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ellemj · 1 month

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Against the Rules

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader One-Shot: SMUT

Summary: Bucky's trying to fuck you senseless so you'll have to sleep over. Isn't that how a friends with benefits situation is supposed to work?

Warnings: profanity, overstimulation, praise, mentions of oral sex (female and male receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talking, somewhat possessive!Bucky, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I've been unreasonably horny bc I haven't had time to spend with the man I'm obsessed with this past week, so I channeled that energy into writing this shit today

Your body can’t take anymore. You’re sure that at any given moment, the last shred of physical strength that you’ve been using just to keep your legs underneath you will unravel and you’ll go crashing to the surface of the bed. You’ve been going at this for too hard, and for too long.

Bucky knows you’re struggling to keep up. He can feel the way your entire body trembles as he fucks his cock into you relentlessly, as he whispers soft praises in your ear to keep you motivated. Every time he bottoms out inside you he fears your knees might give way and you’ll tell him it’s too much, that this is the last time. Truthfully, Bucky doesn’t know why he’s still fucking the shit out of your tight little cunt when he’s already coaxed three orgasms out of you tonight, when he’s already finished inside of two condoms himself. It’s as if he’s stuck in an infinite loop, continuously thrusting into you and tugging your hips back to meet his every single time. He can’t fucking stop.

As the head of Bucky’s cock brushes against your cervix, eliciting a mix of pain and pleasure that only a well-endowed man can draw out of you, you let out a loud moan and tighten your grip on his bedsheets. Your head drops down until your forehead is pressing into the soft fabric of his pillowcase.

“That’s it, you’re taking me so fucking well.” Bucky groans out. Instead of speeding up as you’d expect, Bucky slows down and deepens his thrusts even more. Every slow drag of his cock leaving your pussy makes you subconsciously clench down, your body fighting to keep him buried inside you. “Look at that, baby.” He coos softly, leaning over you until his chest is draped over your back and his lips are grazing the shell of your ear once again. “You’re so tired, so fucked out, but your body just wants more.”

The moan you let out into his pillow is pornographic and embarrassingly needy as you arch your back and shuffle your knees to spread outward a little more. He’s right. Bucky’s always right. You want more.

He’s always taken his duty as your fuck buddy seriously. He always shows up at your door when you call, always lets you in when you find yourself at his door. He lets you vent about your day while he undoes his belt. He gives you advice about upcoming missions while he watches your clothes pile up on the floor beside his bed. He gives you the most godly form of pleasure and relief solely with his body, leaving you satisfied every time. It started out as an occasional activity, only occurring when you had a particularly bad week. After two months, it’s become an addiction. If you aren’t calling him nearly every night of the week, he’s calling you. If you can’t find the time to meet up and get each other off, he finds a way to get you alone during the work week at SHIELD headquarters. Honestly, you’re surprised you haven’t been caught on some kind of surveillance yet. It was just yesterday that he led you into an empty meeting room and laid you on the mahogany table. He spent ten minutes eating you out like your taste was the only thing he’d been able to think about all day.

“Bucky…” His name falls from your lips as you lift your head from the pillow. You watch as his headboard shifts back and forth in front of your face, hitting the wall over and over again with every snap of his hips.

“I know.” He whispers, pressing a kiss against your shoulder as he lessens the intensity of his thrusts. He feels fear coursing through him. Fear that you’ve had enough, that you’ll gather your things and head back to your apartment. It’s why he’s fucking you so damn hard tonight. He secretly hopes that you’ll be too sore to get up and get dressed, too sore to even think about getting out of his bed and leaving him tonight. He wants to fuck you so hard that you have to stay. “I know, baby. I just need one more from you.” He rasps against your skin. He straightens up behind you once more, continuing to fuck you while his hands grip your hips and his eyes take in your arched back and reddened ass. Just one more, he thinks.

“Bucky, you didn’t put another condom on.” His rhythm falters, slowing to a stop while his dick remains sheathed inside you. Fuck. He didn’t put a condom on after the last time he finished. How the hell did he forget? He’s never fucked anyone without one. It’s as if it didn’t even cross his mind when he took the last one off twenty minutes ago.

“Shit.” He groans, screwing his eyes shut and turning his face up to the ceiling. He needs to pull out and put one on if he’s going to finish this. Bucky starts slowly dragging his cock out of you, letting you feel every inch of him against your walls as he goes. “You were just letting me fuck you raw?” A loud moan escapes your lips and you drop your face into his pillow again. He freezes with only the head of his cock still inside you. “Did you…did you want me to fuck you raw?”

“Bucky—“

“You did, didn’t you?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you keep your face tucked into his pillow and your back arched as he holds the head of his cock still just barely inside of you. He gives you another second, another chance to answer. He has little control over his own movements when his right hand tangles in the hair at the back of your head and he tugs you upward until you’re only on your knees, with you back flush against his chest.

“What would you do if I kept fucking you like this? Without anything between us?” He asks lowly, letting his hips move forward only centimeters at a time. This time you moan his name softly, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. “That’s right, you wouldn’t do a damn thing.”

“This is a bad idea.” You point out as he lets half of his length sink into you.

“Then why are you letting me do it?” He questions, pulling his hips back and then thrusting them forward again. He goes a little past halfway this time, making you whimper. “Why are you letting me fuck you raw? Do you want me to cum inside you?”

Bucky picks up the pace, fucking you a little faster and a little deeper, utilizing the majority of his length as his hand falls away from your hair. You end up with one of his hands between your legs, applying just the right amount of pressure to your clit, and his other hand alternating between fondling each of your breasts. When you moan out his name but don’t offer a response to his last query, he heaves a deep sigh before falling back to sit on his legs, pulling you back with him so you end up sitting down right on his throbbing cock. The scream that leaves your parted lips and rings out in the air draws a smirk to Bucky’s face. He knows he’s big, it’s why you’ve only ever been able to ride him after he’s spent time working you up to it. He probably should’ve given you a warning this time, been a bit more gentle, but it’s your fault really. You should’ve answered.

“Fine.” Bucky sighs again, loosening his hold on your hips and giving you an opportunity to get off of his dick. You don’t move a muscle, but he can feel your pussy tightening around his shaft, he can feel your wetness dripping onto his balls as you remain still. “Get off of me and I’ll put a condom on.”

Again, you don’t move. You stay seated on his cock, trying to catch your breath and adjust to his size. You know you should get off like he said, and let him put on some protection before you both make a risky mistake. So, after another second, that’s what you do. You start lifting yourself off of him slowly, letting his length retreat from your entrance inch by inch. When you get to that familiar point where all you feel inside of you is the head of his cock, you have one dangerous little thought. What if you do let him cum inside you?

Bucky witnesses your hesitation and he’s silently praying that this is the moment your legs finally give out, that you’ll fall right back down on his cock and he won’t have a chance to put a condom on. It’s what he wants to happen, but he can’t seem too eager. Not when you’re just his fuck buddy.

“Are you gonna get off, sweetheart?” Bucky asks, his voice low and smooth in your ears as he starts running his palms along the sides of your thighs.

“Yeah.” You whisper in response.

When you sit back down on Bucky’s lap, taking the entirety of his length in one go, you catch him by surprise. You feel his cock twitch inside of you and his fingers dig into the sides of your waist as he strains to hold his load.

“Fuck.” He groans, trying his best to compose himself as you start sliding up and down on his shaft. “I thought you were getting off.”

“I am.”

The moment turns into a filthy rendition of doggystyle, with Bucky fucking you as you’re face-down ass-up and his headboard scuffing up his bedroom wall. When his neighbor bangs on the wall, signaling that you’re both being too loud, Bucky only fucks you harder. He angles his thrusts just right, hitting that spot inside of you that only he can reach.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” Bucky pants the words out between thrusts, letting his head fall back as he continues to rail you into the mattress. You’re at the point where you can’t even feel the rest of your body, the only thing you can feel is the way Bucky’s cock fits so perfectly inside you. You focus on it, the repetitive thrusts and outward drags of his length against your walls, the filthy melody of wet sounds and skin-slapping that fills the room and penetrates the walls all around, surely driving Bucky’s neighbors mad. “Fuck, baby.”

You feel every single drop of warmth in your lower stomach as Bucky loses control and cums inside of you. You feel every twitch of his cock as your pussy clenches around him and begs for more. You feel used, in the best way. Your fourth orgasm washes over you like a raging tidal wave, sweeping your knees out from under you and forcing you to collapse onto Bucky’s bed. He stops pulling out so far and starts grinding into you as he praises you through your high, peppering kisses and gentle bites along the side of your neck and your right shoulder.

“You’re sleeping here tonight.” He whispers against your skin, still softly rutting into you.

“That’s against our rules.” You remind him. Your voice is raspy from all of the moaning and screaming that’s taken place tonight and he loves it. It reminds him of the time you let him fuck your throat and you had a raspy voice for an entire day afterward. Everyone else thought you were catching a cold. Only Bucky knew that you’d been on your knees, swallowing his cock like such a good girl the night before.

“Cumming inside you was against the rules too.” He counters, pulling out almost completely before giving you one more hard thrust. “So…you’re going to sleep in my bed, full of my cum…” He gives you another hard thrust, making sure his load is thoroughly fucked into you. “And you’re going to fucking like it.”

TAG LIST:

@sunnyhummingbee @gyokujyn @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13 @ordelixx @crist1216 @twlkdead @claireelizabeth85 @charmedbysarge @blackhawkfanatic @kentokaze @eecummingsandgoings @nyashonality @h2oaffirmations @sadeyes61 @aka-tua-braindump @immortalfangirl @andrometda @sillysillygoose444

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #the winter soldier #winter soldier

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xiaowhore · 8 months

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hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry!

premise. in which you manage to make neuvillette feel better at the expense of your dignity. (a fair trade, really.)

word count. 1.5k

note. do umbrellas exist at teyvat. i really don't know.

You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to dramatically brood in the rain when he gets sad, but to be fair, you don't know much about him at all.

You clutch onto your umbrella, contemplating. So, uh... Are you supposed to approach him now? Shield him from the rain with your umbrella? That doesn't sound too bad, actually. But then what? Ask him if his pet fish died and now he's mourning his loss? That's hardly appropriate to say to the Chief of Justice... But it would be creepier to just stand there without saying anything, right?

You could leave and pretend you didn't see anything. Of course, that's an option too. It's possible he prefers to be left alone when he's unhappy.

But sulking while standing in the rain just gives “I want someone's attention” vibes, doesn't it?!

With a fit of reckless courage and a “fuck it” mindset, you advance your way forward to where he stands.

Regretting something as soon as you do it is on-brand for you, you realize as you soon come to learn you have to be on the tip of your toes to have the umbrella barely raising over his head instead of hanging from him. You must make a pathetic sight, attempting to shield both yourself and this hulking tower of a man from the rain with a tiny umbrella.

“...What are you doing?” Neuvillette turns around, taken aback when you're in much closer proximity than he expected. Panic flares in his eyes, and like the gentleman that he is, he steps back to create some distance. His head presses against the edge of the umbrella.

“Hey, you shouldn't move away!” You follow his movements, closing the gap. His head is now safely within the umbrella's reach, but you're an inch away from being pressed up against his chest. “I miscalculated. This thing's too small for us.”

When the initial shock wears off, his shoulders slump, a sign of him lowering his guard. “If you know that much, you should use it for yourself and go home.”

That doesn't sound like a bad idea. Appealing, even. You've never felt so silly in your entire life and the option to run away is looking more enticing with each second that ticks by.

Still.

“It's dangerous to walk alone at this hour. Won't you accompany me, sir?”

...Not the best excuse you could've come up with, but your mouth runs faster than your brain. Neuvillette, being the considerate person he is, actually takes some time to think about it, and you hurry to say, “If you leave me alone now, you could have another disappearance case in your hands tomorrow. Would you really like more work on your desk rather than some company tonight?”

He gives you a long, suffering stare that looks suspiciously like the one he gives to Lady Furina when she disappoints him, but he doesn't say no. His hand wraps around the umbrella handle, overlapping with your fingers. It takes another two seconds of that stare before you get the message and you let go, finally able to rest the balls of your feet on the ground as you stand on normal footing.

“I hope you don't make a hobby of coercion,” he hums as you walk together, your shoulders brushing every so often. “Or else I'd see you as a criminal suspect tomorrow instead of a victim.”

“I see that jokes aren't your strong suit, Monsieur Neuvillette.” You laugh awkwardly, your nervousness spiking to an all-time high throughout your entire interaction with him. It's been barely ten minutes.

Silence ensues.

“Do you like showers, sir?”

You should've just kept your mouth shut, damn it.

“I like them the same amount as the average person, I suppose.” The ridiculous question doesn't phase him, and you don't know how he's able to keep a straight face while saying that.

You decide to push your luck. “...Do you prefer bathing with cold or hot water?”

Finally, you draw out a light chuckle from him, the sound deep and pleased. It almost makes playing the fool worth it. “I've been told I'm not the best with small talk, but you seem to be worse than I am.”

Your head snaps up to look at him, affronted. “It wasn't a bad question!”

“Certainly not as bad as talking about the weather. Do you want me to praise you?”

Was the Chief Justice always this sassy? “You're making fun of me,” you point out the obvious, turning away and crossing your arms. “I asked about showers because you were standing in the rain.”

“You thought I liked showers because I was in the rain?”

“Well, I didn't know for sure. That's why I asked.” Even you can tell you're sounding more and more ridiculous by the minute. Was your house always this far? You can't wait to dive to your bed and pretend this encounter never happened. “I think I'll just shut up now.”

“Really, now?”

“Every time I open my mouth around you, I embarrass myself further. I think it's for the best.”

You hear another chuckle as heat crawls up to your cheeks, spreading to your ears. “For what it's worth, you did put me out of my terrible mood. You're quite funny.”

“That's a nice way to say you think I'm being strange.” You hide your face with your hands, peeking at Neuvillette's expression between your fingers. Bathed in the silvery moonlight, he looks straight out of a painting, even with wet hair and drenched clothes.

You've never seen him up close, never even dreamed of standing next to him. Now, you're exchanging jabs at each other like it's the most normal thing in the world, like you weren't just thinking he was someone out of reach when you watched his court trial in amazement. Now, he's so close that you can almost feel the heat from his body, so much more tangible than just a figure you admired from afar.

“But I do have your strangeness to thank,” he admits, looking off into the distance. The stars shine bright in his eyes. “Had it not been for you squeezing me under your umbrella and forcing me to walk you home, I'd surely still be under the rain.”

“...Couldn't you have phrased that better?”

“In court, I only state facts.”

You laugh dryly. “You could spare me some dignity by embellishing the story a bit... Oh, we're here.” You were so occupied defending yourself from his witty comments that you didn't realize you had already arrived home until your door was right at your face. You glance at Neuvillette, who then nods towards the door. If he's disappointed to have the stroll cut short, he doesn't show it.

“Go in. It is rather late.” He closes the umbrella and offers it back to you, a gentle smile on his face. The sight is almost like a reward for your efforts; the small upturn of the corners of his lips makes all the difference, his sharp, cold gaze softening into something more affectionate. The rainbow after the storm. The gratitude for a small kindness.

“You have to get home, too,” you utter, pushing it back to him.

“The rain stopped a few minutes ago,” he insists, gesturing behind him. You blink owlishly, observing the still pools of rainwater. You didn't even notice. Why didn't he say so? You didn't have to squeeze together under such a tiny umbrella, then.

“You should still keep it.”

He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive. “Why?”

You unlock your door, stepping inside, but still not closing it shut. “Well, it gives you an incentive to see me again.” You grin at him mischievously, like you thought of a genius plan. “I work at the cafe in the main street. I'm sure we have some tea that will strike your fancy. Make sure you're not moping next time we meet, yeah?”

Not for the first time, he seems taken aback. But his gaze softens once more, his expression molding into something pleased. “Very well.”

And so, he leaves with a small umbrella in his hand, a smile on his lips, and the clear skies over his head.

The next time you see Neuvillette, the sun is high in the sky. Compared to that night, you can see him a little better now.

That's how you notice he looks unusually shy with a bouquet of flowers in his arms and a pink blush high on his cheeks. “...Good afternoon,” he starts, his lips curving to a beginning of a smile. “The weather is great today, isn't it?”

You stare. You stare some more. And when the sight finally processes in your mind, your twinkling laughter rings in the air, as sweet as the aroma of freshly baked muffins. “And who stooped so low to talk about the weather this time, huh?”

Neuvillette can't even pretend to feel bad about it, not when you're jumping off the seat in the counter to show him a table for two. “Your silliness is infectious, it seems.”

“Hey!”

(You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to be smart-mouthed, the type to be indulgent to your whims, the type to be romantic towards the person he's interested in��

But now you have all the time in the world to get to know him better.)

#neuvillette x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact scenarios #neuvillette #neuvillette fluff #neuvillette x you #genshin impact x you

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maybankswhore · 10 months

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I don’t know if you’re still taking obx requests (if you’re not feel free to ignore this) but maybe you could write about JJ dating the girliest girl on the island and all the pouges are like HER? And he’s so proud like yeah that’s my girl

𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓.

this request was too cute not to do! i don’t know if this is the direction you were looking for but i think it came out adorable! i hope you like it <3

pairing(s): jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: in which jj bags the girliest girl on the island— but what can he say? opposites attract.

The minute JJ saw you , he knew he had to have you. You made his eyes glimmer the moment they laid upon you— with half of your hair pulled back in a pretty pink claw clip , a pretty white sundress on as you laughed sweetly with your friends , nails done and makeup complimenting your features so well.

You were quite literally , breathtaking , in his eyes and although you weren’t the usual low maintenance , tom–boyish type of girl he was used to , it had only made him more attracted to you.

At first he didn’t know how to approach you. He never had problems in the girl department before. Being so confident and charismatic , talking a girl up was a slice of cake to him. But when it came to you , you just seemed so nice and warm. He was afraid that he wouldn’t meet your standards , that maybe you deserved someone better than him. The difference in aesthetics were clear— him with his years old shorts and plain tee while you sported that white sundress that was so elegantly simple.

He sipped on his beer slowly watching you from across the Boneyard , trying to get a good feel of your personality. From what he could see , you seemed nice. You talked to almost everyone and seemed genuinely interested in each convention. He knew you weren’t a Pogue but you didn’t give Kook vibes either. JJ was just about to give it all up and walk away , until Pope walked over to you and gave you a hug– which you had excitedly returned.

JJ watched the two of you converse for a bit wondering if he should wait and ask Pope about you or just go up mid–conversation and introduce himself. . . The conversation wasn’t long enough for him to interrupt though , because by the time he got his thoughts together Pope was already walking towards him.

