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#word count: under 5k
puppyboybuckley · 4 months
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Inspiration Saturday 🎄
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Aaand this would be the aforementioned second christmas fic; the rough draft is already done and it's just over 2k so I expect it to total out somewhere around 3-4k. Anyway, please enjoy this tiny snippet:
Buck sat in the waiting room, his eyes vacantly following the line of fairy lights running under the edge of the reception desk. They flickered every now and again.
Well, not just every now and again, but every thirteen seconds. Buck counted it out 67 times already.
He just started again, but he only got to six when he heard the voice he was waiting to hear for nearly 15 minutes now.
tags under the cut 💛
I was tagged by the lovely @daffi-990 @thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck @disasterbuckdiaz @giddyupbuck thank you my dears and for all the bunch of people tagging me for FIF too mwuah 💛
✨no pressure tagging: @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @jesuisici33 @jeeyuns @ladydorian05 @steadfastsaturnsrings @eowon @heartshapedvows @nmcggg @rainbow-nerdss @jamespearce9-1-1 @evanbegins @eddiebabygirldiaz @theotherbuckley
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rosesradio · 24 days
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The first draft of chapter 1 of Ivory Rain is complete, bringing the total word count to 5.7k
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sluttyten · 10 months
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After I eventually finish this Haechan fic (s2g I don’t know why it’s getting so long 😂) and after I finish the rest of unholy, I’m gonna force myself to keep to a word minimum and just write something short because I can’t keep doing these long fics 😭
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rockleaves · 1 year
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every time i pick one of my sakura fic wips back up with the thought that THIS one will be a short one i can knock out in a few days i am proven so terribly wrong. i’ve got character study disease and it’s terminal.
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mp100ficrec · 2 years
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I wish we were born under similar circumstances by Temvikai
Fic can be read HERE.
Trans Mob, Trans Teru. Completed. Rated: G. Word Count: 2162
Pairings: Hanazawa Teruki/Kageyama ‘Mob’ Shigeo, Kageyama ‘Mob’ Shigeo & Takane Tsubomi
Trigger Warnings: Gender Dysphoria, Unintentional Misgendering
“The first time Mob met Teruki, he had a long, neverending flow of hair growing from the back of his head. Mob's first thought was that , 'Oh.' 'Such pretty hair.' He had wanted to ask whether he could touch it. Had wanted to ask whether or not they are, or can be friends.”
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kinaesthetiqueer · 2 months
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while writing ch 13, i had one of the first 'muses take the wheel' moments ive had in a while. and it's fun to get dragged along by the muses for a bit! especially when they're being gay as hell
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cavillscurls · 2 months
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tender loving care | husband!joel miller x pregnant!reader
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summary: pregnancy symptoms are tough. your husband finds ways to make them a bit more bearable.
warnings/tags: MDNI. established relationship. husband!joel. pregnant!reader. no outbreak. non-canon. depictions of discomfort/pain/complications due to pregnancy. brief mentioning of difficulty conceiving. fluff. sweet, domestic joel. use of “daddy,” but not in the kinky way. foul language. pet names. smut. dirty talk. boob massage! teasing. nipple play. some grinding. nipple orgasm. mastubation (m). cum play. joel loves readers stomach. pregnancy kink by default. no descriptions of age, race, or body type…except for reader being pregnant (duh), and some physical pregnancy symptoms. joel miller fucking loves his wife.
word count: 5k
a/n: i’ve never been pregnant in my life so excuse any inaccuracies bc there will be some!! big thanks to @kiwisbell for encouraging me to write this and coming up with the title bc i’m ass at that. also fun little game: take a shot every time you read ‘nipples,’ sorry bout it.
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Eight months flew by in the blink of an eye. 
It felt like only yesterday your entire world had changed over two, little pink lines. You didn’t think you could ever forget the all-encompassing joy you experienced that day; tear-filled eyes and tight embraces shared with the man you loved. Years of trying dwindled to a single, perfect moment. Because after some time, you had begun to lose hope. It didn’t always happen for people; maybe, it just wasn’t meant to happen for you. 
“We ain’t gonna stop tryin’, you hear me? Not gonna give up that easily.” 
He had been your rock through the entire process. The only tangible thing keeping you grounded while the earth felt as though it was slipping right from under your feet. Your anchor. 
Your husband.
Your Joel. 
And in the following months, he was no less attentive and devoted. He read every book, took you to every class and doctor’s appointment, and dealt with every absurd craving you requested. He handled the emotional highs and lows with ease, always a beacon of stability and comfort, even when the reality of your situation began to weigh on you. He praised your rapidly changing body, especially on the days you felt less than comfortable or beautiful in it. All the while continuing to work, provide for you and the life you were growing as if it were the most innate thing in the world. 
His willingness to attend to you and your growing family became increasingly crucial during the final month of your pregnancy. Your obstetrician had strongly recommended bed rest due to high blood pressure levels, a complication she assured you could be managed with plenty of rest, water, and some dietary adjustments. You tried adamantly to not let the fear consume you, even with years of working towards your miracle in tow. So while Joel worked, and grocery shopped, and tended to the house and garden, and cooked, and cleaned, you spent most of your days in bed or on the couch trying not to go absolutely insane. 
As if you didn’t already feel useless in your life and marriage. As if you weren’t already spending every waking moment worrying about the chance of losing your baby over something entirely out of your control. Breathing exercises. Meditation. Warm baths. You followed every method to reduce stress as it was, doctor’s quote, imperative to you and the health of your baby. 
But some days were harder than others. And some symptoms weren’t as easy to bear. 
One evening, you found yourself on the couch clicking through the television channels after one of your dozen labor and delivery books had terrified you to the point of needing a break. A palate cleanser. Something to take your mind off the way your body ached in seemingly every crack and crevice, and the anxiety that resided in the pit of your stomach over your approaching due date. 
It was not for lack of excitement, of course. You couldn’t wait to hold your baby in your arms. To begin this new chapter of life with the two people you undoubtedly loved most in the world. But there was fear in the unknown; you had never given birth before, and books and educational videos could only prepare you to a certain extent. You often doubted yourself, your body, and what it was capable of. How much you could really endure. 
No, you scolded yourself. Now is not the time to spiral. 
You carefully propped your swollen feet up on the coffee table in front of you, pulling the wool blanket your mother had knitted for you as a baby shower gift over your legs. Joel was working late, which meant you were left to your own erratic devices. You settled the TV on the Hallmark channel; perhaps a rookie mistake given your emotional state, but a welcomed distraction from the way every muscle in your body seemed to throb upon any given movement. You tried to situate yourself in a single position, but found the task nearly impossible, leaving you to squirm mere centimeters every which way trying to find the perfect spot on the cushions. Either your back was sore, or your bladder was suffocated. Your neck was craned, or your legs were extending too far to reach the table comfortably. 
You let out an exasperated groan, sinking back into the cushions defeatedly, succumbing to the discomfort. Your eyes darted down to your belly, a bit of stretched skin protruding out between the hem of Joel’s t-shirt you wore and the blanket. You settled your hands on either side of your stomach. 
“Not even here yet, and already giving me a run for my money, aren’t you?” you asked. Not even a moment later, you felt a familiar churn in your gut, followed by bumps of tiny limbs against your hands. A smile lit up your face. You remembered how odd the sensation was when you felt it for the first time weeks prior; now, you looked forward to it. 
“It’s okay,” you continued, giving your stomach a few soothing rubs, knowing soon enough, you would be directing all of your comfort to something much more delicate. “You know I forgive you.” 
The sound of the door unlocking tore your focus. You didn’t trust yourself to move, somewhat satisfied in the position you were in. But you heard the familiar sound of boots being kicked off, followed by keys tossed into the bowl on the front table. 
“Hello?” Joel called, the deep timbre of his rich drawl echoing through the foyer and into the living room. 
“In here!” you yelled back, the sound of approaching footsteps following seconds later.  
Joel rounded the couch, and when his tired eyes met yours, you watched the creases in the corners deepen when he smiled down at you. You beamed back at him, a sense of relief and security washing over you at the sight of your husband. Disheveled, graying curls. Gentle, brown eyes. Full, loving lips that you couldn’t wait a moment longer to kiss. He didn’t keep you in suspense long, merely taking a moment to breathe in the sight of you, before he lowered himself onto the couch beside you with a fatigued grunt. He slung one arm across your shoulders, the other hand coming up to gently cradle your jaw. 
“Hi baby,” he said softly, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. You savored the feeling and the musky scent of him after a hard days work. 
“Hi,” you whispered when he pulled back, nose still nudging against yours, while his thumb caressed circles over the apple of your cheek. “I’m so glad you’re home.” 
“M’glad to be home,” he admitted, filling you with adoration as he so often did. He released your jaw then, trailing his fingers down to your swollen belly and tenderly running his hand over it. “And hello to my other baby,” he mused, leaning down to press a kiss just above your belly button. The sight alone could have made you cry if you hadn’t been so used to the practice as routine now. Seldom was there a time that he did not greet the both of you; still two separate entities to him, although you were wrapped up in one. 
It was endearing, exciting to see him like this. You thought this was what made the pain, the discomfort, the waiting, all worthwhile. Even though it took far too long to reach your goal, and the finish line still looked to be miles away, Joel was a constant reward. Everything you could ask for in a man, in a partner. 
“How you feelin’?” he asked, his face still lingering close to your belly. 
But before you could even answer him, a sharp pang shot through your chest, straight into your breasts. This was your newest symptom, having snuck up on you in the last trimester. As if your boobs looking and feeling as though they could explode with how full they had gotten wasn’t enough. It was as if your body could hear your momentary thoughts of gratefulness and decided to taunt you. 
“Sore,” you hissed, grinding your teeth together. “Everywhere.” 
Joel tsked his tongue down at your stomach. “Now, you listen here little one,” he said, feigning sternness. “You know daddy loves you, but you gotta stop givin’ mama such a hard time.” 
“Why do I feel like this is only the beginning?” you groaned, throwing your head back against the couch cushions. 
Joel chuckled. “Well, if she’s anything like you, darlin’, she’s sure as hell gonna have an attitude.” 
You immediately propped your head back up. “She?” you asked, raising your brows at him. You two had decided to wait until delivery to find out the sex of the baby, something small that made the anticipation all the more exciting. 
He shrugged, a hint of embarrassment painting his cheeks pink as if he hadn’t meant to say the thought aloud. “S’just a hunch,” he mumbled, delicately rubbing his palm across the expanse of your belly again. “Be happy with anythin’, just… always picture a little girl.” 
And for a moment, the ache that lingered in your chest swelled deep down, radiating from your heart. An adoring smile broke out on your face as you watched him, eyes already back on your belly, lips casually planting little kisses on exposed skin whenever he pleased. Delicate hands that touched you with greater affection than any person you had ever known. 
God, you loved him. More than life itself. So much it hurt, wondering how you had ever become so lucky. 
“You’re gonna be such a good daddy,” you told him softly, lifting a hand to the nape of his neck and soothing the skin there with your fingers. Joel hummed contentedly in response, seemingly too enamored with your stomach to shift focus. But it wasn’t long before you were startling him to attention, another unprompted sting through your breasts making you flinch. 
“My God,” you groaned, reaching up to cup the underside of them, the pressure providing a momentary relief. This time, the pain lingered; a heaviness and fullness that bordered too tender to touch. Body in constant conflict with itself. 
Joel’s head perked up from your abdomen, brows pulled in concern. “What is it?” he asked, searching your face before following the movement of your hands that began to gently knead over the front of your shirt. 
“My boobs are fucking killing me,” you told him honestly, causing him to chuckle. Your husband was no stranger to your blunt mouth even before he got you pregnant. The vulgarity only increased upon your hormones fluctuating with the hour, but he never seemed to mind. You got the impression it may have even amused him. 
“Feel better when you rub ‘em?” he asked. 
You pouted at him, the feeling of defeat inescapable. “A little, yeah,” you said. 
“Here, let me.” 
You didn’t protest, allowing him to help your feet off the coffee table and remove the blanket from your legs so he could kneel on the floor before you. He wedged his torso between your thighs, the bump of your belly snug against his chest. His hands reached up to cover yours, dwarfing them in the way that never ceased to make you feel safe, protected. You slipped yours out from underneath, resting them on either side of your stomach as he took the whole of each breast into his hands. You exhaled deeply, letting your head fall back against the cushions as he began to gently massage the supple flesh. 
“This too hard?” he asked after a moment of silence, save for your soft sighs and the hum of the TV still running in the background. 
“No,” you breathed, basking in the reprieve of his touch. His care. His love. “No, it's perfect.” The vulnerable state of your body was compliant, trusting with every fiber of your being that he would take care of it, tend to it to the best of his ability. 
You let your eyes close briefly, focusing on the careful attention he bathed you in. He alternated between broad strokes, painting the perimeter of each breast with firm pressure, and gentle kneading that had you humming in satisfaction. There was nothing quite like Joel’s hands; reliable, strong, putting you back together piece by piece no matter where they touched you. Always knowing how to touch you, taking their time to discover the uncharted terrain and what made it blossom, what made you tick. You thought that must have been the case when his fingers went rogue, thumbs carelessly strumming over your sensitive nipples. 
You gasped at the unexpected sensation, electricity prickling your skin. You lifted your head, peering down at Joel with parted lips and wide eyes. He was already looking up at you, a slight arch to his brow while he assessed the sudden reaction. With no protest to be found, he executed the motion again, this time with a bit more pressure. 
The contact shot straight to your core, eliciting a small whine as your nipples grew taut below his thumbs. Swollen, aching, and unbearably sensitive– to anything other than your husband's touch, it seemed. A knowing grin spread over Joel’s cheeks. 
“That feel good, darlin’?” he questioned, the teasing drop to his tone just as adequate in rousing you as his hands were. Now, every time he squeezed your breasts, he circled the pad of his fingers over each hardened bud, admiring the way your hips began to jerk forward in response. The spot between your legs began to ache just as adamantly as the rest of you, only now, you knew exactly the remedy. 
“Joel,” you moaned softly after a few more tight, tantalizing flicks. Even through your t-shirt, the rough callouses on his thumbs gifted you with tiny jolts of pleasure, an invisible tremor radiating through your body, connecting his fingers to your cunt that began to clench with every stroke. 
You saw the shift in his eyes; loving, doting husband so easily replaced by the hunger he had for pleasing you. Especially when he knew you needed to be satiated. Could sense the want that erupted effortlessly under his ministrations. 
You two had stopped having sex around the seven-month mark, as engaging in the act became more of a nuisance than an enjoyable experience for you. Another irritating symptom. Joel didn’t mind stopping in the slightest. What he did mind, however, was the lack of physical attention he was able to give his wife. Something he prided himself in, providing you the pleasure he insisted you deserved. 
He got creative, nonetheless. Spending hours between your thighs, lavishing you with his tongue. Putting his deliciously thick fingers to work. Even investing in a few toys, something you widely appreciated during both your time together and when he was away. He was enraptured by the way your body responded to him nowadays, sensitive and overly reactive to each and every touch. Taking the time to discover what worked and what didn’t. 
And it appeared this occasion was to be no different. 
Wordlessly, Joel’s hands abandoned you, and you made no effort to hide your huff of frustration at the loss. This only widened his grin, the little craters you adored showing up on his cheeks. 
“So impatient,” he chastised, to which you rolled your eyes. You had half a mind to make some comment regarding your current physical state, and how it required no patience, but his hands were back on you before you had a chance. This time, fingers slipped under the hem of the t-shirt and guided it up and over your belly. You watched him carefully in anticipation. 
“Arms up,” he said when the shirt bunched below your breasts. And who were you to deny such a request? Wasting no time in lifting your arms over you while he pulled your shirt over your head. 
You weren’t wearing a bra — you gave up on those a long time ago — warm skin succumbing to the cool air, already tight nipples growing little goosebumps around the perimeter. You used to feel more self-conscious; stretch marks across your chest as it grew with the rest of you, areolas a shade or two darker than they once were, and certainly less perky. But you didn’t hold on to those ideas for long. Not when you had Joel. Ever loving, praising every inch of you no matter how drastically you changed. Such changes significantly unimportant and minuscule compared to the task of growing life inside of you. 
He never failed to find ways to remind you of your beauty. Even if you couldn’t see it, providing you with a vivid picture of life through his eyes. 
The next time he touched you, he was brushing the backs of his knuckles ever so slightly across your exposed nipples. Your hands dug into the cushions below you, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth. Little jolts of pleasure shot through each peak, hardly able to handle his teasing touch. 
“And so sensitive,” he mused, taking another pass of his knuckles over you. Rough skin caught on tender, pebbled flesh, finding a delicate rhythm; back and forth, not too fast, just enough to have you heaving for more. 
The invisible string running down your midline grew tighter until he was switching tactics, turning over his hands to take each nipple delicately between his thumb and pointer finger, tweaking them over and over again. Not too fast, or too hard, just right. 
You were starting to whine, hips jerking forward nearly uncontrollably now. You felt your clit twitch below your sweatpants with every thrust, a stream of slick arousal pooling in your panties. Joel had always been a maestro in stimulating your body, but you couldn’t recall ever feeling this turned on by something so simple. A familiar heat that usually only arose when you were near the edge of control settled in your lower stomach. 
“Oh, f-fuck,” you stammered as you watched him lean forward, resting his chin atop your belly, and guiding one of your breasts towards his hot mouth. He never broke eye contact as his lips parted, wrapping around the awaiting nipple, already hard and raw, and gingerly sucking between his teeth. His tongue began to lap lazily over the stiff bud, his free hand still preoccupied with the other— pinching, tweaking, and flicking any which way that set your body alight. 
“Like that?” he muttered into your skin, a momentary cessation just to catch his breath before he was diving back in, repeating the torment to the other side. 
You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, nodding. “Mhm,” you breathed, unable to find the right words to tell him just how much you liked it. Perhaps even a bit embarrassed to admit it. 
Your hands abandoned the cushions, finding his head and weaving your fingers through the graying curls. Keeping him close, right where you needed him. The friction between your body intensified once you felt the unmistakable outline of his erection between your thighs; this lewd display, hardly even having to lift a finger while your husband devoted himself to pleasing you, turned him on. Made him ache, too. The idea alone could have driven you over the edge. 
Then, he was using both generous hands to push your breasts together, leaving little space between them to swivel his tongue swiftly from each peak to the other. His hooded eyes peered up at you, tongue out, drool dripping down his chin and onto your skin, appearing like a goddamn beast in heat. Desperate for his fix. 
“God, Joel,” you whined again, finding that his name was one of the only words you could muster. Your knuckles grew stiff, clutching onto his hair with a new ferocity as your pelvis began to chase the length in his jeans. The subtle grinding of your clothed cunt against him accelerated the thrilling build-up, the dull warmth in your lower tummy growing into a wildfire that descended through your core and trembling thighs. 
“Christ, you’re fuckin’ perfect,” he growled, words muffled as he refused to detach his lips from your nipples. He must have noticed the way your eyes began to roll back into your skull, the pathetic way you clung onto him, even rolling your chest to the rhythm of his tongue.  “You gonna come for me, baby? Gonna come just from me playin’ with these pretty tits, huh?” 
It was all too much, too overwhelming, overstimulating. Your body didn’t know where to bend nor break, having no choice but to give in to the momentum Joel was effortlessly building. And when the thread snapped, you had the brief feeling of falling. Unsure if what you were feeling was what he asked of you, but it swarmed like warm water. Starting deep in your gut and spreading throughout your limbs that clenched around his hips and shoulders, body seizing and lips parting in a wail of euphoria. 
Your untouched cunt clenched rapidly, leaking into your panties as you came, little bolts of lightening hot energy shot through your nipples still being lapped in Joel’s attention. Your shoulders hunched over his head, battered buds growing sore with overstimulation, but you wanted to ride the high. Feel every ounce of wave wash over you until your toes were curling and your tits were begging for a new type of relief. 
“Ahh, oh my god. Yes. Okay, okay fuck,” you heaved, hands now working to pull him away. Joel unlatched his lips from your skin obediently, releasing the fullness of your breasts from his paws. His hands found the sides of your belly again, holding your quivering body still while he left a path of sweltering hot kisses along your sternum to your pulse point. He grazed his teeth over the spot, nibbling gently. 
“Didn’t know you could do that,” he mused into your neck. You could practically hear the cheeky spread of his lips. 
You chuckled, still breathless. “Yeah, neither did I. Fuck,” you shivered, jerking back every time his chest brushed up against yours. 
Joel hummed pleasantly, pressing a final kiss below your ear before he retracted back from you. You saw him reach for the t-shirt discarded on the other side of the couch but grabbed at his wrist before he could pick it up. 
“Wait,” you said, the cloud of lust still hanging over you. You weren’t ready for the moment to end. “I wanna do something for you.” You kept your voice light, meager. Somewhat petulant. Hoping that with enough sweetness, he wouldn’t be stubborn enough to deny you. It was not as if you couldn’t feel the way he still strained against his jeans. 
Joel sighed, tilting his head at you with a knowing look. Equally scolding and sympathetic. “You know I don’t want ya movin’ around too much, the doctor said—”
“Who said I have to move?” you interrupted, arching a devious brow at him. He furrowed his in return. “Maybe… I just wanna watch.” 
A mere breath, brief and dumbfounded while the suggestion sunk in. Then, a brazen grin crept its way onto his face, and he chuckled lowly in his chest. “Oh, baby,” Joel purred, shaking his head at you, unable to mute his delight at your proposition, and you wondered why you hadn’t thought of it sooner. 
You loved this. Being so certain that, despite your current state, you could still excite your husband as diligently as he did you. That he craved you, needed you for any semblance of release. 
Slowly, Joel lifted himself from his knees to his feet. Your neck craned back to accommodate the size of him standing before you, a practiced hand undoing his belt and unzipping the front of his jeans. You watched in sheer fascination, hazy eyes and a blissed-out little smile that you tried to bite back, as he shucked his jeans a few inches down his thighs. Your mouth watered at the sight of his gray boxers tented and stained through— all from the sight of you coming undone. His eyes never left you as he hooked his thumbs into the band of his boxers, pulling them down towards his jeans, his heated cock jumping free. The reddened tip hit just below his belly button; glistening, begging for attention. 
You had half a mind to reach out, take his girth between your hands, and guide him into your mouth. You would find some way to accommodate yourself; a pillow under your knees, or perhaps on your side across his lap. But Joel wouldn’t have it. Wouldn’t put you through the effort just for his pleasure. You had tried, and failed, to argue with the logic time and time again. 
Instead, you let him come to you. He hunched forward over you, one hand stabilizing himself on the arm of the couch, while the other came first to his lips, generously spitting into his palm, and then to grip himself at the base, sighing at the contact. His balls were already taut, cock throbbing. Your lips hung open in pure starvation, encouraging him to give himself over to you. 
“Where do you want me?” he asked, voice low and hoarse as he began to slowly pump himself into his fist. You moaned a little sound of desperation at the picture. “Ain’t gonna last long, baby,” he warned you. “Where do you want me?” 
You considered his question. The twinge of power excited you, and you found that the answer came easy; perhaps raunchy to the outside eye, but it felt nothing if not natural. 
You dragged one of your hands up and over your swollen stomach; slowly, sultry as you circled it, batting devious eyes up at him. “Want you right here,” you told him, watching his shroud of control begin to falter. Written plainly, desperately across his face. The muscle in his jaw twitched where his teeth ground hard. 
“Fuck,” he groaned, fist working over his silken shaft a bit faster now, intentional. His eyes were abysmal, blown black and desperately searching yours as a sheen layer of sweat covered his brow. “S’what you want, darlin’? Want me to paint that pretty fuckin’ belly of yours?” 
You nodded at him eagerly, spurring him on. Inviting in and accepting the depravity, passion, and lust that clung to the atmosphere. You two wouldn’t be able to indulge in it as freely much longer. 
You brought your own hands back to your breasts, squeezing over his diligent work, and moaning softly when your fingers pinched your battered nipples. An added touch. Joel’s hawk eyes followed every movement, devouring you. His lower abdomen clenched and his fist pumped himself ardently until he was cursing a string of fuckfuckfucks, squeezing his eyes shut, face contorted in euphoric bliss. He closed further in on you, close enough so that the tip of his cock nudged the bare skin above your belly button while he fulfilled his promise. Painting you in thick, white release, the primal sounds resonating in his chest while he came a sweet symphony to your ears. 
Some splattered onto your boobs, even a bit on your chin. It was bizarre how long it had taken to get you pregnant considering the absolute mass of Joel’s orgasms. But the majority of his pearly cum dripped over your stomach, coating your skin in a familiar warmth; the same seed that graced you with the gift inside of you. 
His ragged breaths began to slow, but you took it upon yourself to drag out your little show just a while longer. And he watched, just as greedy, while you ran your fingers over your stomach once more, collecting his spend onto the digits. You made sure he was looking you in the eyes when you brought your fingers to your mouth, pushing them knuckles deep and wrapping your lips around them. He stared at you with what you could only decipher as awestruck pride.
