit, his warm mouth further drenching your already soaked panties. Your hands found home in his curls once again, holding him in place while you nudged your hips up and towards his mouth.

His mouth met your panties again as he lapped greedily. “Joaquín,” you whined.

“What, baby? What do you need?”

“You know what I—oh.” Your eyes squeezed shut with a shaky inhale as he practically made out with your pussy.

“I need you to say it.”

“Y-Your mouth,” you stammered, hands tightening even further in his hair.

“My mouth? What about my mouth?”

You glared down at him, which proved to be a mistake. His chest was heaving, and you didn’t miss the way his hips rutted against the side of the mattress. He was looking at the drenched spot on your panties like he was going to eat you alive. “Fuck,” you mumbled.

Joaquín’s eyes trailed up, locking onto yours, as his mouth neared you once again.

“I need your mouth on me right now,” you exhaled breathily.

“My mouth is on you.” He licked another trail up your pussy.

“Fuck, no, it’s—” You squeezed your eyes shut, shuddering. “Please, Quín, I need your mouth on my pussy so, so bad. I need it; please, please give it to—”

“There we go.” He pulled back, standing, seemingly to pull your panties down. But when you caught a glimpse of the tent in his pants, you quickly sat up.

Reaching out to him, you let your palm rest against his erection before stroking him gently through his pants. You licked your lips, looking up to him through your eyelashes.

“Fuck,” he cursed. “You can’t be looking at me like that.” He ran a gentle hand through your hair, stopping to cup your cheek. “What happened to—”

“Lay down,” you interrupted.

He furrowed his brows at you before shaking his head. “Baby—”

You grabbed his arms in an attempt to get him onto the bed. “Trust me.” He didn’t look entirely convinced but let you guide him to where his head was against the pillows.

You made quick work of his pants and boxers, yanking them down his legs as he pulled his shirt over his head. His cock sprung out, smacking against his stomach, the tip angry and leaking. You licked your lips and rubbed your legs together—you just couldn’t help yourself.

You yanked your own panties down your legs before leaning over to place open-mouthed kisses along his shaft. Joaquín quickly grabbed your hair, not rough but not gentle either. “This ain’t fair.”

“Then make it fair,” you retorted. He still didn’t look convinced.

You moved along the bed until your leg was pressed flush against his torso, not lifting your mouth from his cock—you were hoping he’d get the hint. You heard him mumble, “Oh, oh, fuck,” and could narrowly resist the smirk creeping onto your face.

He quickly looped an arm underneath your left leg, pulling you up and on top of him until your stomach rested against his torso and his weeping cock was right in front of your face. You wrapped a hand around him, holding him right where you needed him. You leaned forward slightly as you gathered spit in your mouth. Pursing your lips together, you allowed the saliva to drip directly onto the head of his cock.

“Fuck,” he shakily exhaled against your pussy as you slowly jerked his hard cock, the spit combined with his precome allowing for your hand to glide easily up and down his cock.

His uneven breath continued to fan across your pussy, which had leaked against your inner thighs. Evidently, he must’ve noticed because you felt his tongue lapping eagerly against them. You moaned desperately, your face flushing bright red.

“That feels good, huh, baby? Haven’t even touched your needy little pussy, and you’re dripping all over me.” His mouth fanned right over your clit.

You wanted to point out how he was the one humping the bed and leaking just from making out with you through your panties, but your body was practically thrumming with need, a whimper being the only response you could muster.

“That’s okay, I’m gonna give you what you need.” With that, his tongue flattened against your clit, making your entire body relax against him, your cheek nudging his leaking cock.

The loud moan you let out should’ve been humiliating, but you were so desperate, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Joaquín’s arms were looped around your thighs, fingertips leaving indentations on your thighs as he held you right against his mouth. His tongue eagerly explored your folds, and it took you a few minutes in order to regain your head.

With a shaky inhale, you finally took his weeping tip into your warm mouth, eliciting a deep sigh from his lips. You dragged your mouth further down his cock, relishing in the groans he released against your cunt.

Taking your time, you began bobbing your head up and down, taking more and more of him each time until his head brushed against the back of your throat. You gagged around him, carefully breathing through your nose.

“Oh fuck.”

You continued moving your warm mouth, swallowing around his length. Feeling him twitch, you sped up when he suddenly closed his lips around your clit and sucked hard.

You pulled off him, a trail of spit still connecting you to his cock. Your legs began to twitch as you felt yourself barrel towards your release.

“Shit, Joaquín, I-I’m gonna—fuck!” You whined against his cock. “I’m close.”

He pulled back long enough to say, “Alright, baby, c’mon. Give it to me.” His voice was raspy, bordering on desperate, and for a second, you thought you could’ve came right then.

When his mouth met your pussy again, lips wrapped around your clit, your orgasm crashed into you harshly, vision going spotty as your release fizzed deep in your stomach. You cried out, hands gripping the closest thing to you in an attempt to ground yourself, which happened to be his thighs.

Your chest heaved with pleasure, which quickly morphed to overstimulation when he kept his mouth latched against your sopping cunt.

“Oh, oh, shit.” You saw white behind your eyes and dug your nails further into the skin of his thighs. “Too much, too much, toomuchtoomuch—” You ripped your hips from his grasp, hips upturned as your face rested against his thigh.

You peeped over your shoulder at him: his pupils were blown wide and his chin glistened in the light, covered in spit and juices. You shuddered when he locked eyes with you and licked his lips.