“What’re you staring at me for?” Pope shoved his shoulder playfully , filling up his cup at the keg JJ was standing next to.

JJ snorted. “You wish I was staring at you. I was looking at her— who is that?” He nodded in your direction.

“That’s Y/N and she’s not your type.” Pope snorted , rolling his eyes at the glint JJ’s face held– he knew that face all too well.

JJ huffed. “And why not? She’s a pretty girl. I like those.”

“Pretty and girly , JJ. She’s emotional and likes all that romantic bullshit you hate. You’d hate it.” Pope pointed out , reminding JJ of the millions of girlfriends he had but soon discarded because he couldn’t keep an emotional connection to save his life. Let alone know how to romance a girl.

JJ gave Pope and offended expression , scoffing. “I can be romantic , Pope.”

“One time you gave a girl a bag of dirt for Valentines Day.” Pope deadpanned.

“Bitch , I was literally ten!” JJ defended. “And it’s the thought that counts. I picked out all the bugs.”

Pope stared at JJ for a second , giving him a knowing look making JJ sigh deeply. “Whatever! I don’t care what you say. I’m in love!” JJ oogled in your direction , a hand over his heart.

Pope patted JJ on the back and shook his head. “I’m sure you are , buddy. I’m sure you are.”

With that Pope walked away to find his other friends , leaving JJ to huff on his own.

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” JJ muttered , finishing off his drink. Sure he acknowledged you weren’t his ‘usual’ type— but hey! How’s that saying go? Opposites attract!

Downing the rest of his drink , JJ shook his body to release his nerves. You were finally alone , sitting next to the fire while your friends played beer pong a few feet away from you. Taking this as his time to shine , he strolled over to you with sweaty palms. He felt like a teenage boy having his first crush all over again! All sweaty and nervous. He really did think you were the prettiest girl ever , and he had to talk to you.

“Uh– want some company?” JJ asked lowly , hoping you’d still be able to hear him. He didn’t want to scare you or seem to pushy , so he made sure not to tower over you and keep a good distance away.

Your eyes looked away from the fire and up at him , your cheeks burning red. He was cute. A messy head of blonde hair with small dimples barely noticeable when he smiled. You could feel his nervousness and it made you giggle a bit , excitement in your tummy swirling at the thought of such a cute boy wanting to talk to you. “Sure.” You accepted , moving over for him to sit next to you.

“I—um. . . I like your dress.” JJ said as he sat down , cringing at how awkward he sounded.

You grinned at his compliment. “Thank you. I like your shirt.” You returned the compliment , although the shirt wasn’t to interesting , the person wearing it made it look good.

“Nah this thing’s old.” JJ brushed off.

“Well I don’t know how old this thing is but I bought it at a thrift shop not too long ago.” You shrugged , bumping his shoulder. “I’m Y/N.”

Feeling more comfortable with making conversation , JJ looked at you smiling. “JJ.”

“You’re Pope’s friend!” You remembered Pope bringing up someone named JJ before in distant conversations. Though he was always ranting about the boy , seeming exasperated every time.

“The one and only.” JJ said proudly. “So that means he talks about me— how sweet.” He cooed.

You chuckled. “Only about how you never stop forcing him to leave work early.”

“What kind’ve friend would I be if I just let him work his little self out like that!” JJ defended.

“Point proven.” You nodded , laughing with him. He seemed easy to talk to , even with just a few exchanges of words to eachother. His aura seemed sweet , something that you noticed. “So Pope wasn’t there to keep you company?” You teased.

JJ cheeks blushed slightly , scratching the back of his neck. “No actually , I–uh , I saw you earlier and I think you’re like really pretty and I really wanted to talk to you.” He admitted , hoping to see if you’d be interested in— well anything.

It was your turn to blush. A sweet smile on your face as you tucked a piece of hair away from your face. “You think so?”

“The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” He vowed with one hand up in the air. “Scout’s honor.” JJ added.

“Well I think you’re really pretty , too.” You grinned , copying his actions. “Scout’s honor.”

The rest of the night flowed easily between you two. The two of you talked about anything and everything getting to know eachother , seeing what you had in common and what you didn’t. You weren’t much of an outdoorsy person , and loved everything bright and cheerful. JJ seemed to be quite the opposite but he was interested in what you liked , and you seemed to have an open mind about the things he did , as well.

The night ended and your friends called you over telling you it was time to leave , but you put your number in JJ’s phone telling him to call you.

And you didn’t get too far before he dialed that number right up , making sure he had it before you left.

Things had ended up well betwen you and JJ. He had taken you out on dates. Some being what he wanted to do , some of you forcing him to go thrift shopping with you and give him a fashion show. He had researched every romantic comedy , every romance novel to give you the most that you deserved because he started to really like you.

He loved everything about you , how girly you were , how your nails were always done and your hair always fixed. You had such passion for so many things and it shined through you , and it showed inside and out.

JJ fell for you quickly , asking you to be his girlfriend on the seventh date. He planned everything all by himself. A beach picnic at night with pretty little candles and lights. ( All things he had thrifted , knowing it’d make your heart happy. )

He’d never forget how pretty you looked that night in your skirt , big eyes watching him in admiration as he asked you to be his girlfriend , getting all emotional and crying when he did.

But now that things were really serious , he wanted to introduce you to the Pogue’s— which he was excited about , but you were so nervous.

“Baby they’re gonna love you.” JJ promised as the two of you walked to the front door. “I told them they’re gonna love you and they have to listen to me and do what I say regardless.”

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend. “It doesn’t work like that , JJ.”

“Well it does in my world.” He told you , wrapping an arm around your waist and bringing you close to him. He pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. “I love you so they’ll love you because I do.”

Your heart melted and you always fell to your knees. “I love you , too.”

JJ kissed you one more time before opening the door. You could hear the chaos as soon as it opened , laughter and commotion. Your stomach was in knots as you walked in , wondering what his friends would think. You had seen Pope a couple times since being with JJ , but you hadn’t said anything out of respect for your boyfriend because you knew he wanted to be the one to tell them.

“Hey guys!” JJ said loud enough for them to look at him , their eyes immediately looking at you then back at him then the arm around your waist.

Kiara smirked , knowing that JJ always did have that soft spot he claimed never to have. Pope looked like a deer in headlights and John B was just confused.

“I want you to meet my girlfriend.” He put emphasis on girlfriend. “Who is extremely hot and girly and also extremely my type.” JJ said , looking at Pope.

You nudged JJ’s shoulder and smiled at them. “I’m Y/N.”

“No fucking way.” Pope said , obviously shocked.

“Aw! My little JJ is all grown up.” Kiara pretended to wipe a tear away. “You’re so cute— I’m Kiara.” She pushed past the two boys and tugged at your arm. “I’m excited to have another girl around , do you smoke? Let’s smoke a joint outside.”

JJ pulled you away from her. “Um , no. She doesn’t and her first time ain’t being with you!”

Kiara scoffed and pulled you back , standing in front of you protectively. “If she wants to she will.” She glared before turning back to you and pulling you towards the back yard. “You totally don’t have to.” She whispered in your ear making you laugh.

JJ smiled as he watched his bestfriend take to you and bring you outside. He was excited to have you around more and bring into his life in this way , the Pogue’s were a part of his world that he wanted you a part of.

“I gotta say JJ , I wasn’t expecting that.” John B clapped him on the shoulder.

“No kidding!” Pope scoffed. “I didn’t think he’d get past the first conversation.”

JJ crossed his arms and smirked , shrugging nonchalantly. “What can I say? Opposites attract.”

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luveline · 2 months

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could you pleaseee do more hotch x bombshell reader

cw suggestive —you and Hotch have a shared secret you’re hiding from the rest of the team. fem, 1k

“He’s too old for you, you know.”

You give Elle a charmed smile. “He is not.”

“Is too.”

“How old do you think I am, Greenaway?” you tease. “I know I look good for my age, but I’m fully developed. He is not too old for me.”

“Who?” Spencer asks, placing down his dinner tray with a smile.

“Gideon,” you say. “What do you think, babe, do I have a chance with our great leader?”

“No,” Spencer says, giggling as he spears a dehydrated looking green bean with his fork. He’s getting good at recognising jokes for what they are.

As the younger (but, despite Elle’s insistence, not young) crowd, you have complimentary avoiding of work to do, free with your employment. You spend your lunch hour trying to stretch it into two, driving Gideon insane, and prompting Hotch to come and find you. He hasn’t appeared yet, but when you check your watch you’ve got about ten minutes left until you need to get back.

“The line was so long,” Spencer says. “They could reduce the foot traffic in here by half if they had two people working the register.”

“Maybe if we had our own offices we could eat our lunch alone from a brown paper bag like everybody else does, and we wouldn’t need to line up,” Elle says wryly.

“You don’t like lining up like middle schoolers?” you ask in feigned shock.

“I don’t,” Spencer says earnestly.

“She’s being sarcastic,” Elle says. “You couldn’t tell?” She looks over your shoulder suddenly, but there’s a velvet voice in your ear before you can turn around.

“Can I borrow you?”

You smile because he can’t see it. “That depends, Agent Hotchner, will I get to finish my lunch?”

You don’t have a tray in front of you. It clearly doesn’t matter to Hotch. “I’ll take care of it.”

You’d let him drag you around by the collar, but that’s none of his business. You turn to meet his eyes over your shoulder, disappointed that he’s already a few steps back waiting for you to stand up.

What Elle doesn’t get, what nobody seems to see but you, is that Hotch had no need to lean in and talk so close to your ear. He could have sent you an email, paged you, and he’s here in the cafeteria waiting for you to follow him out.

You send both Elle and Spencer a suggestive look and climb off of the bench. Hotch senses when you’re near rather than looking, starting out of the cafeteria and down the hall to the elevator bank. He does a sharp turn you aren’t expecting to the photocopying rooms, where you refuse to go, lest you get killed by a falling stack of printer paper. One minute you’re walking together and the next he’s taken your hand and pulling you into an alcove, suddenly sliding his hand behind your back.

“Aaron–”

He dips his face down and kisses you. It’s surprising and not, one slight nipping kiss before he looks you in the eyes. He’s asking if you’re alright to be kissed, and if it’s him, he can shove you up against a wall —you lift your head and he pulls you right back up to be kissed again. His hands slide over the tight fabric of your blazer and hold you chest to chest, his nose crushing yours, his lips unwavering. Pinpricks of heat ricochet from your mouth to your neck, a shudder he feels that has him laughing hot against your lips.

“That’s not very gentlemanly,” you say, weaving your fingers into the soft crop of hair behind his ears.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He lifts his hand, cleaning the smudge of your lipstick with his pinky finger, before stroking your cheek with his knuckle. “What sort of note was that, this afternoon? Why do you think that’s alright to leave at my desk?”

“How’d you know it was me?” you ask, dropping your hands from his hair to poke at his waist.

“I hoped it was you,” he admits. He looks like he might say something else, but he steals a rough kiss instead, and then another.

“Okay,” you say, pleased to be kissed like this by him, “it was me. And you deserved it.”

“Did I?” He takes your face into two hands. “Did I?”

You stutter momentarily at his repeated question. “You– yeah, Hotchner, you did. It was supposed to be nice, like a promise.”

“Are you promising?” he asks, giving your cheek a sweet, gentle stroke with his thumb.

You kiss his nice jaw, ruffle the hair that curls over his forehead playfully, and laugh as he catches your hand. He doesn’t grab. Hotch isn’t ever aggressive with you (though he can get a little excited).

“Decide what you want for dinner tonight, and we’ll go after work,” he says, returning your hand gently to your side.

“Another kiss?” you ask.

Hotch kisses you sweetly. “Come on, honey, lunch is over.”

“Just one more?” you ask.

He falls for it every time. You must harvest half a dozen extra kisses, incensed because it’s him, because nobody thought for a minute he’d bend to your whims.

Hotch doesn’t bend. He just wants you like you want him.

“One more,” he says as you pull away. “Just one.”

It tickles your lips. You curl your arms behind his neck and try to make it one that’ll linger, your fingers scratching lightly at his scalp as he presses your back to the cold wall. You yelp a laugh and he covers your back with big hands, mumbling a sorry that gets completely lost.

You don’t know how he’s going to explain this to Gideon.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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tasteleeknow · 4 months

Text

LIVING IN THE RUINS

minho x fem!reader. 2k words. minors dni. best friends to lovers. soft!minho. angst. fluff. jealousy. emotional hurt/comfort. smut with feelings, in a tent.

“Excuse me?”

You blink at the stranger in front of you. She seems to materialise before your eyes. You’d zoned out again and missed the attention your best friend had clearly been receiving from strangers in the crowded room. “I was wondering if I could get your number?” she asks, eyes fixed on Minho’s. She blinks quickly a few times, her long dark lashes fluttering much like your heart in your chest.

She hasn’t looked at you once despite your close proximity. You’re so close to the object of her attention in fact, your thigh brushes against Minho’s jeans under the table.

He shifts beside you, sitting up straighter in the booth. “Oh,” he says, clearly taken off guard as well. “Thank you. I mean that’s — I don’t—”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asks with a small tilt of her head.

“No,” Minho answers quickly, incapable of lying. His discomfort radiates off him. You’d spent years learning his emotional tells. “I mean—”

“He’s not into women,” you interrupt, finally drawing her attention to you. She blinks before her eyes drop down to your chest and back to your eyes, like she’s completely taken aback by your presence. It’s impossible, you know that logically. Still, she puts on a good performance. “Sorry,” you add.

Her lips curve into an unconvincing smile. “No worries,” she says. “The hot ones never are.”

The whole exchange is as short as it is ordinary. How many tipsy girls work up the courage to ask the pretty man across the bar for his number? You would bet money on it happening multiple times over somewhere across the planet at any given moment. It’s normal. Mundane. Still, you know it’ll chip a little more of your carefully built wall away. A chisel to stone, slow and steady. The only problem is that it’s been chipped at for years. You can feel the fragility of it these days, each chisel etch feels alot like when you’re down to the end of a game of jenga.

Any move now will cause it to crash and fall.

She hadn’t considered for a moment you might have been together — not when she’d spotted him across the room, clearly with you — and not when she’d gotten close and blatantly ignored your comfortable proximity to each other. Her question about his relationship status had been an afterthought, a possibility she hadn’t considered until faced with a response other than ‘yes’. She’d been expecting a yes.

The thought that he might be with you, might be attracted to you, was unconsidered. You wonder if she’d discussed it with her friends. ‘No,’ they might have said. ‘There’s no way he’s with her.’

Minho is quiet as the petite brunette turns on her heels and disappears back into the mass of people. His red ears give his embarrassment away.

You nudge his shoulder, rocking him out of his trance. “Hey,” you prod. “Alright?”

The smile he offers you is a little lopsided — very Minho. “Always,” he says.

—

Your annual camping trip is just like the year before. Your small group of friends sets up camp in your usual spot. Everyone climbs into their usual tents. Everyone assumes you and Minho will be sharing, as always.

You’re not sure why it hurts so much. They assume that nothing would ever happen between you. None of the other girls share a tent with a guy they aren’t dating. You’re the exception. Because Minho would never want you.

He notices your low mood later that night. The group separates in the dark to play flashlight tag and as you find yourself wandering a secluded patch of the campsite, you know he knows. His attention is on you instead of where he’s walking. You almost scream when he falls into apparent nothingness.

“I’m fine,” he quickly reassures you, pulling himself up from the ground. “Just dropped my glasses.”

“God, you scared me.”

It takes you both at least ten minutes to find them, relying purely on touch alone. It's too dark to see much at all without a light and using your phones would give your position away.

You’re grateful for the darkness when you reach up and place his frames gently on his face. It hides the heat in your cheeks when you brush chocolate brown hair behind his ears, ensuring you’ve placed them properly.

“Thank you,” he whispers, close enough that his breath warms your lips.

You’re also grateful just to be near him, you realise. Just to know him. You love him.

You love him.

It’s an earth shattering realisation to have while playing flashlight tag in the middle of nowhere. You need to escape. You can’t. You’re sharing a tent with him.

The situation isn’t helped when later in the night one of the girls with big bright eyes and a gentle smile makes a very clear move on him. You were used to it. People loved him.

You loved him.

It’s a stupid thing to cause the wall to finally crumble. It’s humiliating really. But when he laughs at something she whispers in his ear: it happens.

It falls.

You’re pathetic without it.

All you can do is hide from him, escape to the tent and pretend to be so tired you’ve fallen asleep before he can investigate. It’s not something you do. Not with Minho. He knows you so well hiding from him is just as stupid as it is pathetic. He’ll know.

Still, you can pretend. He won’t know as long as you’re unconscious. You can put it off until morning.

It takes a long time for him to fall asleep. You lie there staring at the canvas of the tent for what feels like hours, the sounds of him tossing and turning continuing for so long you almost give up.

But then he’s still. His breathing seems to even out. He’s asleep.

That’s when you let yourself cry. Quietly at first; silent aching sobs.

What a time for the wall to crumble. You wonder if you have the energy to rebuild. You’ll have to find it. The alternative is letting Minho go entirely, removing him from your life and letting the ruins erode away over a long, long time.

Not an option.

“Hey,” Minho’s soft voice calls. Shit. You wipe clumsily at your eyes and sodden cheeks. “Hey, what’s going on? What happened?” he questions as his palm rests gently against your shoulder.

You should face him. You can’t hide. You know it.

“No-thing,” you whimper, breath catching between each syllable. It’s that awful breathless kind of sobbing, the type that leaves you unable to inhale fully, let alone speak.

He rolls you over onto your back. He isn’t rough — but it’s with enough strength you’re completely unable to resist him.

“What is it?” he says again, tone much more forceful now. He isn’t letting it go. He looks down at you with wide eyes, like he’d never been asleep at all.

You shake your head.

His gentle thumbs move to your cheeks to attempt to wipe away the mess you’d left behind. He rests on one arm, leaning over you so he can give each cheek the same treatment. It’s a curious instinct, to wipe away someone's tears — like it has any effect on the person’s pain at all. It’s the best we can often do, you suppose.

“Just focus on breathing,” he says. “Just breathe.” His hand stays against your cheek, fingers resting on your neck by your ear — featherlight.

Breathing is easy, in theory. Breathing. Breathing. Breathing. His lips part to join you, guide you. His lips are still a little red from his bedtime routine, his tinted vaseline usually lasting him the entire night.

“That’s it,” he soothes when you finally manage a few steady breaths in a row. “That’s good. You’re okay.”

They’re simple words of comfort. The kind of thing anyone would say to a person in distress, but they settle something in your chest. You were okay. He was yours in a way that was more than nothing. He cared in a way that felt so genuine it was hard to be dissatisfied with the nature of it at all.