“You… are an extraordinary woman,” he said, breathless. The proudest grin plastered across his face— perhaps even a bit smug. You just shook your head laughing, smacking your lips as you pulled your fingers from your mouth and savored the salty taste of him. He leaned forward, capturing your damp lips in a lingering kiss before pressing his forehead to yours. “Stay here. Gonna run us a bath.” He gave you one last peck on your cheek before straightening up, tucking his softening cock back into his jeans, and heading towards the bathroom. 
You watched him go before leaning back into the cushions, content and satisfied, albeit rather sticky and sweaty. Gone were the aches and pains of a day without Joel, replaced solely with his fondness for you. You stared up at the ceiling, breathing deeply, and attempting to picture what life would look like in just four short weeks. How the love you shared for each other could possibly grow any larger; it would fill every corner in the room, you thought. It would dominate every waking moment, and inhabit each rapturous dream. In the moments when you freed yourself of your worries and doubts, that was what you held onto. How simple yet substantial the things around you were:
A warm, sturdy house.
A fridge full of food.
Kind, helpful neighbors.  
A family who would drop anything and everything to help you. 
A husband who cherished you.
You couldn’t stop the errant tears, no matter how frivolous, from pooling at your waterline. You laughed quietly to yourself, lifting your head back up and using the backs of your hands to wipe them away as they cascaded down your cheeks. Happy tears. Excited tears. Nervous tears and tears for the sake of tears all wrapped into one. A beautiful, daunting array of emotions that you would tend to over and over if it meant having the life you were lucky enough to live with the man you were lucky enough to love. 
Your eyes fell back to your stomach, the sight of it full and large, home and life-source to your baby, only fueling your fragility. But for a moment, as brief as it may have been, you couldn’t even remember a life before all of this.  
“I can’t wait to meet you,” you whispered.  
And you were surely looking forward to the life after. 
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navybrat817 · 14 days
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Just Like That
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky suggests staying in a hotel together before an undercover mission, which would be fine if you didn't have a massive crush on the super soldier. Word Count: Almost 5k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, pining, flirting, slight possessive behavior, talk of undercover mission, "only one bed" trope, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: A combination of @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge and my Bucky Barnes Smut Menu, courtesy of @ellemj. "Only One Bed" Trope and the dialogue prompt in bold italics. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
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The engagement ring on your finger suited you. Not large or overly flashy, the single diamond radiated a subtle sparkle. It was beautiful and a perfect fit, a representation of the unifying love of marriage. When you looked at it under the light, it was almost as if you could feel the love that Bucky had for you.
If only that were the case.
“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” You asked, taking a seat at the table across from Bucky.
“So we can practice and make sure we’re a convincing couple,” he replied.
You sighed as you glanced around the hotel room for the umpteenth time. A small sitting area, a dining and kitchen combination, a single bathroom, and a bedroom. When you pointed out that there was only one bed, Bucky reminded you of the expectation that the two of you had to sleep together while on assignment since you were going on a couple's retreat. Which wouldn't be an issue if you didn't have a crush on him, right?
Right.
You were completely enamored with Bucky Barnes, the handsome former assassin turned agent for the revamped SHIELD. Instacrush wasn't something you experienced often, so he took you by surprise. It was pathetic to fall for him so hard and quickly. It had to be some sort of karma or divine intervention that you were with him in a hotel room.
Just the two of you.
“You know,” he began, wetting his lips as he leaned back in his chair. You blinked, only because you didn't want him to call you out on staring. “You don't have to look so miserable to be here. Is my company that terrible?”
“What? No. Bucky, you aren't terrible company,” you promised, slumping a bit in your chair. The last thing you wanted to do was upset him. “Just been a bit since I've been in a relationship and I’m kind of rusty.”
“You're talking to a guy who hasn't been on a real date since the 40s,” he deadpanned.
He had a point. Plus, from what you understood, Bucky wasn't exactly interested in dating anyone. Every time Steve or Natasha suggested he go on a date, he found a way to brush it off or change the subject.
Even if he was interested in dating, did he think of you as anything beyond a colleague?
Taking this assignment may have been a mistake.
“I’m just not sure I’m the right one for this job,” you said.
“You’re perfect for this job. Why would you think otherwise?”
You froze like a deer in headlights, even as his compliment warmed your heart. It meant a lot that he thought you would do the job well. But how were you supposed to answer that question? That you adored him and it would be torture to pretend to be with him for a week just to back to being coworkers after?
“We should practice,” you suggested instead of giving him an answer. The backstory wasn't overly elaborate, but you had to get it right.
He leaned forward, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Did someone say something to make you think you wouldn't be good for this assignment?” He asked in a low voice. “Because I'll straighten them out.”
You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from whimpering. The thought of him putting someone in their place to make you feel better was swoon-worthy. “No, Bucky. No one said anything. You're right. I’m good for this,” you said before you added, “We’re good together.”
You couldn't read the look he gave you and it became more difficult not to squirm under his gaze. “Yeah,” he whispered, leaning back and clearing his throat. “So. We’re engaged. Going to a resort for a much needed vacation. We’ll have to mingle with some of the guests in between investigating the owner. One of the first questions will be how we met.”
With an exhale, you recited, “We met at a coffee shop. We both ordered the same drink.”
“An iced caramel macchiato,” he said.
“And we reached for the drink at the same time,” you smiled, making a show out of reaching for the glass on the table. “Our fingers touched first. Our eyes met second.”
“And I immediately asked you out,” he smiled.
Your heart swelled. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world when he smiled like that. “You did,” you said, trying to blink the longing from your eyes. “We went to dinner and talked a bit about ourselves. You told me you're a mechanic and I told you I’m a teacher. And once dinner was over, we went back to that same coffee shop and we shared an iced caramel macchiato.”
“Even proposed to you at the same shop,” he said, gesturing to your left hand. “But I actually got the ring after our first date because I knew I wanted you to be my girl,” he said with such conviction that you found it hard to breathe.
The way his eyes softened as he gazed at you, you found yourself believing him for a moment. You had to stay rooted in realism though. The point of the mission besides the actual mission was to act as if you two were crazy about each other.
Not that you had to do any acting on your part.
You cleared your throat and pulled your hand back from the glass. “If only that were true,” you said, absentmindedly twisting the ring around your finger. You weren't cynical about love, but this whole thing was a reminder that you were single and alone.
His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
Heat crept up your neck. You shouldn't have said anything. “I mean, it just would've been nice if we met at a coffee shop,” you replied to avoid saying you wanted to be his girl.
“What’s wrong with how we met?” He asked, crossing his arms.
The metal arm gleamed under the light. You noticed that he had a tendency to wear long sleeves and gloves whenever he was in the building, but seeing him with his sleeve pushed up and missing glove? You would almost say he was comfortable around you.
Again, he had to play the part right.
You pulled yourself from your thoughts when he said your name, which sounded like it melted on his tongue. It made you press your thighs together. You needed to stay professional. “Do you not remember what happened or are you just being nice?” You asked.
Months ago, the day you met Bucky, Steve informed you that he planned to introduce you to him after he came back from a long assignment. Not only were you excited to meet one of his best friends and a great soldier, but you had wanted to make a good impression on him. What you did was make an ass out of yourself when you turned the corner only to smack right into the former Winter Soldier.
And splattered your beverage on both of you in the process.
Instacrush and a horrible impression on your part.
Bucky’s lips curled in a smile as your eyes widened. “You do remember,” you said, wadding up a nearby napkin and tossing it at his face, which he easily caught. “Oh, my God! That’s why you chose ‘coffee shop' for this, didn't you?”
You concentrated so much on getting the backstory right that it didn't occur to you that he was maybe poking fun at you. He wasn't the kind of guy that liked making others feel bad though. Tease you, sure. Outright make fun of you at the risk of hurting your feelings? He would never.
“Hey, I didn't choose how we met, but I also didn't object,” he said, raising his hands in surrender when you went to throw another napkin at him. “And I wouldn't forget meeting you, doll. You make a lasting impression.”
You wished you had done something to make him remember you besides spilling a drink on him. “I guess making an idiot out of myself is a lasting impression,” you teased.
Something dark flashed in his eyes, making your breath hitch. “That’s not what I meant. You didn't make an idiot out of yourself and I don't like you thinking that or talking down about yourself.”
“I’m sorry,” you said, not used to someone getting so defensive at your self-depreciation. There was something sexy and heartwarming about it. “You were very nice about the whole incident.”
“You were nice, too,” he said, gesturing to his torso. “I mean, you offered to buy me a new shirt.”
“Because I spilled my drink on it! I felt bad,” you said.
“And when I said you didn't have to buy me a new shirt, you said, ‘Are you sure I can't pay for the dry cleaning at least, Sergeant Barnes?’” he said in a falsetto voice.
He chuckled when you rolled your eyes. “I don't sound like that, first of all, and I was being considerate,” you said. You couldn't believe he remembered your exact words. “And you just gave me that half confused smile of yours before I grabbed napkins for both of us to clean up.”
“You mean this?” He asked, his lips stretching in that familiar awkward grin.
“Yeah, that,” you giggled, your heart doing that funny flip that happened far too often around him.
In the beginning, whenever you smiled at him, he gave you that very look in return. Somewhere along the way, the uncomfortable glances on his end became genuine fondness. It didn't mean anything though.
Just an agent being kind to another agent.
Bucky stared at you as you continued to giggle at the memory. “I’m sorry. I just-”
“I love your laugh,” he said, almost making you choke on your own breath. Nothing like forgetting how to be a human and breathe. “And your smile.”
Maybe he had switched back into practice mode. “You do?” You asked, playing along as you smiled directly at him.
He swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, I do,” he replied, his voice thick as he unfolded his arms. “You know, you're one of the people that actually smiles at me. And you look me in the eye when you talk to me.”
“Why wouldn't I?”
“Because some people are still afraid of me,” he whispered.
Your heart sank. He was a good man. A hero wrongly painted as a villain. It wasn't fair what he went through and you had no reason to fear him.
Why couldn't everyone else see the good in him?
“I’m not afraid of you, Bucky,” you promised. And after what he went through, frightening people was the last thing he would do. “Never have been. Never will be.”
“Maybe you should be,” he muttered, some of the light leaving his eyes.
Your eyes narrowed as you tempered the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Seeing this vulnerable side of him also brought out your protective instinct. “Listen to me. You’re amazing and a good man, okay? And if I don't get to call myself an idiot for spilling a drink on you, then you don't get to say I should be scared of you, Sergeant Barnes,” you said with an air of finality.
He gave you an impressed smile. “Just like that? Because those are totally different things you're comparing.”
“Just like that,” you said, putting your hand on the table for him to take if he wished. “Do you trust that I'll have your back on this mission? Because I trust that you'll have mine no matter what.”
He stared at your upturned hand for a moment before he took it. “You're one of the only people I do trust,” he admitted.
His eyes bore into yours as you tried to find the words to respond. He wasn’t feeding you a line to make you feel good about yourself. Bucky Barnes trusted you.
“Then trust me when I say we got this,” you promised. You would look out for him and let him know that he hadn’t misplaced his trust in you.
“Why don't you have a boyfriend?” He asked suddenly.
The switch in topic jarred you, but he didn’t let go of your hand. “That’s. I’m. What? How is that relevant?”
It wasn't smooth, but it was better than blurting out that your hopeless crush on him was one of the major factors.
“I’m curious,” he shrugged.
“Oh. Well. My last boyfriend dumped me for being an agent. Seriously, he didn't like the fact that I could kick his ass if I wanted to,” you told him, squeezing his hand without meaning to. He didn’t object. “Which I wouldn't.”
“You could kick my ass if you wanted to,” he winked. Physically, Bucky was broad and strong. You weren’t sure you could take him in a real fight, but you could take him another way if he ever offered. “And your ex sounds like an asshole if he can’t stand beside and support an amazing woman.”
You smiled humorlessly. “Thanks, Bucky, but I’m not-”
“I swear to fuck if you talk down about yourself again, I will put you over my knee,” he threatened, his eyes darker than they were seconds ago.
You didn’t laugh as he stared at you. Neither did he. Your clothes suddenly felt too heavy, your body too warm. Licking your lips, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “Is that a promise?”
Bucky pushed his chair back and pointed at his thigh, his eyes still on you. “Get over here and find out.”
Oh, fuck.
The sound of Bucky’s phone ringing snapped you both out of whatever spell you two were under. “Shit,” he muttered, taking his hand from yours. “It’s Steve. I better-”
“Yeah, you should answer that,” you said, almost knocking the chair over as you stood. “I think I'm going to call it a night.”
“Wait, what?” He asked, answering the phone. “Hold on, punk,” he said, covering the screen as he looked at you. “You’re going to bed now?”
Guilt settled in your stomach at the hurt in his eyes. “Just going to lay down. I may not go to sleep right away. And we can practice more in the morning,” you replied. You just needed to step out of the room and take a breath.
He waited a beat before he nodded, the tension still lingering. “I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay?”
“Okay,” you nodded, leaving him alone so he could talk to Steve.
You splashed a bit of water on your face when you went to the bathroom to change. The assignment hadn’t started and you couldn’t keep your cool. With squinted eyes, you pointed at your reflection and mentally scolded yourself. Yes, you wanted Bucky Barnes and maybe, just maybe, some part of him wanted you. At least, he wanted you enough to put you over his knee.
You couldn't have him though. Could you? Mixing business with pleasure could lead to complications if you crossed that line, but it wasn’t like you’d break some major bylaw by being his girl.
Now wasn’t the time to think about that.
“Get your shit together,” you hissed, rushing through your nighttime routine and changing into your comfortable yet sexy nightgown.
Your eyes went to the bed when you left the bathroom. Just a regular hotel bed. Inviting, but not overly frilly. Large enough for the both of you, but small enough that you might end up in each other’s arms.
“It’s going to be a long night,” you muttered.
Sighing, you left a light on for Bucky to see and crawled into bed, shutting your eyes as he wrapped up his call with Steve. You tried to block out the sound of his footsteps as he made his way to the bathroom. Maybe his nighttime routine would take a bit longer than you thought and you could drift off and wake up to the sight of his beautiful eyes and-
The bed dipped as Bucky curled up behind you, your eyes opening when he placed his arm around your waist and pulled you back against him. You were conscious of every shift in his body, every breath he took. How you could smell his lingering cologne as he pressed himself closer. How he ran warmer than you and you wanted him to heat you up even though you weren’t cold.
And that he wasn’t wearing a fucking shirt.
“I know you aren’t sleeping,” he whispered, his fingers brushing along the fabric that covered your skin. “Your heart’s beating too fast.”
He was right. It was about ready to burst through your chest. “Can’t sleep.”
“Why not?” He asked, helping you roll over so you were on your back. He didn’t remove his hand though. “Did my ‘threat’ make you uncomfortable?”
“No, it didn't,” you assured him, heat pooling between your legs that you couldn't prevent. “I wouldn't have continued with the banter if I was uncomfortable.”
“Just making sure,” he said. “I was only teasing.”
You huffed out a laugh in an effort to cover up the crushing feeling in your chest, your arousal fading to a dull ache. “Of course, you were,” you uttered. Teasing. Nothing more. “Good night, Bucky,” you said, turning your head away.
He brought a hand to your cheek and brought your face back toward him. How did his eyes look so blue in the faint light? “Don’t go to sleep yet, please.”
“Why not?”
“You rushed to bed and now you're shutting down. I clearly said or did something wrong,” he sighed, which made you feel bad. He hadn't done anything wrong in your eyes since it wasn’t his fault you wanted his teasing to mean something. “I need to fix it.”
“There’s nothing to fix because you didn't break anything,” you said, the ring heavy on the finger. “But can I ask for a favor?”
“Of course,” he whispered.
You didn’t dare search out his gaze when you said, “I may need reminders this week that you don't actually have feelings for me.”
A few seconds went by before he asked in a small voice, “What?”
You took a breath to compose yourself. The last thing you needed to do was get upset for no good reason. “We’re going to hold hands and cuddle and share a bed and be a couple, but you may need to give me a reality check now and again that you only see me as an agent. Okay?”
Maybe he’d ask Steve for a new partner in the morning.
“You think I only see you as an agent?” He asked, sighing when you nodded. “I used to be good at this.”
“Good at what?”
“Teasing. Flirting,” he answered, leaning in close. He stopped just before his lips touched yours. “Kissing.”
“Wait. You were flirting with me?” you said, not moving forward or back as you put a hand on his chest. His heart raced as fast as yours. And your brain couldn’t compute that implication that he wanted to kiss you. “You weren’t just practicing for the assignment?”
He huffed out a laugh this time. “You’re killing me, doll,” he whispered, closing the distance.
You imagined Bucky kissing you before, but didn’t think it would ever be so soft. His lips barely brushed against yours, but it felt like the beginning of something more. It tempted you like nothing else ever had. He must’ve felt it, too, since he deepened it. You melted. You surrendered.
You never stood a chance.
“So, you like me?” You asked when he pulled back a little to gaze at you. “I’m sorry. I just need to hear you say it because I really like you and have for months. Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t have said that because we have a whole week together for this assignment and now you know and I don't want it to be weird.”
Your mind almost shut down when he gave you a full-blown smile and said, “Yeah, I like you. I thought it was obvious. I tried dropping little hints, talking about your smile and trusting you.” He chuckled almost shyly as his words sank in. “I took this assignment because of you.”
A moment passed before you giggled, happiness blooming in your chest. Bucky Barnes liked you. Wanted you. “Thank fuck,” you breathed, pulling him back down for another kiss.
He groaned, ravaging your mouth as he moved on top of you. His knee pushed your legs apart so he could settle between them, swallowing down your whimpers when he pressed his growing hardness against your pussy. He ground his hips, your panties soaked as his tongue tangled with yours. The man kissed you like he had something to prove.
Like he wanted to own you.
His muscles rippled as he leaned up and grasped the bottom of your nightie. The vision of him above you like this was now engraved in your mind. “If you want me to stop, I will.”
Sleeping with him was moving fast considering you just confessed your feelings for each other, but you didn't care. “Don't stop,” you whispered, quivering as he tugged the fabric over your head.
Your hands moved up to cover your chest before he gripped your wrists. “Are you trying to hide from me?” He questioned, his smirk playful in comparison to the uncertainty in his gaze.
You didn't want him doubting himself or your want for him for a second.
“Maybe? I mean, look at you and look at…”
You wouldn't knock on your looks since you were generally confident in your appearance, but the super soldier was an entirely different level of gorgeous. He towered over even the largest of agents, with the exception of Steve, and his dark lashes framing his steel eyes were enough to pull you under.
And who were you compared to him? Just another agent. Average.
“Don't,” he whispered, releasing a wrist so he could cup your breast. You arched your back and any uncertainty in his eyes before faded when a moan escaped your lips. “You're so fucking beautiful.”
The praise almost made your eyes water as he brought his head down, losing focus when he swept his tongue across your nipple. Your eyes fluttered shut as he did it again, a wave from a sea of ecstasy crashing over you. Your heart thudded faster, addicted to the feel of his sinful mouth.
“You’re the reason I don't have a boyfriend,” you whined, your fingers twisting in his hair. Why did you say that?
He smirked against your skin before he reached down and tore your panties away. “I haven't gone on a date because of you.”
Your body throbbed with need as you met his gaze. “You're just saying that to get in my pants,” you joked.
His eyes raked down your body, stopping between your trembling thighs as he pushed his pants and underwear down. “If I had my way, I would've taken you out first,” he said, drawing a moan from you when he wrapped a hand around his thick cock. “But all I can think about right now is how loud you’ll say my name when I make you come.”
“Bucky,” you moaned, tempted to reach down and touch yourself to the sight of him.
“Louder than that,” he said smugly, rubbing the tip of his cock along your slick folds. “Fuck, I wanna take my time and explore you. Make you feel like a goddess. Treat you the way you deserve.”
It warmed your heart and sent another wave of desire through you knowing he wanted to take care of you. “I know you'll treat me well,” you smiled, opening your legs wider. “But for now, please, fuck me.”
He didn't ask about birth control, which you were on. You didn't ask about condoms. It didn't matter. You wanted to feel all of him.
You glanced down as he lined himself up, watching as he slowly eased into you. It was overwhelming as you took every inch, your mouth falling open with a moan. You floated in a cloud of lust, the sound of his groan reaching your ears.
“Look at me,” he ordered as he bottomed out.
Your eyes flew to his as he gripped your chin. The feel of him inside you, his eyes staring so intently into yours that he practically touched your soul. It was almost too much. And that was when he began to move, the weight of his body on top of yours as he fucked you in slow and deep thrusts. It was the kind of lovemaking that would make you crave more.
Crave him.
“Knew you'd take me well,” he grunted. You whined, the praise going straight to your core as you tightened around his thick cock. Your walls couldn't stop gripping him as he slid in and out. “Knew your pussy would be greedy for me. Won’t let me go.”
Your head fell back against the pillow, dizzy as he trapped your body under his. As he rolled his hips, you wondered if he’d let you ride him at some point. Maybe he’d fuck up into you as he brought your hips down. Or maybe he’d lay back and cup your breasts, let the weight bounce in his hands as you took all of him.
You’d take whatever he gave you.
The growing pleasure within you was like you were burning from the inside out, each movement from him stoking the flames. His low groans mixed with your whines, his thrusts increasing in speed when he brought his thumb to your clit. Your hand worked its way back into his hair as you cried out his name, your control slipping further and further away as he took over.
“Just like that,” he moaned. “Don’t hold back on me. Wanna hear every pretty sound you make.”
“Bucky, I'm gonna…” you trailed off, your orgasm building fast in your core and ready to burst.
“Come,” he finished for you, a filthy smirk on his face as he laced his fingers with yours.
One more thrust and you were gone, his name falling from your lips as you came. Your mouth stayed open as you spasmed, pleasure rushing from head to toe. You panted and didn't care if you'd ever properly breathe again. That was how good it felt.
“I’m close, doll,” he gritted, resembling a growl as he continued to fuck you and chase his release. “Gonna come inside you. Gonna own you.”
“Come inside me, Bucky,” you begged, watching through half-lidded eyes as his face contorted in ecstasy. It was such an erotic sight. “Please.”
He buried himself deep with a long moan as he filled you in hot, thick spurts, nuzzling his face in your neck when he finished. He said your name as he heavily breathed against your neck and it was the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. You wrapped your arms around him when he stayed inside you, not at all bothered as your mixed release slowly trickled out.
You didn't want him to let you go.
“Well,” you huffed, a dopey smile on your face as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I don't think we’ll have a problem convincing people we care about each other.”
He chuckled, kissing your warm skin. “And we won't have a problem sharing a bed,” he said, keeping you close as you yawned. “Sleep, doll. I’ve got you.”
“I’ve got you, too,” you said, feeling him smile against you as you drifted off.
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The delicious ache between your thighs was the second thing you noticed when you woke up. The first, of course, was Bucky’s arm and leg draped over you: warm, protective, perfect. He was still fast asleep, the blanket pooled around his waist, completely at ease with the world. You could get used to waking up like this.
You hesitated before you touched his cheek, not wanting to wake him as you kissed his forehead. You wished you had time to kiss every scar on his body and worship him the way he said he wanted to worship you. The two of you would have to leave the bed sooner or later. There was work to do.
“Mmm. Morning,” he said, his voice laced with sleep as he cracked an eye open.
“Morning,” you whispered, cuddling closer as he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed over the ring. The motion made you brush against his crotch and you were close enough to hear the hitch in his breath. You did it again, keeping your gaze innocent as he opened his eyes more and groaned.
Yes, there was work to do, but it was still early.
“You’re still horny? Didn’t I fuck you hard enough last night?” He teased.
“Yeah, I’m still horny,” you replied. Waking up next to him would arouse anyone. “Need you to fuck me again.”
“You won’t be able to walk if I fuck you again,” he smirked, rolling on top of you and digging his fingers into your waist.
“Should’ve known you’d be a cocky boyfriend,” you teased back, your heart thundering in your chest as he leaned down and skimmed kisses along your jaw. “Sorry, we didn’t put a label on this and there’s still stuff to figure out and the mission and-”
“Hey. Boyfriend, your man, whatever you want to call me, I’m yours,” he cut you off, his mouth drifting to your neck. “And I still owe you a date, got it? You’re my girl. You’re mine.”
“I'm yours,” you gasped when he nipped your skin hard enough to sting, his tongue soothing it after. You were his and he was yours. “So, we're a couple now? Just like that?” You smiled as he worked his way back to your lips.
Bucky answered you with a kiss. “Just like that.”
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I struggled a bit with this one after having to scrap almost 2k and go in another direction, but I ended up falling in love with it. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
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bucks-babe · 4 months
Text
Friends Don't Lie
Paring: Bucky x f!reader
Summary: Wanting to know if your crush likes you, you go to Bucky for help, the only problem is, Bucky is your crush
Warnings: Slight angst, fluff, Smut (oral f receiving, p in v), unprotected sex (don’t do that), friends to lovers, crying, praise kink, soft!Bucky is a warning, Roommate!Bucky, Bucky calls reader kid just to piss her off for a bit but not when they’re doing the thang thang, no actual age gap though, no use of Y/N
Word count: Over 5k Idk what happened
A/N: This is my first ever fic so please go easy on me. If I missed any warnings, please let me know. Any and all mistakes are my own.