A broad, toothy grin suddenly broke out across his face, slick shining against his lips. “Sooo…pretty good, huh?”

You only shook your head, biting back a smile in your post-coital haze as you turned your gaze back to his cock, still standing tall in front of you. If it were possible, you might’ve thought he had gotten even harder after watching you come.

You went to move off his mouth, but he swiftly tightened his grip against your thighs, pulling you back close to his mouth. “Joaquín,” you whined. “I wanna make you finish.”

“Go ahead, baby.” His breath fanned against you—close, but not touching. “I just want you right here.”

Imagining him staring right at you with that fucked-out, ravenous look on his face had you whimpering.

“Yeah, you like that—oh.” Spitting into your hand, you took his cock back into your mouth, your hand wrapping around his base, jerking lazily. You bobbed your head in time with your fist, twisting your wrist just the way he liked.

“Damn, baby, I’m already about to come.” You began moving with more vigor, egged on by the groans leaving his lips.

Soon after, you felt his cock twitch against your tongue, making you hum around it.

“Com—shit—coming, baby,” he choked out, moaning loudly.

You immediately lowered your mouth completely on his cock, swallowing as he shot his load deep down your throat.

“God, that was…fuck.” Joaquín sighed deeply, attempting to catch his breath.

You went to sit up but decided to bob your head one last time, hollowing your cheeks harshly.

“Fuck!” He practically shouted.

You sat up with a laugh, allowing him to carefully untangle your bodies and move you beneath the duvet. He then stood, bending over to grab his pillow from the floor. You shamelessly ogled his tanned ass, giggling when he turned around and locked eyes with you, his face crimson.

“Are you—stop staring at my ass!” He flung his pillow onto the bed with perfect precision, smacking directly into your face; perhaps a little harsher than he intended. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.” He maneuvered back to the edge of the bed, and his large palms enveloped your cheeks.

He stared deeply into your eyes before beginning to plant huge, sloppy kisses all across your face. You pulled away, laughing, to grab his pillow and smack it against his chest. “Alright, Torres, you were almost back on my good side; don’t ruin it now.”

He planted one final kiss on your forehead before climbing across you to get onto his side of the bed. As he joined you under the duvet, pulling your back against his chiseled chest, you noticed something hard against your ass. Pressing back against him, his hand flew to your hip, holding you steady.

You locked eyes with him over your shoulder. “I said you were almost back on my good side.”

Across town, Sam Wilson was sleeping peacefully in his bed until—

Ding!

He rolled over, blinking sleepily at his bedroom ceiling.

Ding!

Sighing, he blindly reached for his phone on his bedside table, squinting against the harsh brightness of the screen.

[3:43AM] Joaquín Torres: I’m gomna need ghe nezt week off

[3:43AM] Joaquín Torres: Omg

[3:43AM] Joaquín Torres: I’m gonna need the next werk off

[3:44AM] Joaquín Torres: Next week. I need next week off

[3:44AM] Joaquín Torres: Thanks bro

#joaquin torres #joaquin torres smut #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres fanfiction #joaquin torres x y/n #joaquin torres x you #cabnw #tfatws

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writingunderneathawillow · 4 days ago

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everything works out in the end (bucky barnes x reader)

summary: yours and bucky’s relationship is one fight away from being over. at least that’s what it feels like. when he is offered a glimpse of the future, he gets to see you and discovers that not all hope is lost. mcu timeline placement: post thunderbolts* content warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, relationship troubles/anxiety, reckless driving (don’t do it), grumpy!bucky, yearning, fluff, no use of y/n, bucky’s pov, brief thunderbolts and bob appearance, will be edited later, so just ignore any mistakes word count: 2.4k a/n: haven’t written anything good in a month but i guess i’m back :) also the angstier version is coming soon (i hope! I’m feeling a little blue so i choose to cope by making y/n’s life hard)

Bucky’s chest heaved as he slammed the door behind him. Regret filled him immediately, but he kept walking. Down the corridor, out of your apartment building and onto the street. He stopped for a few seconds to peer up at your window and a cold iron ring settled around his chest. The curtains were drawn but he could have sworn he saw the fabric move. He guessed that you were watching, waiting to see if he would come back. The two of you had been fighting for weeks now. About everything, anything. His work, the risks he was taking, his disagreement with Sam. You weren’t necessarily not on his side, but you kept urging the two of them to talk, to find a way to get along and it was driving him insane. So, you argued. And he yelled back. And you called him an idiot. And he slammed the door. He didn’t feel ready to go back and talk it out with you, so instead he brought his bike to life and drove off, ignoring the speed limit and street signs. The howl of the motor wasn’t loud enough to drown out his thoughts, replaying the argument over and over again, and neither was the grinding of his teeth. When he arrived at the Watchtower, his jaw hurt from the strain. He parked the bike and had to physically stop himself from kicking it in frustration. He didn’t want to fight with you; he didn’t want to be angry with you. It was killing him to see the two of you on different standpoints. The constant arguing was getting to him, settling deep in his stomach and not quite letting go, even after reconciling with you. It was as if you two were stuck in an endless circle of disagreements and then making it up to each other. It ate away at you, too. He saw it. In the way you sighed when he came back after a fight, or in the bags under your eyes after either one of you sleeping on the couch. A few more hairs in his beard had lost their colour, and when he looked in the mirror, he saw a few more pronounced lines between his eyebrows. Disagreeing with you was threatening to make him look closer to his actual age. The idea that one day you wouldn’t hear him out anymore, wouldn’t let him apologise or would refuse to say sorry for your own harsh words, haunted the back of his mind. That one day, you might decide to break his heart into a million pieces, for the better of both of you; it lingered. It ate him alive.