“Did something happen today?” he asks, still leaning over you. It’s a vulnerable position to be in. It mirrors how you know this conversation will go. Your wall is a crumbled mess. You have no defences against him.

“Not really.”

His eyebrows pull together.

“Nothing worth this,” you clarify.

“Tell me.”

“It’s not… It’s embarrassing.”

His lips curve in a tiny lopsided smile, just a hint of amusement. “Friends are for sharing embarrassing things with. And I’m your friend,” he says. “Aren’t I?”

You blink quickly a few times, desperate to keep your tears at bay. Then you nod weakly.

“Why do you look so miserable about it?” he says, tone light and teasing.

Your lips wobble a little as you struggle with the words attempting to burst forth. They pound and burn and demand to be set free. You lose the battle. “I love you.”

He blinks, eyes flicking across your face.

The gates are open now. You’re turned loose. “I love you so much,” you sob. “It hurts. It hurts everyday and it just keeps getting worse and I can’t—”

His lips cut you off, a warm, heart-stopping, and very much welcome interruption. He’s kissing you. He’s—

“Stop,” he mumbles against your wet, salty lips. “Stop hurting. Please.” His next kiss is unbearably soft, a brush against your upper lip. “Please,” he whispers.

You nod dumbly.

He rewards you with a collection of gentle kisses across your cheeks, replacing the remnants of your tears with the sticky wetness of his moisturised lips. You imagine the slight red marks he must leave behind.

He settles over you properly at some point. You’re too distracted by the path of his lips to notice exactly when. But then his arms are by your head, caging you under him in a way that makes you hope for the universe to halt all progression forward. This was enough; everything.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips finally. “I’m… sorry for letting you think I don’t. I’m a coward.”

“No,” you chastise quickly as you tangle your fingers in his hair. “Don’t say shit like that.”

“I—”

“It hurts me… and you told me to stop hurting.”

His head drops to your neck… then, with a soft press of his lips to your skin, “Then I’ll never do it again.”

Every move he makes is gentle when the slow, indulgent kisses turn into exploring hands and whispered pleas for more. Each of his whisper-soft words of affection sweeps away a crumbled section of your wall, clearing the space to build something entirely new. He’s warm, so warm as his bare torso rests on yours — as he finally presses inside you and sucks a mark into your neck to join the rest he’s left. “Doesn’t hurt?” he asks, stilling as he fills you completely.

“No,” you gasp. “No, you’re… it’s—” His lips take the words from your mouth, a little messier than he’s been before. When his hips roll into yours you can’t help grasping at him like he might suddenly get up and leave — fingers tangling in his hair desperately.

“I got you,” he mumbles against your lips, heavy breaths mingling with your own. “I got you…”

When he eventually spills inside you, flooding you with more of his warmth, you’re crying again. But this time it doesn’t hurt; this time it’s a release. The tears that he kisses from your face afterwards — they wash away the rest of the rubble.

#lee know smut #lee know fluff #lee know x reader #lee know fanfic #kpop smut #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #kpop imagines #skz smut #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #kpop scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz scenarios #minho drabbles

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 3 months

Text

TENDER CARE. 18+

pairing. bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary. you’ve been feeling insecure lately and your boyfriend, bucky knows just the way to make you feel pretty

word count. 2847

warnings. 18+ only!! hurt/comfort, reader feeling insecure, lots of hand kissing bc that shit makes me weak, kissing in general, praise, body worshiping, oral (f receiving) little bit of titty stuff, unprotected pinv sex, bucky being the best bf. minors dni

It was late, the evening quiet - the winter moon, a bright slither of silver amongst the dark blue sky.

As you lay in your bed, admiring her -the moon’s- beauty through the condensation of your window, your mind begins to drift, irrationality throwing hurdles at you. Your brain darting back and forth to those same thoughts you've been having more of lately - ones where doubt and insecurity flood any sense of logicality.

You knew you had no reason to feel this way. Your boyfriend always went to grave lengths to ensure you felt loved and appreciated, showing you nothing but tender care. Though, there was just something in your brain, that little green gremlin instilling distrust within you - no fault to him.

You felt isolated with your sense of humility, often feeling as though you didn't have someone to confide in, someone to talk to. It wasn't an easy topic to bring up, and although you felt comfortable enough with Bucky to share your mind freely, this was something that you just could not stomach.

Not only were you thinking about yourself, you were thinking of Bucky. The thought of admitting to him you felt insecure in your relationship felt like the highest form of betrayal. To confess to the man who's been torn apart and stitched together more times than one can count - that you felt unlovable, was something you couldn't bear.

The amount of hurt you would cause him simply by sharing was enough to deter you. So, for that reason alone, you kept it hidden. Letting yourself wallow in the crappy feeling unaided.

Your phone vibrates on your nightstand beside you, the screen obnoxiously bright - the white almost blinding you within your dim bedroom. Teary-eyed, you peek over at the caller ID, your boyfriend's name displayed beside his picture.

You wanted to talk to him - to hear his voice, but you knew your wavering tone would give away your dismal state. So, you let his call go to voicemail, like all his others from this evening.

Feeling guilt-ridden for declining his calls, you pick up your phone, deciding to send him a text instead. But when you unlock your phone, you see a pile of missed messages from Bucky, each text growing more and more worried at your sudden disappearance - his last one reading, 'I'll be over in 10' which was nearly ten minutes ago.

You exhale in frustration, cursing yourself as you wipe your eyes - carefully blotting the sensitive skin with one hand, the other typing a response. You decided on a small, white lie, replying, 'sorry, I was sleeping.'

The second your thumb presses send, you hear a frantic string of taps on your door - the repeated sound of knuckles knocking. You take a moment to situate yourself before making your way to your front entrance, socked feet paddling over to answer.

You peek through the peephole, your boyfriend on the other side - visibly distressed as he rakes through the front strands of his hair. You reach for the handle, unlocking the door with an expression you were sure to be disgrace. "I'm so sorry. I was in—" you start.

"Are you okay? You didn't answer. I got worried— I thought something happened," Bucky cuts you off, walking past you and stepping into your apartment.

You close the door behind him, turning to meet his frazzled features. "I know, I know. I'm really sorry. My phone was on silent, and I was in bed. I didn't see anything til just now," you confess, sharing parts of the truth.

He deeply exhales, gaze softening as he looks over you. He pauses, seeming like he's analysing you, eyes honing in on your evading ones. "What's wrong?"

You knew your gag would be up sooner or later, but you didn't expect it to be this soon. Sometimes, it was like your boyfriend knew things about you before you even did yourself - as though you failed to remember who you were talking to.

"Nothing," you smile, kissing his cheek as you step past him. "Just tired— didn't sleep properly."

"Yeah?" he hums, not quite believing your half-truths. He kicks off his boots and follows you into your room, soft footsteps behind you like a shadow. "How was your day?" he asks, talking like he's scoping you out.

You sit on the foot of your bed, shrugging at him dismissingly. "Same old. How was yours?"

He steps towards you, eyes darting around your room before focusing on you - everything becoming more apparent. "Fine. Good," he nods, softly groaning as he takes a crouch in front of you, kneeling on the floor between your legs so he's level with you. "What's wrong? What's going on?" he asks, eyes following you with the movement of his head, brows narrowing.

"Nothing," you reply, speaking faintly. Responding minimally in case your voice were to break.

"No?" he questions, placing a delicate hand over your knee - the palm emitting warmth onto your skin through the fabric of your pyjamas.

You shake your head, bottom lip beginning to waver under his attention.

"Then what's on your mind?" he asks gently, his tone warm and concerned.

"I told you," you avoid his eyes, looking down at your hands on your lap. "Didn't sleep well."

He sighs at your tenacity to push him away, head cocking to the side. He adjusts the stance on his knees, and your hands scramble for him - reaching out and holding onto him as if you were to stop him from leaving. Though only he wasn't leaving - he was just getting more comfortable.

"I wasn't leaving," he murmurs, slipping his hands into yours, thumb brushing over the back of your hand assuringly. "Did you think I was going to leave you?" he asks, lips lining into a faint frown.

You notice his brows tug upwards in the middle, the tell-tell sign he was beginning to think too hard. "No, I was just— I... don't know."

"Well, I'm not," he responds shortly, speaking like he was being stern with you - tough love. "Now, what's going on with you?" he asks, his grip on your hand tightening with a reassuring squeeze, the silent act encouraging you.

You inhale steadily, letting the air fill your lungs. "I haven't been feeling good."

He keeps his eyes on yours, following you. "Okay, why?" he questions shortly, wanting to get to the root of the problem as quickly as possible.

"I've been sad."

"Why?

You shrug. "I just have."

"I need more than that. Why have you been sad?"

"I don't know."

"Why?" he repeats, brows straightening.

"Because I feel... ugly."

He hesitates, his shoulders slumping at your confession, visibly digesting your words. "Ugly?" he recites, the remark leaving a foul taste on his tongue. "Honey," he lingers, softly shaking his head.

Bucky stills, his forehead creasing with what you perceive to be pity. His mouth opens as though he's going to say something, only for it to snap back shut. He faintly sighs, bringing your hand to his lips. "You know that's not true, right?" he rhetorically asks, pressing a kiss into the back of your hand.

You don't say anything, the only reply being a short exhale and an awkward smile.

"Because I think you..." he pauses, kissing another patch into your hand. "Are the prettiest," a slow smile lining his lips - an expression that's now mirroring yours.

It was so simple. Everything Bucky did to reassure you - he did with ease. Just the tiny, loving act instantly melting the tension in your mind. His care for you pushing away any sense of self-doubt.

He peppers another kiss into your hand. And another - littering a short string of them over your wrist. "Don't listen to your brain, okay? She's not always right," he murmurs, expression softening like it was reassuring his words.

"I know," you nod, weakly smiling at him. "Just—"

"Hard. I know," Bucky finishes your sentence, nodding at you understandingly.

He leans forward and places a soft kiss on the centre of your lips - his own brushing over yours sweetly, the action grounding and comforting. He pulls away first, eyes half-lidded as they glance over you, focusing on the almost pleading look on your face.

Your free hand reaches up to his face, palm enclosing his jaw as you bring him back in for a kiss - lips working over his more urgently than the time before.

"Thank you," you mumble against his mouth, merely pulling away to show your appreciation. "You're so kind to me."

His grip loosens on your hand, now sliding both up to your face, cupping your cheeks as he deepens the kiss - tongue slipping into your mouth willingly. His lips leave yours, trailing a line of kisses along your jaw and down the side of your throat.

"Always," he murmurs, the short word muffling into your skin. Whispering, "I want to show you just how pretty you are."

A soft whine-like hum vibrates in your throat, the noise accepting his words eagerly. Your hand trails into the short strands of hair at the back of his head, fingers grazing his scalp as you hold him to the crook of your neck. Neck tilting to the side, allowing him more access to you as you reach for his jacket, pushing the fabric off his broad shoulders.

He presses a final kiss into a patch of your skin and pulls away, looking at your ever-softening features - eyes and brows growing pliant under his attention. His hands slowly roam down to the hem of your t-shirt, fingers hooking under the fabric as they lift, pulling it off your head in a steady, swift motion.

You sit in front of him, chest bare and on display in front of him, letting him take you in - not shying away like you did earlier.

Bucky remains quiet, his eyes fixed on the lewd sight before him, silently storing the image for safekeeping. He brings his hands up towards your tits, cupping under each - holding them in his palms. "So beautiful," he hums, leaning in to place a kiss on the swell below your nipple, giving his attention to each breast.

He rolls them in his strong hands, delicately playing and toying with them, thumbs skimming over your sensitive, hardening nipples, pressing kisses into the skin above. He looks up at you from between your tits, eyes full of love, full of warmth - looking up into your blissed ones with nothing adoration.

He places a hand over your middle - fingers spread wide as he nudges you backwards, silently and carefully laying you down. Your bare back against the covers with him kneeling on the floor between your spread thighs.

Barely leaning over you, he reaches up to kiss a trail over your abdomen, lips skimming along your jittering stomach as his fingers slip into the waistband of your underwear and pyjama bottoms. He pulls them down - light tugs as he drags them off your hips and down your thighs, grazing kisses over your now-exposed skin as he undresses your lower half.

Pulling the fabric off your ankles, he sets it aside, replacing the material that just covered you with kisses - lips grazing up the length of your legs, chaste pecks over your skin like he was worshipping you. The kisses trail higher and higher, reaching up to the crease between your thigh and cunt where he continues the worship, tongue faintly swiping over the skin.

Your hands worm into the roots of his dark hair, fingers locking on the shorts as you hold him to where you want him, guiding him to the needy little spot between your thighs. Chest rising and falling, inner thighs twitching as the anticipation builds in your stomach.

He situates himself in front of your pussy, lips mere inches away as he softly breathes over it - teasing you, his eyes locked on your trembling stomach above. He places a peck on the bottom of your slit. And another. Lining a stripe of kisses up your cunt til he reaches your clit where he skates past the nub, tongue skimming over it.

Hands working over your thighs and to your hips, he adjusts you, placing your legs over his shoulders - letting them drape freely over his blades as he delves in deeper between your thighs, caressing your plushy folds with his lips and tongue.

You murmur the first half of his name only to be cut off by a whine, the desperate noise catching in your throat when he nips at your clit, his lips wrapping around the mound - tongue skillfully flickering across.

The noises he muffles are lewd and obscene - gruff, soft groans as he adulates your pussy, pushing his mouth in closer. Your fingers tug tighter on his roots at the consuming feeling, back lifting from the bed in an arch, mindlessly grinding your cunt into his face.

Within minutes, you become a twitching, moaning pile of mush, coating his chin with your slick as you cum - thighs clamping around Bucky's head between.

He places a final kiss on your pubic bone before pulling away, standing up with a chubbed-up cock in his pants, the area tenting after tasting you. You hold his gaze, looking up at him with blissed eyes and a stir in your stomach - the sight of him making your cunt twitch.

He wipes the wet from his chin on the back of his hand, briskly drying his stubble before undressing his lower half - tugging down on his combat pants and boxers, letting the material pool around his ankles as his cock springs free. Full length hard and ready, tip leaking precum.

You scooch up your bed, resting flat with your head on the pillow, eagerly awaiting him. Your thighs instinctively spread as he crawls up the bed and between your legs, slotting his lower half between you - anchoring his weight on his hands either side of your head.

He leans in to kiss you, making you taste yourself on his tongue, the residual creamy slick transferring onto your own. Cock absentmindedly rubbing up against your pussy, the faint friction making you whimper into his mouth.

Your hands hook into the hem of his t-shirt, fingers gripping the bottom of the fabric as you guide it up his back, pulling it over his head as you break the kiss - his chest now bare and up against yours.

Balancing on his left metal hand, he dips the other between you, reaching for his cock, wrapping his fingers around the base. He gives himself a few short strokes, guiding his head towards you - pushing his tip through the slick of your folds, coating his cock in your wetness before sinking into you.

You take him at your own pace, walls fluttering and loosening around his shaft as he eases more of himself into you - your pussy swallowing little bits of him at a time. Your hand paws at his wrist placed on your hip, fingers enveloping around the thickness, silently pleading and begging him to get closer.

He looks down at the lewd sight of you spread out in front of him: your brows knitted, eyes soft, lips bitten - natural, unadulterated beauty all desperate and malleable for him. He notices the bliss cloud in your eyes and gives your glistening, stuffed pussy a final once over before hovering back over you, chest lingering above yours.

His lips skim over your jaw, trailing even more kisses down the side of your throat, giving you easing, reassuring pecks as he slips more of his cock into you - distracting you from the dull ache.

"You are so beautiful," he whispers into your skin, sealing the compliment with a kiss. "You really are," he adds, pressing kisses into your shoulder. "I don't know how you don't see it."

You bend at the knee, holding it at his side - the new angle opening your hips wider, allowing that last bit of his cock to slide in, head hitting at the hilt. You keep him snug to you, arms lazily wrapped around his neck, your other leg entangling with his as your lips shadow each other.

The moonlit room fills with soft, wet clicking - the sound of your pussy and sticky skin hitting cuts through the bliss-filled noises that slip past both of your lips, lewd noises surrounding you in the dark.

Bucky pulls his forehead from the crook of your neck to look down at you, eyes hinting at something - like his mind was temporarily elsewhere.

"Earlier," he starts, his voice hoarse as his hips wind into you, cock rubbing your walls so nicely. "When you said that thing," he adds, following your eyes when they bashfully divert away. "You tell me when you feel like that... I'd be happy to remind you just how pretty you are."

a/n. I had an idea for myself, what?? and my first full fic in almost a year??

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky x female reader #bucky smut #bucky barnes comfort #james bucky barnes #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier smut

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neverevan · 1 year

Text

I know we all love the idea of Eddie keep flirting with Steve and calling him pet names, because he thinks he can get away with it.

But I've been thinking about Steve casually calling Eddie baby without even registering what he's doing.

Like they are standing outside the van with the hood open and Steve just tutting at him like "Eddie, baby, you really gotta get your transmission checked, this is like the third time this month" and Eddie's losing his shit, mouth hanging open in shock, but Steve has no idea and it just keeps on happening after that.

Next time it happens, they are all over at Steve's, having a movie night and Steve has El and Max passed out on him, making him unable to get up from the couch without waking them and he just whisper-yells to Eddie "Hey babe, could you pass me a beer? Kinda tied up here" and Eddie just blanks and says nothing, but gets a bottle from the sixpack on the floor and Steve says "thanks" like it's just how things have always been between them.

And Eddie's working himself into a frenzy. Has Steve got no idea about what he's doing to him? Because Eddie's been lowkey crushing on Steve since he got mixed up in the whole Upside Down business and it just got worse when he woke up at the hospital to Steve holding his hand and giving him the brightests of smiles that there was, rubbing his thumb over Eddie's knuckles, whispering a soft "Hey there sleeping beauty, how're ya feeling?" while being completely oblivious to the suspicious look Wayne was giving them. And sure, hanging out with him nearly every day didn't help the situation one bit.

But this. This is going to be the death of him.

And it just keeps on happening. Steve murmurs "goodnight baby" into the phone before hanging up, he shouts "babe, come here, you gotta see this" when Lucas ends up stuffing fifteen oreos into his mouth (which is a new personal record) and whispers "hey baby, I'm sorry, I know you'd rather do something else, but I promised Mrs Wheeler" when they're watching Holly's ballet recital, waving at her from their seats when her eyes land on them.

It all comes to a head when Eddie's stupid van breaks down in the middle of fucking nowhere, on their way back from Indianapolis, after going there to buy a special boardgame for Dustin's birthday.