Sighing, you walk into the apartment you share with Bucky. He’s sitting on the couch sporting his signature grumpy frown. Your heart beats that much faster when you lay your eyes on him. Honestly, you don’t know how he looks that hot with just a black t-shirt and jeans on. 
“Hey, what’s got your panties in a twist, Buck,” you chime as you plop down onto the couch next to him, now noticing the bottle of whiskey in his hands. He only glances at you before taking another swig of his whiskey.
��My panties aren’t in a twist, kid,” he huffs.
You cringe at the nickname he gave you. In all reality, you were only 3 years younger than him, but he knows how much you hate being called kid. In true Bucky fashion, he calls you kid all the time, just to get under your skin. “Really, then why are you drinking at,” you check your phone for the time before cocking your eyebrow, “2 o’clock in the afternoon?”
He completely ignores your question so you press on. “Well since you aren’t doing anything, I need your help.”
This seems to catch his attention just a little, “With what?”
“Well…” you trail off only to continue when you catch his eye, “I need some relationship advice and I can’t go to Sam about it because he is the worst.”
“I’m supposed to be good at relationship advice? I’m not the right person to come to, kid.” He replies, seemingly even more annoyed than he was before you walked into the apartment, and takes another swig out of his bottle.
You snatch the bottle out of his hand (ignoring Bucky’s Hey! That’s mine!) and take a swallow, “You know how much I hate being called kid, Buck. But yes, I need relationship advice”
“Why can’t you go to Sam about this; he seems to think that he is an expert at everything?” he practically whines as he rolls his eyes and leans back into the couch, spreading his legs and giving you a great view of his thick thighs in those jeans.
“Because, Buck, Sam will just make fun of me, and I know for a fact he cant help me with this.” To be fair to Sam, he would probably give you good advice, but he would make fun of you for your crush on Bucky.
“And I won’t?” Bucky scoffs before taking the bottle back from your hands. 
“Well, you would make fun of me, but Sam would never let me live it down, okay,” you can already feel your cheeks starting to heat up and regret seeping into your pores for talking to the very person you want to be in a relationship with about relationship advice.
“I think I already know who you need the advice about, don’t I,” Bucky turns his head toward you and cocks an eyebrow.
“What!” It feels like ice is coursing throughout your entire body. There is no way that he knows you're talking about him. “Uh… wh-who do you think I’m talking about?” Nice save, dipshit. You are mentally punching yourself in the face.
He takes one final gulp of his whiskey, wiping his mouth with the back of his palm, and sets the bottle on the coffee table, “I’m pretty sure I know who you have feelings for. The question is, do you really think you have a chance?” Oh my God - he knows and this is his fucking warning to walk away. Pretend like this never happened and leave - now
“Who-who do you think I’m talking about.” Wow, nice save. Always repeat the question, it never makes you look more suspicious. If he wasn’t onto you already, he sure as hell knows now.
“It’s rather obvious, don’t you think?” God you hope not, “Let me guess, Rogers?”Huh? an amused, little smirk appears on his face, blue eyes waiting for your reaction.
“St-Steve?!” Okay, not where you thought this was going but at least he doesn’t know you like him.
“You’re blushing,” he puts an arm over the back of the couch and crosses one leg over the other, “and stuttering. Seems like I was right, huh?” that stupid, gorgeous smirk is still on his lips.
“No! I do not have a crush on Steve Rogers! Ew, no. Why would you even think that, Buck?” Maybe you shouldn’t have had such a visceral reaction to him thinking you liked Steve, but you’ve never seen Steve as anything other than a great friend; however, once you started talking, you couldn’t stop. “I do like someone, Buck, but the thing is… well I don’t know how to tell if they like me back. I mean, every relationship I’ve been in has been so…so superficial. I would like them, but I don’t think they ever liked me, you know? It was always about the sex and what I could give them.” Shut up Shut up “This is why I need your help. I’ve never had someone like me for me and I don’t know how to tell if what I feel for this guy, who is most definitely not Steve, is reciprocated.” Why are you still talking?!
“Calm down, kid,” Bucky’s hands on your shoulders cut you off from your rant. The smirk is gone from his face, replaced with a look that is slightly less grumpy looking than his normal face. “It’s only me, remember? I’m sure whoever this guy is, he likes you for who you are, kid.” He once again leans back against the couch.
Your scoff brings the smirk back to his face, which is now more annoying than pretty.
“You know what, I think I’m just going to go to bed.” As you go to get up from the couch, Bucky grabs your wrist and pulls you back next to him, much closer than you were before.
“Who is it, kid? I can help you, only if you tell me who it is.” It feels like he is staring into your soul, like he can see right through you and you hate it. Fear bubbles up inside of you.
“Why do you need to know who the guy is, huh? I need advice and you said you would help me.” He’s getting too close to the truth; if he keeps pressing the matter, he’s going to find out that it's him you like, and that will not end well. You can feel the heat coming off of his body just like his stare is heating your cheeks.
“Kid, just tell me who it is you like and I can help.” He leans forward in his seat and you can tell that he is getting pissed off. Maybe you're reading too much into the situation, but Bucky might be getting mad because he likes you? Impossible.
“Help how? Do you know who likes me?” Smooth 
“I can tell you if this guy, who isn’t Steve, likes you, I just need a name first, kid.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest, making it very clear that he is not happy with how the conversation is going.
“Wait! You do know if someone likes me!” You’re desperately clutching at straws to keep his attention off of who you like, knowing that it’s fruitless.
“Yeah, I do. But right now I don’t care because you still won’t tell me who you like.” Bastard! That stupid, pretty smirk is back and he knows he won.
“I’ll make you a deal, you tell me who already likes me, and I’ll tell you who I like.” 
“Deal.” Rolling his eyes, Bucky finally leans back and it feels like you can catch your breath again. “It’s Sam, he likes you, kid.” Bucky knows that he is lying through his teeth, but he is a great liar and this will get you to tell him who your crush is.
“Sam?” You can’t help the way your face falls or the disappointment in your voice. You knew it was a long shot, Bucky liking you that is, but he didn’t even bat an eyelash when telling you that Sam of all people liked you.
“Yep,” he pops the p. “Sammy boy likes you. Now, who do you like?” He can’t even pretend to care about throwing Sam under the bus or who he will now hate for the rest of time for taking his girl from him before he could make you his.
“Uh… it’s Sam. Yep…Sam. I like Sam, so this actually works out really great… thanks, Buck.” It sounds like a lie even to your own ears, let alone to Bucky’s.
“Come on, kid. Spit it out.” Somehow Bucky’s final braincells piece together your reaction. You like him. That is the only explanation as to why you won’t tell him who you like. “Kid, do you like me?”
You start to choke on your own spit and if you weren’t blushing before, you definitely are now. “Wh-wh-what? You? No!”
Bucky’s eyes light up just a fraction and his right hand cups your chin. “You like me, kid.” It’s not framed as a question, but rather a statement. Maybe it was the whiskey finally taking effect, but he tilts your head so you are looking directly at him and your breath hitches in your throat. “I like you, too.” It’s a whisper, but it pulls you out of your stupor.
You wheel back and jerk out of his grasp. “That’s not funny, asshole. Who said that I liked you?”
“Me.” Was his only response. “Didn’t you hear what I said, kid? I like you, too,” a chuckle left his lips.
“That is not funny, Buck. Don’t play with my feelings like that.” You don’t know why, but you feel tears begin to well up in your eyes. For a second, you thought that Bucky liked you back, but this was all some cruel joke. Of course Bucky was just messing with you.
“Hey, kid, look at me. Don’t cry.” The smirk on his face is gone, leaving only concern; this is worse, those pretty eyes looking at you with pity. “I wasn’t joking. I actually like you back, okay.” Guilt bubbles up in his chest when he sees tears fall down your cheeks. “Aw, sweets, you’re too pretty to cry.” He coos, wiping your tears with his thumbs.
“What did you just call me?” The pet name seems to bring you back to the moment. You’ve never heard him call anyone sweets, and the name made you feel special inside.
“Huh?” Now it is Bucky’s turn to be confused.
“You called me sweets, not kid.” You tilted your head, feeling your heart rate pick up.
“Well, it would be a little weird if I called you kid when I do this.” His face was only centimeters away; you could feel his breath on your lips. He was waiting for you to give the all clear, a sign that this was okay. You were the first one to make a move, closing the gap between you two. 
When your lips connected, you let out an involuntary moan; you’ve dreamed about kissing him and what he would taste like but nothing could compare to the real thing. He tasted of the whiskey he was sipping on and something distinctly Bucky that you couldn’t put your name on, but frankly you didn’t care when he was kissing you so good.
With his hands still on your jaw, he tilts your head to where he wants it, making you gasp. His tongue enters your mouth and now it’s his turn to moan. One of his hands falls down to your thigh and he pulls you into his lap, not breaking the kiss.
You were the first one to pull away, regrettingly, but you needed oxygen and as much as you wish you could breathe him in, it wasn’t possible to sustain life. You wrap your arms around his middle and bury yourself into his neck, and the arm around your thigh travels up to your waist, while his other hand goes to the back of your head.
“Hey, easy, sweets. I can barely breathe.” You can feel more than hear Bucky’s chuckle, but you only bury yourself deeper into his shoulder, feeling a sudden rush of emotions. Never in a million years did you think that Bucky would kiss you, or that you would be on his lap. “Are you okay, sweets? Come on, talk to me.” Bucky can feel how tense you are on top of him, and it makes him worry.
Once again, there are tears in your eyes. At this point, you don’t know if they ever went away, “I just never thought that you would like me, you know?” The hand on your head doesn’t try to pull you away, but rather massages where it lays.
“Well, I do, sweets, so you’re gonna have to get used to me. How about that?” You just nod into his shoulder and wiggle deeper into his embrace. Bucky lets out a low groan and the hand on your back drops down to your hip, holding you in place. “You’re gonna have to stop moving, sweets.” You can feel the hard bulge in his pants from you moving around, causing a giggle to leave your lips, the tears once again subsiding.
“Oh, you think this is funny, huh, kid?” He brings back the nickname just to tease you and you know it.
“Hey! I’m sitting on your dick right now, please don’t call me kid, Buck.” Bucky throws his head back and the most beautiful laugh leaves his mouth. He’s laughing so hard that you are slightly bouncing on his lap and your core hits the raised zipper of his pants. A whine leaves your lips while his laughter turns into a choked groan.
“Fuck, sweets, come here.” He pulls you back in for another kiss while he leans back into the couch. Involuntarily, your hips grind against his and he is swallowing your moans in his mouth.
You sit up a little and pull him up with you. Tugging at the bottom of his shirt causes him to break your kiss, “You want my shirt off, sweets?” You can only whine in response and tug on it again, but Bucky isn’t helping you take his shirt off until you speak.
“Please, Buck.” God you’re already out of breath and he’s only kissed you.
“That’s a good girl. See that wasn’t so hard was it?” Oh fuck. A high pitched moan leaves your throat at his praise. Bucky chuckles, he’s found your praise kink and he’s not going to let it go now.
He takes pity on you and takes his shirt off, but doesn’t give you time to ogle at his shirtless body before his hands are underneath your hoodie, warm palms running up and down your naked skin. “Can I take this off, pretty girl? Can I see my pretty baby, huh?” You nod your head so fast you make yourself slightly dizzy, but he makes no move to actually remove your top, waiting for you to speak.
“Yes, Bucky. I want you to take it off please.” A hum of approval leaves him as he takes your hoodie off.
“Fuck,” it comes out under his breath when he sees you in just your bra and pants. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. You know that? You know how pretty you are?” Fuck, you can’t do this. He’s saying the things you always wanted him to say to you, but now you don’t know how to handle it. He lays you down on the couch and you can feel the outline of his hard cock through both of your pants.
When his hand goes up you back to your bra, your brain goes into overdrive. “This isn’t just sex, right?” You need this to mean something to him too. It can’t just be sex; you can’t do just sex. It would break your heart.
Bucky chuckles a little before giving you a chaste kiss, clearly missing your desperation for it meaning something more. “Let me show you how much you mean to me, sweets? Let me make you feel good.” His hands are on your leggings, fingers in the waistband. 
“You won’t leave me after, right? You’ll stay with me?” God, are you crying again? This might be your only chance to be with him and you’re blowing it! The crack in your voice gets his attention and his hands leave your bottoms to cup your face once again, thumbs wiping your tears.
“Hey, sweets, look at me?” You meet his eyes; they are filled with a softness you’ve never seen from him before. “Of course I won’t leave you. I just got you, and now you’re going to be stuck with me for a very long time, okay, sweet girl? You’re mine and I’m yours.” He rests his forehead on yours after kissing all of your tears away.
“You’re mine?” 
“All yours, okay?” After you nod, he pulls you back up so you're sitting on his lap and holds you close to his chest. “How about we just calm down for a little bit, okay? I didn’t mean to push you too far, sweets.” He’s so perfect. How did you get him?
“No. I’m okay, it’s just that…well I don’t want you to leave me after you get what you want, Buck.” This is so unsexy; there is no way he is going to want to sleep with you now
“Look at me, sweets.” You look at him, “Good girl.” Fuck. “I want you. Not just your body. I want to take you out on dates and annoy all of our friends with how cute we look together. I want it all.” He’s looking into your eyes with such sincerity that it feels like you could break and all of your doubts leave your mind.
You grind your hips against his still hard cock, “Will you make love to me, Buck?” 
He groans lowly before gaining his composure again, “Are you sure, sweet girl? We don’t have to do anything, you know that?” But you want to, so bad.
“I know and I’m sure I want you.” He’s looking into your soul; he never wants to hurt you. “Please?” It’s the doe eyes that break him and he picks you up and carries you to his room like you weigh nothing.
“I’m gonna make love to you, sweet girl. If you want me to stop, just say the word, okay? But I promise it won’t change how I feel about you.” He is looking into the depths of your soul, making sure this is what you want; there is nothing you want more in this moment than Bucky finally loving you.
Instead of a verbal response, you wrap both your arms and legs around him so his whole body is on top of yours on his bed and you kiss him again. You are surrounded by everything Bucky; his room smells so good that you want to spend forever in it with him. 
Calloused palms slide up your back to meet the clasp on your bra and Bucky breaks the kiss, staring at your swollen lips before catching your eye, “Can I take this off, sweets?” Taking your bra off swiftly after he hears your breathly ‘yes,’ his hands find purchase on your ribs.
“Fuck,” his groan makes you attempt to close your legs to find some release, but his waist stops your legs from moving even an inch. “Your tits are absolutely gorgeous, you know that? God, sweets, do you feel how hard you make me? This is all for you.”
You arch your back, pushing your breasts further into his field of view, gasping when his right hand cups your breast, tweaking your nipple and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. 
“Please, touch me, Buck!” You already sound cock drunk and he hasn’t even done anything to you, but you can’t find it in you to care. 
Cocking his head to the side and chuckling, he whispers in your ear, “I am touching you, sweets.” That son of a bitch! “Where do you want me to touch you, huh?”
You grab his unoccupied hand and lead it down to your pants but he doesn’t budge, refusing to touch your clothed pussy. “Touch you where, sweet girl? I need words or I can’t please you.” 
Cheeks heating up, you finally give up, just wanting him to touch you, pleasure you, anything. “My pussy, Bucky! Touch my pussy!”
“Atta girl. I knew you could do it.” How does he know all the right things to say?
He leaves a trail of kisses from your neck, to your chest, down your belly, until he reaches the hem of your leggings; looking up at you, waiting for your permission, “Take my pants off, please.”
Another wave of slick goes straight to your core when he whispers, “Such a good girl, using her words,” as he takes your pants off, leaving your panties on your core. Shit, I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet in my life.
Bucky’s thumb goes up and down over your pussy, slightly pushing down over your entrance, making your panties that much wetter, then sliding his thumb up to your clit. Your thighs unconsciously tighten around his head and hips jerk up when he does it again, and again, and again.
Breathy moans and gasps leave your lips before he gently pushes your thighs back with a small chuckle, and pushes your panties to the side, getting his first glance at the pussy he has been dreaming about. 
“Such a pretty pussy to match the prettiest girl in the world, don’t you think?” He doesn’t wait for a response this time, instead his mouth latches onto your clit and the moan that leaves his mouth is almost louder than your own. 
He can’t bring himself to pull away for a single moment, rather speaking into your pussy, sending vibrations throughout your entire core. A small huff leaves his lips when your thighs wrap around his head again; he’s going to make sure you stay put right where you are so he can keep licking your pussy until he is satisfied. He laces both of his hands with yours when you reach down toward him, because you need to be able to ground yourself.
So lost in your own pleasure, you almost don’t notice that Bucky is grinding against the bed, desperate for any type of friction, dick being the hardest that it has ever been. He’s sure that he could blow his load at any moment, but he wants this to be good for you, needs it to be good for you, so he is holding back with all his might, but fuck if he can’t stop moving his hips he won’t make it inside of you. And the sounds that are coming out of your mouth are making it almost impossible for him to do that.
Your thighs clamp around his head somehow even harder when you feel your orgasm approaching, effectively suffocating Bucky. He doesn’t care; he can breathe when you come on his tongue. You don’t even have time to announce that you’re going to cum before the strongest orgasm of your life rips through you. Bucky’s muffled moans are even more distant over the blood rushing through your ears, eyes finding purchase in the back of your head, you don’t know if you went silent because the orgasm knocked all the wind out of your, or if you are going to get a knock on the door from the police because they think you’ve been murdered.
When Bucky comes back up for air, the whole of his lower face is covered with your slick, and that gorgeous smirk is back on his face. “Thank you, sweet girl. That was amazing.” Did he cum, too? Please don’t tell me I missed seeing his face when he cums.
Seeing your dilemma, Bucky chuckles, “Don’t worry, sweets, my cock is still rock hard for you. Although, I did almost cum watching you. You have no idea how pretty you look when you cum.” You’re too fucked out to even be embarassed at how easily he can read you, or his knowledge of how much you want his cock.
While you're still coming down, Bucky finishes taking off your panties and the rest of his clothes. The moment he pulls his jeans and boxers down and his cock springs up, you gasp. You’ve never seen a prettier cock in all of your life: thick and long with a vein that you want to spend hours licking goes from base to tip, flush head partially covered by his foreskin, heavy and full balls that you know wouldn’t even be able to fit in your mouth rest at his base.
Your eyes never leave his cock as he climbs back into bed, salivating at the way it bobs as he walks and the precum dripping from his tip. “Can I suck your cock, Bucky, please?” Damn, you’ve never begged to suck a cock in your life.
Moaning at the way it twitches at your begging, you reach out for it but Bucky stops you.
“Next time, sweet girl, promise. I need to be inside of you right now and I won’t last if I let you do that, okay, sweets?” You whine in disappointment but nod nonetheless. You groan and wiggle your hips when he is finally on top of you again and you feel his cock slide up and down your pussy.
“Can I have it, Bucky? Can I have your cock?” Bucky looks like he is about to blow a fuse as he grips the base of his dick to stop himself from cumming.
“Sweet girl, you’re gonna have to stop saying things like that if you want this to last.” He is lining up with your entrance and you immediately shut your mouth. There will be another time to be a brat and tease him, but right now you need his dick.
“I’m ready, Bucky, I want it.” Your breath catches in your throat when his tip slides in, for all the staring you did a few minutes ago, you vastly underestimated how fucking big his dick was and now it feels like you’re being spilt in two - in the best way.
“Shit! Sweets, you’re so -fuck- you’re so tight. Choking my dick so good, baby fuck. Best pussy I’ve ever had and I’m only halfway in.” He’s mouthing at your neck while you're grabbing onto anything you can.
“Please, Bucky, more! Fuck, I want it.” You feel like you could cum again just at the sheer stretch of his cock inside of you, his deep groans spurring you on. 
As he bottoms out inside of you, you feel the heavy weight of his balls against your ass, twitching wildly as he tries to stave off his own orgasm. “Oh god, you’re so fucking warm. Fuck, feels like I’m gonna blow before I even move. Shit!” Bucky is so pussy drunk he can’t even think straight, but fuck if you don’t love it. 
“Please move, Bucky, please, I need you to fuck me, please!” You weren’t fairing much better, cock drunk out of your mind.
Bucky is scrambling against the sheets, trying to be closer to you somehow, as if having his impossibly thick length inside of you wasn’t enough, he wraps your legs around his waist as he starts to rut into you.
He is barely pulling out of you, not that you would let him go very far anyway with how tightly your legs are wrapped around him. “Pussy is so fucking good! I just wanna stay here forever, sweets. You want that to, fuck, huh? You want me to stay in this little pussy?”
Clawing at his back, you were a babbling mess, crying out for him, never having been in so much pleasure before. “Yes, Bucky, I want that so bad, yes.” Tears were welling up in your eyes from the sheer amount of pleasure that you were receiving from Bucky. 
Rutting into you faster, his hand slid between your bodies and thumb rubbing your clit in fast circles, Bucky’s calm demeanor was gone, now he was begging for you to cum with him.
“Come on, sweets. I need -fuck- I need you to cum for me. I need to feel your little pussy cum on my cock.” His balls were slapping against your ass, making a vulgar sound, as they were covered in your slick that had trailed out of your pussy.
“Can feel you clenching around me, pretty girl.”
“Need you to cum first, please.”
“Want you to soak my cock.”
“Be my good girl and cum.”
Maybe it was the good girl, but the second orgasm that tore through your body was even better than the first and the clenching of your pussy sent Bucky over the end, into his own orgasm.
“Fuck, sweet girl, I’m gonna cum for you. I got so much fucking cum and it’s all for you. Shit, I’m cumming!” You felt his cock twitch once, twice, and balls pull up before his cum was coating the inside of your pussy.
After you both came down from your highs, Bucky slowly pulled out, catching the wince that left you at the emptiness of your cunt. “Sweet girl, I’m going to get a cloth to clean you with and some water, but I’ll be right back, okay?” Bucky wanted to make sure that you knew that he was coming back, that he wasn��t like all of those other assholes who didn’t treat you right.
Your faint ‘okay’ was the green light for Bucky to dash to the bathroom to clean himself up, get a rag for you, and then head to the kitchen to get a glass of water for you. He paid special attention when wiping you clean, not wanting to overstimulate you after having multiple orgasms.
He helped you sip your water before covering you both up and holding you close to his chest. Never in your life had you felt so safe and loved than you did at this moment, wrapped up in Bucky’s arms, confident that he would stay with you even after having sex with you. 
“You know that I love you, right, sweet girl? And I’m not going anywhere.” He whispered into your hair.
“I do now. And I love you, too, Buck.”
After a little while, you raise yourself on his chest a little so you can look into his eyes, “Hey, Buck?”
“Yeah, sweets?” No one has ever looked at me with so much love.
“Does Sam actually have a crush on me?” Bucky throws his head back into the pillows with an exaggerated groan while you try to muffle your giggles. For once, you actually have what you’ve always wanted.
@auntiegigi
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animeismyhappyplace · 2 months
Text
The Devil's Salvation
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Synopsis: Lucifer's heart is hurting due to the recent extermination. In an effort to help shift some of the pain Y/N, his assistant, attempts to distract him with her body.
Set around episode 1 of Hazbin Hotel.
Word Count: 5K (5,930)
Trigger warnings: 18+ only!!!
Boss/employee relationship, power imbalance, biting, marking, hickies, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, brief oral (m.recieving), sex on furniture, cowgirl, dick riding, possessive language, cursing, pet names (sweetheart, baby, sweets, dear), fluffy ending, some Dom/sub/switch undertones, descriptive sex scene, Lucifer is a total cutie, some very minimal angst directed at extermination day rather than the characters.
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The sky in Hell is dark and bleeding red as another extermination comes to its gruesome end. 
Lucifer is slumped over his desk with a sour expression on his face as he throws one of his rubber ducks across the room "another year, another fucking blood bath" he grumbles to himself as he hears footsteps coming to his invention room. 
He hears a few knocks as a soft voice breaks the silence "it's over Lucifer, can I come in?" His assistant Y/N asks quietly.
Lucifer's red eyes light up as his mood perks up "of course dear! Come in, come in~" He leans back in his chair, letting loose a small yawn scrunching his nose as he does.
He glances at the rubber duck laying on the ground, and then back at the woman in front of him "what brings you to my office?.." His voice remains soothing as he finally looks at her properly for the first time that day, she's wearing a red dress shirt with a matching striped skirt pretty similar to what he is wearing ‘cute, very cute’ he can't help but think with a small smile. Her dog-like ears flat against her head as she bows to him.
"I wanted to check on you sir, I know extermination days are taxing on your health" she frowns as she takes in his appearance, his hat has been placed on his desk, his staff nowhere to be seen and his eyes have large bags under them.
Lucifer gives out a soft chuckle, before putting one hand to his temple "yes, yes thank you for your concern, my dear. You are right, these kinds of days can be exhausting to say the least" 
He glances at her noticing her ears still firmly pinned to her head so he tries to offer a small smile but it doesn't seem to work very well, she can see right through him. 
"It's reassuring to know that someone cares about me in this shit hole, you're truly the best assistant I could ask for”
A small blush settles on her cheeks and her ears perk up a little as she shakes her head dismissively "it's my job to worry about you sir" she chuckles softly almost under her breath.