The elevator dinged chirpily as the doors slid open to reveal Walker, Yelena and Ava sitting together in the common area, sharing a bowl of snacks while watching the news. Well, only really John was watching – Yelena and Ava were stacking chips on his head while he was absolutely absorbed in the military documentary playing on screen. “You’re back!” Alexei’s voice boomed through the room, and despite Bucky’s more than solid form, the Soviet’s Supersoldier clap on his shoulder sent him staggering a few feet forward. Yelena’s head whipped to them and even from the distance, Bucky saw the knowing look on her face. He hated that he had a tell – and even more so that she knew it – for when he fought with you. John’s attention was momentarily captivated by Bucky’s return and the chips tumbled down onto the couch which elicited a sign from Ava.

“Oh, oh, why the long face?” Alexei asked, as he took in Bucky’s appearance and Yelena chortled. “Trouble in paradise, again?” She teased while grabbing a chip from Walker’s collar, throwing it in the air and then catching it with her mouth. Bucky grunted some non-committal sound and strode past them, heading for his room. “Come on, you have to tell us all about your troubles. I know much about relationships,” Alexei called after him and Bucky wished he didn’t have supersoldier hearing when he picked up Yelena’s response.

“Which relationship is it that’s troubling you? You and the missus or you and Sam?” “We’re all fine,” he grunted and then disappeared into his room, planning on hiding there until his statement came true. Not five minutes later, a knock sounded at his door. “Jesus wept,” Bucky whispered to himself and got up, opening the door with more vigour than necessary. Bob stood there, an anxious smile on his lips as if he wasn’t sure if his presence was appreciated or not (- it wasn’t). “I know I’m probably the last person you wanna ask about relationship advice-,” he began, and Bucky cut him off. “Yeah, you got that right.” Bob gave him a short apologetic glance but then continued. “All I wanna say is that maybe not all hope is lost,” he insisted but Bucky interrupted him again. “’Cause it isn’t. Never said it was.” “Right, but you look like she ran over your grandma and then danced on her grave, man. Listen, maybe I’m not the best person to go to with problems like this but the last time someone almost broke up with me, I took a nap and then talked it out with hi- them, uh, once I felt calmer.” “We’re not gonna break up,” Bucky grumbled, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Bob nodded quickly. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m just saying, give it time. Get some sleep. Not that you need it or have to listen to me or whatever. Just… things usually get better when you take a nap.” Bucky stared at him disbelievingly, then sighed.

“Fine, I’ll take a nap,” he mumbled. He probably would have agreed to whatever Bob said in order to make him go away so that he could lick his wounds in peace. Bob’s face lit up slightly and he gave him a quick smile before retreating. Bucky let the door fall shut with a little more force than needed. Still, he found himself wanting to follow the other man’s advice and settled down on his bed reluctantly. He was exhausted, mentally and physically but still he didn’t find peace immediately. Instead, he grabbed his phone, opened the messages app and clicked on your contact info. For a few seconds his finger hovered over the call button. Your contact picture – one that he had taken not too long ago – smiled up at him, tearing at his heartstrings in both longing and wounded pride. “Goddammit,” he whispered and locked his phone again, discarding of it on his nightstand where one of your necklaces lay as well. Dread washed through him at the sight of it. Bucky still felt too angry to reach out, not wanting to make things worse than they already were with comments thrown out in an emotion induced state. “Can’t believe Bob’s fucking right,” he murmured and closed his eyes, praying that sleep would come to claim him quickly.

He woke with his senses on high alert. Something was off and it raised the hair in the back of his neck. Within milliseconds, he sat up straight in bed, scanning the room. The air was lighter, and sunbeams filtered through the curtains, giving everything a golden glow. Had he slept through the entire night? How the hell did he- wait. Curtains? Bucky practically jumped out of bed, running over to his window. Now, he was a man with priorities. Functionality, cleanliness and stability. He had a solid bedframe, a tall wardrobe and an organised desk, the only clutter in his room a few books and worn picture frames. Never in his life had he bought curtains. Or a vanity table. That specific piece of furniture adorned the wall opposite of the door, standing there as if it belonged. Two small scratches were carved into the wooden flooring next to it, seemingly proving that someone had tried to rearrange the layout of it without the needed strength. “What the hell?” Bucky murmured to himself as he took in the rest of his room. Pieces of clothing were splayed across a fuzzy chair that he had never seen before in his life. As he picked up one of the shirts, dizziness hit him. It smelled like you. He swayed on his feet, threatening to stumble back against the wall as panic gripped his chest. What is going on? He lunged towards the door and would have ripped it open, if the pictures on the wall hadn’t caught his attention. It was a collection of polaroids, hung up in a specific order. Two of them he recognised, even though to his knowledge, they were supposed to be in his wallet. The furthest one left was the first picture of you two ever taken. Outside the tower, you curled up into his side, shielding your eyes against the sun while holding onto him. His arm wrapped around you and a not quite serious, not quite happy expression plastered across his face. That had been eight months ago, when you had met the team for the first time. Afterwards, Alexei had insisted on taking a polaroid of the two of you (“To make you never forget this great day!”). The other one with which he was familiar, was one he had stood behind the camera for, himself. It showed you wearing Bucky’s leather jacket, and half of his metal arm was in the frame as well. You had reached out for it, trying to get him into the picture, too, but he had been quicker, snapping the polaroid to only display you, a bright smile and eyes full of love as you had called out to him to join you. A shiver ran through Bucky as he stared at the other pictures. There were more than twenty, hung up in four neat lines. It was clearly a timeline of your relationship, some posed, others clearly taken in the moment, and his heart dropped as his eyes arrived at the last picture.