There's not a single car or house to be seen anywhere in a ten mile radius.

"Oh this is just great," Steve hisses as he jumps out of the car to walk around and Eddie does the same. He pops the hood and watches as a small cloud of smoke slithers out of it.

"Shit" Eddie swears under his breath. It looks bad.

"See baby, that's exactly why I told you to get it checked! Because I didn't wanna get stuck in fucking no man's land!"

"Look, I'm sure if we just leave it to rest a little..."

"Rest? Eds, come on, you know that's not how it works. We gotta walk up to the next gas stop and phone someone to tow it."

"Fuck, fine!" Eddie grunted. "But it gets dark in like twenty minutes."

They both know that they can't handle walking out in the wild after dark. Not after everything and not with all the nightmares that still tormented them most nights.

"Then I guess we're sleeping out here tonight." Steve says, dropping his hands on his hips. "You have pillows or some shit in the back?"

"Got a couple of blankets, yeah."

In the end they lay down two blankets on the bottom of the van and bundle up some old jumpers Eddie keeps in there for pillows. They lie there, facing each other in the dark.

"Hey... I'm sorry about all this" Eddie whispers, like his voice could disturb anyone out here in the middle of nowhere.

"It's okay, I just wish you'd pay more attention to stuff like this. I mean shit, babe, what if it's just you out here, huh? What then?"

"Steve-"

"I mean, I just hate to think about how shitty it would be, to be out here alone, in the dark... plus I'd worry myself sick not knowing where you are, you know?"

"Steve."

"Yeah?"

"I'm not alone."

"No, no you're not alone" Steve agrees with a private little smile.

They settle into a companionable silence and Eddie's almost certain that Steve is just about to drift off, but he can't contain it in himself any longer; he has to ask.

"Hey Steve?"

"Mmh?"

"Why uh... why are you keep calling me...?" He can't bring himself to say it out loud without his face heating up.

"What?"

"Names." He settles, hoping that Steve would get it.

"Names?"

He's gonna make him say it, isn't he?

"Yeah like uh... baby."

"Oh"

Even in the darkness of the van Eddie can see how the colour darkens in Steve's cheeks.

"Does it bother you?" Steve asks after a beat and Eddie just sighs out a soft "no".

"Okay."

For a long moment it seems that this is all Eddie's gonna get, but then Steve shuffles a little closer and runs a finger along Eddie's palm before taking his hand into his own.

"It just felt right, you know? Calling you that. I dunno, it was like how it was meant to be."

"That sounds kinda romantic, isn't it?" Eddie's shooting for a joke, but Steve just sighs timidly.

"Yeah, it does, doesn't it?"

"Steve-"

"Eddie... can I?" He doesn't finish it, but Eddie knows he'd say yes to pretty much anything Steve could ever ask from him.

"Yeah" He breathes with a little nod and Steve scoots even closer, placing his other hand onto Eddie's cheek. He leans in and looks him in the eyes for an impossibly long moment, making sure he's got permission one last time.

Steve whispers a soft "baby" onto his lips before finally closing the gap between them.

#steddie #these two will be the death of me #steddie fic #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #fanfic #ficlet #fanfiction #my fic

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emo-batboy · 6 months

Text

Things Battinson Totally Did During His First Year of University

Using Unhinged or Odd Things I Also Did as a College Freshman :D

Note: for this list, let’s believe Bruce was living in an (admittedly expensive and swanky) dorm because it is required for first-years, especially those entering at a young age, and Alfred told him he needed to make friends. Also yes I did every single thing on this list. I never claimed to be a role model

Bruce, to his TA: I’m so sorry I’m late to class. I gave blood a few hours ago and almost fainted on the way here, but it won’t happen again.

Signs up for a class called “Age of Dinosaurs” despite it not being required whatsoever and proceeds to work his entire schedule around it

Bruce: Your mental health is super important. If you think you should see the on-campus therapist, go see them. Friend: Fine. I’ll sign up for therapy if you sign up for therapy too. Bruce: Hold on-

Finds a loophole in his housing contract that allows him to get a pet frog, calls him kermit :)

Gets a second frog because Kermit was lonely, names it Constantine after Muppets Most Wanted, then realizes that they’re gay for each other. Wonders if the rainbow-colored rocks he got them triggered anything

Swings dramatically between calling Alfred every single day and ghosting him for weeks, cries when he realizes what he did

“Accidentally” joins the student body council, doesn’t know what he’s doing, gets re-elected anyway

Molds a dragon out of Laffy Taffy instead of doing his work

Bruce: *joins Honors, gets all A’s, takes the max amount of classes, has several minors, overachieves* Also Bruce: I’m a failure.

Breaks into a building after hours to study because NO ONE KNOWS HOW TO SHUT THE FUCK UP AT THE LIBRARY

Bruce: I will not get seasonal depression this year. Bruce: *gets real and seasonal depression that year*

Meticulously schedules his day with a color-coded planner because if he sits down for too long, the thoughts will consume him

Gives a presentation to his rhetoric class on how much he likes Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse (it is 20 minutes long)

Successfully allocates funding from the student body council to pay for free feminine products in the dorms OUT OF SPITE because someone said it couldn't be done. fuck you, Andrew

Bruce: It is not an all-nighter if I go to sleep before my first class. Friend: It is 7:30am, the sun is in the sky, and your first class is at 12:30. Bruce: But I am getting sleep.

Refuses to go anywhere without his backpack because what if he needs three notebooks at once

Loses over 20 pounds because ✨stress✨ and scares the shit out of Alfred when he comes home for Thanksgiving

Argues with his TA over the one (1) question he got wrong on his Dinosaur exam

Bruce, calling Alfred: Hello father figure. How do I do taxes? Do I have to do them myself? Also, I think I’m having a panic attack.

Joins in on a charity arts-and-crafts project that gives kids books with matching activities made by volunteers, proceeds to commandeer the project because “it’s not color-blind friendly” and rewrites the instructions for everyone

Makes a murder wall

Goes to one (1) sports game and proceeds to leave in the first ten minutes because it’s way too loud wtf is wrong with people

Professor, addressing the lecture hall: I dare you to write an essay about these two sentences. Bruce: *writes an essay about six words, gets a 100, never even read the book*

Crawls into the ceiling for some alone time

Ghosts someone after a date because he’s too scared to tell them he didn’t know it was a date in the first place and now he feels bad

Classmate: How tf does he walk across campus that fast? I go in the same direction he does on my bike, and he’s always ahead of me. Bruce: *is gay sprinting to Dinosaur class*

Refuses to let others use his Favorite Pen TM

Constantly gets mistaken for a Grad Student because he is “so wise and mature” (bestie, that’s the autism)

Alfred: *casually mentions he got into a car accident through text* Bruce: *replies with a meme while hyperventilating because he doesn’t know what to do with that information??!*

Wears a suit to one of his finals

Regularly eats non-organic food for the first time in his life, proceeds to learn about several allergies Alfred forgot to mention he has

Writes “What is a Hot Pocket?” in calligraphy and proceeds to laugh his ass off alone in his dorm because he is so exhausted he’s reached the point of delusion

Locks himself out of his dorm right before class, frantically asks the floor group chat if someone can help, proceeds to tell the nice gay man on the floor who saved him “I love you” because his social skills have hit rock bottom

Makes a little music album display next to his desk for his favorite band (Nirvana) His friends call it a shrine, and they are technically correct

Has a blacklist of people he refuses to interact with because Reasons

Counselor: What do you want to do when you graduate? Bruce: *gestures vaguely*

Refuses to take the bus because there are people in there and he doesn’t like those

Loses one of his frogs, how tf did he do that, they’re fully aquatic, oh fuck, this is probably why they got rid of that loophole a year later because unbeknownst to Bruce, he accidentally started a frog revolution in the dorms, btw he SWEARS he did not mean to do that

Has two trash cans in his room: one for the Good Garbage, and one for the Bad Garbage. Only Bruce knows which is which

Bruce: *writes a creative piece about a ship’s final thoughts as it sinks, bringing its passengers down with it* TA: Absolutely lovely, Bruce, but are you okay?

Goes on Night Walks, keeps himself safe by maintaining a level 12 resting bitch face at all times

Earns the nickname “8th floor cryptid” after pacing the halls at 3am when it’s too cold for Night Walks (honestly tho how tf didn’t he get the nickname earlier?)

Bruce: Do you think a depressed person could do this? Bruce: *has a manic episode*

Okay that's all love you BYE

#cryptid Bruce Wayne #college au #does this count if op is the au #fully nocturnal unhinged madman Bruce but make him like 17 and full of crippling separation anxiety and autism #bruce would rather die than inconvenience a professor but hE KNOWS HIS DINOSAURS #Dino class was my fav one in uni hands down #yes i am insane thank you for asking #originally this was just going to be a normal list but I kept taking from my own experience then said “fuck it I'm the captain now”#one of these was a lie tho...the murder wall was third year :/#battinson #bruce wayne #batman #the batman 2022 #batman 2022 #the batman #battinson needs a hug #dc universe #gotham #autistic bruce wayne

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shadowspromise · 6 months

Text

ghoapy thoughts

Ghost has a stupid crush on you. He swears he’ll deny it till the end of time.

Soap has an enthusiastic crush on you. He makes it painfully obvious.

Ghost has an even stupider crush on Soap. He tells himself every morning not to let his feelings get ahead of his job.

Soap has, yet again, an enthusiastic crush on Ghost. It’s even more obvious, somehow, than his crush on you.

You know that Soap’s down tremendously for Ghost, but you know that he’s also flirting with you. It confuses you, making you wonder if he’s just naturally flirty or if he really likes both of you.

Ghost wakes up every morning, looks in the mirror, gives himself a firm slap across his own face and tells himself to behave. Crushes are stupid and he’s a grown man with a grown man job. He doesn’t have time for his stupid feelings.

Oh, but when it’s just Ghost and Soap at the bar together, after a few too many drinks…

They can’t help but talk about each other, talk about you. They keep buying each other drinks, knowing that at this rate they’ll have to call someone to pick them up.

“Could barely focus during Price’s meeting today. You an’ Y/N wearin’ those tight shirts… drivin’ me up the damn wall…” Ghost rambles, his eyes parallel to Soap’s.

“Ah did it on purpose, ya know ah love distractin’ you…” Soap responds, his accent thicker due to the alcohol. His cheeks are heavily tinted red, both from blushing and the drinking.

“You think Y/N knows what they’re doin’ to us? Think they do it on purpose too?” Ghost replies, smirking from under his mask. He lifts it over his nose to take another drink.

“God, I hope so,” Soap mumbles, rubbing his temples. He can’t even remember how many drinks he’s had tonight.

“You a’ight Johnny? Think we should go?” Ghost asks, intentionally touching Soap’s shoulder as an act of comfort (and seduction).

“Ah’m fuckin’ blootered, ah’m see’in colors when I close my damn eyes… cannae even feel my toes properly…” Soap starts muttering. Ghost only comprehends about half of what he just said but gets the general point.

“I’ll ask someone to get us. We’ll wake up in a whorehouse if we try walkin’ ourselves back…” Ghost pulls out his phone, squinting his eyes at the screen, trying to focus.

He texts Gaz and gets no answer, probably because it’s late and he’s sleeping.

He texts Price and gets the response of “You’re big boys, get yourself back.”

That leaves you. He decides to rethink a nicer message than the “pick johnny and I up cuntbag” he sent to the others.

“Johnny and I are drunk. Would appreciate if you came and walked us back to base.”

Simon mentally gives himself a pat on the back for managing to type all that without sounding condescending or making a dozen typos.

You respond within 15 seconds, to his surprise. Although he knew you were a good boy/girl and were always eager to help.

“Sure thing. Will be there soon ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ”

The little emoticons you send him drives him mad.

“Aye, you think they’re into me? They put a… fuckin’ dog or whatever…” Ghost shows Johnny his phone.

“That’s a bear, mate,” Soap points at the text.

“I think it’s a dog.”

“Well you’re wrong, ye braw bastard.”

The bar is just about a ten minute walk from base and you’ll be there any minute, so they spent their “alone” time talking about you (and the things they’d do to you)

When you arrive, Soap gets overly excited and falls over. Ghost tries with every nerve in his body not to laugh, attempting to keep up the cold and stoic personality for you.

You guide them back to base, stopping Soap from stumbling onto the road. Ghost is much more physically put together, but mentally he’s having an aneurysm. He’s staring at Johnny’s ass whenever he has the chance and can physically feel himself get warmer when your arm brushes against his.

At base, you attempt to push them into their separate rooms but they refuse. Ghost and Soap give one drunken look at each other and it’s seconds before they’re cornering you.

That night, all three of you had your dreams come true.

#simon riley x reader #Simon Riley fluff #Simon Riley #ghost x reader #ghost fluff #ghoap #ghoap x reader #soap x reader #soap fluff #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish fluff #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish fluff #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod #cod x reader

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shawnxstyles · 6 months

Text

baby honey 2

DATE: NOVEMBER 5, 2023

summary: you and harry need to talk. so, you do. along with other things.

song: Fantasy- the driver era

words: 7.2k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [oral, choking], daddy kink, slight dumbification, mentions of voyurism/exhibitism [not clearly stated] and porn, protected sex, dirty talk!!), language, and a very blunt y/n.

note: i actually got a part two out not that long after the first part?? omg?? monumental moment here guys. enjoy! PART ONE!

secret pornstar!harry x secret pornstar!y/n

—

DaylightDaddy [verified]: What are you doing to me?

You were waiting by your computer for the longest sixteen minutes of your life. That’s how long it took Harry to watch your less-than-ten-minute video and then text you back. Your heart, which was still flat on the floor of your stomach, leaps excitedly when it sees Harry’s message on your computer screen.

That message alone verified to you that DaylightDaddy was indeed Harry. Of course Harry would bring back his infamous saying at a time like this. You wanted to ditch the conversation on this website and text Harry personally. You also wanted to go to his house and pounce on him for being ridiculously attractive and vulnerable. You were an idiot by not saying anything yesterday and he was an idiot by being so blunt and angry. You both could have ruined not only your friendship but your chances at being something more by not talking. Communication is key, yet you’re still locked.

Why?

Maybe because somewhere in the dark crack of your heart, you’re terrified that you’ll be vulnerable to a man that’s six years older than you just for him to say that he doesn’t actually like you. He just likes your breasts and the idea of sleeping with you.

But that’s not Harry, right?

Without responding to his message, you grab your phone that has been forgotten on your floor. The second you sent that video to him you chucked it across the room and hoped for the best. It seems as though it worked, but at the same time, there is still so much unsaid with Harry. So many feelings you need to work out. But first, you need to talk and figure out how you both actually feel. Is it just lust? Is it just the fact that you two work together? Or is it something more?

Y/N: harry

He texts you almost simultaneously.

Harry: Y/N

Your fingers freeze at the keyboard. Even though you were just talking to him, how do you bring up such a serious conversation. We need to talk? Or I need to talk to you? They both sound bad.

Harry: Are you working today?

You and Harry both know damn well neither of you works. Him asking this question just seems like he’s continuing to avoid you, and avoid the inevitable conversation that you guys need to have. Did your video not spark a lightbulb in his head? How can he not tell that you do feel whatever he feels? Maybe even more…

Y/N: i am not, but i think you know that

Y/N: can we talk? are you busy?

You know he’s not busy, but that doesn’t make his reaction any scarier.

Harry: I’m free

Harry: Do you want to come over

It was one of the scariest texts he’s ever sent. After what just went down between you two, inviting you over could mean anything. It’s clear there’s a strong attraction connecting you both, but there is also a lot of murky water that needs to be cleaned.

Y/N: yes

Harry: Let me pick you up

That stubbornness inside of you that Harry is all too familiar with wanted to fight him. To tell him that you are more than capable of driving yourself, even though you only have Penny’s car for one more day. But him suggesting to pick you up showed his desperation to see you. And maybe that was a good thing. Maybe the forward action instead of the backing away was what you two needed.

Y/N: okay

Y/N: give me an hour!!

You needed time to think about it of course.

—

Within that hour, you were going crazy. You took a warm, hard-pressed shower in order to massage all the tension in your body and hopefully in your mind. You thought about every possible scenario about seven thousand times, hoping that you’d get it right. This time, you planned to say the right words and not stand there like a fucking statue when faced with his vulnerability. This time, you were going to be vulnerable too, because you’ve never had a chance at something more like this before. And you don’t want to ruin it just because you’re afraid. How lame is that?

While you were waiting for Harry to text you, you pace around the room. Your eyes averted to your computer that was still lying on your bed, and the only thing you could think about was your conversation with Harry. Not only had he called you attractive but he compared your beauty to everyone on the website and still said you were the most attractive. Was that just him flirting? Or was he being serious? You wondered if Harry really felt that way about you and you hoped you would find out soon.

On that thought, you never even checked if his money went through. You know the second that it does you’ll be giving it right back to him. So, while you’re still waiting, you open up your bank app on your phone. Even though you’re sitting on your bed now, your leg is still bouncing up and down, anxiety infiltrating your blood like the most insane drug.

When you finally comprehend the number that is present on your screen, your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. You blink a couple hundred times before briskly checking your most recent transactions. In neon green letters an extravagant $2000+ appears in front of you. Your hand jaggedly and slowly finds its way over your agape mouth, bewildered at Harry’s extreme act. What on earth would cause Harry to willingly send you that much money? Yes, you have complained about your financial situation, but you also clearly denied Harry of a loan. Now, you have to send his money back and it’s going to be really awkward. Another thing you have to add to your list of “Things to Talk Through with Harry”. Just as you close the app, Harry texts you that he’s at your place.

–

“Hey,” You manage to cough out as you slide nervously into his passenger seat.

“Hey,” Harry replies with a thick swallow. His grip on the steering wheel changes from intense to loose every few seconds before he starts the car.

There’s a low hum on the radio along with his air conditioning blowing cool air towards you. But other than that, no one had said a word. You peek over the dashboard a few times to see the road, wondering how far Harry lives from you and how quickly you can get out of this car. You hoped when you got to his house that this unbreathable, anxious tension would have died down, so you two can finally sort this shit out.

As a few more minutes pass by, you realize that you hate this. You hate the awkward silence that’s dawning over your friendship and making you overthink every single word. It’s never been like this with Harry, ever. You’ve never had to second-guess your late-night conversations and he never had to restrain his friendly charm. This, this tension, is unlike both of you.

You have to talk. Maybe you should mention the money?

“I know y’want to say something. Just say it, please, I can’t stand this awkwardness,” Harry blurts out as he stops at a red light. You inhale and blink, suddenly feeling a bit more alive with the sound of his voice.