"As per usual for this time of year I've cleared your schedule so you have no commitments for the rest of the day" she's smiling as she speaks but Lucifer notices her brow is furrowed ever so slightly.
Lucifer raises his eyebrow, taking notice of the sour look on her face. 
“Your concern is appreciated, and I’m grateful to have you by my side"
He pushes himself forward in his rather large chair and sighs.
"It’s nice that you cleared my schedule for me... I need a rest” 
His tone remains soft with a subtle hint of affection, but his attention is captured by your worried expression.
"What’s wrong?" He asks in a soft tone.
Her eyes slide off to the side focusing on one of the mountains of rubber ducks, she sighs as she collects her thoughts before looking back at his scarlett eyes.
"The head exterminator, Adam, has made contact sir and he wants to meet. Wouldn't tell me why though" her brow furrows again more deeply this time as anxiety sinks into her heart.
Lucifer frowns as he processes the information.
"Adam made contact?" He takes a moment to collect his thoughts. 
"And... he didn't tell you why?" Lucifer's voice has a slight hint of suspicion, and his expression turns more serious as Y/N shakes her head solemnly 
"No, he refused to answer my questions, just said "arrange the meeting bitch" and flew off with the others" her nose crinkles in disgust as she thinks back to the arsehole angel.
Lucifer grunts in frustration as he stands up from his chair.
"That man sure is arrogant... but this is rather suspicious” Lucifer strokes his chin, pondering this sudden event.
"I'll take care of it, no need for you to worry~" Lucifer offers a reassuring smile and a gentle pat to her head, although the frown on his face shows a hint of his frustration.
Y/N starts to speak but thinks better of it as she watches Lucifer pull out his phone while walking into the hallway. 
He comes back a few minutes later and explains that his daughter Charlie will be taking charge of the meeting so she can pitch her hotel to the angels. Y/N nods in understanding as he speaks.
"I'm sure she'll do brilliantly sir" Y/N smiles and Lucifer can't help but smile back at the young assistant, and chuckles at her words.
"Charlie will do great," Lucifer agrees "She's certainly more than capable of handling the meeting"
As Lucifer talks, he starts to pace around the room, his gaze distant as he thinks to himself.
The young woman tilts her head to the side slightly as she watches her boss "what's on your mind sir?" She presses gently, taking note he seems more lost in thought than usual.
Lucifer's eyes trail back to his assistant.
"I'm just thinking, my dear. It's strange that the head exterminator would make contact as opposed to showing up at the doors" Lucifer's brow was still in a puzzled expression. 
Without much detail he continues to speak, sounding more concerned "It's.. not a great sign.. something's wrong, I feel it in my bones..”
Y/N walks towards Lucifer and takes a hold of the cuff of his pearly white jacket gently.
"Please stop worrying sir, I'm sure Charlie will do fabulously at this meeting and you'll know soon enough what Adam's plans are. Please sit and rest" 
She pleads as she gently guides him back to his chair. Lucifer's eyebrows raise at her sudden action, but his eyes warmth and comfort as she urges him to sit back down.
"You're right.. I'm just letting my depression get the better of me HA HA” he tries to fake a laugh but it's hopeless, and walks back to his chair, sitting down.
There is a long stretch of silence, but he gives her a charming smile, offering one last glimpse of comfort.
“Thank you, my dear”
"of course sir, let me get you something to drink" 
She bows as she leaves his study to find something to calm his nerves 
Lucifer leans back into his seat, the tension slowly receding as he waits for her to come back. He glances at the rubber duck still lying on the floor, and rolls his eyes with a small chuckle. Despite his efforts to stay calm, he couldn't help but feel a bit anxious about this whole predicament.
Y/N returns quickly with some tea "this should help soothe some of your worries sir" she smiles as she pours him a cup of the warm beverage. Lucifer nods, his smile growing as he sees the cup in her hands. 
"Thank you, my dear. You know, you're very perceptive of my needs.. I'm quite lucky to have you as my assistant" he says as he takes the cup from you.
She smiles brightly while nodding "I should hope so Lucifer sir, I've been working for you pretty much since I arrived in Hell" 
Y/N clears away some of the papers scattered across his desk, keeping them safely to the side so as to not potentially spill tea on them.
Lucifer chuckles as he takes small sips of the tea, his eyes taking in the details of her movements as she clears up his desk.
"Indeed you have, you've been the best assistant I could ask for.." 
Lucifer's tone is much warmer now, and he takes a big sip before continuing.
"Although I suppose I've never asked, how long have you been here in Hell in total?”
"Only a few years now but I guess it's not so bad down here, especially since I get to work for you" she smiles as she holds the tray the tea was on to her chest waiting for him to finish up. Lucifer's cheeks heat up as smiles, taking a few more sips and finishing up the tea.
"Well... I suppose I can't argue with that, especially when you say it so sweetly" Lucifer chuckles, brushing his hand through his golden hair.
"It's good that you feel right at home here. I'll admit, Hell can be a bit... overwhelming when you first get here”
Y/N clears away his used cup and places it off to the side as she's cleaning up she notices him walking up to a large window, looking down at the carnage left behind by the angels with a deep frown set into his usually delicate features.
"Sir?" She asks softly as she sees his shoulders tense up.
Lucifer pauses at the window, taking in the destruction as the bodies litter the streets.
His mood seems to have shifted dramatically from his previous lightheartedness, as his expression becomes very serious.
He glances back at Y/N, taking notice of her concerned glances.
"Hm?..." Lucifer says, his tone sounding rather calm "oh, it's nothing. Just.. observing, is all.”
Y/N sighs sadly before joining him at the window to see what he's looking at and when she does, she understands.
She can see the devastation left behind, sinners dead bodies piling up, the streets ablaze as overlords fight for new unclaimed territories. She can see the weight it leaves on his heart.
"This was never what I wanted you know all those years ago" he sighs but doesn't look at her, even with his attention fixed outside she can see the hurt swirling in his usually shining eyes. 
Y/N lifts her hand tentatively to Lucifer's back in an effort to comfort him, even if it's only for a moment.
Lucifer turns his focus from the carnage back to the younger woman, and is caught slightly off guard by her sudden and kind gesture.
Lucifer’s red eyes are full of sorrow as he looks back at her, the weight of his burden clearly settling on his soul.
As her hand rests upon his back, he finds himself calming down, almost as if just her touch was enough to soothe some of his suffering.
"you can't blame yourself sir, you couldn't have known what would happen" ears twitching as she frowns at his pained expression, rubbing slow circles against his back.
Lucifer sighs sharply, leaning his back against her hand as she calms him with soft circular motions.
"You're right, I couldn't.. but I still do..." Lucifer mutters, his voice sounding much softer now.
There is a brief moment of silence, where he appears to just absorb the comforting warmth coming from her touch.
"That's a lot of weight to carry... even for a king" her hand stills on his back for a moment as she pulls away moving back towards his desk away from the window.
"I have a feeling things are going to change, very soon sir. Thanks you and your family" Y/N smiles as she rests against the edge of his desk. 
Lucifer’s eyes dart over to her as she steps back and leans on his desk, his smile returning slightly at her optimistic words. 
"Yes, I have that feeling too...." 
Lucifer mutters thoughtfully.
"But regardless of what comes, I hope that you will always be here by my side, helping me carry whatever weight the future holds..." Lucifer says, his voice sounding slightly solemn yet also reassuring.
"You're my king Lucifer, I will be here as long as you desire" as silence slips between them Y/N clears her throat before speaking again "I'd say you use a distraction right about now sir" 
A sweet and genuine smile touches Lucifer's lips as he raises an eyebrow.
"A distraction?.." Lucifer's voice is 
 playful as the gears start turning in his head.
She hums sweetly as her fingers drum anxiously against Lucifer's desk her eyes on his carpeted flooring "well Lilith has been gone for years now, you've been alone all that time" 
Her eyes flit up to look at him "you must have been so lonely sir, you should look into fixing that" she watches for any changes to his body language with a barely hidden smirk. 
Lucifer takes a moment to digest her words letting out a quiet chuckle, the corner of his lip twitching upwards.
"You're being rather bold my dear..." 
Lucifer smiles softly while shaking his head with his eyebrows raised and a blush spreads across his pale cheeks 
"Ah.. well.. I've not been entirely alone now, have I?..." His tone is playful, but she can feel the flirtatious nature behind them. 
She bites her lip while smiling "you're right Lucifer, I've been right here" 
She bats her eyelashes at him acting as sweetly as she can whilst pushing herself just off the edge of his large desk "and I'll always be right by your side sir" 
As she bats her eyelashes at him he chuckles, a blush deepening his cheeks slightly.
There's a brief pause as his eyes scan over her body, taking notice of the cute way she's leaning on his desk. He speaks coyly back at her.
"Is that so?"
"Tell me dear, if I... needed someone to lean against.. would you be ready?”
Y/N leans forward to grasp his hand gently so he could pull away at any time "haven't I already shown I'm ready to stay by your side?" 
She looks into his eyes as she tugs on his hand prompting him to come closer "I know how much Lilith leaving hurt you but I wouldn't do that ever" 
Lucifer's heart skips a beat as he watches her take his hand, tugging him inches closer.
It takes him a moment, but Lucifer gently pulls her closer, until she is right in front of him, their bodies almost touching.
His breath catches as his eyes stare back at her doe like expression, he can't quite believe how cute she looks right now, her nose almost touching his own. Lucifer pauses, and glances down at her lips. His eyes flicker from her lips, and back to her eyes.
"You really won't, will you..?" Lucifer mutters quietly, sounding a bit breathless.
"The sweetest sinner in all of Hell" he almost whispers with a smile as his hands cup her face, his thumbs rubbing little circles against her cheeks 
His tenderness shocks her though it really shouldn't for how long she's known him and she closes her eyes for a moment, enjoying their closeness and his tender touches 
Her hands sneak up to his red striped dress shirt, pulling him ever closer bridging the gap between their bodies. Her lips stop just short of his own, so close she can feel the warmth of his breath. 
She looks into his eyes and waits for him to decide if he really wants this, wants her.
Lucifer's heart almost stops as she pulls him close, his mind spinning rapidly making him dizzy as he realises how long it's been since he's felt affection like this. His eyes fixate on her cherry red lips, watching as she gets so close he can feel her body heat. He hesitates for a moment as he worries what will happen if things go wrong but he leans forward needing to take this risk.
Lucifer closes his eyes and presses his lips to hers. He kisses her so tenderly as though she'll break the second he lets go, and his hands grip her body tightly, pulling her even closer.
Y/N's hands grip Lucifer's waist as his hands move to pull her face closer, deepening their kiss.
Her chest is heaving slightly as he kisses her with more passion than she's ever felt, leaving her breathless.
Her cheeks are a deep shade of pink when Lucifer finally pulls away, she giggles as he bites his lip red irises watching her intently 
Lucifer's breath is still staggered as he pulls away from her lips, red-faced and blushing. He pulls himself away from her, as a light-hearted grin spreads across his cheeks.
His eyes glance down to her lips, and his brows raise.
"It seems my assistant has gotten a bit too familiar with me~..." Lucifer teases with a playful smirk.
She gasps pushing at his chest playfully while giggling at his teasing words "who in Hell could blame me when my boss looks like this" 
She bites her lip as she intertwines their fingers pulling him towards the lavish chair seated behind his desk, she gestures for him to sit as her hungry eyes rake down his form.
Lucifer chuckles as he allows her to pull him towards the chair. As he sits down comfortably, he notices the way she's looking at him and he smiles, his golden eyebrows raising up in a flirtatious manner. He gives her a playful wink.
"You're a real handful, my dear.. I hope you know that?”
She smirks as she climbs into his lap, licking her lips as he lets out a surprised grunt "oh I'm counting on it sir" 
A sly smile forms on Lucifer's face as he glances up at her.
He lets out a little laugh, amused at her boldness. His hands trail softly up and down her sides, his fingers tracing little circles against her skin as he bites his lip muttering with a grin "fuck sweetheart you're going to be the death of me”
Y/N shifts slightly once in his lap, wiggling her hips as she gets comfortable, looping her hands around his neck as she steals his lips in another kiss.
Her tongue licks over his bottom lip as he hungrily accepts her affections. 
Lucifer's body immediately responds to her touch, his entire frame heating up as she kisses and nibbles softly at his lip.
His fingers tighten around her hips, pulling her closer, and his other hand trails her body from her hips all the way to her neck.
Lucifer pulls back ever so slightly, his breath staggered, feeling as if he might melt from the heat rising between them.
"You're lucky I don't get visitors often sweetheart, who knows what vicious rumors would be spread if you were caught in my lap" Lucifer mumbles in between kisses.
Y/N's kisses trail across Lucifers lips to his rosy cheeks then down to his jaw as she starts nibbling at the delicate flesh "I'm sure you'd find a way to silence them"
Hearing Lucifer's sinful groans, her hips start to gently rock back and forth as her tongue laps at his neck, sucking harshly in the places that make his groans deepen.
Lucifer's breath catches in his throat as his back arches slightly with every gentle kiss. Just the feel of her breathing heavily against his neck drives him crazy, the heat rushing through his body and spreading like a fever.
He bites his lip to prevent himself from letting out any more noises, his head lolling back slightly as she sucks on his neck. A breathy groan escapes him without notice, as his breathing grows more rapid, his cheeks redder. 
"f-fuck I need..." He whines as his hands fly out to grip steady onto her hips, grinding the growing tent in his pants up against her.
Her skirt starts to ride up as his body jolts from the stimulation, her breaths leaving her throat in hiccups as she feels him poking at her inner thighs. 
"L-Luci~" she moans breathlessly, her hips stuttering as he rubs against her clothed core.
Lucifer's jaw muscles tighten as he grips her body tighter, almost going mad listening to her sweet sounds. 
Her voice sounds like a soothing melody to his ears, and he can't hold himself back any longer. He begins to kiss her throat, and even licks the skin between her neck and shoulder biting softly.
Y/N whines as he teases her body, lolling her head back to give him more space to mark her neck and shoulder. 
Lucifer pulls back once he's satisfied with his work eyeing the claim he's laid on her body. Her breath catches in her throat as he lifts her from his lap onto his desk.
"My dear, I dare say you've never looked more divine than you do right now" he bites his lip as she's laid out before him, her chest heaving and her legs spread as he slots himself between her thighs. 
Y/N runs her fingertips along the edge of her skirt before she starts to slowly and teasingly tug it upwards revealing more of her body to her king.
Lucifer watches her slowly and teasingly tug your skirt up with interest. His eyes trailing up her body, taking in every inch of her skin as she reveals more of herself to his greedy eyes.
A breathy groan escapes him at the sight as he grips the meat of her thighs tightly. Spreading her legs out as he licks his lips at the damp patch on her underwear a low whimper escapes his throat "you'll surely drive me mad, sweetheart" 
He utters softly, as a blush spreads across his cheeks. His tongue slipped out to wet his lips. Her cheeks heat up at his sultry words making her whine in embarrassment and hunger "Luci please" 
Her hands reach out to grasp at this forearms, gripping tightly as she tries to wiggle her hips looking for some attention to be paid to her heated skin.
Lucifer's mouth twitches at the pure desperation in her eyes, his hands trailing up and down her legs before moving back to the top of her thighs to her thighs. He gives them both a quick squeeze, drawing her attention back towards him.
His soft whispers carry a hint of playful teasing. 
"Pretty desperate for my attention huh?" Lucifer asks in a low voice as his red eyes watch her reactions carefully.
She nods helplessly as her eyes fog up with unshed tears, his teasing touches pure torture as his fingers leave heat and desire everywhere they touch.
"N-need you to do something, anything... Please baby" she pleads as her arms reach up above her head to grasp at the edge of his desk. 
Lucifer bites his lip, and he can't help just how much her words excite him... her hunger is so apparent, so raw, and the way she begs for what she wants does nothing to help the problem in his pants.
He leans in closer, his eyes darting to her neck and jaw before he quickly dips his head down, his mouth placing a short peck of a kiss just above her collarbone. 
His kisses continue down her body until he reaches the band of her panties. He gives her one firm look, as if to say ‘tell me know if you need to stop’, but she shakes her head and lifts her hips, wiggling them teasingly making him smirk.
"Who knew my soft spoken assistant would be so greedy?" he mutters with a smile as his thumb pushes into the wet spot on her panties making her gasp at the sudden stimulation. Enjoying her reaction he moves his thumb up slightly to rub against her clothed clit, grinning widely when her thighs tremble.
"This is what you wanted right sweetheart? wanted my fingers to play with your cute little pussy?" 
Her head nods aggressively as she bites down on her tongue to stifle the wanton moans waiting to escape. 
She can't help but rock her hips forward against his hand wanting more, needing more as her skin feels like it's been set alight with passion and desire. 
Lucifer chuckles softly as he watches her squirm under his touch, licking his lips as he feels her slick coat his thumb. 
"Ah ah ah, you need to use your big girl words if you want something from me" he grins wickedly.
"Need your fingers Luci" she pouts cutely when he raises his eyebrow at her.
A smirk spreads across his pink cheeks as he pulls her panties down her legs and throws them off to the side, sucking in a breath as he admires her naked body, wetness and need shining across her skin "Yeah? where do you need me hmm?" 
A stray tear streaks down her cheeks as she whines "n-need your fingers in my pussy, fuck please Luci! I-I need-" 
Lucifer grins wickedly as he watches her squirm under his gaze, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the tip of her nose then to her cheek and he even places a soft kiss on her fluffy ears before straightening back up. He smirks at her desperation, sliding his fingers into her dripping pussy and grinning widely as she lets out a shaky moan.
Y/N's head lolls back and her eyes roll as she finally gets the stimulation she needed, whines tumbling out of her strained throat as her hands turn white from her gripping so hard at his desk "f-fuckk..." 
Lucifer watches her closely, his fingers curling inside her wet heat, relishing in the way she squirms and begs for more. 
He leans down once more, his lips brushing against her neck as he murmurs, "Talk to me sweetheart... Tell me how good I make you feel?" 
His fingers curl upwards his thumb swipes across her clit making her almost cry as the pleasure wrecks through her shaking body.
Her thighs shake as sweat starts to pool against her forehead, her hips bucking wildly at the onslaught of pleasure Lucifer is giving her "I- you- fuuck so fucking good, love your t-thick fingers Luci”
Lucifer chuckles softly, pleased by her response as he starts to move his fingers in and out of her wet pussy faster, his thumb continuing to tease her clit with feather-light touches. 
He can't help but lean down to place another kiss on her collarbone. His teeth graze along the soft skin, eliciting a shiver from his lover.
Y/N's sweet moans and the wet squelches of her abused pussy fill the quiet room, a strangled cry leaves her chapped lips as his fingers bump a spongy spot in her tight walls, he almost stops his movements as the realisation hits making him chuckle "Theree it is, that's the spot yeah sweetheart?"
She rocks her hips in time with the thrusts of his fingers as her moans pitch up in volume, she can't help but babble as the pleasure builds "there.... fuck d-don stop" another desperate whine "gonna cum... fuck! fuck! FUCK!”
Lucifer smirks as he watches her lose control, her body arching off the desk in search of more pleasure. His fingers curled deeper inside her, finding that spot again and again as he relished in the power he held over her. 
Her eyes roll back as her walls clamp down on his fingers, his thumb rubbing tight circles over her throbbing clit until her high slowly ends. 
Her breathing is erratic as her high tingles over her limbs before slowly ebbing away leaving her body limp, when her eyes can fully focus she sees Lucifer slurping up the wetness coating his fingers.
The sight alone is so sinful it sends fresh waves of need flooding through her veins as her hands reach out for him.
Lucifer grins mischievously, watching her every move. He licks his fingers clean with a soft moan, savoring the taste of her on his tongue. 
"You're irresistible," he murmurs, his voice rough with need.
She gently guides Lucifer down to sit in the plush chair "your turn baby~" 
Y/N licks her lips as she sinks to her knees before him, running her hands over his strong thighs. Slowly moving her way up until her fingers hit his pristine white belt, she discards it off to the side of the room as she works on pulling down his suit pants, smiling sinfully as she notices the wet spot soaking through his boxers.
Lucifer groans softly as he feels her hands on him, his cock twitching in anticipation. He watches her with hooded eyes, a mix of desire and possession in their depths. Her thumb rubs over the wet spot making his hips jump at the sudden pleasure.
"You like making me cum on your fingers this much Luci?" she grins as she flicks her tongue over the wetness moaning softly at the first taste of his pre.
"I love seeing you so submissive, it drives me wild," he answers, his voice deep and husky. He watches her hungrily, his eyes locked on the sight of her teasing his cock “and those cute little moans you let out? Truly sinful baby” 
She hums to herself as she pulls the suffocating materiel down his legs joining the growing pile on the floor, her eyes widening as she takes in the size of his cock for the first time mumbling more to herself than to him "such a pretty cock”
His eyes squeeze shut tightly as her delicate fingers reach out to explore his body, her pink tongue licks up the length of his cock so suddenly it makes Lucifer suck in a breath as he groans "definitely going to be the death of me sweetheart... f-fuck~" 
His cute reaction makes her smile and raises her confidence. This time she flattens her tongue, rolling it over his slit taking the time to lick up all the precum drooling over his cock head, moaning as it coats her tongue and bottom lip. 
Lucifer's breath hitches at the sensation, his hips jerking forward almost involuntarily. He bites his lip, trying to keep control as she lavishes him with her attention "such a good fucking girl f'me" 
His soft grunts and groans raise in volume as she starts to suck on his swollen heads, flicking her tongue over his slit as her hands pump his length "f-feels too good baby... You gotta stop or I'll cum too quick, wanna cum in your pretty little pussy"
She giggles but concedes giving him one last long lick up the length of his cock following the thick veins she finds before she allows him to lift her onto his lap. 
Once settled she gives him a deep passionate kiss tasting herself on his tongue as his hand dips between their bodies to line himself up, rubbing his cock over her clit once then twice before finally sinking into her tight pussy. 
Lucifer's hands grasp her hips tightly as he feels himself sinking into her wet heat, his fingers digging into her soft skin. He groans deeply into their kiss, his tongue dancing with hers to muffle their sounds of pleasure.
He holds her hips tightly in place as he fills her up fully "y'gotta stay still for me sweets or I'll finish right now 'kay?" 
She nods as she sucks his bottom lip into her mouth, nibbling on it as she adjusts to his massive size. 
Her body shakes as his thumb rubs on her swollen clit making broken moans slip from her throat as he suddenly thrusts his hips upwards making them both groan " 'kay you can move now, you gonna ride me pretty girl?" 
Her arms loop around his neck as she starts to slowly lift up then sinking back down so he's filling her to the hilt. After a few slow movements her desperation increases, finding a place to steady both of her feet she starts to bounce on his cock, the angle making his head hit her sweet spot with every thrust. 
Sweat starts to coat both of their half naked bodies, pain starting to set into her limbs but the pleasure he's giving her is too good for her to break, her head falls back and his hands grip her waist tight helping her to rock up and down at a steady rhythm.
Lucifer's hands tighten on her waist, one sliding down to the small of her back while the other grips the flesh above her ass cheek as she rides him. 
He groans deeply, watching as his cock sinks into her tight walls with every movement and rocking his hips in time with hers "love this tight little pussy~ could have been fucking you like this for years if I'd known how well you take me sweetheart" 
Y/N preens at his praise, doubting her efforts. Her throat constricts with every moan but if feels so good she couldn't care less "need you to keep fucking me Luci, love your cock sooo much feels too good”
Lucifer's eyes glow a dark red with lust as he looks up at her, one of his hands sliding up to grab her breasts, pinching and rolling the nipples between his fingers the other dripping lower to play with her clit, drilling his hips up into her dripping pussy "I'm not stopping until you cum on my cock sweetheart~”
The pleasure he's giving her is too much for her spent body, her thighs start to shake as the coil tightening in her stomach threatens to snap "yes yes yes Luci baby shit!~ m'close so fucking close" her walls start to calm down on his cock.
"Fuck" he grunts, his thrusts becoming jerkier and harder as he feels her start to tighten around him "Come on sweetheart, let go~ need to feel you cum on my cock~" 
He gives her two more powerful thrusts, mumbling words of encouragement in her ear nibbling on her earlobe.
"that's it pretty~ look how your walls are clamping down on me, I'm fucking you so good your body won't let me pull out" 
Gasps fall from her lips like the most unholy prayers as her body stills the pleasure flooding wildly through her veins, shaky moans tumbling from her lips as she cries his name over and over until she can barely speak any longer. 
Lucifer's thrusts match hers, pounding into her as he feels her walls start to spasm around him. He groans deeply, his own pleasure starting to build as he watches her cum hard on his cock.
He can't help but whine loudly as her orgasm triggers his own, his body shaking as he dumps his load into her quivering walls crying her name as he holds her tight to his body.
Lucifer places soft kisses on each spot of her skin he can reach as she comes down from the high, she returns his affections leaving purple and red blotches down his neck and the along his jaw wanting to show all of Hell her handy work, possessiveness shining in her eyes as she watches his blissed out face.
Lucifer smiles softly at her, his eyes filled with pure adoration. He nuzzles against her neck, leaving a trail of kisses down to her collarbone.