His photograph-self was on one knee, holding a velvet box, while you had your hands flung across your mouth, the shock and joy on your face obvious even despite the image’s terrible resolution. Sam stood in the back corner, a proud smile on his face as he looked at whoever had taken the picture. Bucky’s head was spinning. He must be dreaming. The fight with you had taken over his subconscious and now he was dreaming of a future of you because he didn’t want to lose you. Like a cartoon character, he pinched his arm. And felt the pain. You can’t feel any pain in your dreams. He knew that. So, he pinched harder. And it hurt. “What the fuck?” He mumbled, slapping himself once. His cheek stung. He held his breath until he almost passed out. Ok, so not dreaming. Maybe he had rolled out of bed and hit his head real hard, causing him to hallucinate. Or maybe he was dead and this was heaven. Yeah, that didn’t make sense; he had survived falling hundreds of feet off a train so dropping onto his hardwood floor in his sleep would surely not send him beyond the pearly gates. And then he heard it. Your voice. He would know it anywhere, in life, in death and in whatever messed up situation he found himself in now. The sound ghosted through the closed door like it was beckoning to him, asking him to find his way to you. His fist closed around the doorknob, pulling it open in a slow trance. The sound of your voice grew louder, and he recognised the song you were singing along to. Desperation grabbed him. He had to see you. So, he stepped forward, following your voice and it led him to the kitchen of the tower. Before walking around the corner, Bucky paused. He still didn’t know what was going on. If this was real or if it was some kind of co-dependency induced vision; his mind was theoretically cleared by Shuri but who knew? Maybe he was truly starting to lose it. As his thoughts spiralled, he didn’t hear the footsteps closing in on him. You almost bumped into him, eyes wide with shock and then the skin next to them crinkled softly as you smiled at him. “Hi, baby,” you greeted him, “I was just coming to wake you.” You reached out for him, your right hand coming up to his face to brush your knuckles across his cheek. It was such a familiar gesture, one that you had gifted him a million times before. Still, he could have dropped to his knees as you reached out for him. And that’s when he saw it, the ring sparkling on your ring finger. The one, that he had put there – apparently. Or was going to. He didn’t know how he knew but he did. This was not a dream, not a vision born from injury, insanity or mind control. This was his future. This was a promise. For once the universe seemed to be on his side, allowing him this brief glimpse, telling him it was going to be alright. Everything would work out. “Hi,” he rasped and leaned into your touch. The second his skin connected with yours, a smile spread across his face. You looked at him with a mix of adoration and concern. “You feeling okay, baby?” You asked, resting your hand on his forehead. He nodded immediately and like the love drunk fool he was, he would have done anything to prevent you from worrying about him – or anything at all ever again. “Yeah, I just missed you,” he whispered.

He woke with a jolt, sitting up as straight as a candle in bed. It was dark in his room. There were no sunlit curtains, no vanity desk and no polaroids on the wall. He reached for his phone and looked at the time. Barely an hour had passed since he had fallen asleep. Set on a mission to not spend a second more than necessary without going to you and pleading for your forgiveness, he got to his feet and pocketed his phone. He was already halfway out the building when he almost sent Bob to the floor with the force of his walk. “Sorry,” he called out but then stopped himself from stepping into the elevator. He turned to face Bob and pulled him into a hug. “I fucking love you, Bob. You were right. A nap was all it took.”

He left the other man standing there, looking absolutely flabbergasted and slightly flushed. Bucky pressed the elevator’s button and wondered how many traffic laws he could break on his way to you in order to shorten the amount of time spent apart from you.

thank you for reading :) gentle reminder that likes are more than appreciated but comments and reblogs make the dream work

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hgfictionwriter · 17 days ago

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Anticipation

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: By the time Jessie comes back from a month away, she is beyond desperate for you. When you ignore her, tease her and make her wait, it pushes her over the edge.

Warnings: G!P content. Sexting. Dirty talk. Premature ejaculation. Praise kink. Very mild dom (r)/sub (Jessie).

A/N: This is in response to the premature ejac requests. Whiny, needy and desperate Jessie.

"I miss you so fucking much. I can't wait to see you tonight."

"I know, baby. Me too. I've gotta run, but I'll see you soon, okay?"

Jessie sighed as she read your text as she got off the plane. Between an away game, International break and other obligations, it'd been a month since you two had seen each other.

Given her career, it wasn't uncommon for you two to have these periods of distance. At the start of your relationship, she'd anticipated they'd get easier over time, but, in fact, time apart had gotten harder. She missed you more. Needed you more.

Missing and needing someone so much was an insane concept for someone like her who'd be travelling and moving around nearly her entire life. But, here she was transfixed by you and homesick for your voice and your touch.