“I looked at my bank,” You said, looking down at your lap. You were already being shy and you haven’t even got to the actual vulnerable stuff yet. What is wrong with you?

“Have you?”

“Yeah, and I saw the money you gave me.”

“Good.”

“Harry, you know I can’t take that,” Now, you turn your head towards his, which is safely facing the road. But you know he sees you and you know he’s stressed with your stubbornness.

“But you already did. It’s in your account, yeah?”

“Okay, but–”

“I don’t understand why you won’t take my money. Is it not good enough for you or somethin’?” Harry’s voice has become more agitated, making his last turn a bit sharper. You see him take a deep breath as he pulls into a driveway of a nice house. It was nice because the lawn was green and cut and the color of its walls were a pleasant cream color with a smooth navy blue as its border. It wasn’t the biggest house ever, but Harry was more practical than that. He didn’t need some huge, showy house in order to seem cool. Harry was already cool, whether he knew it or not.

“All money is the same, you doy.”

“You didn’t want it when I said I could loan it to you. Then I found a way to give it to you because you earned it and you still won’t take it. How does that make sense?”

“That’s different!”

“How is that different?”

“You of all people should know!”

Harry groans out of frustration and gets out of the car. “Let’s just get in the house.”

You follow suit, shutting the car door a little more roughly than you thought. Before you know it, you’re in his house and it’s just so Harry. His furniture is smooth; all browns and woods. He had pictures of his family scattered along with abstract art. By his decently sized television is a large record player next to an impressive case of vinyls. He even has a miniature bookshelf full of books that would probably bore you, but it still fascinates you.

“What, have you never seen a house before?”

“Don’t get all snappy with me. We were supposed to talk.”

“You make it difficult.”

“Why? Because I won’t take your money?”

“That doesn’t help,” he crosses his arms before dropping to sit on his couch. Again, you follow him, but keep your distance. You don’t miss the way his house smells just like him; a homey breeze of fresh air with a sprinkle of nature. It was earthly and friendly and charming. Just like him. “But it’s your stubbornness.”

To be fair, your stubbornness is one of Harry’s favorite traits about you. But it’s also the one that gets under his skin the most. He admires the way you can stand up for yourself and you know how to get exactly what you want. But he’s noticed that your need for independence interferes with your other desires.

“I can’t help it. I was born to fight,” You sighed out, lying against the couch cushions. “At least that’s what my dad always says.”

“I don’t want to fight, Honey,” The new nickname has rows of shivers cascading your skin. You feel a tingle in your stomach that you get when he says something charming or flirtatious. It’s impossible to fight the butterflies and heart pulses he gives you.

“Me either,” You take a deep breath, just like you did in the shower and just like Harry did in the car. This was your time to be vulnerable, to be first. You wanted to show Harry that you cared and that you weren’t just being stubborn to be annoying. You loved when you guys would close together, even if you consistently told him you would do it yourself. You loved the late-night talks you would have while cleaning up the bar, talking about anything and everything in order to waste time. You were endeared that Harry always walked you to your car in the early morning after the doors were locked just to make sure you were safe. You missed the way his hands felt on your arms when he caught you and the feeling of his chest pressed closely to yours. Friends don’t crave like that. No, because you weren’t friends. You were more and you both knew it. You cared about him and you appreciated his care for you. Shit, you freaking liked him and it took you both revealing your secret identities to prove it. Even if you two haven’t technically talked about it.

“H…”

“Y/N.”

“Everything you told me that night. Was it true?”

There was a weighted beat. One that was long and heavy enough to shatter the earth.

“Yes, of course it was. Why would I lie about that?”

“I don’t–” You turned to face him. “I’m not…good at this stuff. I don’t randomly hook up with people or go on dates. I especially don’t go to their house after sending them a video of me orgasming to confess my feelings to them.”

Harry blinks. He didn’t think you would mention it so vulgarly, but maybe he doesn’t know you like he thought he did. But he would like to. He doesn’t sound like you’re accusing him of doing those things, more of just you warning him about yourself. Harry does extract the little hint of your words and uses them to interrogate you.

“Feelings. What feelings?”

“Well, currently I’m frustrated–”

“Y/N,” his voice of seriousness causes your eyes to drop into your lap. You fiddle with your thumbs like a nervous kindergartener on their first day of school. It wasn’t like you to get so shy. You were a bartender for a living; you couldn’t be shy. But you just haven’t reserved these types of feelings for someone in so long it feels foreign. It feels as though you’re stretching outside of your comfortable zone and forcing you to be sheepish with your eyes down.

“Fine. I like…our friendship. A lot. But this week made me realize that I want more than that. With you,” You peer up at him through your eyelids, hoping not to see his face cringe with disgust at your words. But Harry’s face is flattened straight with nothing but the intent of listening. He even has a sparkle of softness in his eyes that makes your heart lurch out to him. He cared, and it showed in his features. Your mom always told you that people’s real emotions were always revealed on their face, and it was written like a love letter over his.

His patient silence makes you want to fill it with some type of conversation due to the uncomfortableness with your sudden vulnerability. Skittishly, you swallow in an attempt to coat your dry throat. “But I haven’t got much further than that. I know that I’m attracted to you. I mean, fuck, you saw the video, right? I probably didn’t even need the bullet–what did I just say? That’s not what I wanted to say. I wanted to say that I don’t want this to just be an attraction because I don’t think I could handle that. That felt good to say. I think I’ve said “say” too much and now it sounds weird…”

“I feel that way too,” he replies, the smallest curve of his lip breaking the straight line. He adores the way you rant when you're nervous, it is now a new thing he is adding to his list. He loves making you nervous because you give him little details about yourself. “Thank you for finally getting the balls to tell me. Took you long enough.”

You didn’t expect him to say that. You didn’t practice that in the shower! “Me?! You were the one who was avoiding me!” You were shouting, but it was all fun now. A laugh followed as a bright smile crept on your face. Something like a weight felt lifted off your shoulders, off your chest.

“But who said something first?”

“You said you liked my breasts and that you get jealous easily. Doesn’t seem like you were confessing any feelings,” You jokingly roll your eyes as he scoots closer to you.

“Why would I get jealous if I didn’t like ya? Thought I made tha’ obvious.”

“Could have been more. Then we could have avoided this all together.”

“You probably would’ve just stood there with y’mouth open.”

Your mouth indeed falls open as he laughs, his comment causing you to gasp in joking offense. You take that moment to punch his shoulder, but his hand catches your wrist during the movement. Your laughs are halted when you both realize how close you are; your thighs were touching and his face was only a few inches from yours. The whiff of his scent gave you flashbacks to last night when he caught you and you were pressed perfectly against his toned chest. Thinking of his chest made you remember the videos you saw online and how addicting they were to watch, especially after you found out it actually was Harry. Now, you know how porn addicts come to be.

Unintentionally, you lick your lips while looking at his. You don’t miss the way he does the same, glaring at your lips like he’s starving and their his last meal. Your lips have haunted him ever since your first day; painted in red and screaming fierce. The way you smiled was mesmerizing to Harry, but you could say the same about Harry’s effortless charm. It’s been too long dreaming and imagining your lips on his own. Now, with everything out in the open–besides the whole porn star thing, which is for another time–maybe he can finally kiss those lips. Kiss them so well that he ruins any other man for you in the bar, in school, in porn, in life. Staring at your lips made Harry think crazy things. He can’t even imagine the filth his brain will conjure if he sees your naked body in real life.

He’s getting too ahead of himself.

“You smell good,” You whispered, forcing yourself to break the pressing tension. You two were slowly inching towards each other, so he could feel your words float over his own lips like a ghost. He hums at the feeling and the compliment. “Like a forest.”

“How long are we gonna sit like this until I can kiss ya?” The statement made your cheeks blaze with fire and your stomach tumble.

Clearly you were both done beating around the bush.

“I was waiting for you to ask! What if you didn’t want to? You know how important consent is too–”

But Harry doesn’t wait for you to stop your incessant rant. He smashes his lips to yours like he’s been dying to all this time. Your lips mush together, creating a warm, gooey feeling inside of your stomach. Harry releases your wrist and slides his hands down to your waist and carries you over to his lap. You gently bite down on his bottom lip seductively, causing him to groan against you. His rough hands pinch the skin of your hips, making you squeak in his mouth. He uses the opportunity to slide his tongue in, exploring your mouth like its new land on earth.

It’s been so long for you, you can barely remember the last time you’ve been kissed. But you know for damn sure it was never like this. It was never this fiery, this passionate, this wanted, this needed. Kissing Harry was like drinking water after being dehydrated; so obsessively satisfying, you can’t get enough. Until you drink too much and then your stomach hurts, but you doubt that will happen.

Harry can feel himself growing impressively hard underneath you. Even with you above him fully clothed has his body and mind going haywire. He’s not sure how far this is going to go, but he’s also not sure how long he’s going to last. Shit, if you even palm his bulge he might come.

And you thought he didn’t want this.

Your hands around his neck slide their way down his chest as his grip on your hips gets tighter. He pushes you closer, making you arch your back until your breasts are pressing against his chest. The abrupt movement causes the kiss to break, a breathless gasp eliciting from your swollen mouth.

“Jesus,” Harry huffs out.

“What?”

Harry ignores your question. “What do y’want?”

“You…? I thought I made that pretty clear–”

“Don’t be a smart mouth. Or I’ll put it to good use,” His threat sends a tingle straight to your core, which was covered by your soaking underwear. Just the idea of him forcing you on the floor to take his cock in your throat was erotic enough for you to get off of. Actually doing it might make you come on the spot. “What, you like that?”

“What if I do?”

“Then I can make it happen, baby.”

“But what if I want something else more?”

“Say the words.”

You hesitated. As a porn star, you’re pretty good with dirty talk. In the past, you have had no problem whispering sweet, seductive words. But Harry has your tongue tied, brain mushy, and body gooey.

“I want you inside of me.” You were straight-forward. Honest. After this whole ordeal with you two, you figured you both deserved some relief.

“I’ve been waiting too fuckin’ long for those words.”

Without wasting another minute, Harry lifts both you and himself off the couch. You make a little squeal sound before grabbing on tight to him so you don’t fall. When you somehow get to his bedroom, you’re gently tossed on his bed with a smile hanging from your lips. Harry climbs over you and immediately tugs the hem of your shirt.

“Please take it off.”

You did not need to tell him twice.

Harry did just as you asked as quickly as possible because you two were both getting a bit desperate. Like before, Harry loves edging and teasing and being in control. And one day, he’s going to do it all with you. But right now, he just needs to be inside of you, as selfish as it sounds.

Once he flips your shirt off, you’re brisk to clip off your bra. Goosebumps pimple along your skin in anticipation of what’s to come as Harry’s eyes flit over your body. He swallows harshly, mind swimming in a thousand thoughts that were all related to you. His searing gaze only makes you more flushed with heat, elbows sinking into the mattress while you wait for him to do something. You push yourself up and tug the end of his T-shirt.

“Well, what is it? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“‘Cause you’re really here.”

“That is so sweet, but please, fuck me first. I need it.” Maybe his searing gaze also gave you a newfound confidence that allowed you to say what was actually on your mind. His intense stare made you feel powerful. Like you were in control.

“Jesus Christ, we have to fix that mouth,” he growls as you slide off his shirt over his head while he kneels on the edge of the bed. You don’t even get another word in before he’s crashing his lips back onto yours in another heated kiss.

It’s not much different from the first one–maybe a little more sloppy because you’re both getting needy. Both your mouths are sloshed together with sparks tingling on your tongues. Those sparks are igniting flames within your souls, making the stress and yearning worth it. Everything felt worth it when you two were this close together.

With the same passion, Harry forces himself away from your mouth and down your neck. He’s not gentle with his teeth, nibbling with each peck of your skin he passes. Each nick injects excitement through your veins, turning you on more than you would like to admit. You already know that there will be little marks because your skin is so sensitive, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You actually are endeared by a bunch of little marks rather than a few huge ones. Maybe you can pass the miniature hickies off as freckles…

When Harry gets to your breasts, he wants to stop and stare. Take a few long minutes to just encompass the beauty that is in front of him. But he assumes you don’t want to be ogled anymore, since he was standing still and gazing at you like a teenage girl taking a picture of a pink sunset. So, instead, his lips enclose around your nipple. His tongue glides around it, feeling its pointiness peak until he is satisfied with the sounds coming from your lewd mouth. He does the same to the other side until you’re panting and your heart has turned erratic.

His pink lips trail down your torso, marking each inch of skin with a bit of saliva and a warm kiss. His fingers traced your shape, gently scratching at your sides until you were practically squirming in his touch. You’ve never been this wet in your life and it was driving you insane. Harry was driving you insane.

“So soft, Honey,” he coos when he reaches the waistline of your pants. You help him remove the clothing, so you’re not wasting anymore time because it’s blatantly obvious you’re both desperate as hell. His compliment made your skin tingle and your spine shiver. That nickname would be the death of you, you were sure of it. He made you feel all hot and dizzy but also made you gooey and cared for. It was an intense combination of emotions that you definitely needed to sort out. But after you get his cock inside of you.

Yeah. You could settle for that.

Harry now had a full view of your underwear, which was completely soaked through. But at this point, you’re not even embarrassed as much as you are needy. Hell, you’re even spreading your legs wider for him so he has quicker access to you. Yeah. It was that bad.

“Look at you all wet and drippy,” Harry smirks as he hooks his fingers in your panties. He surprises you by pulling them up, the fabric being consumed by your pussy lips. “Such a pretty cunt. Never even seen you this wet on a video. I must be special.”

“It’s all for you, Harry. Or should I say Daddy?” Now, you were smirking. You were only teasing, but at the same time, you were testing the waters. If Harry’s username used the title, you had an inkling that he had some type of kink towards it, right?

With a subtle grunt, he yanks your legs closer to him and widens them even further apart. He doesn’t even hesitate to rip your panties in half and discard the now wasted fabric.

“Harry!” You yelled, shocked at how quickly bare you are. And that he just shredded your underwear. But it was also kind of hot. Like very hot. He slapped the inside of your thigh as a warning, a stinging zip coursing straight to your core.

“No more Harry for you. Since y’want to be such a smart mouth, when you speak, y’better say Daddy.”

Before you know it, his head is lowering towards your cunt. His lips latch onto your clit similarly to your nipple and suck. You let out a gasping moan, fingers instantly clawing at the sheets of his bed. His tongue delves into your folds and warmly slips into you like you wished his cock would. But you were currently in heaven with the heat of his mouth devouring you like his last meal on Earth.

The way his large hands gripped and man-handled your thighs was enough to leave bruising. But you wanted the bruising. You wanted to feel the pain and soreness of this tomorrow just in case it never happens again. You’re not sure what all of this is going to mean for you guys, but you don’t think this will be the end. No, you think it’s going to be the beginning.

You could feel yourself getting wetter with each lick and slurp. Your tailbone was beginning to ache from arching your back to the absolute max. Once that all-too familiar feeling was rushing towards you like a train, Harry’s mouth only got quicker. He even started spitting on your cunt and watched the juices mix together, and that only made your insides clench at the lewdness of it all. Harry was a dirty, dirty man. You knew he was only showing bits and pieces of himself. You wanted to unravel it all and learn more about him and what he liked. But maybe that was for another time…

Without realizing it, your hands were sewn in his brown curls, forcing his head to remain on your clit until you reached your high. Harry’s groans were muffled into vibrations as you tugged, getting more pleasure through them. Your hips were moving in circular motions, but Harry pressed you down with his forearm to keep you flat and still.

“Har–” He pinched your ass, causing you to shriek and correct yourself, “Daddy, please, I’m so close. I’m right there.”

You rarely begged. On your livestreams and videos, you were confident and sexy and seducing because that’s what your audience liked. It’s what you’ve learned and grown to do. You weren’t used to needing something from someone else so fucking bad that you were pleading for them to make you satisfied. Harry’s mouth was currently your kryptonite because you would do anything for him to get you to the finish line.

He suckled on your clit for a few long seconds before you were coming in his mouth. Chants of his title were echoing loudly in his room that the neighbors probably thought you were dying. You were, just in a different way. Harry was gladly swallowing all your juices , his chin sloppy with all them. When it all got too much, you tried to push him away, but he didn’t move until he was completely done.

“Taste so sweet. Just like honey.”

He doesn’t fail to bring more heat onto your skin, even after just having his mouth on you. Something about the way he compliments you and manages to incorporate the word honey will always get you. He seems to read you so easily, and no one’s ever done that before.

“Knew from the video that you’d taste amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t believe you sent me that video by the way.”

“What? Why?”

“What if it wasn’t me?”

“It’s my job, Harry.”

“So? You were moanin’ my name. That means it’s for me. You’re for me.” The staring that was occurring between you quickly ended as your eyes flitted away from him. You made sure to look anywhere else but him as you heard the sound of his pants falling. Sometimes, Harry could be pretty blunt in the way he claimed you, but at the same time very guarded. He’s saying that you’re his, but you two haven’t even discussed things that far yet.

“Says who?”

“Says me. Right now,” Harry practically growls as he climbs over your body again, his insane physique hovering over you. You never thought you would actually see the day that Harry–the charming, tattooed, sexy man you worked with–was on top of you. You’ve only ever envisioned him in your wet dreams doing the most sinful things known. God wouldn’t be able to forgive the sins you’ve conjured in your brain.

You don’t even get to retort because you’re only thinking about his cock. You had felt his impressive bulge on the couch and assumed he had been rocking himself into the bed while eating you out. As he kissed your neck again, you would feel his hardness poking at you greedily, but you haven’t even looked at it yet. It was probably just as pretty as it was in all his videos.

He extends himself towards his night stand while you’re caught in your thoughts, snatching a condom. You’re glad he didn’t ask to go bare like most guys do. But “most guys” to you are a bunch of college losers who just want to get their dick wet and don’t actually care about the consequences. If you were to get pregnant, they probably wouldn’t even blink an eye before leaving. But you knew Harry wasn’t like that. No, he was the type to think things through and actually be mature about things. Besides the fact that he avoided you…but it’s not like you were very mature about it either. Maybe the age distance between you and Harry was something that you needed. The college boys just weren’t doing it for you.

It’s strange how so many thoughts can sprout from a simple as Harry grabbing a condom. The bare fucking minimum.

“What’s wrong?” Harry’s voice was full of concern as his thick thumb rubbed over your warm cheek. You hadn’t even realized how close he had gotten since he had stretched over towards the drawer and you didn’t know that he’d already put the condom on. So, again, you missed the sight of his huge, God-like dick in-person. Despite all of that, a ping of appreciation hit you right in the heart at Harry’s attention to detail because you know that those college boys wouldn’t have noticed a damn thing.