He hums lowly in his throat, his fingers tracing patterns on her skin as he leans in to nip at her neck gently. 
"So fucking beautiful," he murmurs, slowly pulling out of her body and readjusting so they're more comfortable. 
"You're truly mine, aren't you sweetheart?" He whispers, his voice husky with tiredness. 
Her fingers reach upt o cup his face gently as she looks into his eyes "for as long as you'll have me, sir" she winks cheekily at him placing kisses along his jaw hiding her heated cheeks.
Lucifer chuckles softly, his fingers trailing down her sides to soothe her sensitive skin. 
"That's my girl," he breathes out before leaning in to capture her lips in a slow deep kiss, lifting her body into his arms to carry her to his bedroom. 
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Beautiful banner by: @/saradika
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yellowharrington · 18 days
Text
wildflower and barley -- joel miller x reader
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pairing + fandom: joel miller x reader, the last of us (hbo)
word count: 5k+ oops
warnings/notes: smut smut smut!!! minors DNI, 18+!!! no outbreak!au. age gap (it's implied reader is in her 20s while joel is 45) and mentions of joel being kinda perverted and liking it lol. drinking (both reader and joel, not excessive), use of a dating app like tinder but not specified, unprotected PIV w creampie and oral (m+f receiving), do not fuck your tinder hookups without protection i'm just horny and gross. excessive use of darlin' as a nickname. implied that reader likes men. she/her pronouns used, afab!reader (with mentions of body parts), no use of y/n. if i missed anything lmk!
a/n: heavily inspired by this post by @yesttoheaven about joel's tinder profile!! it has been rotting my brain since i saw it which literally inspired me to write my first fic in the tlou fandom ever so please be gentle with me. i imagined show!joel because i've never played the game so do with that what you will. please reblog and leave comments if u enjoy it <3333
divider by @cafekitsune
summary: after deciding to change your age range on a dating app in hope of a change of scenery, you stumble across joel miller.
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No one likes using dating apps.
Swiping left, left, left mindlessly at troves of men holding fish, showing off their trucks, or with deer heads mounted to the walls behind their selfies holding guns.
This was Texas, after all.
Having just moved here, it was a little shocking, to say the least. But you were getting used to the “eligible” bachelors that were your age generally looking and acting the same. When you did end up finding someone of interest, you were usually turned off pretty quickly by whatever shitty pick-up line they had chosen. Or, your personal favourite, “wanna fuck?”
No thanks.
It was an idyllic summer evening, the hot stuffy air of Austin flowing in through your windows. You laid in bed, propped up on the pillows against your headboard and sorting through the faces that adorned your screen. No one particularly interesting, as usual, and every profile was starting to melt together to look the same.
You sighed, looking into your settings, adjusting and increasing different metrics to hopefully change the pool just enough for there to be someone new or interesting. 
Age range: 25-30
Your eyebrow cocked as you looked onto the screen, pulling the slider more to the right experimentally. No one was here to see you, and even though it was slightly embarassing to be interested in older men, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t pique your interest to imagine it. Even just to try, and see, if they ever really did grow up. You imagined it was wishful thinking, but increased the range anyways.
Age range: 35-45
Feeling the need to throw your phone across the room after doing that, you placed it face down under your pillow and slid out of bed. No use in swiping through them now, and you were getting tired of looking. A pint of Ben and Jerry’s and a new episode of your favourite show was waiting for you downstairs.
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾
Joel Miller does not use dating apps.
He barely knows how to send a text on his phone, let alone navigate the world of online women. Not to say he didn’t explore the options, so to speak, but they usually were not ones that were single, his age, and in his area. Unless the ads on those sites were real, that is.
“It’s starting to get sad,” Sarah had remarked at breakfast, when they got on the topic, and Joel feigned hurt. Hand over his heart, he dropped his fork onto the plate. “It’s not sad, Jesus. I’m just busy, is all.”
“Busy not gettin’ busy,” Sarah remarked, and Joel’s eyes widened. “Hey now! None of that.”
A blush spread up his cheeks and ears as they continued to eat breakfast in slightly awkward silence, before Joel took his plate to the sink. “Okay, off to school, you. And no more conversations about my dating life. Ever.”
Sarah laughed as she finished off the last of the juice in her glass. “I’m just saying, dad. You can if you want to. Might be nice for you.”
Joel planted a soft kiss to her head before she bounded out the door, rolling his eyes and calling out a ‘love you’ before she closed the door swiftly behind her. Joel stared at his cell phone on the table. Maybe it would be nice.
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾
The following evening, you were a little too excited to see the dating app specimens you had acquired. Not sure what to expect, really, and you went in with no expectations. It’s not like they’d magically all be tall, dark, and handsome, but some variety never killed anybody.
Paul, 41
Daddy, but not yours. No libs allowed. 6’ because that matters.
You sighed deeply. Some things never change. 
After swiping through much of what you were used to, a profile managed to catch your eye among the sea of disappointment.
Joel, 45
Just a Southern gentleman trying this out for the first time. Contractor of over 10 years. I love my daughter, BBQ, strong coffee, and sleeping in. 
Now that was the most interesting thing you’d seen in a while.
He didn’t look a day over 40. His eyes creased at the corners when he smiled wide in his photos. He looked tan, a product of the Texas heat and his job, you thought. His features were accompanied by salt-and-pepper facial hair and messy curls that looked soft and pliable. His photos showed off his physique incredibly, tight wash-worn t-shirts pulling over his arms and shoulders, looking big, broad. He was no doubt the most handsome man you’d seen on an app, maybe ever.
When you swiped right before you could think too hard, you were surprised to see the green “Match!” Flash across your screen.
Your fingers ghosted over the keyboard on your phone, thinking of a witty thing to say, probably for too long.
Your phone buzzed as you saw a notification pop up.
Joel has sent you a message.
Hey, darlin’. How are ya?
You felt your face warm at the sweet message, when was the last time someone had called you darlin’? Ever?
Hey cowboy. I’m great, how are you?
He was certainly an eager responder, taking only a few seconds to reply. You found yourself smiling down at your phone screen.
Cowboy… I like that. I’m better now that I’m talking to you.
Oh, Joel, who told you to say that? 😂
No good?
Not bad. 6/10. 
Only 6/10? I’ll work on it. I like to think I’m better in person. 
I would love to find out. 
You found yourself emboldened by how easy the conversation was flowing. Joel was certainly easy to talk to, easier than the other matches you had going for you, and infinitely more handsome.
Oh, would you? Alright. I’d love to take you to dinner sometime. If you don’t mind being seen with an old man such as myself in public. Or meeting a stranger from the internet.
He’s a very handsome stranger. I would love to go to dinner with you. Know any good spots? I’m new around here.
There’s a great barbecue spot in downtown Austin. If you’d prefer something fancier, let me know.
I love bbq. Just tell me where and when, cowboy.
Tomorrow, 7pm ok?
You sent him your phone number in the message. Fuck it.
Sounds great. Text me the address, I’ll be there. :)
Joel’s reply didn’t come. Instead, a text appeared at the top of your screen with an unknown number. 
It’s Joel. This the right number?
Yup. You found me.
Great. Talk tomorrow sweetheart. Looking forward to it. :)
He texted you the address of the restaurant, right before you opened the contact card, saving his name as “cowboy ♡”.
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾
Cowboy. Cowboy. Cowboy. It was playing over in his head like a broken fuckin’ record. 
Joel was positively freaking out about this date.
Sarah had managed to secure a sleepover at her friend’s place, so the house would be empty for the night. He had been busying himself with cleaning the entirety of the house, even taking the time to mow the grass before work and vacuum the family room. He can’t remember the last time he vacuumed anywhere.
Would she even make it back here? How does this work? Will she want to sleep over or hang out on the couch or should he be making a dessert for after?
His mind was brought out of it’s craze by Sarah jumping down the stairs. She plopped her bag down on the freshly wiped countertop.
“Careful,” he warned, putting a hand up. “I just cleaned that off.”
“I can tell. It smells like the cleaning aisle threw up in here.”
He smirked before patting her head with his hand, as she aggressively smoothed out her hair. “Dad! Don’t!”
“When do you wanna go to Ellie’s?” He asked, more gaging how long he has left to get ready than actually asking.
“Probably soon. Why? Tryna get rid of me?” she poked her dad in the side, but when she flinched away instead, a large smile spread across her face. He was tense.
“What’s your deal?” Joel hated the way she knew him so well sometimes.
“Nothing.“
“Are you going on a date?”
Silence fell over the kitchen between the two of them, as Joel’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “How did you know?”
“Oh my god, you actually took my advice,” Sarah laughed, watching her dad’s face burn red with embarrassment. “Just don’t do anything weird on communal surfaces, please.”
Joel shook his head at her suggestion, already becoming annoyed with the whole prospect. He was so nervous, about what to wear, how to act, what the expectation was… let alone, what would happen if they made it back to his place at all. 
Although, when he was able to shake his nerves for a second, he was just really fucking excited.
“Wear those dark jeans, and that green shirt you wore to Tommy’s last week. Looks good on you.” Sarah smiled as she put her arms around Joel’s middle, while his worries melted away with her touch. “She’ll love you, I promise.”
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾
It had been such a long time since you’d been on a proper date, you were starting to lose your mind at the simple process of deciding what to wear.
Clothes were strewn across every surface of your apartment, shoes matching with jeans that matched with cardigans, tops that matched with belts and jackets.
It’s 87 degrees at 5 o’clock, idiot. You’re not wearing a jacket. Relax.
Exhausted of picking out outfits and making decisions, you collapsed on your couch and took a look at your options. You landed on an easy sundress, putting the rest of your clothes back in their respective drawers, and pulling out all of the products you were expecting to use to get ready.
You scrolled through your phone aimlessly as a notification bubble popped up on the screen.
We still on for tonight darlin’? Or did you change your mind?
No worries if you did. I respect that.
You let out a cackle at the message, thinking about how he must look right now. Was he nervous? Scared? Was he just looking for a controversially young fuck?
You weren’t… completely against that.
Didn’t change my mind, wouldn’t in a million years :)
Meet you there. Can’t wait to see you.
His eagerness to meet up would’ve been a red flag if it were any other run of the mill guy, but something about Joel felt special. There didn’t seem to be any funny business with him; too sincere to try anything other than just a good old fashioned date.
You too, cowboy.
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾
When Joel showed up at the restaurant, he clenched a small bouquet of pink peonies in his right hand and checked his watch obsessively. The minutes ticked away, as he kept a high alert for anyone who could be his potential date. He knew what you looked like, of course, but this being his first time doing anything of this sort is making him hyperaware of anything going awry.
When he does lay eyes on you, his whole gaze softens. A pink sundress, hair pristinely styled and a bounce in your step that reminded him of summer. You looked like an angel, the sunset behind you painting the sky tangerine, which reflected off of the shine against your supple skin. So young, beautiful, it was taking his breath away.
“Joel?”
Your voice matched your sweet demeanour, and he was taken out of his waking daydream.
“Hi,” is all he can say, letting his breath out as he relaxed. “Yes, hi, sorry. I’m Joel.”
“Hi,” you laugh back, eyes darting to the flowers in his hand. They matched your dress.
“These are for you,” he gets the hint, extending his arm out, and you can see the veins bulging in his forearm. He looked so much stronger in person, it was making your knees go weak.
“Thank you, wow,” you held them up to your nose to smell the sweet aroma. “I love peonies.”
“Me too,” he smiled, showing off a string of pearly white teeth, that contrasted with the pink of his lips and the even tan of his skin.
“Shall we?” He extended his arm to you for you to grab onto, and you got to feel the warmth of his skin for yourself. Your hand wrapped around his forearm as he opened the door of the restaurant for you, leading you inside and catching a glimpse of the backs of your thighs as you walked in front of him.
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾
When you were finally sitting, the conversation flowed easily. He was truly a Southern gentleman, like he had said. It wasn’t normal for you to open up so quickly, but Joel was so easy going and smart, he asked the right questions and knew when to listen. He knew how to listen, a warm gaze and a nod along, asking follow up questions to your answers and easily getting to know you.
You asked about his daughter, his family, his work. He was happy to tell you. 
“So, what’s a man like you doing being single in this city?” You take a sip of the wine in the glass in front of you, burgundy staining your bottom lip. 
He takes a bite of the food in front of him, a napkin pressing to his lips quickly after. “Been busy,” he started to say, honey brown eyes meeting yours for a second. His gaze sent an electrifying pulse down your spine.
“And, well, when Sarah’s mom left there was a ton to do,” he says it nonchalantly, as if that should be something normal to happen. “House, work, school, she keeps my hands full. Hasn’t been a lot of time.” His syrupy drawl is pulling you in, you’re enticed by the way he speaks to you. So easy, warm, soft. You wonder what his hands feel like on your body, lips pressed to your neck, torso pressed against yours.
“Sorry, that’s a lot of information for a first date,” he laughs to cover the awkwardness, and quietly curses himself for going into so much detail about his precarious family situation and basically admitting to you that he hasn’t fucked anything other than his hand in the last 5 or so years.
“No, it’s okay,” you slide your hand across the table, palm up, urging him to slot his hand into it. He takes it, easily, enveloping yours. His fingers find the pulse point on your wrist. You let your eyes drift up to his, drinking in the way his chest fills out the shirt he chose.
“What’s your story?” He asks earnestly, giving your hand a squeeze. “Can’t imagine there isn’t a long line of people outside waiting to take my place, darlin’.”
You blush furiously at the nickname, and let your eyes meet his once again. “You have no idea the… mess that is out there,” the wine is calling your name to take another sip at the mere thought, but you refrain. “Certainly not too many I am interested in.”
“So, is that why you’re on a date with an old man on a beautiful summer night in Austin?”
You could tell Joel, in a twisted way, liked that you were younger than him. It made him feel younger by admission, that you’d want to spend time with him. 
“You’re not that much older,” you laugh, not even believing it yourself as the words left your lips. “And I like to try new things. Don’t you like trying new things, sometimes?”
It was his turn to let his face go red at your insinuation. If only you knew how ‘new’ this really was for him, how much he was pushed out of his comfort zone right now.
You didn’t notice. 
A little more polite small talk and exchanging of stories was all you could take before the tension was becoming too much. After another glass of wine and a shared plate of sky-high chocolate cake for dessert, you were enjoying his company and could tell he was enjoying yours all the same. When you met his gaze again, hands still intertwined, you could tell there was a question on the tip of his tongue.
“Would you want to…“ - a nervous pause, with a halo of lust - “come back to mine for a nightcap? I’ve got an empty house this evening.”
You couldn’t help but smirk, knowing in your heart that Joel must’ve made arrangements for his family not to be home in anticipation. He had to have planned for you, known in his heart you’d say yes.
“I’d love that.”
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾
Joel’s home is unmistakably him. It smells like a pine candle that sits near the front door and a faint aroma of laundry detergent. There’s photos everywhere, him and his daughter, his brother’s family. Big windows were letting in the twinkling lights of the city outside, the inky sky making them look brighter against its canvas.
“You have a beautiful home,” you say, although it seems a little formal for the situation. What else do you say to a grown-up in their house?
“Thank you,” he takes a bottle of whiskey from the bar cart and pours two rock glasses, handing you one. He flicks on a lamp, ambient light filling the room and painting his skin amber orange, as he joins your side by his kitchen table.
“I did a lot of the construction myself, the decorations are my daughter.” He points lazily to the trinkets on the shelves and photos on the wall. “I don’t really have a good eye for that type of stuff.” 
You take a sip from the drink and it coats your throat, burning down as you suppress a cough at the taste. You nod along as he explains the design choices he made in the home, and you play along, knowing it’s likely out of anxiety.
“What about upstairs?”
Your eyes are innocent as they meet his, although you understand the implication you’re making whole-heartedly. He puts his glass down on the kitchen table and you follow his lead, his strong hand around your wrist as he leads you up the stairs wordlessly.
“It’s not anything,” - he clears his throat - “special,” he shows you around the second floor, finishing at the door of his bedroom that has been left slightly ajar. 
You step in quietly, leading him inside as you take in the bedroom. Neatly folded clothes, a made bed that looks well loved. Blue sheets and fluffy pillows, big bay windows that let the moonlight in.
“I think it’s nice,” you say simply, letting yourself turn around to meet his broad frame. He looks down at you slightly, eyes meeting yours as your hand drops from his grasp and snakes around his neck. His hands come up the sides of your dress, pulling it up slightly, but landing on your waist.
“Is this okay?” He asks tentatively in the dark of the room, his lips so close to yours already you can practically taste the whiskey on his lips for yourself. You answer him by pressing your tentative lips to his, slotting them together easily.
Joel’s grip on your waist tightens momentarily as he takes you in, pulling you as close as he possibly can. He can smell the perfume on your neck and the wine on your lips from earlier, and it’s making his need for you increase tenfold. 
You pull him into you as you stumble back to let your knees hit his mattress, sitting down and letting your hands come to his belt buckle. Your hands came to undo it as he pulled his t-shirt off to throw onto the floor beside him, bending down to help you pull the dress over your shoulders to meet his t-shirt.
You made quick work of his jeans, pushing them to the ground and looking up at him with a keen glance. You could see the breath making his belly rise and fall, anticipating your touch on him any second.
When your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, his breath hitched and his head rolled back. He was already half-hard only from kissing you, so a few pumps made him easily ready for your mouth.
“You’re so big,” is all you can think to say, head spinning from the sheer size of him right in front of your face. Your mouth watered at the way his hand palmed through your hair, pulling you in closer to him for some relief.
It was intoxicating to him, the way your mouth fit around his cock. Such a beautiful sight to see, your head licking and sucking at his tip, gathering spit there to lubricate him. His knees were going weak as he watched intently, no thought able to cross his mind, other than maybe how long it had been since he’d had anyone to do this with. He was going to have to pace himself if it was all like this.
Your mouth constrained around the length of him, taking him deeper and deeper with every bob of your head. Filthy sounds were filling the room now, of your eager mouth pulling him in as best you could. His hand stayed steady at the back of your head, not pushing, just softly pressed there for support. His other hand found your shoulder, pushing down your bra strap.
“God, darlin’,” was all he could choke out, using his hand to pull you off of him. Your hand lazily stroked him as you looked up at him, spit collecting at the corners of your mouth. “I’m not gonna last long if you keep doin’ that,” his laugh eased some of the tension in the room, as you took your other hand and wiped the spit away.
He leaned down, pressing a fervent kiss to your lips before using his own hands to unclasp your bra and let your breasts free. His lips traveled to the side of your neck, before he was kneeled down between your legs, sucking your nipple into his mouth. He lapped at you, all consuming, as his hand came up to grasp the other breast that wasn’t being serviced. He moaned at the noises you were making, lewd whines into the night air that only encouraged him. 
His lips made their way down your body to your clothed centre, your back against his soft sheets. You looked down at him intently, watching as he pulled your panties down your legs and immediately delved into your pussy with broad strokes of his tongue.
Your body jerked upwards at the contact, hand fisting the sheet beside you as he lapped at you, like a man starved. His expert tongue found your clit easily, sucking and licking at you for what felt like hours. You thought about his heavy cock between his legs, begging to be touched, hard as ever as he licked at you desperately.
“Joel,” you whined out, feeling your hand reach down to grab at his curls and push him deeper into you. That only made him moan, one hand lazily fisting his cock as the other came up to dip a finger into you, allowing you to see stars when you screwed your eyes shut.
His fingers were so large, pressed into your core as you fucked yourself on them and his tongue in tandem. He was groaning and grunting, and you hoped his neighbours couldn’t see into the window at the desperate filth that was going on in his bedroom.
“Fuck, Joel, please,” you begged, but he had no mercy, and your orgasm was creeping up on you. He was ready to watch you come undone, pushing a second finger into you and furiously sucking on your clit. His other hand left his own pleasure and wrapped around your breast, pressing and playing with the hard nub there, pinching to provide a little bit of sting to it. It was sending you into another dimension.
“Come for me, sweetheart,” and his voice is gravely and debauched, enough to send you into your first orgasm, chanting his name and pulling on his hair. He was happily licking at you, fingers still pressing in and out as to not mess up the rhythm, as you rode out your orgasm against his face. 
When you started to come down, he finally detached himself from you before standing up between your legs and pressing his broad palms to your thighs. He stayed there for a moment, cock still hard and heavy between his legs as you gazed up at him, out of breath from his work.
“You’re really good at that,” was all you could think to say, head clouded with arousal. You moved up on the bed a little, opening your legs and pressing your knees apart to show your pussy to him again.
“Please fuck me, Joel,” you breathe out, letting your hand find your own clit to rub it teasingly for him. It was still so sensitive, but the way he was looking down at you, eyes dark and stormy with need, you could almost come again just from that.
He put a knee down on the bed and crawled on top of you, his lips finding yours once again as your hands found his face. You held him there, savouring the kiss as his tongue crashed against yours, all warmth and spit and the taste of you. His hand found your breast and continued to play with your nipples, softly, coaxing more moans into his mouth from yours.
He leaned back and slipped his cock inside of you, filling you up immediately and making you gasp. He groaned into the side of your neck, tonguing the side of your ear and kissing you feverishly as he pumped in and out of you.
Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him impossibly close, your moans filling the room as he rocked in and out of you. He kissed your jaw and chest, before reaching down between your bodies and pressing his thick finger to your clit again, using the wetness there to draw circles around your sensitive nub.
“So pretty,” he smiles into your neck, your hand on the back of his, playing with the now-sweaty strands of hair on the nape. “So pretty for me, taking my cock,” the dirty talking is welcome as he continues to bring you closer to a second orgasm, your breath hitching once again.
“Come inside of me,” you say it like a whisper, a secret in the stillness of the room, and Joel is unsure he even heard you correctly.
“Are you sure?” He says it not accusingly, but in a way that conveys he feels like he just won the lottery.
“Yes, please, fill me up.”
You can see the way his eyes darken more, shifting so he’s on his knees and using your body to fuck himself on his thick cock. His hand continued to play with your clit, bringing you so close to your orgasm that tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. His cheeks were getting hot as he thrusted in and out furiously, and you could almost see the stress melt off of his face as he came close to his own undoing.
The white-hot feeling washes over you once again, eyes shutting before you’re back on your elbows and watching intently. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire as his thrusts become sloppy, your name pouring out of his lips like a prayer. You’re clenching around him and letting him ride out his high alongside you, slowing after his hot cum coats your walls and leaves you full of him.
He collapses on top of you, cock softening inside as you both catch your breath together. Your chests are sticky with sweat as you breathe, taking in the smell of him, and the feel of his warmth on your body.
He pulls himself from you and flops beside you, still taking a moment to admire you. You look over at him, a lazy smile on your face as your hand reaches out to caress the skin of his chest. He takes the time to run his fingertips up your arms and back as you lay there in silence together, just soaking in the moment in a post-sex glow.
“I guess I should get going,” you say after a few beats, sitting up to grab your dress off the floor. You cringe at the thought of throwing your underwear on and leaving, this being just another random hookup for you that never lead to anything. Joel was sweet.
A confused look spreads across his features and his brows knit together, before sitting up next to you at the edge of the bed.
“I mean, I don’t know how these things usually go,” he laughs, as his hand finds your lower back. “But you don’t gotta run outta here like a scared animal or somethin’.”
You look up at him again, unsure of what to do next. In your, albeit limited, experience with dating app hookups, you were expected to leave pretty much right after.
“Oh, um,” you look around the room at the soft worn-in sheets and the TV across from Joel’s bed. You take a look at him again, your eyes meeting his to match his gaze, where you can tell he’s mentally begging that you’ll stay the night.
“I mean, if you don’t mind, I’d be happy to stay.” Joel smiled lopsidedly and let his hand rub soothing circles at your lower back. 
“I’ll make it worth your while,” he laughs, stepping over to go into the bathroom and warm up a cloth for the mess spilling out from between your legs. “I wouldn’t mind wakin’ up and doing all that again tomorrow.”
You laugh and lay back onto his bed as he presses the warm cloth to your pussy, his lips once again finding yours to pull you in for a sweet kiss. 
You nod, sliding between the comfortable sheets as Joel runs downstairs to grab your abandoned drinks as well as a couple of bottles of ice cold water. He slips into the sheets next to you, not bothering to throw on any pajamas (not that you were complaining), and settling in beside you. After a few gulps of water, you nestled into his chest and let your hand find his tummy, resting on it as you listened to the even pattern of his breath.
“We should do this again. Like, after tomorrow morning.” you say quietly as you’re drifting in and out of sleep. His fingertips continues to slide across your arm and give you goosebumps as you snuggled closer into him, hearing a laugh exhale out of his nose and feeling a kiss press to the top of your head. 
In his sleepy, deep southern drawl, he replies. “Don’t have to ask me twice, darlin’.”
1K notes · View notes
hintsofhoney · 11 days
Text
Ladies With Experience
Paring(s): Dean Winchester x F!Reader
Summary: When Dean makes an off-handed comment about "preferring ladies with experience", you try (and fail) to not let it get under your skin. You're a virgin, but you've done just about everything else, and when you talk to Dean about it, he offers to be your first. He's your best friend, and you've been in love with him forever... who are you to deny him?