It didn't help that you knew the hold you had over her. You teased her mercilessly sometimes, but in the most incredible ways. Amongst the sweet and loving messages from you, there were also dirty texts. Dirty photos. Dirty voice messages. She'd taken several long showers while she was away to try and relieve her tension, but it never truly satisfied her.

Nothing compared to the feel of your arms around her, your breath on her skin, your voice, your moans in her ear, and the feel of you enveloping her in your tight, soft heat.

She was hoping to come home to you right away, but you had a work event you couldn't miss. Karina was having a few people over for dinner and drinks, so she decided she might as well go to distract herself.

Jessie was sitting on the couch listening to Morgan share a story, a few other groups scattered throughout the main floor of Karina's house when a familiar figure caught Jessie's eye and caused her to sit pin straight in her seat.

"What?" Morgan asked with a frown before turning her head. "Oh hey, Y/N's here."

Jessie nodded a vague acknowledgement before mumbling her apologies as she got up and crossed the room, eyes never leaving you. You, on the other hand, smiled and chatted with Sam and Mac, focused on your conversation with them and only briefly locking eyes with Jessie as she approached. Even then, you simply offered a another smile and a quick wave before returning your attention back to the others.

Jessie frowned in confusion, but worked to rid her face of it as she closed in.

"Hey," she greeted, finding herself leaning in to catch your eye and placing a hand on your arm.

"Oh, hey babe," you greeted, somewhere between mild surprise and casual before turning your attention back to Mac once more.

"I, um, didn't know you were coming," Jessie interjected mildly. "I thought your event was until 8."

"Oh, yeah, it got out early so I thought I'd come here. Karina said it was cool," you said with an easy smile.

Jessie offered a vague smile, eyes shifting away in further confusion before resettling on you. "Oh. Well. I could've left and we could've met at home."

"It's fine, babe," you said lightly with a shrug. Friendly, but almost dismissive. Before Jessie could counter, you nodded back to Morgan. "I didn't mean to interrupt you. I'll catch up with you later," you said warmly as you leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, leaving Jessie with a frown.

She retreated quietly, a couple of stray glances back over her shoulder to you, but you didn't offer the same. She sat down with a pout and her phone vibrated with a text a few moments later.

"Hi, my love. No need to pout. You'll get your attention soon enough. "

"By the way, you look so fucking sexy in those shorts. I want to see you tenting in them with how hard you are for me."

Jessie let out a silent, but sharp exhale as she finished reading and urgently locked her phone. Her eyes shot up to you across the room to see you watching her. You gave her a devilish grin before turning your back to her and engaging in conversation once more.

Jessie should've known this wouldn't be the end of it. Despite the fact that you continued to ignore her. Offering nothing more than a quick glance here or there, maybe a fleeting brush of your hand across her back as you walked by - you seemed to have time for everyone but her. But throughout it all, you sent her dirty text after dirty text and it had her gritting her teeth in concentration.

You really were set on seeing her tent in these shorts which she now wished were even baggier.

At one point she caught you disappearing into the kitchen alone. She excused herself and followed you swiftly.

"Why are you ignoring me?" She asked in an admittedly frustrated, even harsh, whisper. Still, you seemed unfazed as you poured yourself a drink.

"Baby, don't be upset," you said placatingly as you closed the space between you two and rest a soft hand on her cheek. "I haven't seen the others in a while either."

"'The other's' aren't your girlfriend," Jessie pouted, ignoring how tempted she was to melt into your touch. She cleared her throat, steeling herself with a deeper frown. "Your girlfriend who happened to miss you night and day while she was away."

You cocked your head and smiled sweetly, but Jessie caught the glint in your eye. "I miss you too, baby," you said as you leaned in and kissed her gently.

Jessie's eyes closed instinctively, her irritation fading almost immediately. Then, you tilted your head further into the kiss, deepening it into an open-mouth kiss as your hand pushed up through her hair. A pulse went through Jessie and before she could even process another thought, your other hand reached between you and caressed her cock through her shorts.

"I really missed you," you said as you pulled back. Jessie's eyes were slow to open and her head followed your departing lips as she blinked. Blood was rushing to her member already as you pulled away from her embrace and gave her a wink.

You glanced down at the bulge that was starting to show in her shorts and an impish grin crossed your face. She blushed with an affronted expression as she clasped her hands across her front. "I'm thinking we stick around for another 30?" She glared at you further and you blew her a kiss. "Love you."

By the time you two were in the back of the rideshare going home, Jessie's mood was no better. She fidgeted in her seat while you rest your head in your hand and watched her amusedly.

"You are so cruel," Jessie complained under her breath. Her mind kept envisioning all of the things you'd graphically described to her in texts throughout the night. She closed her eyes in an effort to concentrate on anything other than that.

She was sporting a semi and though the fit of these shorts bought her some discretion, if anyone's eyes lingered they'd plainly see how aroused she was.

Her phone buzzed again and she shot you an imploring look. You merely offered her a sweet smile with a subtle nod towards her phone.

“God, I’ve been dripping wet since I stroked you earlier. I’ve missed the way you fill me and fuck me so good.”

Jessie's head fell against the back of the seat as she shifted down, her legs instinctively spreading to give her growing cock more room. She blew a frustrated breath out, her cheeks puffing out as she did so.