“Nothing, I–”

“Don’t lie, Honey. Do y’still want this? We don’t have to,” he reassured, eyes sparking with something that was different from the hidden lust. His voice could be rough and firm, but it could also be soothing and sweet. He had these sides to him that he would encompass. Not necessarily switch like a light but transition into smoothly.

“Harry, I’m fine. I promise. This is the only thing I want right now,” You rested your hand on top of his on your cheek. At that moment, everything felt a little more intimate. A little more love-like. The idea of sex turning into “love-making” currently terrified you, but the racing of your heart wasn’t from fear. No, it felt like it was exciting and anxious but in the best way. “Actually, I would be not so fine if you didn’t put your dick in me.”

“You have such a dirty mouth when you’re blunt, Honey,” Harry smoothes his hand down your body and finds your clit again, rubbing gentle circles over the throbbing nerves. Even though you just came only minutes prior, you continued to get wet with every second you were waiting for him. The sight of his body with all those beautiful designs was enough to get you ready for another. He didn’t even have to work you up.

“Thought that’s what you wanted.”

“I’m hearin’ more attitude than screams of m’name. Let’s change that.”

With a devilish smirk, Harry pushes himself close to you and levels into you. His cock enters you slowly but fully as your lungs forget to breathe. Realizing this, you breathe before Harry can scold you about it. His dick was nearly all in because you could feel the weight of his thighs hovering over you deliciously along with the rest of his tattooed body.

When Harry hears and sees you take a deep breath, he pulls out just to push back in again. You elicit a shaky moan as Harry groans gravelly near your chest.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry moans louder into the air as his thrusts become harder, more direct. With just those few thrusts, he already knows exactly where your weakness is and makes it his life goal to hit it every single time.

Harry’s hips move rapidly, pinning your body to the bed as you wiggle underneath him. His muscles are contracting against the pressure of each insane plunge into you while your insides are being reassorted. His size makes it difficult to move, difficult to breathe, yet you’re loving it immensely.

Staring at his arms, you don’t even think about grabbing one of his arms that’s holding him up and laying it on your neck. One of Harry’s furrowed eyebrows lifts up in surprise before that familiar smirk is plastered right back onto his smug face.

“Fuckin’ filthy. I knew you were. What else are y’hiding from me?” Harry’s hand wraps around your neck just as you silently asked. As his fingers block your air flow just enough to make you a little fuzzy, your cunt clenched around his cock. Besides your moans and groans and whimpers, the sound of skin to skin is bouncing across the bedroom like your own personal song. Your anthem. When he releases, the blood flow returns, but he keeps his hand there. “C’mon, Y/N, tell me. What other kinks do you have?”

“I know y’like it rough. Don’t like it when Daddy goes too easy on ya. Do you like to be spanked too? Hmm? Slapped and bitten? Like to have marks all over you so everyone can see?” His brutal thrusts never stop, not even when his breath becomes a little lost. He’s slamming into you like he’s trying to make a dent in your organs, and quite frankly, he just might if he keeps going at the rate he is. But you don’t seem to care too much at the moment. “Do you like people watching? Is that why you post videos of our pretty, little cunt all over the internet? So people can watch you?”

“I don’t hear you,” his voice, raspy and sexy, whispered in a low-threat type of way as his hand rubs over the pulse of your neck temptingly again.

“I g-guess I do like people watching me…” Your voice was breathless as your mind became foggy. Harry did have a way of doing that to you, especially with his hand on your now strained neck. “L-Like when you watch me.”

“‘Course you do. That’s ‘cause you’re dirty. Just like me.” If it was possible, he rocks into you more barbarically until your legs are shaking. You can feel the muscles in your thighs start to spasm, urging to close as you chase your inevitable high.

“Daddy, God, you’re so big. So, so big,” You whined helplessly into the sex-filled air. Your hairs were scratching, tugging, pulling, clawing at everything at the same time, trying to manage all the intense pleasure that was coursing through your body. It was almost too much to handle. Harry seemed to know how to push your limits without killing you, and you’ve craved that feeling for so long. “L-Love your cock. Oh my God!”

“Poor baby. I’ve gotten you all cock drunk; you can’t think of anything else besides m’cock. ‘S that good, huh?” A choppy chuckle elicits from his mouth and wavers over to your ear. Your chest was pressing into his as your core clutched with the sense of near-orgasm. “Gonna come soon, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes…” You were a mumbled, grumbled mess. You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t talk straight. Harry was impairing all of your abilities with his dirty talk and his magical dick.

No, seriously. Was it like a thick magic wand or something?

Harry squeezes on your neck a couple times, lightly, just to push you right over the edge. Harry seemed to be a quick learner when it came to your body because you were instantly coming then. As Harry felt you orgasm for the second time tonight, he finally let go of his own. When you were coming around his tongue at the beginning of this all, he was having a hard time trying to not come in his own pants. He may have been stupid last night and selfish earlier, but he wasn’t going to do it again. He was going to make up for being a selfish prick and show you how he actually treats a woman. Because you deserve to be treated with nothing less than the best.

After you’re both settled, Harry regretfully slips out of you. Clearly, you felt the same way because you whined as he removed himself. After being inside of you and passing through the gates of heaven, why would Harry want to leave? But even though Harry wants to be as close to you as possible by simply cockwarming all day, he doesn’t want to rush this. It’s new, even if you guys have been friends for some time.

Plucking off the condom and knotting it, Harry waltzes towards his bathroom to grab a towel to clean you up. The soft smile on your face when he returns highlights how grateful you are for his aftercare as he gently wipes up the mess both of you helped create.

“How do you feel?” Harry genuinely asks before placing the towel at the foot of his bed. He briskly moves to his dresser to pick out a new pair of boxers.

“I’m sorry if this offends you, but you have a great ass,” You bluntly state, completely avoiding his question. “But I’m okay.”

Harry laughs as he slips on the clothing. “Just okay? No pain?”

“Yeah. If okay translates to “my vagina is broken for every man ever and both my legs are going to hate me tomorrow”,” You smile innocently as Harry grabs two shirts. He chucks one at you, smiling goofily. It hits you in the face with a laugh before you slip it over your head.

“Good.”

“Good? I might have to take a week off work to heal from the damages.”

“Guess you’ll just have to stay in my bed.”

You roll your eyes before pushing yourself off his bed, contradicting his statement.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to my real boyfriend’s house,” You roll your eyes again facetiously and leave his room, rounding the same corner that he did before yelling, “Bathroom!”

When you return, you plop yourself on Harry’s bed like it was normal. It was comfortable. It felt right. It wasn’t awkward, it wasn’t forced. That was the good thing about two friends getting together. After sex, or work, or school, or just a bad day, or even a good day, they could always just talk. As you sat on Harry’s bed, it was easy to joke and make conversation while still feeling that subtle spark of electricity in between you two. That spark was the difference between platonic and romantic.

“We should watch a movie,” You suggested.

“Where should we look? PornHub?” His dry humor made you laugh as you cozied up in his bed. He didn’t hesitate to pull you close and you liked that. Maybe a little too much for your own good. Your heart was thumping in a way that was melting away the frozen walls around it. It made you happy that something in your life finally seemed to be working out.

“Maybe start with Netflix,” You laid your head on his shoulder as the ironic logo appeared on his TV. “I, um.”

“What?” Harry peeked down at you.

“I think I like this a lot,” Harry smiles at you. He could tell from the beginning that it was hard for you to say things like that to him. That’s why it made him feel like such an asshole for storming out the other night. You needed time to process everything he had just told you, but he was too nervous for your rejection, so he left. Even though he’s six years older than you and may seem more mature, everyone makes stupid and selfish mistakes.

“Well, I hope so, Honey, ‘cause I do too,” Even those simple words have the ability to warm and satisfy your scared, little heart.

“But I’m still not taking your money.”

–

i hope you all liked these two :))

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shockercoco · 2 months

Text

Whiskey

Major John Egan x reader

Warnings - few swear words, flirting, alcohol

Word count - 1418

a/n - it's been sooo long, mainly because I've been focused on doing applications to transfer colleges. I also didn't know who to write about for a while after farleigh, lol. I hope you enjoy :)

“How much longer are you going to be back there?” your friend groans from the other side of the bar. The bar staff requested extra hands since a large number of pilots and crew had arrived, and for some reason you volunteered to help out.

“I have another hour left, and then I’m finished,” you say as you hand the guy next to her his drink. She just groans in response. “Plus, you said you were planning on ditching me and finding someone to entertain you for the night.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same when I’m doing it alone.”

“You do realize I’m not the only person you know here, right?” You tell her as another uniformed man walks up to the bar.

“Can I get a round of whiskeys and a ginger beer, please?” the man asks before your friend could answer. You nod and get started on his order.

“Ginger beer?” you hear your friend ask in a judgemental yet light tone.

“Don’t worry it’s not for me,” the man lets out a small laugh. You hand him his drinks on a tray, and he thanks you before walking away.

“You may not be the only person I know, but you're the only one I really like. But I’ll leave you alone to do your job and make my way to where that man just went,” your friend nudges her head in his direction. After following him with your eyes you give her a ‘really’ look once you spot the table and she gives you an innocent shrug in return.

The table is surrounded by nothing but higher ups. It also happens to include the inseparable best friends Major John “Bucky” Egan and Major Gale “Buck” Cleven.

“Maybe once you get Major Egan you’ll be able to put in a good word for me with Major Cleven, or if I get to Cleven first, I could put in a good word for you. We could do the whole double date thing. Their names have a nice ring to it don’t you think?”

“Lower your voice,” you shush her as you glance around for any listening ears. All of the men in the bar know one another in some way, and word travels fast.

“What? You’ve had a crush on the guy for the longest time, and you do nothing about it every time he flies in,” she tells you. “If you ask him out and he turns you down, it's not like you have to see him for long.”

“I’m sorry, have you met me? What makes you think I would ever go up to a guy and ask him out?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I guess I’ll just have to be bold for the both of us. Can I get a shot before I go, I’m going to need some liquid courage to take these men on.”

“Take your shot and go,” you say as you wave her off with your hand after placing her shot down in front of her. She takes her shot and wanders off, but not before giving you a smirk. You just playfully roll your eyes in return.

You don’t realize how much time goes by with the constant swarm of men coming up to the bar, but when you decide to look up at the clock on the wall you notice you only have ten minutes left until you're free. It has pretty much slowed down given the fact that most of the men were already drunk out of their minds, but the room was far from quiet.

“Next time it’ll be me who knocks his ass out,” you hear a voice say as they come up to the bar you currently had your back to.

You turn around confused, planning to question the person, but you freeze a little once you notice Major Eagan infront of you. You feel yourself panic a little given the fact that this is the closest you’ve ever been to him. He must see your confused expression though because he begins to explain himself.

“Sorry not you, I was talking to one of my buddies. He knocked some brit out on the first punch,” he says, but not before quickly adding, “It was well deserved though, the man was a prick.”

You just nod in response, not knowing what to say to that other than, “Can I get you anything, Major?”

“Yes, whiskey please,” he smiles as he leans his uniform covered arms on the bar top.

“You wouldn’t happen to belong to the table that requested all those whiskeys tonight would you?” you ask as you turn around to grab a bottle and glass. You also try to keep your hands steady and your face as neutral as possible.

“Guilty,” he lets out a small laugh as you set his drink in front of him. He doesn’t reach out to touch it, but keeps those blue eyes of his on you. “Got a problem with whiskey?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“Because I could’ve sworn you made a face when I said it,” he tells you, but there’s no attitude behind it. Good observation skills on his part, bad concealing skills on your part. He is a soldier after all.

“Oh, you caught that,” you let out a little laugh as you try to busy yourself with something behind the bar. As much as you would like to keep talking to him – because you would most likely never get the chance again – you kind of wish he would walk away so you could control your sweating. Your friend would probably slap you if you turned this interaction down though.

“Yeah, is there a story behind it or you just don’t like whiskey?”

“I just don’t like it,” you say, and it’s true. You feel it’s way too strong, especially to be drinking so casually.

“You have one of the best whiskeys sitting on that shelf behind you, and you're telling me you don’t like it?” you’re not looking at him, but you can hear a playful tone in his voice. If only your friend could see you now, wherever she is.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Uh huh,” he replies in a tone that tells you he doesn’t believe you. “When are you able to leave from behind there?” he motions to you behind the bar.

You take a glance up at the clock at the wall and notice you’re not supposed to leave for another three minutes. But, then again, a cute guy is standing across from you so who cares?

“Now actually,” you respond.

“Well then pour yourself a glass, and I’ll drink it with you,” he tells you, and you feel your stomach flutter. It also could be that you’re nauseous from being so nervous.

“This sounds an awful lot like peer pressure,” you joke and he lets out a laugh.

You do as he says and pour yourself a glass because what the hell. He raises his up as a form of cheers, and you do the same before you both tilt your heads back and drink. You pull a face as the liquid burns going down your throat; he just laughs.

“You really don’t like it,” he says as you set your glass down.

“I prefer sweeter things like wine. You know, the stuff that doesn’t taste like acid,” you say, and he just lets out another laugh at your response.

“Well I’ll remember that for next time,” he says, and you almost drop your guys’ cups, which you just picked up to put away.

“Next time?” you pause before looking up at him.

“Yes. I’m going to be here for a while, and I figured the two of us could do something,” he tells you like it was obvious,” Without any whiskey involved of course.”

“And what makes you think I want to?”

“Because you just spent the past ten minutes having a conversation with me. Oh, and your friend told me to come over here since I helped her get with my buddy Buck,” he gives you a smirk.

Your heart practically slaps the ground, and you feel like you actually might throw up. Part of you isn’t surprised because you were never going to do anything about your crush and your friend knew, and the other part of you is shocked because what happened to girl code?

“Well now I definitely don’t want to,” you tell him, half joking, as you resume cleaning up.

#callum turner #callum turner x reader #john egan x reader #callum turner imagine #major john egan x reader

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ellemj · 5 months

Text

Needs & Wants - Sex Pollen Trope Pt. 8

Bucky Barnes x Reader

**Read parts 1-7 first for the full effect.**

Summary: You and Bucky go on your first mission since the one where you were exposed to the sex pollen. Only this time, you have a professional babysitter observing you both and a game that neither of you is willing to stop playing.

Warnings: mentions of previous smut and prelude to upcoming smut, profanity, teasing, brief mention of drug use as an analogy, dry humping, slight exhibitionism, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 6.3k

Author's Note: Special thanks to @littlemiss-yeehaw for giving this a read earlier today and convincing me not to scrap it, and for going back through my blog and listing out the warnings that I might've been missing. A true angel.

It’s been 7 days since your chemically-induced lust-filled night with Bucky in the safehouse. 7 days since he had his hands on you, since he was inside you, since he last kissed you. It’s been 4 days since your first partner talk session with Dr. Raynor. 4 days spent wondering what might happen if she comes to a sure conclusion that the two of you really did have sex that night. Will she suggest to Fury that your partnership be terminated? Will she spill the secret to the rest of the team? You don’t even know what you want the outcome to be, but thinking about it puts you on edge.

Meanwhile, you and Bucky have been playing a very dangerous game. After that tense moment in the gym showers on Monday evening, you had a fairly normal team dinner upstairs. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Until the dinner turned into everyone piling into the main living area to watch some movie that Sam insisted was an absolutely necessary nightcap. Somehow, you ended up seated next to Bucky on one end of the sectional. You did a great job keeping your focus on the movie for the first thirty minutes. It wasn’t until Bucky very intentionally manspread on the couch that you felt like you were going to be needing an emergency exit. He made sure that the side of his thigh was pressed against the side of yours for the next ten minutes, and that alone made your body temperature increase to an uncomfortable degree. You tried nudging him with your knee, to get him to scoot away from you, but it only encouraged him to be bolder. He did the typical relaxed-male thing and rested his arm along the back of the couch behind you. The movement enveloped you in his scent and it was too much to handle. You were quick to excuse yourself and not come back to finish the movie. No one questioned it though. You’d had a lot of early nights since you came back from the HYDRA facility mission. Everyone else chalked it up to you recovering from the chemical exposure or maybe jetlag, but Bucky knew what you were doing. Avoiding him. He was having so much fun playing your little game, waiting for you to cave and give into your desires. You were kind of cheating by keeping yourself away from him. That’s not how the game is supposed to be played.

You can’t avoid him today. Today, you’ve both been called in to be briefed on your first partner mission since the HYRDA facility one. Sam didn’t offer many details about it when he first asked you both to be in the conference room at noon today, so neither of you really know what you’re walking into. If it’s anything like your usual missions, it’ll be some breaking and entering or a smash-and-grab type situation. It’s what you and Bucky are best at. Getting in quietly, getting what you need, and getting out. And of course, you’re undeniably good at working together to take down any obstacles along the way.

You step out of the elevator and make your way down the hall to the conference room, arriving twenty minutes before noon so you won’t immediately be thrown into the bustle of a briefing. You always show up early enough to read any mission files that have already been set out on the table for the upcoming op. You don’t like to go into these meetings completely blind. As you scan your palm to gain access to the room, you hear the sound of a chair scraping across the floor as it’s pulled away from the table. Seems like you aren’t the only one who decided to show up early today. You don’t know who you were expecting to find behind the closed door, but it sure as hell wasn’t Dr. Raynor.

“Y/n, it’s nice to see you again.” Her voice is calm and collected, like she isn’t surprised at all that you’re standing right in front of her. You stare at her with a hint of confusion spreading across your face. Are you in the wrong conference room? No, there’s only one conference room on this floor of the compound. She must be in the wrong room. Dr. Raynor can see the wheels in your head turning as you try to figure out why she’s here. She decides to save you the trouble. “I’m observing your missions, remember?”

Ah, so this is the beginning of the babysitting.

---

Bucky wouldn’t say that he’s ever particularly nervous before going out in the field. If anything, he’s more calm than usual. He operates best when he’s under pressure, when he has tasks to complete. He can’t stand doing nothing for extended periods of time. He gets far too consumed with his thoughts when he lets his mind go idle. Yet, today he finds himself on edge. He doesn’t have to think too hard to figure out why, not with Dr. Raynor standing amongst the various SHIELD agents and analysts, watching as you both equip your in-ear monitors and get ready to make the drive to the gala that you’ll be attending undercover tonight. She puts him on edge, and not in a good way like you do. She makes him second-guess his decisions, she makes him more self-conscious. That can be a good thing at times, like when he’s being self-destructive. But in the field? He doesn’t need to be second-guessing himself when both of your lives are on the line.