Tags: smut, first time, virgin!reader, dom/sub dynamics, dom!dean, p in v, oral (female receiving), spanking, fingering, not-so-innocent reader
Word Count: 5k
A/N: As always, thank you to my loves @wayward-dreamer and @makeadealwithdean for beta-ing. Would be nowhere without you two 🥰
You can also read me on Ao3!
DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
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“Anyways, let’s say you’re right, fine. Who would want virgins?”
You know Sam didn’t mean it like that , and you felt stupid for letting it bother you. For letting this case bother you.
“You got me,” Dean replied with a shrug. “I prefer ladies with experience.” 
And there it was, like a punch straight to the gut. You hated that it hurt you as much as it did. So what, you’ve never had sex. But you’ve done almost everything else. You knew what you liked and what you didn't. You’ve been around the block a few times with the various sex toys in your nightstand drawer. It’s not like you weren’t experienced at all . But that didn’t make Dean’s words hurt any less. You swallowed down the burger and fries from lunch that were threatening to come up, before standing up from your seat at the small motel room table. 
The brothers looked at you, eyebrows raised.
“I — bathroom,” you managed, before quickly making your way there, slamming the door shut behind you. 
Staring at your reflection in the dirty bathroom mirror, you let the tears fall. Silently, you wiped them away as Dean’s words echoed in your head, and you hated that you loved him. Hated that you’d never be ballsy enough to admit it to him, especially now.
Something like five minutes passed and you knew you didn’t have long before one of the boys — likely Sam — would come knocking to check on you. You flushed the unused toilet so they wouldn’t suspect anything and turned on the faucet, splashing your tear-soaked face with cold water before using a hand towel to wipe it dry. When you emerged, the guys were packing up their duffels.
“Did you find them?” you asked, hopeful.
Dean checked his gun, before flipping the safety on and stuffing it in the back waistband of his jeans. 
“I sure as hell hope so, ‘cause if I’m about to crawl through the goddamn sewers for nothing —”
“They’re down there, Dean,” Sam replied, giving him a pointed look. He turned his attention to you, and if he had noticed anything off, he hadn’t let his face show it. “You coming?”
You grabbed your gun off the dresser and holstered it in reply.
Six hours later, the three of you were sweaty, panting, and splattered in blood after a close fight with dragons in the sewers. Thankfully, you hadn’t had to wade in any actual sewage. You hadn’t said a word to either brother since you had gone to the bathroom six hours ago, and to keep them from growing suspicious of your sudden silence, you opted to take a nap in the backseat of the Impala on the way back to the motel. 
You stirred awake as Dean pulled into the parking lot, barely conscious enough to catch the end of the brothers’ conversation.
“I’ll get her,” Dean said. 
Sam nodded and got out of the car, gently closing the passenger side door before heading inside. 
You rubbed your eyes, blinking away the sleep in them as Dean’s face came into focus. He was looking at you over his shoulder, one arm resting on the top of the front bench seat. 
“Mornin’, sunshine.”
It took a moment for the feeling you had been filled with prior to your nap to come back to you, his words from earlier echoing in your head. I prefer ladies with experience . You shot him a cold glare.
“Alright. What’d I do?” he asked, turning in his seat to better angle himself towards you. 
The question caught you off guard.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You haven’t said a word since we left for that hunt, Y/N.”
“How do you know Sam didn’t do something?”
He replied with a knowing look.
You stared at your hands, clasped together in your lap, and muttered, “It’s nothing. Stupid.”
“C’mon, talk to me,” he urged.
You hated this. How easy he was to talk to. How you had always been able to tell him what was on your mind.
But not this . You couldn’t tell him this. 
You shook your head. 
“Hey,” he said softly, shifting in his seat. He was fully turned around now, reaching out to tilt your chin up, forcing you to look at those green eyes. “Talk to me,” he repeated, no room for argument in his words.
“I can’t,” you whispered. You wanted to throw up. He was your best friend, and you were utterly, irrevocably, head-over-heels in love with him. He preferred girls with experience, and you had none. Not in the way that it mattered. And he had known that, thanks to a late-night stake-out game of Never Have I Ever . 
His jaw clenched. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”
You briefly met his gaze. You couldn’t hold it for long. 
“Was it something I said?” he prodded. 
You stared at the buttons of his open flannel, your eyes quickly darting up to meet his in silent confirmation. 
He sighed, pulling his hand away from your face and folding his arms on top of the backseat, resting his chin on his forearm.
“Do I at least get a hint?”
“Dean, I —”
“C’mon, Y/N. You’ve never not told me anything.”
“Why are you pushing this?”
“Because I can’t stand not talking to you.”
Your heart leaped at that confession, however innocent it might have been. 
“I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?”
“Because I’m making you. You would have silent treatmented me into next week.”
You didn’t respond.
He sighed again, defeated. “Y/N, c’mon. Please? Whatever I said, I’m sorry. I’m sure I didn’t mean it.”
“You didn’t mean that you ‘prefer girls with experience’?” you retorted quite sassily. The question tumbled out before you even had time to think of the implication that came with asking it. 
Dean opened and closed his mouth like a damn fish. 
“Thought so.” You began to move to make your way out of the car, when Dean reached out and grabbed your wrist.
“No,” he finally said. “I didn’t mean it.”
“It’s okay if you do. I told you, it was a dumb thing to be upset about.”
“No, it’s not. I didn’t stop to think about how this case might have been affecting you. You know I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you, right?” 
You swallowed, nodded. His hand felt like fire around your wrist.
“But for what it’s worth, I wasn’t serious. I don’t prefer anyone one way or the other. Sex is sex. If anyone’s willing to have it with me, I consider myself lucky.”
“Romantic,” you quipped.
A smile tugged at his lips. “I could show you, y’know.”
You almost threw up right there in the backseat. Your eyes grew wide.
“What?” you croaked.
“Well, if you’re worried about not having any experience… I just mean I’d be happy to, y’know. Show you the ropes.”
“… Of sex?” Really, you thought it was cute that he had this misconception of you. You knew about the ropes. You’d just never been tied up with them. 
“Of whatever you want.”
“You think I want to have sex with you?” It came out harsher than you meant it to, like part of you still thought you could hide the fact that you were in love with him. Like if you just joked it off it would go away, and you wouldn’t have to cross this line with him, even though you so badly wanted to. But you had to protect yourself, your heart. 
You didn’t miss the flash of hurt in his eyes.
“No, that’s not what I —”
You suddenly felt the need to clarify your question.
“No, I — I didn’t mean it like that either.”
Dean’s face morphed into one of confusion. “…So you do want to have sex with me?”
Your cheeks flushed red, and your throat bobbed. “Uh…”
“Forget it, stupid question, you don’t have to an—” 
“Yeah,” you answered, your voice barely above a whisper. Fuck it. Who were you to hold yourself back from the one thing you’ve been wanting for years? You cleared your throat. “Yeah, I really, really do.”
Dean’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Seriously?”
“Oh, cut the shit, Dean. Like you’re surprised. Everyone wants to have sex with you.”
He scoffed. “ Everyone , Y/N, really?”
“There are literally smutty fanfictions written about you,” you replied, reaching into your back pocket for your phone, dead set on proving your point. 
“Gross. And Becky doesn’t count as everyone.”
“Actually, Becky only writes for Sam.”
You realized what you said at the same time he did, and he eyed you suspiciously.
“Why do you know that?”
God dammit. “I don’t. I mean — I — like, she obviously loves Sam. So, like, she wouldn’t write porn about you. Obviously.”
“Uh huh…” There was an uncomfortable silence for a beat or three. And then, “How much smut have you read about me?”
Your face felt like it had just been rinsed with fucking lava, and you knew it probably looked as red as it, too. 
“None!” you exclaimed, way too quickly. 
Dean smirked. “You do really wanna have sex with me,” he remarked, like he couldn’t believe it.
“Trust me, the urge is fading by the second.”
His grin disappeared almost instantly. “Would it help if I told you that I think about fucking you all the time, too?”
“Well, I don’t think about it all the —”
“Y/N.” He said your name like a warning, and the tone of his voice settled right in your core. 
“Yeah,” you squeaked. “Yeah, that helps.”
“Good,” he smirked, before grabbing his phone from beside him. 
“Uh… What are you doing?” You watched as he scrolled for a second, pressing a button before putting the phone to his ear.
“Telling Sammy to beat it.”
Your eyes grew wide. “What!?” you whisper-yelled. “No! Just — we can just do it back here!”
He gave you a pointed look. “I’m not taking your virginity in the backseat of my car, Y/N.”
“Why not!?”
“Because we’re not sixteen, for one. And for two… I wanna make it special.” He rushed the last bit out, like he was embarrassed to say it. And he should be. You cringed as you heard it. 
“Oh my God,” you began.
“Shut up.”
“You did not just say that.”
“Shut up. Sam, answer your phone, God dammit!”
“I have done, like, almost everything else, you know. In the backseats of many, many cars. You don’t need to make it special for me, Deano,” you teased. 
“For the last time, shut your mouth, or I’m gonna shut it for you,” he said, the look he gave letting you know he wasn’t in the mood to play. No, he wanted to fuck you. Beyond that, he wanted to dominate you. And you were more than happy to submit.
You might have been a virgin physically, but mentally? Mentally, you’d probably give Dean a run for his money. 
Sam didn’t answer. Naturally. He was probably in the shower, but you were kind of grateful because as much as you wanted Dean, you didn’t want to make Sam uncomfortable. Or worse, give him any reason to give you the talk . Because he totally would. After trying his brother two more times, Dean decided it would be better to just get a room of your own, and you were much happier with that decision. 
You watched as he unlocked the door, pushing it open and stepping aside, gesturing for you to go ahead. 
“Ladies first.”
“You mean you’re not gonna carry me over the threshold?” you joked. “Thought you wanted to make this special .”
He gave you an unamused look, and you shot back a sarcastic closed-mouth smile before you were being swept off of your feet and over his shoulder faster than you could process.
“Dean!” you squealed, as he carried you through the doorway, kicking the door shut behind him before practically throwing you onto the bed.
He was hovering over you seconds later, his face a few inches from yours, and the mood shifted from playful to serious.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.
You nodded, your fingers coming up to play with the collar of his flannel.
“If I tell you something, you promise you won’t make fun of me?” you questioned, your eyes glued to the plaid pattern on his shirt.
“Promise.”
“I was kinda… holding out for you.” You drew your eyes up to meet his.
“Seriously?” he asked, half laughing. You could tell it wasn’t because he thought it was funny. It was because he couldn’t believe it.
You swallowed nervously, nodding again as you stared into those green eyes, and you hoped that this meant as much to him as it did to you. Something told you it did.
“I wasn’t kidding, you know,” he said.
You tilted your head in question.
“About making it special for you. I know it’s like, the grossest thing I could have possibly said but, you deserve so much better than me, and so if —”
“There’s no one better for me, you idiot.” And you almost told him everything. That you’ve been in love with him ever since you met one summer at Bobby’s, back when you were just kids. That everything felt like it led up to this moment. That you wanted him to fuck you and make love to you all at once. That you didn’t want this to be the only time he did. But instead, you grabbed his face in your hands and pulled him towards you, your lips meeting in a kiss that felt like it could have powered an entire country’s electric grid. 
He deepened it, and the two of you were nothing but tongues and teeth and lips — it wasn’t sexy. It was hungry. Starved, more like. Like he had been thinking about kissing you just as long as you had been thinking about him. 
You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling his hips down towards your denim-covered core, down until you felt the hardness underneath his jeans pressed up against the spot where you needed him most, down until you couldn’t help but grind against it. He moaned as he kissed you, so you did it again. And again. And again. And —
“You need to stop that.” It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a command. You noticed that your arms were above your head, his hands pinning your wrists against the mattress. You don’t know when that happened, but you weren’t complaining. In fact, it spurred you on. 
You smiled mischievously and rutted against him once more. 
“What’re you gonna do about it, Winchester?”
He dropped his forehead to yours, steadying his breaths.
“I can fuck you like it’s your first time, or I can fuck you how I actually want to.”
“And how’s that?”
He took a shaky breath, like he was actually having a hard time controlling himself. You felt a sense of pride shoot through you at that.
“Like the fucking brat you are.”
You almost came from that alone. 
Wanna know some common misconceptions about virgins? That they don’t have kinks. That they don’t watch porn. That they don’t have a plethora of sex toys  in their nightstand. That they sit and crochet in their convent dorm room all day. Sure, you were years past the age when girls typically lose their virginity, but you were no saint. In fact, you enjoyed being quite the opposite. And you enjoyed being put in your place. 
“Do your worst.”
It was like something in him snapped. His eyes were lust-blown and hungry and you didn’t miss the way his jaw ticked, and then he was undressing you so fast that you could’ve been part of a quick change act. He muttered something about a light system as he took off your clothes, and you nodded in a way that let him know that you already knew how all of that worked. 
When you were down to just a black lace bra and panties, he paused as his fingers hooked under your waistband. He stared at you, his expression serious, and you knew that he was going to give you one more warning. One more opportunity to say, “Actually, I’d like to have a totally normal, non-kinky, first time experience, please.” But that wasn’t what you wanted. 
“You sure you know what you’re asking for?”
You rolled your eyes. “I trust you. Put me in my goddamn place, Winchester. You’ve only been wanting to do it for the past two hours.”
“Oh, I’ve been waiting to do it for a lot longer than that, sweetheart.”
“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, yeah,” he replied, huffing a small laugh before pulling off your panties in one swift motion. His hands came to rest on your bare thighs as he locked his eyes with yours. “Any hard limits?”
You shook your head. “I trust you. I mean, like, don’t pee on me or —”
“Not gonna happen. But… most everything else?”
“Dean,” you began, looking at him pointedly, “I trust you. If it helps, I’ve used like, toys on myself before. And I don’t mean just a vibrator, I mean like… well, you get the gist.”
“So I don’t have to go easy on you, is what you’re saying?”
“Put me in my place,” you repeated.
“Alright,” he replied, his hands gripping the underside of your thighs as he roughly pushed them apart, “but just so we’re clear, that’s the last order you’ll be giving tonight.”
Your throat bobbed and you nodded. “Yes, Sir.” 
You meant it as a joke, but it didn’t come out that way. No, the title came out in a way that made his jaw clench and his eyes darken and it stoked the fire raging in your core. 
Dean didn’t waste any more time talking after that, his tongue moving through your folds seconds later, drawing gasps and soft moans from your lips. You arched into him, your hands in his hair, silently begging for more. It wasn’t the first time a man had gone down on you, but it was the first time it felt like this . 
He pinned your hips down to the bed with one hand splayed over your abdomen and then his tongue was inside you and “eating you out” didn’t come close to describing his ministrations. He was devouring you like his life depended on it, like the sounds you were making were a goddamn Zeppelin song that he wasn’t anywhere near done listening to. And then he added a finger, and then another, and it didn’t matter how many times you had imagined him doing this while you had your own fingers inside you — nothing would have prepared you for how good the real thing felt.
“Oh — fuck,” you gasped, and he chuckled into your sex and you had to actively think about not coming on his face and ending this whole experience early. 
“You’re close,” he observed, flicking his tongue over your clit as he continued to pump his fingers in and out, and it was so fucking hot how he just knew that. It was like he had been fucking you for years, the way he knew your body, your tells.
You nodded. “Mmhm,” you confirmed, unable to form words with the way the coil in your abdomen was tightening. 
“Hold it,” he ordered.
Your eyes shot open, because it wasn’t the command you were expecting, and you tried to lift your head to shoot him a cold glare but you couldn’t. And he just kept pumping, flicking, licking, chuckling — fucking asshole.
“Mm — fuck — please!” you cried out.
“When you come tonight, it’s gonna be on my cock. So hold it.”
You didn’t think you could. You had played this game with yourself and your vibrator and your self-control was majorly lacking and God his mouth and fingers felt so fucking good and you were there, the coil wound so goddamn tight, it would take nothing for you to let it snap, and then — 
He stopped.
He pulled his mouth away from your core, his fingers out of your pussy, and you were writhing underneath him, because you had been right there and you needed him to be touching you again right the fuck now.
You whined.
He spanked your pussy. Not hard or anything, just enough to see if it was okay with you, and fuck, was it. 
“Stop whining,” he demanded. He positioned himself so he was hovering over you again, his face inches away from yours as he stared into your eyes. “Or I’ll give you something to whine about.”
You were curious as to what that something would be, but sensed that right now wouldn’t be the best time for that question. You nodded instead.
“Good girl.” He smiled when he said it, like he knew exactly what those two words would do to you. 
You squirmed underneath him, it had been too long since he’d last touched you. Too long being thirty seconds at most, but still. It had felt like hours.
“Has anyone ever told you,” he began, dipping his head to place a soft kiss on your collarbone, “that you are very,” another kiss to the other side, “very,” one more to the middle of your chest, “impatient?” He slowly pulled down the left cup of your bra, your breast spilling out of it. “Makes me wanna take my time.” 
His eyes stayed glued to yours as his head moved down to your hardened nipple, taking it into his mouth at a goddamn snail’s pace. You arched your back, and he let you this time, chuckling at how easy it was to make your body react. His other hand slipped underneath you, unclasping your bra in a way that reminded you that he had a lot of experience doing so, and you refused to water the seed of jealousy that had sprouted from the thought. It didn’t matter that he had done this a million times. All that mattered was that he was doing it now, with you. 
He pulled your bra off and threw it haphazardly over his shoulder, and you were suddenly very aware of the fact that you were completely naked, and he still had 87 fucking layers on, the outermost of which was still speckled with dragon blood, and it’s not that you were anywhere near clean, but you certainly didn’t want those clothes touching your bare skin.
“Dean?” you rasped, and he pulled away from your nipple to give you his full attention.
“You okay, sweetheart? Do you want to st—”
“No! God, no. It’s just —” you sighed, exasperated. This was dumb. You were going to stop him for this? Your eyes landed on a spot of blood on the shoulder of his flannel. Yes, yes you were, because that’s gross. “It’s just that your clothes are covered in monster blood and I’m like, totally naked, and I don’t want —”
He chuckled like you were the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. “I gotchya, baby.”
Baby. Baby ? You tried not to overthink the pet name as he climbed off the bed to take his clothes off, watching you the entire time. Sweetheart, you’d been called a million times. He called everyone sweetheart. But baby? Baby was his car, and no one else. Unless, that’s what you were to him now. His, and no one else’s. You filed the thought away under “Things to Think About After You Lost Your Virginity to Dean Winchester”.
He was in nothing but his boxers now, his cock already hard underneath them, and you bit your lip as he hooked his thumbs under the waistband and slid them off. And then, there he was, exactly like you’d imagined him but also better, because this was real and happening. You gaped at him, at his size. He wasn’t any bigger than the fake one you had in your nightstand, but that one was nine inches and you could never fit it all the way in. He was perfect. All of him. 
“You okay?” he asked again, crawling back onto the bed.
“Mhm,” you managed, gulping.
He was on top of you again, his forearm holding up his weight as his free hand came to grab your thigh, hooking it over his hip and leaning down to kiss you. You could feel him against your core, his cock moving between your folds as he moved his hips, teasing you with it. 
“Dean,” you breathed.
“Hm?”
“I want…” you couldn’t find it in yourself to finish your request.
“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered.
You decided you liked “baby” better. 
“Please.”
“I thought you wanted me to put you in your place?”
You shook your head. “N-next time. Just, please .”
His eyebrows shot up, and you realized what you had said. 
“Next time, huh?” he asked, with that shit-eating grin of his. 
You rolled your eyes. He stopped moving, the smile wiped off his lips as he gripped you underneath your chin, somewhere between rough and gentle, the look on his face telling you he wasn’t messing around. 
“Roll your eyes at me again, and next time I’ll really do my worst.”
You bit back a smile, and you just knew he was thinking, Brat. But you asked your question anyway.
“But not this time?” There was a devilish gleam in your eyes. You were tempting him, and he knew it.
“Do you ever get tired of being such a brat?” 
“Dunno,” you shrugged. “Do you ever get tired of it?” 
His jaw tensed, and he forced a sardonic, closed-lip smile. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Hm. But not this time, right?”
“Y/N —” he warned.
“Afraid you’re gonna hurt me? Scare me? What’s really keeping you from putting me in my place… Sir?”
For the second time that night, something in him snapped. You yelped as he flipped you over and grabbed your hips, dragging them upwards so your ass was in the air and your chest was on the mattress. Four hits to your cheeks came down in quick succession, and when you reached your hand behind you to block them, it was quickly pinned to the small of your back. Three more hits followed, accompanied by a pathetic, “Ow!” from your lips.
“Color?” he questioned roughly.
“So fucking green,” you replied, dazed.
Seven more hits followed, each one harder than the last, and you didn’t think there was anything better than the sting you were feeling right now. There was nothing more you wanted than for him to mark you up like this.
“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he commented. Five more hits. 
“Oh, fuck!” you cried out at the last hit, one that felt like it reverberated through your entire body. One that definitely left a handprint behind. 
“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you?” It was a rhetorical question. He spanked you four more times. “You just wanted me to mark you up, is that it? Think of me every time you sit down for the next few days, hm?” Three more. 
“Mmph!” Your cries were muffled by the comforter. 
“Yeah, I can tell. Look at this fucking mess.” He dragged his fingers through your soaked folds. “Jesus Christ,” he said under his breath, and then he was flipping you back over. He nestled himself between your legs, his tip teasing your entrance. His expression softened as he stared into your eyes. “Are you sure?”
You nodded. “Yeah,” you replied breathily. 
He slid into you slow and easy, your mouth open in a silent moan as he bottomed out. 
“Good?” he asked.
“So fucking good.”
When he started to move, you thought you were going to die. In a good way. In a way that made you decide right there and then that when the time did come, this was how you wanted to go out. 
“Harder,” you encouraged, and he obliged. “Faster.”
He was properly fucking you now. Hard and fast and dirty. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, your heels digging into his ass, forcing him to go deeper. His head was buried in your neck, your nails were clawing up his back, and the room was filled with moans and pants and expletives that put a sailor’s mouth to shame. 
“Shit, baby,” he panted into your neck. “God damn, you feel good. So fucking tight.” He sped up his thrusts, and the bed was squeaking so much that you thought it was going to fall apart underneath you, but you were too far gone to care. He reached a hand down in between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, circling it expertly. You were on the precipice of your release in seconds. And then —
“Come. Soak that fucking cock, baby. Come for me.”
And you screamed loud enough to get both you and him kicked out of the motel if they cared enough as your orgasm ripped through you. He fucked you through it, his pace only faltering moments later, right before he pulled out and painted your stomach white. It looked like a Jackson Pollock on your abdomen. Kinda hot, actually. 
“You okay?” Dean asked, looking down at you as he finally caught his breath.
“More than,” you smiled.
He mirrored the look on your face before crawling off the bed and heading to the bathroom. He came back moments later with a damp washcloth, gently cleaning his masterpiece off of your skin. When he was done, he threw it across the room, aiming for the bathroom, and it landed on the tile in front of the toilet. He laid down next to you, pulling you into his chest as he pressed a soft kiss into your hair, and you wanted to ask so many questions, all at once. What were you two now? How long had he been wanting this? Would there be a next time? Instead, you opted for —
“You know in fanfictions, they write you as a submissive most of the time.”
He snorted. “They’re half right.”
“A switch?” you asked, surprised. “Lucky me.”
He chuckled softly. “Sorry about your ass.”
You shrugged. “I was asking for it.”
“Oh, you were definitely asking for it. Still, I… I dunno. It was your first time, I didn’t want to get too —”
“It was perfect, Dean.”
“Yeah?”
You nodded, smiling, dozing off already. “Yeah.”
1K notes · View notes
strang3lov3 · 9 months
Text
Phone a Friend
Joel Miller x fem Reader
Summary: A story involving two sexually frustrated assholes and how they resolved the tension. (Alternatively, Joel is sick of you keeping him up late at night with your hand between your thighs)
Warnings: Smut, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, PIV, the softest of soft dom joel, masturbation, spanking, slight perv!joel, sleazy!joel, implied age gap probably, enemies? with benefits?? Idiots in luuuurrve
Word Count: 5k
A/N: Was thinking of doing an enemies to lovers story and then thought, fuck it. Enemies AND lovers. Thank you @speckledemerald for proofreading!
please please please comment/reblog if you enjoy, i love reading the sweet things you say <3
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It was amusing at first.
The first time it happened Joel was in bed reading a nice book Ellie picked out for him. He was just about to doze off, the words on the page illuminated by the warm light of his lamp began to blend together. 
“Oh,” 
It caught Joel off guard. And then a few more, quicker and breathier. 
“Oh, fuck,”
Frustrated moans spilling from your lips, right in the next room. They continued for an hour and Joel listened with an amused smile curling his lips as he palmed his bulge. He followed along with your moans, using your sweet noises to work himself up. He removed his cock from the confines of his plaid pajamas and stroked himself, every breathy moan of yours pushing him further and further to the edge. Joel had no issue coming in a timely matter, but you? You let out noises of frustration for what seemed like hours before finishing with a frustrated groan. And then silence.
Thin walls, what can you do?