By the time the car pulled up to your building, she was fully straining against her shorts, her cock pushing and begging to be released from the tight confines of her clothes.

You bid the driver a cheery farewell and Jessie silently and uncomfortably slid across the seat to exit. She held her hands in front of her as you both walked inside. She shot you a beseeching look as you hooked your arm around hers and cuddled in, acting completely unbothered and ignorant to what Jessie was enduring.

"God, you're such a fucking tease," Jessie murmured as you entered the elevator, her hands reaching for you already as you leaned back against the wall.

"I can't help it if I find you so attractive," you said simply as you sought her gaze. She huffed and you added, "And I can't help it if I'm pulsing and aching for you."

Jessie's cock twitched in her shorts, now absolutely throbbing. She gripped you harder and pulled you towards her. She pushed her hands down your back to grip your ass before pushing her hands up under your shirt, releasing an actual sigh as she finally made contact with your skin after all these weeks.

She leaned down hungrily, burying her head in your neck and started kissing you. Only when you chuckled softly in her ear did she realize how she was pressing herself up against you and subtly grinding.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. When you pulled back, she caught the glimmer in your eye as you stepped out in front of her. She jogged after you, her hands wrapping around your waist and refusing to allow space between you two.

She kissed you and caressed you as you opened the door to your shared apartment. She followed you like a puppy through the apartment, soft kisses on your shoulder, your neck, your arms and her hands wandering over you as you led the way, paying little attention to her.

You stood at the edge of the bed and began to take off your clothes. Jessie's chest rumbled with a hum of appreciation as you undressed. Her cock was absolutely throbbing and she didn't need to look to see that a wet stain had formed on the front of her shorts where precum had been pooling from the tip of her cock.

Her jaw was slack, her breathing heavy with lust as she watched you, hands searching your naked body as you changed.

You went through the motions unbothered by her ministrations, barely casting a glance her way as you told her stories from earlier in the evening. Your words went in one ear and out the other, her mind far too distracted by your presence.

Her jaw dropped anew as you grabbed a shirt and threw it on. Her motions stilled in mild disbelief and confusion. You turned in her arms and grabbed the hem of the shirt and held it out in show as you offered her a smile.

"You know I always wear your shirts to bed when you're away," you relayed very self-satisfied. "Makes me feel close to you," you added as you walked out of her embrace.

Her head whipped around in confusion to watch you and she rushed after you as you walked into the bathroom. When she turned the corner your back was to her as you faced the mirror, leaning against the counter clad in only her shirt and your underwear, just a glimpse of your ass cheeks showing.

You locked eyes with her in the mirror and you began taking out your earrings. You started chatting idly about plans for tomorrow, but Jessie couldn't process your words, unable to move past the lust clouding her mind.

All she could think about was how she needed to be inside of you. She’d been craving you for weeks. She needed your slick heat wrapping around her. Massaging her. Gripping her so tight there were times her vision blurred.

She needed you. Now.

She wrapped her arms around you from behind and pulled herself flush against you, her hardness pressing against you and her lips at the base of your neck.

"-what do you think?" You asked as you sought her attention in the mirror.

It took her a moment, but she merely gave a slow, unfocused shake of her head. Her eyes remained trained on your neck, the only skin she was privy to given you insisted on putting on a shirt.

"C-can we talk about this tomorrow?" She asked distractedly, peppering soft kisses along the nape of your neck, only vaguely aware that she was subtly rutting herself up against you. It took her a moment to realize you didn't respond and she forced herself to look up at you in the mirror. You were giving her a look. "Please?" She asked, voice breathy as she let her forehead fall against the back of your shoulder.

You shifted - intentionally or not - in her arms, your ass rubbing against the sensitive head of her cock. Her eyes fluttered shut.

"Please?" She repeated, her fingers subconsciously digging into the skin of your waist as she tried to hold back and not just have her way with you. She exhaled shakily, hands starting to roam across your body again, moving with a will of their own. "I need you so bad," she confessed.

"Patience," you chided gently as you reached up behind you, your fingers playing in her hair and she buried her face in the crook of your neck once more with a soft grunt as she rolled her hips against you. "I just want to get this sorted for tomorrow,” you insisted calmly.

Her eyes fell shut and she held back a whimper as your fingers massaged her scalp. You again shifted slightly in her embrace, sending a jolt of desire through her body. She was so hard for you it honest to God hurt.

"Please baby. I'll talk about whatever you want after. I just - I can't think right now," she pleaded, head rolling against the back of your shoulder, so overcome with lust it was hard to even formulate words. She swore she could smell your scent and it was driving her wild.

Her hand subconsciously wandered, lifting your shirt until she reached the crease at your pelvis, fingers now playing with the hem of your panties. Her eyes were still closed as she pushed her fingers down under the band only to feel your hand gripping her wrist and gently removing her from your underwear to rest on your hip once more.

Her eyes slowly opened in a haze and she looked at you in the mirror, disappointment plain across her face.

"What's going on with you, Jess?" You asked with facetious concern etched on your face. Despite Jessie’s state, she managed to detect the way the corner of your mouth twitched with a smug smirk. "You're normally not so distracted."

"Baby, please,” she nearly groaned, giving an unintentional roll of her hips into your backside as her grip tightened on you. You smirked.

“What’s wrong, my love?” You asked as you shimmied against her ever so slightly, eliciting a faint whine from her that devolved into a whimpering moan as you reached back to play with her hair once more and caress her scalp.