As Sam drones on, reminding you both of the main tasks to be completed during the mission tonight, your mind is elsewhere. Bucky seems so distant. He’s standing right beside you but he isn’t quite himself. He’s a little too quiet, a little too unfocused. You can’t tell what’s eating at him but you fear it’s the stupid teasing game you’ve both been playing all week. Maybe he let it get to his head.

“Why do I feel like neither one of you are listening to me?” Sam suddenly asks, snapping his fingers around in the air to get your attention. You and Bucky both focus in on him.

“It’s a simple op, Sam. Get in, put on a show, slip into the elevator, plug the device into the computer in the home office upstairs, then slip back out.” Bucky reiterates the plan, proving he didn’t really need to be paying all that much attention. Sam rolls his eyes, holding out a device that looks like a little USB drive. Bucky takes it and drops it into one of the pockets of his suit jacket. He looks good tonight. Who are you kidding? He always looks good. But tonight, he’s dressed in a black suit, complete with a black button-up shirt underneath and a black tie. Of course, he’s wearing his black gloves as well. As Sam tells him how important it is that he not lose that tiny little device, you find your eyes lingering on Bucky’s thighs. His pants hug them just right, exemplifying the toned muscles there and reminding you of how good he looks without any clothing obstructing your view of him. Fuck. You keep forgetting that Dr. Raynor is just a few feet away, analyzing your every move.

It only takes a few more minutes of discussion before you and Bucky are climbing into a sleek black car and heading out of the garage of the compound. As soon as you’re out and onto the interstate, you let out a deep sigh, sinking back into your seat. You’re wearing the tiniest black dress that you own, it’s one of your favorites really. You don’t get many occasions to show it off, so you chose to put it on tonight. You don’t notice it at first, but when you lean back in the seat, your dress rides higher up your thigh and Bucky’s grip on the steering wheel tightens so much that his flesh knuckles turn white on one hand and his vibranium hand nearly leaves a dent. He needs to cool down.

Neither of you have your in-ear monitors on yet. You won’t turn them on until you’re nearing the gala, since it’s a forty-minute drive there. There’s no point in listening to Sam chat up whoever happens to be sitting near him, he’ll do that just fine without the two of you having to suffer through it. You love Sam like family, but the man likes to talk more than a teenage schoolgirl.

“Where are you tonight?” You ask, referring to the way Bucky seemed so out of focus and distant back in the garage.

“I’m here.” He says quietly, keeping his eyes on the road. You sigh and cross your legs. This time, you don’t miss the way Bucky’s gaze darts over to you, running up your legs as your dress slides impossibly higher up your thigh. Any higher and he might be able to tell what color panties you’re wearing tonight. He adjusts himself in his seat, shifting his hips a little and pressing his head back against the headrest. He looks uncomfortable, and when you let your eyes scan down his body, you quickly find out why. He’s hard. Not even slightly hard. Fully erect and clearly testing the strength of his pant seams. In a split second, you make a decision to continue the game. You were going to give it a rest tonight. With Dr. Raynor watching you both so closely and already thinking that you’ve had sex, you didn’t think it’d be smart to push your luck. But you got all dressed up. Why let it go to waste?

“Bucky…” You say, in a sultry tone. Bucky’s knuckles go white again at the sound of you saying his name. You notice it this time. He fucking hates how easy it is for you to get a rise out of him. It’s not even his own fault. You avoided him so much the last couple of days. Seeing you now, dressed like this? It’s like he’s an addict and he’s been without his drug of choice for too long. He’s in the beginning stages of withdrawal and his next fix is staring right at him, calling his fucking name. “What are the boundaries tonight?” You ask. Though the question itself sounds professional, the way you delivered it is anything but. You asked it in a way that implies you want to know so you can test whatever boundaries he lays out. You have all of the power in this moment and he can’t stand it. Do you think he doesn’t know what game you’re playing?

“We need boundaries?” He asks, flipping the script on you. You lose your wits for a moment, unsure of what the hell to say back to him. He was supposed to lay out a few boundaries like no kissing with tongue or hands below the belt, so then you could cross the lines anyway just to fuck with him. He wasn’t supposed to make it a free-for-all. You’re silent for a few seconds too long and he can’t stand it. “I asked you a question.”

Holy fuck. Where does he get off being so demanding with you? You hate it and love it all at the same time. It sends a raging heat straight to your core and you feel your panties dampening with arousal. Your mind follows your body’s cues and answers him the way he expects to be answered: promptly.

“Yes.” You muster the words up, but they come out soft. He zapped your confident demeanor away with one little phrase. He tsks now, relaxing in his seat. He’s gained control back and he’s relishing in it. He steers with only his left hand now, moving to rest his flesh hand over the gear shift between the two of you.

“What boundaries do you need tonight?” He questions. Your mind immediately goes back to the two rules you had in the safehouse that night, though you only ever said one of them out loud. No kissing, and no using his name. You broke both of those rules before the sun ever came up. Obviously your first rule won’t fly in this situation, given the nature of the mission. Your second rule could be useful, considering Bucky’s cover name is simply going to be his real first name: James.

“I don’t know.” You admit, after careful consideration.

“You’re not going to tell me not to kiss you this time?”

“I don’t think we could get away with not kissing when we’re supposed to be convincing everyone there that we want to fuck.” You point out. Bucky laughs lightly, moving the car into the left lane to pass a very slowly traveling Kia.

“We wanted to fuck last week but we didn’t kiss until it had already happened a few times.”

He really just said that.

“We wanted to or we needed to?” You ask, just to clarify. He chuckles under his breath as he moves the car back into the right lane.

“Wanted to, needed to, we can go with whichever makes you feel better.”

“You’re such an ass.” You scoff, crossing your arms. This small act pushes your breasts up a bit and Bucky can tell out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t dare to peel his eyes away from the road and steal a look, because if he does, he’ll crash this damn car when he can’t stop looking at you.

“No kissing tonight.” He says. You raise an eyebrow at him, but he still doesn’t give you so much as a sideways glance.

“Bucky, there’s no way we can pull off an assignment like this without kissing.” It’s not that you want to kiss him, but how else will you make it obvious that you want to fuck? You can’t risk botching the mission as part of your stupid little side game.

“You can kiss anywhere except my lips.” He offers, acting like that’s some sort of compromise. As much as you want to argue with him, there is no fucking way you’re going to sit here in this car and plead for him to let you kiss his lips tonight. There isn’t a chance in hell.

The rest of the car ride went by fairly quickly. Bucky pulled the car into the dramatic gated entrance of a mansion and stopped at the valet. You knew he’d already gotten into character when he turned to you before getting out of the driver’s seat and told you to stay put. He then waved the valet away from your side of the car, before calmly walking over and opening the door for you himself. It was almost attractive. But you know that wasn’t something he normally would’ve done. He’s just playing the part.

Bucky holds out a gloved hand for you, which you accept, and then he helps you out of the car. Once you’re standing in front of him on your favorite black ankle-strap heels, he pushes the car door shut behind you and rests his left hand on your lower back. You tug the hem of your dress a little further down your thighs, since it rode up so much in the car, and surprisingly, Bucky appreciates that. Though he loved getting to see so much of your skin, he didn’t want everyone surveilling the mission to see it too. He also didn’t know if he could continue to think straight with how short your dress was becoming.

As he guides you up the front steps of the mansion and into the double doors, his hand slips a little lower so it’s resting just millimeters above your ass. You feel your cheeks warming and butterflies waking up within you, but you tamp them down fast. This isn’t real. Fake it, get the intel you’re here for, and then get home and get the hell away from Bucky. That’s what you keep telling yourself.

The only problem you were having was that Bucky was way too fucking good at faking it. He walked you right into the gala and wasted no time grabbing you a glass of champagne from a passing server. He found the two of you a nice corner to cozy up in, but made sure it was one that everyone could clearly see. He made sure that you weren’t hidden from plain sight. Then, as you took the first sip of champagne, he started in on step one.

“You’re staring.” You whisper, his blue eyes following your every move. He’s standing close in front of you, the glass of champagne in his hand looking almost miniature, and his breath fanning across your lips.

“I’m staring.” He agrees. Why is your heart racing? Jesus. This mission was a bad call. You turn away from him, taking the moment to scan the room. Nothing looks out of the ordinary. Everyone is dressed beautifully, drinking champagne and chatting away. Most of these guests probably have no idea that the owner of this house is the type of criminal that he is.

Dr. Raynor is watching the live surveillance footage of the mission play out before her from her seat in the conference room of the tower. She’s jotting down notes as she observes you and Bucky, thoroughly surprised by what she’s seeing. Bucky is excelling at feigning the attraction and making it seem like he wants you. You, however, look anxious. You’ve barely even spoken since entering the gala three minutes ago and she’s starting to wonder if you’re going to wash the entire op down the drain.

Bucky keeps his eyes focused on you as you now stand in front of him. He can tell how tense you are. What he can’t tell is if it’s because you don’t want to have to do this with him or if it’s because you do, and that makes you nervous as hell. Of course, the latter is right.

“Come on, you two. Let’s get things moving.” Sam speaks through your in-ear monitors. Bucky takes a step forward now, stepping so close to you that his chest brushes against your back and your cascading, softly curled hair tickles his chin. You smell like strawberries. It’s the same intoxicating scent that he had to wash off of his skin after your night together.

“It’s just me.” He breathes the words out next to your ear, trying to ease your nerves. You let yourself relax against him a little, taking another sip of champagne and closing your eyes for a moment. It’s just him. The guy that’s saved your ass in the field so many times that you’ve lost count. The guy that you’d trust above anyone else, even as you give him shit just for the hell of it. The guy that gave you the best sex of your life, not just once, but five fucking times in a row. It's just him.

“Okay…” You whisper, deciding that you can be as calm and level-headed as he’s being right now. This is going to be easy. You’re a professional, after all.

It’s not until you find yourself with your back against a wall and Bucky’s hands on your waist that you think you might be in over your head. It started out slow, light touches and seemingly innocent whispers in each other’s ears while standing at the very busy bar. After quite a few people started to give the two of you looks, Bucky led you over to an area where a handful of couples were gathered, chatting amongst themselves. That’s where he chose to make a display of grabbing your ass with his vibranium hand, making you gasp and lean into his chest. Trying to play off the gasp as being intentional, you immediately attached your lips to his neck. Kissing and sucking on the soft skin there. Even his skin tastes fucking good. You can’t help yourself when you start having flashbacks to the night you spent together. Once you start thinking about how good it felt with him that night, you begin chasing that feeling. You want him all over you, you want him inside you again. Though you know you can’t have that, you know you can get pretty damn close to it before this mission ends. So, you up your game. This time, you don’t have to hide any evidence of what you’re doing, because you were assigned to do this. You use that as your excuse for sucking a little mark on the side of Bucky’s neck, leaving him with something to find in the mirror later. As your lips leave his neck, one of his hands travels quickly up your back and he tangles his fingers in your hair at the back of your head. He tilts your head back until you’re looking up into his eyes. You can feel the stares of the couples around you, but you remind yourself that those stares are exactly why you’re doing what you’re both doing right now.

Bucky’s eyes dart from your eyes down to your lips. Your fucking lips. God, he wants to kiss you. He remembers how sweet your mouth tasted the first time you kissed him. Like he could ever forget that. He bites his bottom lip in restraint before leaning down and kissing your neck instead, licking and sucking along the curve of your jaw, making his way up to your ear.

“I think we’ve put on enough of a show, don’t you?” He asks softly, his lips tickling the shell of your ear. Your eyes flutter closed at the sound of his voice, hating that that he’s right. It’s time to make your way upstairs, which means that the touching and riling each other up is nearly over with. You nod your head, but Bucky doesn’t like that. He likes when you speak up and answer him. He likes hearing how breathy your voice sounds when you’re worked up like this. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

Shit. You feel a wave of heat spreading from where his lips are against your ear all the way down to your cunt. You take a deep breath, forcing your eyes open and looking over his shoulder. You see plenty of people in the crowded room taking their turns staring at the two of you.

“I think so.” You say quietly, placing a shaky hand on Bucky’s chest and pushing him back gently. You turn on your heel, reaching back and taking his hand in yours, before leading the way to the back of the large, open living area.

“Nice work. You’re going to find the opening to a big hallway at the back of the room. It’ll be dark, you’ll go all the way to the end and take the elevator to the fifth floor. Jesus, this place is huge. Why anyone needs to a home with five floors to themself is beyond you. You reach the hallway quickly, and Bucky holds onto your hand firmly, letting you guide him. The hallway itself has to be at least fifty-feet long, but eventually you reach the elevator. Bucky steps forward, letting his front press against your back as he presses the button to call the elevator with his free hand, his other hand still clasped in yours. Instead of stepping away from you after pressing the button, he stays flush against you. You feel his free hand land on your hip and pull you against him with such a slight movement that it’s almost unnoticeable.

You immediately feel it. His hard cock pressing into your ass.

“There’s one camera in the elevator, so keep up the show.” Sam instructs, just as the elevator is arriving and the doors are sliding open in front of you. The lights inside are dim and the walls are a shiny metal, but not fully reflective. Before you have a chance to step in, Bucky is pushing you forward with the hold he has on your hip. He wastes no time in turning you around. It’s exciting, the way he can so easily move you and handle you. It’s as if it takes little effort or thought for him to do exactly what he wants with you. He walks you backward until your ass hits the wall, and then he looks down into your eyes, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Don’t move.” He says lowly, before stepping away and hitting the button to carry you both up to the fifth floor. As the doors close, he positions himself back against you, tugging on your hair and kissing your neck once more. You sigh as you secretly enjoy his touch, praying that he doesn’t realize just how real your heavy breathing and soft whimpers are. But Bucky knows they’re real. He’s heard you just like this before…whimpering, panting underneath him as he fucked his cock into you. It’s what’s driving him to leave marks all along your collarbone right now. It’s what has his cock so fucking hard that he worries his suit pants won’t survive the mission.

Temporarily forgetting that this is supposed to be an act, Bucky presses his hips into you, nibbling on your earlobe as you take in the feeling of his hard cock resting against your stomach.

“James…” You breathe his name out and he freezes. You feel his cock twitch in his pants and a devious smile plays on your lips. You’re so damn lucky that they let him use his real first name for this mission. You don’t know it yet, but you can have anything you want when you say his name like that. Any. Damn. Thing. He’s about to say fuck it and shove his tongue into your mouth when the elevator dings and the doors open to the fifth floor, revealing a dark home office. You push his chest lightly and he gets moving, turning around and leading the way out of the elevator.

“Security does a sweep of every floor once every ten minutes. If our timing is right, you should have about eight minutes to finish this. Just plug the device into the laptop and leave it for three minutes. It has to be plugged in for at least three minutes to complete the download. Then you’re all clear and you guys can get out of there.” Torres reminds you both through your in-ears. Bucky makes a beeline for the desk at the far back wall of the room, reaching in his pocket for the device and quickly finding the USB port of the laptop. He plugs it in and it lights up with a pale green glow as the intel begins downloading. You both stand there in silence, watching the device as if that will make it download any faster. After about thirty seconds, Sam speaks up again, a slight panic rising in his tone.

“You’ve got company in thirty seconds, security decided to sweep early.”

“Shit.” You mumble, your mind suddenly moving at a hundred miles an hour. Bucky turns to you and meets your gaze, and you immediately know that you’re on the same wavelength. You reach beneath the hem of your dress, tugging your black panties down and holding onto the edge of the desk as you quickly step out of them. You drape them over the device to cover up the green glow of the light, and then turn to face Bucky.

“Sit on the edge of the desk.” He tells you in a hushed tone, as his eyes dart to the fabric of your panties beside the laptop. You find yourself listening without second-guessing his demand. He steps in between your legs and you can hear the whirring of the elevator as it’s called down to one of the lower floors, likely to pick up the security guards that will be sweeping the office any minute now. You’re running out of time. Bucky begins loosening his tie around his neck, and then unbuttons the top three buttons of his shirt in record time, as you reach your hands out and begin unbuckling his belt. Fuck, he’s enjoying this so much more than he should. When you unzip his pants, you nearly moan at the way you see his cock straining against the fabric of his boxers. You only get a peek though, because you don’t push his pants down even a little bit. Bucky looks you over quickly as he deftly slides the straps of your dress off of your shoulders. His eyes meet yours and you both know exactly what you need to do. You lay back on the desk and he pulls your thighs around his hips, leaving your dress in place so you’re still fully covered. Suddenly, you feel his clothed, hard cock pushing against your bare clit and you unintentionally arch your back off the cold desk, biting your lip and letting your eyes fall closed. Anyone seeing this on the SHIELD surveillance footage right now would think that you’re just really good at your job, really good at faking things undercover. Only Bucky knows that he just drew real pleasure from you.

“Get loud for me, we have to sell it.” He encourages you, bucking his hips into yours and leaving one hand on your right thigh while his other hand wraps gently around your throat.

“Fuck, James.” You moan loudly, hoping the security guards can already hear you from the elevator shaft. “Right there, baby, oh my god.” This earns a loud groan from Bucky and his grip on your thigh tightens so much that you think you might be left with a bruise in the shape of his hand. The friction of him rutting against you like this is so fucking good that you let out another very real moan right as the elevator dings and the doors slide open behind Bucky. You both pretend not to notice them, trying to give the device more time to do its job. Bucky continues to mimic the actions of a guy slamming his cock into his girl, moans falling from your lips and perfectly timed grunts mixed in with dirty praises falling from his.

“Hey!” A deep voice yells out, and you both gasp for show. You push yourself up on your elbows and look over Bucky’s shoulder. He keeps his body firmly planted where it is to shield you from the men who stand by the elevator. He’d be damned if he’d let them see you this way. “You two can’t be up here.” The man’s voice is serious and authoritative, but his security guard buddy has an amused smile on his face.

“Oh my god, James, you said we wouldn’t get caught.” Your voice is full of fake embarrassment as you cover your face with one hand. He laughs before looking over his shoulder at the guards.

“Just thirty more seconds.” Sam calls out.

“I’d apologize but I’m really not sorry about this.” Bucky says to the two guards, making the amused one laugh and the authoritative one shoot his partner a warning glance. “Can we just have a few seconds to get ourselves together?” Bucky asks kindly, tilting his head in your direction as if to remind them that you’re a lady. The security guards are silent for a second, assessing the situation and scanning the rest of the office for anything in disarray besides the two of you.

“You have thirty seconds to situate yourselves and get in the elevator.” The first guard barks, turning around to face away from you and gesturing for his buddy to do the same. Bucky steps back from you and you lower yourself to the floor, pulling your dress down and sliding the straps back onto your shoulders. Bucky quickly fixes his pants and belt before moving on to his tie and shirt buttons. You smooth down your hair a bit, leaving it at least a little messy for evidence.