The next morning Joel said nothing, just quietly sipped his coffee while you were slamming doors and cabinets and stomping around the kitchen. You had yelled out a perfectly crafted string of curse words, something like “Motherfucking piece of shit can’t toast one goddamn slice of bread without having a fucking aneurysm!” followed by “Cocksucking bastard of a toaster!” before you slammed your fist on the countertop.
Joel just smiled to himself in his coffee mug, knowing exactly why you were in such a charmingly pleasant mood. 
You had broken your dominant hand’s wrist a few weeks ago, and it was still healing. You couldn’t do much of anything with it, not write with a pencil or flip a pancake or butter a piece of bread. You had started trying to use your nondominant hand for more, but that had proved to be futile with mundane daily tasks. 
Apparently it wasn’t working very well in between your thighs either, Joel had deduced.
Joel just got up from his seat at the table, silently futzed with the toaster, then placed two slices of bread in for you. “Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” he asked, one eyebrow cocked in amusement.
You didn’t bother replying, too frustrated in the early hours of the morning to entertain him. 
The routine happened nightly for weeks. 
Joel would be in bed, sleeping or reading. Your frustrated moans would wake him up, and he’d be rock hard at the dead of night. He’d jerk himself off tiredly, and then still spent hours listening to you continue to play with yourself. He’d be exhausted the next morning, sick of you inadvertently getting him all hot and bothered, and you’d be seeing red as you stomped around and slammed cabinets in maddening frustration.
It was amusing at first. Really. 
But it got old quickly.
Once, at breakfast, the situation was addressed. After a particularly long night of listening to your moans, Joel was practically falling asleep in his over-easy eggs and toast. “Morning, sunshine!” you said. He had said something rude and off handed to you in response, to which you replied “Aren’t you a fucking peach this morning?”
“Shut up,” he grumbled, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Whatever,”
“I said, shut up,” Joel was the picture of exhaustion. Heavy bags under his eyes, a distant look in his pupils. One of his hands pinched the bridge of his nose as he furrowed his brows.  
“What’s your deal?”
“You,” he responded, not missing a beat. He decided the night before enough was enough, and you and he were going to share a conversation about noise levels.
Your brows knit together in confusion. Before you could ask, Joel interrupted. “Thin walls, darlin’,”
“What are you-”
“Fuckin’ playing with yourself all night. I hear you, you know,” He removed his hand from his face and stared at you with an irritated expression, his eyes boring into your own.
Your face heated up in embarrassment. “Jesus, Joel,”
“S’okay, hon. We all do it. But some of us like to do so with a bit more consideration for others, hmm?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,”
“You’re too loud,” Joel stated plainly. “And you take for-fuckin’-ever. Might as well make you come myself. Lord knows I do it better than you.” 
You glared at him, beside yourself that he was bringing that up. It’s not enough to embarrass you for masturbating, apparently.
You and Joel had a tricky relationship, to say the least.
He was simultaneously the person you trusted most in the world, and the biggest piece of shit you knew. He was arrogant, brash, and rude. He thought you were annoying and naive, and yet, you still slept with each other.
It was a night of drinking gone too far. One thing led to another, and then another. Before you knew it you were naked and tangled in each other's limbs, whimpering and moaning praises into his skin. You told him the next morning that it was a mistake and that it would never happen again. 
And then you’d do it again, of course. And again, and again.
Fucking Joel left you feeling full of all sorts of complicated things. You were sleeping with your enemy, and it was fucking incredible. He learned to play with your body perfectly, knowing exactly how to touch you to get you to fall to pieces for him. He could make you come embarrassingly quickly, melting for him in mere moments with the most feather-light and gentle touches. But he still drove you absolutely mad.
After each time, you told him the same thing: it would never happen again. But like clockwork, it would. After a bad date or another night of drinking too much, you’d be back where you started. Under him, on top of him. It didn’t matter. 
At this point, you and Joel hadn’t had sex in a few months. Your longest spell yet. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of it a few times, wishing for his skilled fingers instead of yours. But this time, this time would be different. You were determined to quit your addiction, even if the withdrawals were miserable. 
“My god, you’re an asshole,” you stood up from your seat angrily and put your plate into the kitchen sink. It fell with a loud clatter.
“I know you’d like it,” he said with a bite of food in his mouth. Gross, you thought. For a man who’s always on Ellie’s ass about manners, he sure didn’t have much of his own.
“You wish, dickhead,” you scolded, putting on your boots and lacing them up. “Fuck you. You try getting off with a broken wrist,”
“Wouldn’t have to. I’d just phone a friend, sweetheart. You should try it,” God, his smirk. His fucking shit-eating grin. You could slap it right off his excruciatingly handsome face. 
You rolled your eyes and put on a jacket, leaving Joel without saying goodbye. 
That night, while in bed, you decided to fuck with him for being such an asshole to you that morning.
With your hand between your thighs, you moaned loudly. Right into the wall. High pitched and unrealistically. Annoyingly. It was the middle of the night, surely waking Joel up.
Joel pounded on the wall with his fist. “Oh, that’s very mature,” he yelled, his voice muffled by the barrier. “Knock it off.”
You just moaned louder, more obnoxiously. Joel slammed on the wall. You were dicks to each other the next day, constantly at each other’s throats. 
You did this dance for a while. Was it ridiculous and completely unreasonable? Yes. But so was Joel. And you, for that matter. Fuck being the bigger person, this was Joel Miller you were dealing with.
Tonight, Joel was supposed to go to the bar with Tommy, but he had canceled. Stomach flu, said Tommy. So instead, Joel had a quiet night in. After dinner, he got into bed and picked up his book from his nightstand. 
He was about half an hour into reading when he heard you moan. And then you did it again. 
“Very funny” he grumbled to himself, tapping on his wall lightly. He was tired and didn’t have the energy to do another silly moaning/wall pounding argument. 
You didn’t stop. Truthfully, you didn’t hear him. You thought he was out with Tommy, nobody had let you know that plans were changed. 
Your moans were different tonight, Joel noticed. Not obnoxiously loud to piss him off. Just genuine, regular moans of pleasure. He decided to give you a break, let you let off some steam without him giving you shit for it. 
But then he heard it. 
Joel. 
Clear as day. His name, whimpered from your lips. He missed it dearly, how sweet his name sounded rolling off your tongue. Memories of his arms wrapped around you tightly while you’d whisper his name like a prayer into his neck. 
And that’s when he gets an idea.
He tiptoes out of bed, straight to your room. He twists the handle of your door, thanking god the lock is broken. Joel’s quiet, silent as he tiptoes to your bed. There’s a dim light illuminating your face, your eyes are scrunched tightly shut as you work sloppy circles into your clit, still moaning Joel’s name. 
He’s right next to you now, and taking a seat on your bed. “Moanin’ f’me and I ain’t even touchin’ you,” he whispers as he puts a hand on your bare leg. 
Your eyes fly open and you jump, nearly kicking him. “Joel!” you gasp. “What the fuck are you-”
“Thin walls,” he reminds you, though it’s not really an answer to your question. “Was that my name I heard you whispering?”
You shake your leg from his touch and sit up, covering yourself. “Jesus, Joel. No,” you spit, shooting daggers at him. “Get the fuck out.”
“Right,” he says, blatantly refusing to acknowledge your request. “Coulda’ told me you were missin’ my cock.” Joel’s hand returns to your leg, dragging his fingers up and down the soft skin. You kick his hand away again. Presumptuous piece of shit.
Heat is rising to your cheeks and you continue to glare at him with pure hatred. “You wish. I don’t miss any part of you,” you hiss. 
“Oh, how you wound me, sweetheart,” Joel clutches a hand to his heart sarcastically. 
“I am not doing this with you. Get out. Now,” you demand. You’re not entertaining this asshole and his flagrant violation of your privacy. 
Joel chuckles. “No. I’m not leavin’ yet,”
“Why?”
“Because you keep me up night after fuckin’ night. I’m not leavin’ until I know you’re finished,”
You don’t have the time or energy for this bullshit. “Joel, move,” you warn, kicking into his thigh with your foot. But he doesn’t budge. 
You think for a second, taking in the situation. Joel’s watched you come a million times before. And he looks fucking sexy tonight, his plaid pajama pants hanging low on his hips, giving you a perfect view of his happy trail. He’s not wearing a shirt, his salt and pepper hair is a curly bed-headed mess. His eyes are darkened with lust, sparkling in the dim light. His hand has returned to your ankle, rubbing slow circles with his thumb. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing to have some eye candy as you pleasure yourself.
“Fine,” you concede. “I come, you leave me alone, and we both go to sleep after.”
He shoots you a sly smile. “That’s my girl,” he whispers, pulling you closer and separating your thighs. His touch on your skin is electric and sends desire shooting through your veins, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you feel good again. If he wants to torture you, you’ll do it right back to him.
“You’re not touching me,” you say flatly, wrapping your fingers around his wrists and pushing him away from your thighs. “I’m doing this myself.”
“Oh, that’s fine,” Joel replies. He figured you’d say that, seeing as how stubborn you can be. “You just come for me and I’ll be on my merry way.”
“I’m coming for me. Not you, Joel,”
“Hmm, s’that right?”
“Yup,”
You’re silent then, unsure of the logistics of this sexual endeavor. Joel’s seen you in so many vulnerable positions, tasted your most intimate places and heard your most desperate moans. Still, you’re shy. Masturbating for someone else is vastly different than being an active participant in sex.
And his eyes, good fucking lord. Staring at you intensely like you’re artwork. Or rather, an artist. Desperately waiting to see the way you paint circles on your clit.
Fuck it. With a deep breath in and then a deep breath out, you rip the bandaid off and begin. You close your eyes, unable to look into Joel’s piercing gaze any longer. Your fingers begin trailing under your shirt, pinching and twisting at your nipples gently. You lean into your touch, your hand slides further down the soft skin of your tummy and then your tuft of coarse hair, finally settling at your cunt. 
You’re not quite wet yet, you realize as your fingers grace your entrance to gather your arousal. Rather hurriedly, you bring your fingers to your lips and cover them in saliva before returning to your center. You adjust slightly, spreading your legs wider. And then you begin. 
You start with slow circles orbiting your clit, somehow over sensitive and yet not feeling enough. You quicken your pace, then slow down again. And then speed up. All the while, letting out frustrated grunts and moans. 
“Need some help, sweetheart?” Joel’s voice interrupts.
You let out an exhausted groan at the way he breaks your concentration, as if you were close at all. “No, just shut the fuck up,” you hiss, not opening your eyes to meet his gaze. You wonder if you offended him, but you don’t really care. Joel can go scratch for all you give a shit.
You continue your actions, circling your clit with your fingers. And it just doesn’t feel right. It’s fumbling, awkward. You wish you had your other hand between your thighs. Really, you’re dying for Joel to touch you. It’s his skilled fingers you want tracing circles into your clit. But you remain firm in your protest of his pleasure. 
“Doin’ it wrong,” his voice interrupts. He says it flatly, like it’s so glaringly obvious. Like he would fucking know, you think. Except, deep down you know that he does know. 
He reaches forward and adjusts your fingers to better suit your needs, and you gasp when his fingers touch your skin. “Try that,” he whispers. 
And so, without changing the placement of your fingers, you continue. It’s…better. Much better, actually. But you’re still struggling to get even a hair closer. 
“Look at you,” Joel whispers tauntingly. “No wonder you can’t come. You don’t know what you’re doin’ with all this. Need me to take care of this pretty pussy.”
“I most certainly do not,” you huff, irritated with his pompous and smug attitude. You gasp as you feel one of his fingers tease your entrance, slowly pushing inside. 
“Really?” Joel teases with a tantalizing tone. He curls his finger inside you, finding that spot that makes your head spin as you continue your circles. Your hips jut upward in search of more, more, more. “Don’t you want me to make it all better for you?”
“N-no,” you stutter in response, still bucking him. 
“That’s fine,” he mumbles, removing his finger. You whine at the loss, reaching your hand to grasp at his and put it back at your center.  
“No, no, don’t stop,” you whine, voice wrecked and desperate.
“Can you ask nicely?”
Oh, fuck him. “Please,” you rasp out, opening your eyes to meet his. He looks so fucking cocky, wearing a smug grin as he pushes two of his thick fingers in you with ease this time. You’re much, much wetter than you were before. 
He pushes upward inside you repeatedly, fingers dancing in your wet heat. It’s deplorable, loathsome, the way you melt under his touch. 
“Wanna know what your problem is, honey?” His voice is soft and syrupy sweet, and you hate that stupid charming affectation he puts on.
“No,” you breathe. “Just make me-”
“I’ll tell you what your problem is,” he interrupts. Dickhead. “You ain’t gentle with yourself. Need to be more patient,”
“Joel, for the love of god,” your voice is strained as he continues teasing you, his touch feels infinitely better than your own but he’s holding back, not yet giving you what he knows you need so desperately. 
“Pretty pussy like this needs love, sweetheart,”
You ignore him and buck your hips into his hand, needing more than what he’s giving you. “Joel, shut up and make me come,”
He swats your ass. “You ask me nice, now,” he instructs. 
You roll your eyes as far back as they can go, and comply with his unreasonable request. “Please,”
“Please what?”
“Please shut up and make me come,” you snap.
“God, you’re a fuckin’ delight,” he says sarcastically, irritated. “You wanna try that again?” He begins pulling his hand away, threatening to leave you high and dry. He knows he’s your only way of finishing tonight. 
“Fuck, please. I just wanna come,” you sigh, defeated and exhausted. It’s been an eternity since you had a proper orgasm, and you just want to come. If only the man getting you off wasn’t such a tool. “Please.”
“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” Joel taunts, smiling. He pulls you close, pushing your shirt up to play with your plump breasts. He grabs a handful, and begins kissing your inner thighs, kissing down, down…
You gasp when you feel him press a kiss to your sex, his fingers now twisting and teasing your nipples as his tongue explores every inch of your slick folds. Not that he needs to experiment at all, he has your body memorized. Every fucking inch of you. 
He fucks you with his fingers as he kisses your pussy, tonguing your slick folds and licking up every last drop of your sweet arousal. 
“Fuck, yes Joel. Just like that,” you breathe, pushing your hips into his face. His nose and mouth are hidden by your body, his eyes are intense and teasing when he raises his brows in amusement. Honestly, he thought you’d take longer to crack. But here you are, whimpering his name with every flick of his tongue and his fingers on your sensitive nipples, twisting and teasing them just so. 
He takes a moment to just taste you, get his fill of you before finishing you off. He flattens his tongue against you, then points it into your clit. He spends moments alternating between the actions, savoring every inch of you. The way you moan, the way your insides flutter around his fingers. The wet noises of your pussy are downright pornographic as he devours you and you can feel his devious smirk against your pussy.
When he’s satisfied, Joel wraps his plump lips around your sensitive bud gently, still flicking his tongue against you. You fall to pieces instantaneously, your thighs tremble and shake as your orgasm builds in the pit of your stomach.
“Joel, Joel, Joel,” is about all you remember how to say when you come on his tongue. He has this effect on you, making you forget how to speak. It’s even worse now. 
You’re a mess of heaving breaths and whimpers as you ride out your long-awaited orgasm on his tongue. All you can do is cry his name as he overstimulates your pussy before he finally slows, kissing up your body and neck. He presses a sweet kiss to your lips and you taste yourself on his tongue, suddenly feeling bashful.
“Sweet dreams, sweetheart,” he whispers into your ear. He pulls away then and leaves your room, just as he promised. 
His footsteps fade out as he returns to his own room, his cock painfully hard and leaking precum. You’re still in bed, not yet fully satiated. 
You know what you need. As if you haven’t been a needy mess for him enough already. You’re an addict, completely powerless against your addiction. You wince as you get out of bed, following his footsteps as you contemplate the kind of sickening satisfaction you’re about to give him. 
Joel looks surprised when you enter his room, but you say nothing as you walk up to him. He’s tall and imposing above you, staring you down with an eyebrow cocked in interest, wondering if you’re about to do what he thinks you’re about to do.
You shove a hand down his pants, his cock is achingly stiff. You palm him, pushing him back towards the bed as your other hand tries to push down his pajama bottoms. 
“Woah, woah, woah,” he stops you, grabbing ahold of your hand on his dick. “Thought you said you didn’t miss my cock,”
“I don’t,” you reply firmly. 
“Then what’s your hand doin’ down my pants?”
You mumble incoherently, babbling something about just needing to fuck him. He stops you, “You can just ask, baby. I don’t mind givin’ you a little extra lovin’ if that’s what you need,”
You nod, unable to form a coherent thought. 
“Words, my love,” he reminds you. 
“Please,” 
“Please what?”
“I need you,” 
“Why?”
You groan angrily, tired of his boorish act. You push him on the bed and kneel between his legs. “I don’t know,” 
“Because like it or not, I make you feel good. Right?” Joel taps your cheek, encouraging you to look into his eyes. “I take good care of your pussy, don’t I?”
“You do,” you mumble under your breath. 
“Couldn’t hear ya, need ya to speak up f’me. Got bad ears, sweetheart,”
“You do,” you say a little clearer this time. 
“One more time. Who takes care of you?”
Oh, you could kill him. He must think this is so funny, watching you squirm and try to spell it all out. But then you remember, with his aching cock in your hand, you don’t have to listen to this. You have the power to shut him up. 
You pull his cock out of his pants quickly and part your lips over the blushed tip, tasting his salty precum on your tongue. He loses himself, gasping at the feeling of your tongue circling his tip and tracing thick veins as you lower your head down his cock. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this. 
“Ffff-” he hisses, one of his strong hands tangling in your hair. You’re using your mouth just how he likes, sucking him and swirling your tongue on his shaft. He’s breathing deeply, his soft tummy hitting your forehead with every deep breath he takes. 
You relish in the feeling of him falling apart for you, but more importantly the silence. The sexiest thing about Joel is when he shuts the fuck up. 
Your nose brushes the tuft of hair surrounding him, pushing yourself deeper and deeper, as deep as you can go. You hollow your cheeks, using your soft and wet mouth to massage him. You feel him twitch in your mouth, and he yanks you up by your arms, spit dribbling down your chin. 
Both of you are silent, save for your panting breaths and moans. No words need to be spoken, both of you know exactly what you’re needing. You’ve done this dance a million times before and have memorized a routine.
You straddle Joel’s thighs, centering yourself over his cock. You reach down to grab it and line yourself up, but something changes in Joel. In a swift motion, Joel flips you over on your tummy and presses down on your head with his big hand, using the other to pull your ass up to his cock. You gasp in surprise.
“Stay like that,” he instructs you. “Don’t move.”
You feel so exposed like this, on display and waiting for him to fuck you. Joel shimmies off his pajamas and kneels behind you, dragging the tip of his cock through your slick folds to gather your arousal. Despite the way your cunt drips for him, it’s not enough. 
Roughly, he pulls you up by your neck and shoves a palm under your mouth. “Spit,” he commands. 
And so you spit into his palm, feeling blood rush to your tummy in nervousness. He’s never been this way with you before.
“We’re doin’ things my way,” you hear him growl as he smears your saliva over his cock. “Been listening to you play with yourself for too damn long.”
“Joel,” you whine, arching your back and pushing into his hips. He swats your ass just enough to sting slightly, not hurting you too bad. 
“Shut up,” he says, pushing his tip into your center and dragging it through your folds. “I think,” he starts, notching his tip in your entrance. “I think when you come from now on, it’s gonna be ‘cause I let you.”
You can only mumble in response, head going fuzzy at his words. All you can think about his how much you need to be fucked. 
“Think you need to learn some self control,” he begins pushing in at an absolutely achingly slow pace. Millimeter by millimeter.
“Joel, move,” you demand with a groan, ignoring his words and pushing your hips back. He holds your hips  tightly, not allowing you to move further. You’re so needy, so ready to just be fucked hard, the way you picture him each night. Pounding into you mercilessly.  
“See, now that’s exactly what I’m talkin’ about,” he chides you. “No patience.”
Joel continues pushing into you at a slow pace, letting you feel every inch of his member. He stretches your hole deliciously, allowing you to feel completely full. “Remember what I said? Gotta be gentle, like you love it,”
You’re breathing deeply, waiting for more. Joel pulls out, then slides back in with ease. He’s still going slow, but with enough force that you grunt when he bottoms out inside you. 
“That’s it,” he purrs. He watches his cock disappear inside you, then pulls out again. “Good fuckin’ girl.”
He begins fucking you at a steadier pace, somehow finding a happy medium between gentle and rough. “Feelin’ good?”
You’re at a loss for words. You feel all of him, every stroke so fluid yet firm. It’s nearly perfect. “Yes, Joel. Need more, please,”
“Oh, listen to that. Askin’ me nicely,” he says as he picks up his pace. “See what happens when you’re good to me?”
“Mhm,” you choke out. The way he fucks you is brutally delicious, just how you need it. He knows your body like the back of his hand.
“I promise I only wanna help, sweetheart. I know what’s best for you, don’t I?”
You abandon every ounce of protest in your body. Normally you’d bite back to his audaciousness with some quippy remark. But sweet fuck, he does feel good. He knows exactly how to make you dance under his touch, and you relish in the feeling. You almost feel guilty, denying your body this pleasure for so long. “Please, Joel,” is all you can say. And you don’t even know what you’re asking for, you just need Joel and Joel alone. 
“I like you like this, beggin’ for me. So much nicer when I fuck you,” 
The wet squelching sounds of your pussy fill the room, along with both yours and Joel’s heaving breaths. You feel his balls slapping up against your clit with each and every thrust he delivers onto you. 
“Joel, need you,” 
“I’ve got you, baby. What do you need?”
You can barely form words, so you let your body do the talking instead. You pull off of his cock and lay down beneath him, your eyes wide and your legs spread. You pull him down to you, kissing and nipping at his hot skin. Your moans are breathy and you buck your hips up to his, telling him what you need. 
Joel picks up what you’re putting down. He pulls away from you, lining himself up and pushing into you, as if just picking back up where he started. His arms are bracketed on either side of you as he fucks you, each thrust hitting that sweet spot deep inside. It’s too much, you turn your head to the side and bite into his wrist to keep yourself from screaming his name. 
Your pussy squeezes him, walls fluttering and pulsing with every thrust of his cock. His once precise movements are beginning to falter, and he reaches down between your bodies to find your clit. 
“Not gonna last if you keep doin’ that t’me,” he warns. “I want you to come with me, okay baby?”
You nod, spreading your legs wider and wrapping them around his torso, the heels of your feet digging into his asscheeks. Your hands are holding onto his thick forearms for dear life, you watch the way his veins twitch and flex under your fingers. 
Just like each time he’s fucked you before, it’s almost pathetic the way you come undone for him with such ease. He’s rubbing your clit in steady circles for merely a moment before you come for him, sobbing in pleasure into his skin. When you come, it’s a mixture between explosive and slow. It’s simultaneously fireworks and a pot bubbling over, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. It’s nearly too intense, your eyes screwed shut as you cry his name like a prayer.
It’s all Joel needed to come. His name on your lips, your cunt gushing and squeezing him. He can’t help but spill inside you, shooting hot ropes of his seed inside you as he helps you ride out your orgasm. He collapses on top of you for a moment, pressing sloppy wet kisses into your skin. You hold him close, savoring the way his body feels so comforting on yours. He’s such a fucking dick, but he’s your person. Your home. 
“Fuck, I missed you,” he whispers. 
You smile mischievously. You know Joel cares deeply for you, maybe even loves you, but it’s amusing to hear him vocalize that. “You missed me?” 
“Ugh, no,” he lies. 
“Good,” you say. “I didn’t either.”
Joel leaves then to clean you up, then he gets back into bed pulls you into his side, your head resting on his chest. You fall asleep like that, holding each other sweetly in the early hours of the morning. 
Neither you nor Joel never did get much sleep, but at least you were kinder to one another in the morning. No doors or cabinets were slammed in anger, and innocent toasters were free of your verbal abuse.
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axeoverblade · 9 months
Text
Classmate
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PART ONE (CURRENT); PART TWO ; PART THREE
Earth 42! Miles Morales x fem! reader
Synopsis! For the life of you , you couldn’t understand why Miles had it out to get you so bad. If it wasn’t for the mid-year seat change, he wouldn’t have even acknowledged your existence.
MASTERLIST
Genre: light fluff, enemies to lovers like trope, light bully!Miles
Warnings: mentions of sa (nothing happens just mentioned), mentions of violence, maybe foul language but I think that’s it enjoy!
word count: 5k
Authors comment: I keep seeing School themed hcs and I had to say me sphewl(?), planned to be one shot but thinking about a part two. Sorry for any bad translations my Spanish is meh, please leave a like <3
Do not copy! All rights reserved to ©axeoverblade
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It was known half way through the school year at Visions Academy the teachers changed the assigned seats. Being in your last hour, you were pretty much comfortable sitting next to almost anyone in the class.
Albeit, you did have a few in your mind you would rather not be sat with. Kids who didn’t like to do the group work, kids who talked too much, kids who always were trying to copy answers, etc.
The teacher went through the neatly organized desks column by column, starting on the left side closest to the door for the new seating chart. There were only four columns seeing as the wooden desks were double seated. You listened as she went through assigning kids to chairs, finally reaching the last column. There were about seven other kids along with you still waiting to be called to the four desks available. All the kids left were somewhat iffy options to be next to for the rest of the year.