She tilted her hips up into you, desperate for friction. “I need you. I missed you so much. God, I’m so fucking hard for you it hurts.”

“Oh, is that was that is?” You said with a teasing chuckle as you rolled your hips back into her. Her eyes slammed shut once more as a wave of arousal swept over her body, her knees giving way for a fraction of a second.

She went to grasp the band of your panties again, but you grabbed her hand more firmly this time and placed in back on your hip over your shirt.

“Not yet, baby. You still need to answer me,” you calmly ordered.

She felt like her mind was vibrating with lust and like she could burst out of her skin she was so needy for you. She could feel her cock pulsing with each heartbeat. She could hardly function.

“I, um, what- what was the question?” She stumbled through, her hands now bundling your shirt in desperation. She pressed her face against your neck, inhaling your smell - a shiver went through her instantly and she inadvertently pushed herself further against you, pressing you tighter against the counter.

“So you weren’t listening,” you said evenly.

“Baby,” she pleaded in a shuddering whine as she winced in near-pain from the throbbing between her legs. “I can’t do this. I really fucking need you,” her voice rising into a high whimper as she gently rut against you.

“Yes you can,” you assured her. “Look at me,” you instructed gently, but firmly.

Her breaths were quick and short as tightness continued to build at the base of her cock. She grit her teeth and winced furthermore before managing to force herself to open her eyes and look up to you in the mirror.

You smiled softly and reached back to caress her face. She leaned into your touch needily, eyes falling shut momentarily before she forced them open to meet your gaze once more.

“Good girl,” you praised with a faint smirk. She couldn’t help the way her breath hitched at your remark and she bit her lip in desperation at how a particularly strong pang of arousal shot straight up the base of her swollen cock to the tip.

If anyone would’ve told her years ago that she’d one day meet a woman who would have her pining and desperate, wrapped around her finger, pathetically begging for her touch and affection, she would’ve told them they were delusional. Yet, here she was, latched onto you, rutting against you, pleading for you to let her love you.

By some miracle, she managed to stutter an answer your question. You gave her a pleased smile that made her chest warm to an embarrassing degree. And, true to your word, your smile turned impish and you leaned forward over the counter, putting yourself on display and offering yourself to her.

She locked eyes with you one last time - uncertain and seeking confirmation that you were finally giving her approval. You hiked up your shirt, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

A rush of urgency coursed through Jessie’s body as she immediately began fumbling with her shorts, beyond desperate to free her aching cock. A clipped gasp of relief escaped her as it sprang up, the head messy with precum.

She was in a state of near-delirium as she roughly pulled your panties aside, drawing a small gasp from you that had barely left your lips by the time she clumsily worked to line up her cock at your entrance, hands shaking, breath ragged.

Just the mere contact of her tip grazing your dripping, hot entrance drew a hitched gasp from her.

It had been far too long since she’d had you and no memory, no matter how vivid, would ever replicate this feeling. There was nothing like it.

She rocked forward preemptively, missing and instead pushing her cock through your swollen lips. Despite the miss, a stifled whimper caught in her throat and her jaw fell from the sensation. Her knees nearly buckled from the pleasure of that alone as a knotting sensation began to form at her base.

She fumbled again, frantically adjusting herself to find your entrance once more. She didn’t hesitate, jutting forward and sinking fully inside of you in one, swift stroke.

A strangled cry fell from her lips as the intoxicating warmth of your walls enveloped her entirely, fluttering around her and drawing her in.

In that instant, the tightness and heat that had been building all evening - all these weeks, really - reached its peak. The feeling was too overwhelming and she began to pulse and twitch inside of you, another stuttering moan escaping her.

Her fingers dug into your skin as she clung onto you as her orgasm crashed over her so powerfully that she flexed over you instinctively, pressing you into the counter, grunting and gasping desperately in your ear as she spilled rope after rope of cum deep inside of you.

When the last string of cum spurt from her tip, it was still a couple of seconds before she finally took a breath. She opened her eyes and it took several blinks before her vision came to.

“Oh m- oh my god,” she eventually stammered as realization dawned on her. She looked at you through the reflection, her eyes big and shimmering in apprehension. Her already-red cheeks grew a deeper shade of crimson as she helplessly shook her head. “I-I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I came like that. I’ve never-”

“That’s possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever done,” you cut her off mercifully as you flashed her a smug smile in the mirror.

Jessie blinked, stammering further as confusion settled over her spent body.

She continued to apologize and as her cock softened, it slipped out of you. Though your panties slid back into place, catching much of her cum, some dripped out of you and onto the floor.

She began to apologize again when you turned in her arms. Her words stalled mid-sentence as you looked at her.

“God, I love how much you cum. I’m still amazed at how big a load you give me,” you offered in appreciation.

“That said,” you said slowly as you pushed your underwear down and kicked them aside. You held her gaze as you lifted yourself onto the edge of the counter and spread your legs. Your smile grew at the way Jessie gulped. “You made quite the mess.”

You reached out placing a hand gently to her face, thumbing her cheekbone tenderly before your hand wandered further back and up, eventually resting atop her head. You pushed down softly and she automatically followed your silent command, dropping to her knees on the tiles before you.

The smell of your cum mixed with hers filled her senses and her softened cock twitched, coming back to life as she stared at her cum that pooled at your entrance. You caressed her face again as you smiled adoringly at her.