“Got it, you’re good to go.” Sam gives the all clear to remove the device.

Bucky smirks at you and as the guards turn back around to face the both of you, he leans in close, reaching past you to grab your panties off of the desk. He skillfully grips the device within them, pulling it out of the laptop and shoving both the panties and device into his suit jacket pocket, making sure the guards witness his move.

“Alright you two, time to head out.” One of the guards calls out, waving you toward the elevator. Bucky takes your hand in his and leads the way, the cocky smile that you’ve become so familiar with never leaving his lips.

Though the guards would’ve allowed you to stay at the gala, it only made sense for you to leave, acting like you were heading out early to finish what you started in the home office upstairs. Bucky stands behind you, peppering kisses up and down the side of your neck while you wait for the valet to bring your car around. As the car comes into view, he cheekily slides his hand from your hip down to the slit in your dress, tracing the triangular outline with his index finger. You have to tell yourself a million times that this is just part of the job.

---

Of course, the mission couldn’t possibly go fully according to plan. Do they ever? When Bucky began to drive you both back to the compound, you soon realized that you were being tailed. Sam was quick to direct you to a hotel, arranging to have a team of SHIELD operatives nearby for protection in case of any kind of ambush. You were sure that the guards didn’t see the device, but that doesn’t mean that they didn’t want to check you out and make sure you were really just some lusty young couple.

That’s how you ended up where you are now: laying on your stomach, still in your dress and heels, on a very comfortable luxury bed while Bucky showers. You have to fight the dirty thoughts flooding your mind, which is really fucking hard to do when the man that you want to do dirty things with is naked just a few feet away in the bathroom. Forcing your mind to stay empty leads to you drifting off to sleep as you wait for him to finish showering so you can have your turn.

You’re startled out of your extremely light slumber by the feel of Bucky’s hands on one of your ankles. You realize that he’s undoing the straps of your heels as you lay on the bed.

“Do you have the device still?” You mumble the question, not moving from your position or trying to stop his movements.

“Mhm, I have your panties too.” He answers, sounding so pleased with himself. You think about kicking him, you could easily do it in the position that you’re currently in, but you’re secretly really glad that he’s taking your heels off for you so you let his teasing slide.

“Yeah, that was a nice move back there, grabbing them and the device the way you did.” He hmms in response, taking off your second heel and setting them both on the floor at the foot of the bed. You feel his hand softly pat the side of one of your thighs before he steps away from the bed and sits in the chair by the window. You roll onto your back and push yourself up into a sitting position, leaning back on your hands. You don’t know what you expected him to be wearing, but it sure as hell wasn’t only his boxers.

“Like what you see?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you and flashing you a suggestive smile. He’s relaxed in the chair, a bit slouched with his arms on the arm rests and his legs spread apart. You do like what you see, but he doesn’t get the satisfaction of hearing you say it out loud. You roll your eyes and push yourself off of the bed, dragging yourself into the bathroom where you find his suit jacket laid across the counter. You reach into the right pocket and pull out your panties.

“They were wet.” He calls out, his voice carrying above the noise of the running water as you turn on the shower. You step back out of the bathroom and make eye contact with him, narrowing your eyes.

“What?”

“Your panties, they were wet.” He smirks. You feel your cheeks heating up and for a moment, you’re embarrassed. Meanwhile, he’s basically beaming with pride. Fuck him. Why are you even embarrassed? He was rock hard, that’s no different than you being wet. You let out a deep sigh and start sliding the straps of your dress down your arms. His eyes follow the movement of your hands and his smug smile falters when he realizes you’re not going back into the bathroom to undress. Honestly, you’re getting sick of this game.

“And your dick was hard.” You retort, staring at him. He shrugs his shoulders, acting nonchalant, but his gaze is still trained on your now bare shoulders.

“Occupational hazard.” He says calmly. He’s such a fucking ass.

“So, now that the job is over, you’re not hard anymore, right?” You question, letting your eyes travel down his tanned, muscular torso and settle on his lap, where he's most definitely still hard. He doesn’t respond but continues staring at you. For once, you’ve shut him up. His silence gives you a newfound boldness, and you start sauntering over to him. You see him stiffen in the chair and a small giggle leaves your lips. God, you’re so fucking pretty and you sound so innocent when you laugh like that. It almost makes him forget about the ways you let him destroy your body a few nights ago. Almost.

Next Part

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #mcu #the winter soldier #winter soldier #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut

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moonstruckme · 6 months

Text

White Lies

summary: when you come back to work soon after getting injured on a case, all you can think about is keeping the public safe from your latest unsub; Spencer's thinking about keeping you safe

cw: case involves kidnapped and murdered women, but no details are given

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 981 words

You’re aching from sitting up straight in your chair, but you do your best to ignore it. You keep your eyes firmly on the screen as JJ presents an overview of your new case, doing your best to look engaged and attentive. A consequence of your job is extraordinarily perceptive coworkers, which means that when you have something you want to keep to yourself, you often have to go to inconvenient lengths to avoid notice. You’d hustled like never before when you’d gotten the call to come in, getting yourself situated in the briefing room a good ten minutes before anyone else arrived. That meant no one had been around to see you limping into the building, taking your time to sit down in your chair, or downing two extra-strength pain relievers with your coffee.

Emily had expressed some surprise at seeing you back at work so soon after you were injured in the field and you’d gotten an odd look from Spencer, but neither of them had time to question you further before Hotch entered and began asking for details about the case. This one’s got to do with women being kidnapped and subsequently dumped in rural Texas, and not to be dramatic, but no physical pain can be worse than the torment of not being able to help catch the guy who’s doing this to them. All you have to do now is avoid giving anyone on your team reason to question your capability.

“News networks have already published some details of the case, so we’ve got some damage control to do,” JJ finishes, “but the local law enforcement is very eager for our help and it seems like they’re going to be open to what we have to say.”

“Good. Y/N.” Hotch isn’t even looking up from the case, but you snap to attention. “You’re cleared to travel?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He snaps the binder shut. “Wheels up in thirty.”

Everyone else stands, and you stall, waiting until all backs are turned before pushing yourself up out of your chair with a grimace. Spencer turns around at the door, stepping aside for Garcia to pass through, and then you’re alone.

“You’re cleared to travel?” he asks you.

“Yes,” you repeat yourself.

Spencer crosses his arms, standing just barely in front of the door. You could push past him if you really wanted to leave, but he knows you won’t. You and Spencer haven’t been together for long, but he’s always had a way of reading you when even the other members of your team can’t. You keep your face carefully blank. “You’ve barely had any time to heal,” he says. “Who would clear you?”

“A doctor.”

“What doctor?”

You sigh, crossing your arms to match him. “My friend Maggie.”

Spencer’s eyebrows knit together. “Doesn’t your friend Maggie live in Chicago?”

“She does,” you admit.

“So how did she determine that you were safe for travel?”

He’s frowning like he already knows. You think about not answering (what’s he going to do, whine to Hotch about it? They need everyone they can get for a time-sensitive case like this, and you know Spencer is just as aware of that as you are), but then you catch the flicker of worry in his gaze. It’s hard to be angry at him when he’s clearly doing what he thinks will help you most. “We talked on the phone,” you say, softly but still firm enough that you hope he won’t argue further. “I told her I feel fine, and she cleared me.”

The sigh that leaves Spencer is so long and heavy you’re surprised his ghost doesn’t come out at the end of it. “Sweetheart,” he says, coming forward to wrap his hands around your arms. His thumbs rub synchronized paths, up and down on the skin above your elbows. “You know that’s not the same as having a doctor actually check you over. We both know you’re not fragile—” he gives you a small smile, and you feel a tug on the corners of your lips in response “—but your body is vulnerable right now. The last thing you need is to make it worse by getting hurt again in the field.”

You can’t look him in the eyes. You can handle a verbal lashing, but it’s softness like this that wears you down, and Spencer knows it. You fix your gaze on his chin, trying to think past the sproutling of guilt he’s sneakily planted in your gut.

Spencer gives your arms a light squeeze. “Let me just talk to Hotch,” he says, pushing his advantage. “I’ll tell him about the mixup with your clearance, and then he can decide if you should still come along on this one or not. I’m sure Garcia could use the help if you stay back.”

You look at him, feeling like a kid chastened for being outside after dark. “Garcia’s a one-woman army, she doesn’t need me. You guys need all the manpower you can get for this case.”

“I know.” Spencer’s tone is consoling, and that only makes it worse. He drops a kiss on the top of your head. “But I need you to be safe even more than that. Hotch might still decide to let you come, okay? Just…you have to be honest about these things, sweetheart.” He gives you a disappointed look, and you have to look away from his eyes, well-meaning as they are. “Your health is a serious thing. We need you for years, not just for today.” He ducks, catching your gaze. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you say quietly, and Spencer gives you a smile, kissing your cheek.

“Okay, just give me a minute,” he says, and if he weren’t on the way to foil all your plans, you’d say he looks downright merry as he starts towards Hotch’s office. “I’ll let you know what he says.”

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strawberrysturniolo · 3 months

Text

just tonight pt 2

summary: you and chris are forced to discuss moments of your past when the night before changes everything part 1

I woke up with the sun shining far too brightly through the partly closed curtains. The hotel room air conditioner hummed as a chill overtook the room. I tried to pull the covers over me, but I struggled, dead weight on top of them.

I turned over my shoulder, finding Chris, knocked out. His lips were parted slightly, the slightest snore leaving his mouth. I would normally find this annoying, but he looks so peaceful. His curls are messy, flopping across his forehead, some strands holding a tighter curl than others. I want to play with them while he sleeps like this.

His body rises a little bit through every breath. I’m in a trance, watching his movements. I don’t realize how long I’ve been staring, but it’s long enough for him to feel my stare burning into him.

His eyes open slowly, barely, before he shuts them again, closing his mouth and humming. “Good morning.”

His low morning voice sends chills down my spine in the best way. I mumble, “Morning,” in response, the events of last night playing on repeat in my head.

He gives me a soft smile before lifting his head weakly, making his fatigue known. He places it carefully in my neck, pressing a soft kiss to my jaw before I feel his eyes shut, his lashes fluttering against my cheek.

I can’t stop myself from wondering if we made a mistake. It was just a kiss, and it doesn’t have to happen again. We don’t have to take it further.

But right now I feel our hearts beating against each other and all I’m thinking about is how great it would be to wake up like this every day.

We lay alone with our thoughts until Chris’ phone rings, a call from Nick. He sits up straight, his back on display as the duvet cover lays across his lap.

“How fast can you get dressed?” Chris asks me, stepping out of the bed.

I do the same, assuming we’re in a rush. “I won’t take long, why?”

He digs around in his suitcase, pulling a graphic tee out and pulling it over himself. “Breakfast closes soon downstairs, and you’re in all my stuff. The boxers only make this look worse.”

I lower my gaze to my bottoms - a pair of his underwear. They hang lower on my hips due to my sleep, and Chris’ eyes can’t move them away.

“Yeah,” I nod. “You’re right.”

The morning goes on with me and Chris back with Nick and Matt. Things have unfortunately gone back to exactly how they were before this trip. I’m not sure what I was expecting. I don’t know why I thought things would be different, but I would be a complete idiot to think that Chris would ever not treat me like shit.

“I was looking around at places we could take pictures later today if you guys are down,” I suggest.

As Nick peeks over at my phone, a groan leaves Chris’ mouth. One full of disgust. Nick gives him a look and asks, “What’s your problem?”

“The less time I have to spend with her, the better,” he comments. “I’m miserable enough having to watch her while I eat, not to mention having to sleep in the same room.”

“Well, at least this way you can prove to Santa that you’re not a naughty guy after all and you can be moved to the nice list,” Matt teases, trying to break the tension at the table.

I’m embarrassed at how my mood has been ruined because of Chris. Ten minutes ago he was curled in my arms, kissing my jaw softly, and now he won’t look at me.

The worst part is, even when we’re alone in the car, or alone in public, he still won’t look at me.

I can understand him trying to keep things ‘normal,’ whatever that means for us, in front of his brothers. But for him to completely ignore me and blow me off when we’re alone is uncalled for. We still have yet to talk about what happened last night, no matter how many times I have wanted to bring it up. The first step is getting his attention, but he has no intention of letting that happen.

When the day ends and we all head to our rooms, I silently get myself ready for bed, ignoring him, just as he did to me.

As I’m standing in the mirror removing my makeup, Chris comes up behind me, leaning against the wall as he watches me.

“Can I help you?” I ask with a snappy tone, trying to set him off just as he was doing to me for hours today.

He sinches his eyebrows together, like he can’t believe I would ask that. “Something wrong?”

I scoff. “You tell me.”

I finish up in the bathroom and walk back out to the bedroom. Without realizing what I’m doing, I scoop up my belongings, stuffing them into bags and hooking the straps on my arms.

His eyes go wide as he races over to me. “What are you doing?”

“Getting another room.”

“No,” he stops me, or tries to at least. He makes an attempt to pull the bag off my arms, but I yank it back.

“Get off of me.”

“What are you doing?” he asks again.

“I’m not staying in here with you,” I say simply.

“Why not?”

“You know why!” I shout. I have this feeling in my throat like I’m going to crumble any second. I feel betrayed, taken advantage of, used. I feel awful. Why is he doing this to me?

“I’m sorry,” he says, doe eyed. “Please, stay here with me. We can talk, we can kiss again or–”

“No, Chris!”

He takes a step back, defeat lingering around him. “I don’t know what I did,” he says softly.

I head towards the door. “Then you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Do you think I want to act that way in front of everyone?” he fights back. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted things to be different? I’ve thought every day about how we could change things. I would change things if you’d let me, but I was never what you wanted. You pushed me away time and time again, and the only way for me to get over you was maintaining what we did have. We had a light hearted, teasing relationship, and whenever I threw something back at you, you threw it back with ten times more baggage.”

“So this is my fault?” I challenge his claims. “You’re using that excuse to let yourself believe that ignoring me all day as if you weren’t in my arms this morning was justified?”

“Please,” he mumbles. “Put your bags down.”

He looks at me like he’s on the verge of exploding. Like the dam is seconds from breaking. Like he needs me.

I toss my shit on the floor and stand in front of him, waiting.

“None of this is your fault,” he promises. “None of it. I shouldn’t have treated you like this today, but after last night, I didn’t know how to be around you and them and act like I wasn’t daydreaming about you laying with me all night. I kept picturing you in my lap, kissing me. I wanted it all day. I wanted you. Every time I think I have you, you’re gone.”

I’ve never left him. His brothers are my best friends. Even when Chris is a dickhead, I still love him. I would never want anything but good things for him.

“I would never leave you guys, Chris.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Chris, we used to be closer than anyone,” I remind him. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how to be your friend anymore in the way we were. You won’t let me be that for you anymore.”

“I do,” he insists. “Please, just hear me out. Don’t go anywhere.”

I let out a sigh at his desperation. Before I know it, he’s leading me to the bed.

“Prom senior year,” he starts. “Your date didn’t show up.”

He promised he wouldn’t mention that again.

“Chris–”

“It was Nate’s idea,” he interrupts me. “He told me to step in, and I finally had the balls to. I was running down the street to the store in a fucking tux. I ran in and got you flowers, and when I came back you were gone. Everyone was gone.”

My heart drops. No one ever told me why he was late to prom that day. No one told me he was making an effort for me. Everything would have been different.

“You were gonna take me to prom?”

He swallows harshly as he nods, like he’s partly embarrassed for letting me know he failed, but that he’s proud of himself for trying.

“A few weeks later you came running into my room with the biggest smile on your face. You pulled my headset off while I was playing a game and made me guess why you were so giddy. I couldn’t guess, and you told me he asked you to be his girlfriend. The same guy that made you cry because he stood you up at prom, you were now his girlfriend. I felt like fucking shit. I tried to clean up the mess he made that night, and when I failed, he still won you? How was that fair?” he asks me.

I don’t have any answers for him.

“Then you spent the whole relationship telling me how awful he was,” he reminds me. “I was obviously going to be there for you if you needed me, but any time we were together, I had to pretend like I wasn’t interested. I had to try to respect your relationship with him, even though I hated him for making you miserable. I hated watching your smile fade and I hated that it was because of him. I did everything I could to cheer you up, and it worked, you know it did, but when you guys broke up, I thought it was my chance. You had no interest in me. It was so obvious. I just lost any hope of there being a chance with us, and the only way for me to get over that was to push you away.”

His words pour out of his mouth in a deep confession. Memories of us come flooding back into me like it was yesterday. Every look he gave me, every touch, every word shared.It’s all there.

I can’t help but hate my ex even more for keeping Chris from me.

I’m not mad at Chris anymore, but the frustration coursing through my veins masks my confusion for anger. And I aim it at the wrong person.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I thought you knew!” he shouts.

We both stand in silence, staring at each other as our chests heave, trying to regain our composure.

I shake my head, completely in shock at his confession. I used to cry to Nick, wondering why his brother was so mean to me after everything we shared together. He went from being the most important person to me to someone I barely knew.

I feel like an idiot for wasting so much time trying to hate him when in reality he was trying to protect me from anything bad in the world.

He couldn’t help it that he couldn’t catch up.

My face presses to Chris’ chest. I don’t know the moment I flung my arms around him and refused to let go, but the feeling of his heart beating against me brings me peace again, just like it did this morning in bed.

“I called the hotel,” he says. “I changed the reservation.”

I pull back from his chest, staring up at him.

“If that makes you uncomfortable, and you want to go stay with Nick, I completely understand,” he says. “I didn’t think we were going to kiss. I wasn’t planning on making any moves. I just wanted us to be friends again. I wanted you back in my life in the right way.”

My hands hold his cheeks as my lips desperately search for his. His arms wrap around my back, holding me as close as possible. The kiss is rough, both of us trying to gain dominance. I pull back from him to catch my breath, staring at his glossy eyes. The guilt is written on his face. The secrets he held from me for years.

“You could never lose me, Chris,” I assure him.

He rolls his lips into his mouth before licking his lips, basking in the taste of us. He nods, but it’s clear he doesn’t believe me. Fear takes over him before any sense of hope can.

“We’re going to be okay, I promise.”

It was his idea to sit in bed and watch cartoons, and we did just that for the rest of the night. It was my idea to order room service. We laughed in that bed, sharing innocent kisses that were stolen from us over the years. I wasn’t going to let anyone or anything take that from us again.

“Chris?”

“Hmm?” he hums in response, his fingers tracing over my back where it had snaked up his shirt that was hugging my skin, just as it was the night before.

“We won’t ever be just friends.”

He pauses for a moment before he responds.

“Good.”

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