“I think you better clean it up.”

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso smut

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chevroletdean · 2 months ago

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Study Sessions

PAIRING: Sam x Fem!Reader GENRE: Smut (18+ CONTENT) TO NOTE/WARNINGS: PWP, cockwarming, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it), Dom!Sam manhandling poor reader, dirty talk, not betaread WORD COUNT: 1k PROMPT: 14) library sex for those dark academia vibes A/N: Thanks @deanwinchestersgirl8734 for requesting this one! I have to get a bunch of these out, so I will try my best to make them a bit shorter. Sorry for the wait. CREDIT & LINKS: dividers by cafekitsune ─〃★ join the taglist ─〃★ Sam Masterlist

All you did was shift, ever so slightly. Your position wasn’t exactly comfortable and the throbbing ache between your legs was starting to drive you insane.

Large hands immediately responded to your subtle squirm, Sam’s hold on you tightening to stop your movement. Though you bit your lower lip, you couldn’t help but whimper.

“I told you to hold still, baby,” Sam sighed in disapproval. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, which honestly sounded more like a sob than an apology.

Not that Sam seemed to care. Or if he did, he didn’t show it. For all you knew he was probably grinning to himself, all proud of turning you into such a mess without even doing anything.

Soft rustling of paper echoed off the walls as Sam flipped to the next page and continued reading.

Not fair.

Technically, this was Sam’s fault anyway. He couldn’t possibly blame you for getting twitchy.

Your legs were aching, in the best way possible. Who knows how much time has passed, how long you’ve been sitting in his lap like this. It felt like hours at this point. Hours of him keeping you right there, your legs spread out over his thighs, his cock nestled right inside of you.

You felt so damn full, the stretch both delicious and agonizing.

This started as a simple joke, him teasing you for being so needy, you teasing him for paying more attention to his books. When he claimed he could do both, you challenged him to prove it. What started with you thinking you had the upper hand and could make him snap ended with you teetering on the edge.

“Sammy,” you whined.

“Shh, just one more chapter,” Sam cooed softly. His thumb rubbed circled over your hip, but the touch wasn’t soothing whatsoever. Not when his length was bruising your cervix, making you crave anything. Literally anything. A grind, a thrust, some form of stimulation.

Sweat was sticking to your forehead already from accomodating his girth, cockwarming him for way too long. Your patience was running thin, so the complaint left your lips before you thought it through: “You already said that like ten minutes ago!”

“Such a greedy brat,” Sam grumbled in response.

Suddenly, he snapped his hips forward, somehow pushing even deeper into you. You gasped, almost jolting were it not for his large arm encircling your waist from behind and pulling you down on him.

The sensation had your toes curl. He made you feel every inch and you were much more sensitive than you anticipated.

“Can’t even sit still for a while and let me do my job,” Sam scolded, discarding his book and reaching out to your center instead. His hand nudged its way between your thighs, long fingers finding your swollen clit like it was second nature.

You hissed softly, throwing your head back against his shoulder. Another sob escaped you when he rubbed tight circles over the bundle of nerves, pace relentless and pressure too rough to handle.

“S-Sam, slow down,” you cried. Your shaky fingers encircled his wrist, but you stood no chance against his strength.

“You wanted my full attention, now you have it,” Sam reminded you, his voice hot and heavy in your ear. “Bit off more than you could chew, didn’t you?”

Your thighs were shaking, held open by Sam’s knees. His hot mouth found home in the curve of your neck, licking and biting hungrily. All while he continued thrusting in and out of you, each stroke making you see stars.

His name was suddenly the only word you could remember, a chant you repeated like a prayer while you clenched around him.

Suddenly Sam lifted you off his lap and you would’ve whined at the loss of contact, were it not for him bending you over and pinning you against the bookshelf. You gripped onto the wood for dear life and for a split second worried it would give out under your shove. Your concerns were wiped from your mind the second Sam lined up at your dripping entrance.

“This what you wanted?,” he huffed, coating his length with your essence by gliding it through your folds deliberately. “Distracting me so I’ll fuck you stupid?”

You could only nod weakly, which had Sam fist at your hair and pull you back against him. You nearly lost your balance, grasping at the shelf last second and knocking down a couple of books in the process.

“Yes, Sam,” you corrected yourself desperately, “Need you— Please.”

He chuckled briefly, his lips grazing your temple in a rewarding peck. “Wasn’t so hard now, was it? Now hold on tight f’me.”

With that last warning, you barely managed to steady yourself before he drove back into you, deep and relentless, nearly making you buckle. Even after feeling him inside for such a long time, you could never really get used to this feeling. If anything, he’s rendered you tender and sensitive, the slightest movement feeling like straight up lightning now.

You were gushing over his pulsating cock before you knew it, legs shaking under you and your whole body tightening. Sam held you close, dragging out your high until you basically slumped in his embrace. With one more final thrust, he stilled within you, white warmth spilling into you.

Despite being dizzy, you nodded when Sam asked you if you were okay. Your body felt beyond exhausted, but you managed to stay upright as he slowly pulled out of you and ran a soothing hand over your hair.

“Good study session,” you joked weakly, a tired, lazy smile on your lips as you peeked at him from over your shoulder.

“And I’m not nearly done yet,” Sam chuckled between ragged breaths. He slumped back into the armchair, the leather creaking softly as he pulled you back into his lap.

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