Only you and three others were left. She called out to the second to last desk, “Amanda and John”. You sigh a breath of relief happy to not be sat next to John who had a crush on you, your thoughts replaying all the times he had tried to get with you. Feelings were not mutual. “ And Finally Y/n and Miles.”
You walked over to the seat from the front of the room, seeing the Miles kid already getting comfortable in his new seat closest to the wall.
You never had the chance to talk to Miles much. Actually, you don’t think you’ve ever talked to him. He was very reticent in the classroom. The moment he finished his work which was always relatively quick, he was out of the class leaving a few minutes to spare coming back before the bell rang.
There was a reason you never made an effort to talk to Miles. In fact, it was more like you endeavored to avoid him. His hedonistic friend group were known for being-, uncivil. They treated others horribly, always making someone do something that would make your stomach churn if you had to be the one to do it. And even though Miles was known to never actively participate in those things, anyone who hung around people who did those things were bound to start someday.
What confused you though, he was extremely smart unlike the jerks he was always with. You heard he was one of the highest scoring kids, every report card stamped with straight As. That wasn’t much at this school, almost everyone had straight As and high Bs, but all his grades averaged above 94.
There was also no denying he was very attractive. Surprisingly he was never seen with anyone romantically, unlike his friends who always had a girl or two under their arms. There were definitely people were lined up at his feet though, always trying to cling to him. He always just brushed them off, sometimes blunter than he needed to be.
You had seen it once, a girl you hadn’t really liked had gone up to him during passing period asking for his number only for him to look at her and walk right past her. All his friends and their shallow twats of girlfriends laughed at her, walking with Miles past her.
She cried in bathroom for forty minutes after.
You stood next to your seat, putting your bag down. “Hi I’m y/n” you said, formally introducing yourself to Miles for the first time. He looked up to you from his phone. You watched as he took his time studying you, making you slightly flustered as his eyes roamed your body. He looked back down at his phone, disregarding your presence. “I know.”
You blinked a few times processing the abrupt rudeness.
You rolled your eyes and whispered a few choice words to yourself about the interaction as you sat down, realizing you were stuck next to him for the rest of the year.
You pulled out your phone, texting your friend and roommate Mei, who was across the room, about how rude Miles was. She looked up, seeing you staring at her irritated. She giggled before texting back.
Mei: He so fine tho 😍 ask em if he needs a dog
You: Mei 💀
You: he’s so rude n for what? Like he could’ve just nodded or said his name. I know he got that whole “bad boy” thing goin but ain’t have to do allat
Mei: Ion know gl tho 💯
You: Ur no help 😭 Ima ask for a seat change
Mei: It's the first five minutes you have sat next to each other, maybe he is just nervous from ur emmense beauty 😩 I know I would be
Mei: PLUS u know Ms Reita does not b swappin seats. You know how many times I asked to be moved from Jessica only for her to say tuff luck and move on? Seventeen times. Just give it time n maybe it gets better you never know
You: 😐
You shook your head and put your phone down as the teacher started passing out the work. It was a normal worksheet due by the end of class. You went through, solving the easier problems before going back and finishing the ones you skipped.
You were on your last problem when Miles hand shot up lazily. Ms.Reita looked at him and sighed, knowing that he was going to leave for almost the rest of class period if she let him leave the room. “Is your worksheet finished?” “I wouldn’t be raisin’ my hand if it wasn’t.” “Watch it Morales, wouldn’t want to have to tell your Mom you have detention would you?” He sighed before mockingly smiling “sorry Ms.Reita, can I so humbly excuse myself?” He batted his eyelashes for extra effect, clearly tired of the interaction and ready to leave. She huffed as pointed to the door. You snickered to yourself watching the exchange. He looked at you, a glint of amusement washing over his eyes, but the look left as soon as it appeared. He looked away getting up and walking out.
_
You walked with Mei back to your shared dorm, talking about the nonsense that flooded your minds. Luckily for you, it was Friday and you could go home tonight, you just had to go grab your bag and you would be free from this hell hole.
“Alright Mei I’ll see you on Monday” you said, grabbing your suitcase and backpack, pulling it with you to leave. She smiled and waved, still packing. “Bye baby mama” you rolled your eyes playfully at what she said. She would constantly make jokes about how she could care for you and be your sugar momma, even though she was just as broke as you were.
You walked toward the lobby of the school, seeing the exit to the building so close. It felt like knowing air was near when you were drowning, finally being able to catch a break and breathe- “oh sorry baby girl, didn’t see you there.” You felt someone bump into you, too intentional for it to be accident. You cringed at the nickname and gathered yourself. Luckily you hadn’t fallen, just stumbled causing your bag to fall off you. “Don’t call me that John.” You said, picking up your bag and slinging it in on your shoulder. “You know you like it” he said, closer than he needed to be. Recoiling at the sound of him so close to your ear, you stuck your hand out and lightly pushed him further from you. “I really don’t, I already told you I want nothin’ to do with you.” You continued to walk to the exit, only for him to walk beside you. “Cmon baby I can show you the world, stop playing hard to get.” You looked at him, stopping in your tracks, “I’m not playing hard to get, this is me playing I don’t want you” “so you admit you're playing about not wanting me?” He said, smirking. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, just wanting to go home. “For the final time John, I am not interested.” You walked again, this time he didn’t follow because his friends were walking up to him. “I’ll see you on Monday baby!” He called out loudly, drawing attention to the both of you. You scowled and walked faster out the building, happy to not have to see John for a few days.
Unbeknownst to you, Miles was watching the interaction from the beginning, ignoring his friends talk about the girls that passed or the sexist comments they made. He noted how you reacted to John, how much disgust surged through your body language. He disliked John, but for separate reasons. John was one of those guys. Class A jock who didn’t know when to quit. Also didn’t know when to shut their mouths. Granted, those were the exact people he hung around. But at least he could tolerate their idiocy, and it was better than walking around the school alone all day. Only kid he hung around that wasn’t like that was his roommate Ganke.
He watched as you scowled and left the school. He shrugged minding his own business, zoning back into the conversation about who had the biggest boobs.
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Monday rolled around quicker than you could’ve imagined. And it felt like a Monday, which never helped. You trudged into your last hour groggily, just wanting to be done with the day so you could go back to your dorm and sleep. Walking over to your seat, you looked at Mei across the room. She wiggled her eyebrows, mouthing for you to initiate conversation with Miles. You rolled your eyes, sitting down. Miles was sketching lightly on the worksheet already passed out on the desks. You tried to look at it, but the braid that draped over his shoulder covered your view. You didn’t want to seem invasive, so you just grabbed your sheet and began working.
Finishing the sheet quickly, you got on your phone, scrolling through your socials. You saw a news alert flash across the top of your screen, some message about “the prowler striking again” over the weekend. You swiped it away.
You didn’t hate the prowler in all honesty, but you would never admit that out loud. Whoever was under the mask did bad things, but usually only to bad people. Usually.
The police barely did anything anymore, making it hard to even go outside without getting mugged or groped or something bad. With the prowler being out and about, some idiots have been scared off the streets, enough to where you could at least walk to and from your family apartment to school. In your eyes, the vigilante kinda helped a little.
“Stop tapping, its annoyin” a voice rudely interrupted you from your thoughts. You looked over to see miles looking at you, semi-irritated. You hadn’t realized you were tapping the desk, something you did unconsciously when you were lost in your own mind. You pulled your hand back, putting it on your thigh, “my fault, ain need all that attitude though” you said looking at him. He rolled his eyes and started drawing again. “Whatcha’ sketching?” You asked, leaning towards him slightly. He looked at you with furrowed brows, blinking a couple of times, before going back to sketching ignoring your question. El tiene algunos nervios. Instead of just excusing his behavior like you did on Friday, you opted to invade his personal space; moving his braid, your head now hovering over his shoulder. He moved his body quickly, his reflexes faster than you could process. “Qué coño estás haciendo?” He said sternly, but you didn’t budge. “You didnt wanna respond” you said not looking at him, more focused on the drawing. “That ain’ answer my question” he said, you could feel the irritation laced in his voice, but instead of leaving him alone like he wanted, you grabbed the paper to get a better view. The drawing was a well portrayed mask of sorts, oddly similar to the prowlers, and a few weapons all sketched on the back of his paper. You raised your eyebrow at the drawing. He was actually really good at drawing, the detail for him to have started that less than twenty minutes ago impressed you. He snatched the paper back. You turned your head to him, seeing him looking at you with furrowed eyebrows, getting ready to say something. “Answer me next time and I won’t have to do that” you said before he could speak, a mocking smile laying on your lips. He rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath before going back to sketching.
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One word, Regret.
You really wish you hadn’t decided to let you imaginary balls get the best of you. Because now Miles how a personal vendetta against you. Damn your pride. Within the span of few weeks he somehow had broken into your locker and trashed you books, he made sure it wasn’t anything that you couldn’t fix easily though, just a few torn pages. He constantly would shove you, which he mude sure to do lightly to not actually hurt you, into the lockers when he passed you in the nearly empty halls when he was with his friends. He would say the most outlandish things to you whenever you passed him when the halls were too crowded and others could see what he did. He made sure his friends didn’t mess with you though, knowing they would take it way too far how they had with the other kids they harassed. And even though you tried to ignore him the first few weeks hoping he would stop, he never did. You swore you could feel yourself loosing your mind.
Miles had only originally planned on pestering you for a day or two to get the point across that you should’ve left him alone, but then he realized how fun it was to provoke you. You became his entertainment, or at least that was the reason that he told himself he went out of his way to annoy you. And now that he had gotten on your last nerve, you were like a ticking time bomb every time.
You made school easier for him, giving him something to look forward to. Your reactions were always so animated, almost comical, making messing with you so funny. He didn’t just mess with you in sense of picking on you., he would mess with you feelings too. He looked for you in the halls just to go behind you and pull you by your backpack into him. You would lose your balance then he would put his hands on you waist to stabilize you, whispering in your the cusp of your ear sternly to “watch where you’re going mami”, a nickname he now would often call you just to see how irritated and flustered you would get. You would always reply with a snarky remark, something along the lines of “he pulled you into him”, always stuttering through the sentence no matter the amount of times he had done this to you, siempre fue tan mono a él. Something that unintentionally brought his face to a smirk was how you never mentioned anything about the nicknames he gave you like you did with John.
His friends would constantly make comments about how Miles liked you and now you were off limits, but every time he shot the idea down with a quick annoyed face. But perish the thought one of his friends gets talks about you the wrong way. They had seen the way Miles looked at the guy who had walked up to and called you pretty. Didn’t ask for your number, didn’t do anything weird, just called you pretty. The problem wasn’t even the compliment, it was how genuinely big you smiled but it wasn’t because of him.
Miles wasn’t going to deny he found you attractive. He had seen you the first day he walked into Vision academy a year ago and couldn’t get you out of his head for week. Hell you were probably the prettiest girl in the school, but maldito eres molestosa. When laying on the bed in his dorm room the nights he wasn’t out doing his prowler work, he could hear your pesky voice ringing in his ears, también pudo ver tu cara hermosa. He hated it. He hated how sometimes your face would pop up in his brain during a mission, and it would make him falter for a moment. Something as simple as hesitating, even for a millisecond, could’ve had him killed mid fight.
He didn’t actually care for you, at least that’s what he told himself. So you can understand why it bothered him so much that he hated weekends now, knowing it was extra days where he couldn’t see you, feel you. Even if it was just a brush on the shoulder when doing partner work, or him shoving you lightly when walking past, glaring at you like you were the one that bumped into him.
It annoyed you to no end you were stuck next to him for the rest of the year. What annoyed you even more was how attracted you were to him. He was so dismissive toward you, and for some reason you would sit in your room giggling with Mei about how his laugh, even though the only reason you had heard it was because he was making fun of you, was the most attractive thing you have ever heard.
Luckily today was Friday so you could enjoy the weekend.
It had been a few months since you had been moved next to Miles, a few months since you decided to overstep a boundary you wish you hadn’t, a few months since you’ve been slowly loosing your sanity. Miles had taken it upon himself to mess with you in class, staying for almost the whole period now a days to do just that.
“If you would finish your work then we could be done already” you mumbled under your breath, looking at the shared work you had to do that Miles hadn’t even looked at, too engrossed in his phone. The two of you had been going back and forth since the start of class, now only roughly fifteen minutes left. He looked up to you, squinting from annoyance, “do you ever just, I don’t know, close your mouth?”. You rolled your eyes “If you, I don’t know, finish your half so I can go turn this in then yea maybe I would.” He scoffed, pulling the paper closer to him. A few minutes passed and he slid the paper over to you “don’t say anything else”. You looked at the paper, seeing he had completed his half of the work in record time, you must really annoy him. “Well if you just did that earlier” you said sarcastically, picking up the paper and walking over to the turn in bin, placing the paper in it.
As you walked back to your seat, John started to talk to you. You pursed your lips, walking past him heading to your seat behind him. That didn’t stop him, as all he did was turn his chair around to face you. “So the party is tonight, you can come-” he paused, putting emphasis on the word winking at you, hinting at something else. You looked at him disgusted. “And we can have a lot of fun, perfect chance for you to see how much you truly like me.” You blinked a few times, “yea no” was all you said before looking at your phone. You didn’t fail to hear the small, quiet breathy laugh that fell from Miles lips as he stared at his phone, overhearing the conversation. His laugh alone could make your knees buckle. You quickly brought yourself back to reality, not letting your mind flow with any positive thoughts about Miles. “Cmon’ baby, promise I’ll show you a good time.” “Ain’ I tell you not to call me that?” You said, annoyed that John just couldn’t leave you alone. “You know we locked in, you keep playin.” “John-” “aight hear me out, you come to the party, if you don’t have a nice time -which I can guarantee you will- I’ll leave you alone, how does that sound?” “You’ll leave me alone?” You said, intrigued by the offer. “If you come.” You sighed, “lemme ask my momma.” He smiled widely, happy to have finally convinced you. Miles secretly looked between the two of you with his eyebrows furrowed, thinking how pathetic John was.
A few minutes passed as John sat facing you, waiting for a response. You sighed, causing him to perk up. “I need to be home by 11, and you have to send me the address. My mom also needs your number and your mommas number, comprende?” He nodded quickly, typing all the information into your phone so you could send it to your mom. You sent the message, already regretting your decision.
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Sure enough.
You sped walk home, the time nearing 10:45. Wiping the tear that trickled down your cheek, you scoffed. The party started off great, you and John had a great time, initially.
Then things got weird, he tried to take you to a bedroom upstairs, you declined, him being intoxicated, grabbed you forcefully to take you up. You were glad you were taught basic self defense. You kneed him in the bolas and grabbed your bag, quickly leaving. You wondered what would’ve happened if you had dranken something, where you wouldn’t have been fully aware of your surroundings. You hurrying to dismiss the thought, happy to be out the party
Normally you would be much more aware of the world around you, had you not been so lost in your thoughts. “Hey there pretty lady” you heard, you couldn’t catch a break tonight. You started walking quicker, almost jogging with your eyes focused ahead of you, as you just wanted to get home safely. “You ain’t hear us talkin to you?” Your eyes widened at the mention of us, realizing there was more than one. You searched for your switch blade that would usually be inside your pocket, but it was no where to be found. You figured it must’ve fallen out at the party, you silently cursed to yourself. Three men were now matching your speed, and suddenly were next to you.
“What’s a little momma like you doing out here all alone, don’t you know there’s bad guys out here?”
“Don’t worry baby, we’ll keep you safe”, they grabbed you forcefully covering your mouth so you wouldn’t alert anyone, not like anyone would help. They pulled you to the nearest alley. You bit the hand of whoever was covering your mouth, causing them to let go of your face. You took this as an opportunity to scream for dear life, only to be smacked into a state of drowsiness. You quickly shook yourself out of it, feeling the stinging sensation spread across your face. Your ear was ringing lightly, and you could’ve sworn this dude knocked your tooth loose. You spit at the guy across from you, seeing bloody saliva land on his face. The guy behind you who was holding you let go and moved to the side. Before you could react to the new found freedom, you were pushed roughly into the wall behind you. “Tonto puta, all you had to do was cooperate” the guy in front of you said, wiping the spit off his face.
Ready to accept whatever was going to happen, you closed your eyes and scrunched your face, only to hear screams of pain from the three men, followed by an uncanny silence.
You opened your eyes, seeing the prowler standing where the man in front of you once was with a bloody claw. The three men were laying on the ground, damn near lifeless. Your eyes widened, your mouth parting from the sight. The vigilante stared at you, you could see the eye like symbols displayed on the mask slightly widened at the sight of the hand-mark on your face before recomposing into a stoic, neutral setting. You were too shocked, and mostly scared to say anything.
The figure got closer, to which you could work out was a male. You took note of the two braids cascading down their neck behind the mask, as well as the oddly clean Jordan’s they sported. You didn’t have much time to take in their lanky appearance, as they took a final step towards you, making it so you had to look up at their mask. Their presence loomed over you eerily. You gaped at him, your pleading eyes filled with fear. You knew he wasn’t necessarily a villain per say, closer to the flip side if anything. He did just save you. But the thought of an individual being so much more powerful than you, knowing that at any moment he would always in control no matter what you did, threw your brain into a constant state of unease. Feeling your heart beating out your chest, you raised your hands lightly placing it on their chest to stop them from getting any closer, even though you knew they could easily overpower you no matter what you did. His heartbeat was slow, almost calming to feel. “Please” you whispered, voice barely leaving your larynx.
As quickly as he had come he left. You looked around, finally spotting him lurking on top of the building across from you, crouching along the ledge looking at you. You looked at the Prowler one last time, making eye contact with their mask silently mouthing a ‘thank you’. He flipped away to wherever else he goes, not acknowledging your gratitude. You nearly collapsed, sliding down the wall. Your hands aggressively wiped your face before meeting your hairline, resting there as you breathed ruggedly. The adrenaline you had was wearing off, and the bruises the men left you with became more prominent on your skin, as well as more painful. At least your opinion about the prowler was correct, he was a good guy after all, to you at least.
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Returning to school on Monday was a catastrophe, news spread like wildfire about you being attacked by the three men, as well as your encounter with the Prowler. Random people were approaching you asking what is what like and other random questions revolving around your attack. No one however, was talking about what happened at the party. But you couldn’t blame them, not many people saw what had happened.
It was finally the last period. You wanted nothing more for this to blow over, and for you to be done with the day back in your dorm. You walked in, wavering slightly seeing John leaning on your desk. You noticed Miles sitting in his seat on his phone, eye bags deeper than usual.
You quickly sat down, trying your best to ignore John's attempts to talk to you.
“Y/n please it was an accident-”
You ignored him getting your pencil out of the top zipper of your bag.
“Y/n please just listen I was drunk and I didn’t know what I was doing you gotta believe me” he leaned toward to take your hand, causing you to flinch and pull back. You looked at him angrily “you think being drunk excuses anything?” Your voice was calm and almost at a whisper despite how you felt, trying your best to draw the least amount of attention. He sighed desperately, “No it doesn’t but you gotta see it from my perspective-” “what perspective John?!? The one where you tried to force yourself on me? Or the one where you tried to take me upstairs against my will? I swear if you come near me again, I won’t hesitate to cut your polla off, comprende?” Ms. Reita asked everyone to take their seats, causing John to look at you solemnly before scoffing and turning to his seat.
You huffed, putting your head between your crossed arms on the table. “What happened at the party?” You looked over to Miles surprised. You hadn’t expected him to ask you any questions, but if he did you figured it would be something about the prowler incident. “Nothin’.” You said dismissively. He looked at you skeptically. Before you could even react, he grabbed your phone off the desk and tucked it in his pocket. “You ain’ gettin’ it back til you tell me what happened.” “Why do you care so much?” “Your wrinkles n’ dark circles look worse than usual, wanna know why.” “Could say the same for you” he looked at you blankly. You sighed, “John got a lil’ too handsy is all, don’t worry ‘bout it. Can I have my phone back-“ “mami, how handsy?” His stern voice caught you off guard. He looked at John's direction for a split second, you could’ve sworn you’d seen Miles look at John with a look of determined death. He looked back at you eyebrows furrowed, “he tried to take me upstairs n’ I wasn’t feelin’ it, so he tried to make me” you uttered, a little quieter towards the end of your sentence. “Left before he could do anything” you finished, “can I get my phone back now?” You looked at him tiredly. He let out a simple huh and gave you your phone back, his full attention now on johns figure ahead in the seat diagonally ahead of him.
The class had been dismissed, luckily Miles had decided to leave you alone today, you were too tired to deal with his antics anyway. Walking over to Mei dismissing John's stare, you two began walking out of the class heading to the lobby so you head back to your dorm room. As you were walking back Mei stopped at a vending machine to get a couple snacks for the dorm so you two could have a movie night. You waited as she inserted her money, clicking which snacks you both liked to buy them. As she was stuffing the snacks in her bag zipping it up, a student screamed “FIGHT”. You looked over seeing a crowd forming and walked over to see what was happening. Bullying your way to the front you saw Miles on top of John, pounding John's blood stricken face damn near permanently into the floor. Your eyes enlarged at the sight. Miles was clearly irate, and from the looks of it, had no plans of stopping. A security guard quickly ran in and grabbed miles off John's limp body. Miles spit at John, yelling something at him in Spanish that you couldn’t hear over the commotion. You looked at John's body, seeing him look almost unconscious as he coughed violently and rested on his elbows, trying to catch his breath. You gaped at Miles, shock written all over your face. His chest rose and fell quickly as he looked around the room seeing all the people watching. His eyes stopped as they met yours, his gaze softening slightly before he looked away. A huff fell from his lips as he was dragged to the principal's office. He jerked his arm away, muttering something about how he knew how to walk.
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John had to be sent to the hospital.
Miles was in the principal's office, sitting silently as John's parents screamed at the principal while Miles’s mother sat next to him upset. “My child is a great kid! And how is he supposed to feel safe in this school anymore knowing this can happen again, huh?” John's mom spewed mindlessly, ranting about how she was going to press charges. Miles scoffed, causing Rio to look at him with a look of “watch your mouth before I watch it for you.” He just looked down at his hands in his lap.
Miles walked out of the classroom to head back to his shared dorm. He couldn’t get out of his mind what John had done to you. As vague as your response was, he knew more had happened between you and John. He didn’t know why it bothered him so deeply, it wasn't even really his business. He knew the thought of someone being touched like that made him upset, but he felt pure outrage from this specifically, and he knew deep in his heart it was because it was because it was you who had gone through it.
As much as he hated to admit it, he knew he felt something different for you when he intervened the night the three men attacked you. He almost added three bodies to his belt, for you.
Usually, as bad as it sounds, he would mostly let people get robbed or thrown around in alleyways. He would help occasionally if it sounded gruesome or of dire need for assistance. But he had to save his city from the sinister six, and petty crimes that were bound to happened weren’t the ideal way to do that. But the voice screaming sounded familiar, kinda sounded like you. The thought of you being in danger offset his nerves, and he knew a you were going to a party that night so he went, just to check.
Sure enough.
He stalked you from above the rest of your walk home just to make sure nothing else happened.
He walked into the lobby consumed by his own thoughts, snapping back to reality as he overheard John talking to his friends about how “y/n finally let me hit, she was so tight-”. He paused in his tracks. Ain’ no way acaba de escuchar lo que pensó que hizo. He turned to the direction of John's voice, this was now his business. He walked over, becoming increasingly irate the more John talked about “how much you loved it”. John turned, hearing footsteps approaching alarming quickly. He saw Miles, John knew Miles had heard about what really happened at the party. John scoffed, somewhat anxious he had been caught in his lie and afraid Miles would try to embarrass him in front of his friends. He quickly spoke before Miles even had the chance to say a word,“You ain’ needed here Miles-” John was cut off by a fist colliding with his face, not what he was expecting at all. Johns friends gasped or yelled in shock, Miles didn’t stop though. Miles didn’t even say anything, small grunts of anger being the only thing leaving his lips as John hit the floor. Miles siguan latiendo la mierda fuera de él.
“What you won't even speak huh?” John's mom said, facing Miles. He furrowed his eyebrows at her. “You wanna send my baby boy to the hospital and have no reason why? Why are you picking on my kid huh? You-” “You think your kid is the best thing on Gods green earth”Miles scoffed, cutting her off. “Cause he is, my kid wouldn’t hurt a fly and you-”“your oh so wonderful kid tried to rape a girl then went around yappin’ bout’ how much she enjoyed it.” The room fell silent. The principal eyes went wide, “Uh-Uhm, how about we resume this tommorow-” “well hold on,” Rio spoke for the first time, “My son intervened and helped someone in danger because their son was making girls unsafe in the school? Why is he being punished?” “Well Mrs.Morales we didn’t know that happened-” “so you immediately assumed my son was the cause of this not even getting evidence before?” “Well he did start-” “uhn-uh, their child is making the school more unsafe than Miles ever did. Why aren’t they being scolded for this?”
The principal apologized, saying Miles would be suspended for the rest of the week for starting the fight, but no charges could be pressed to avoid anybody getting into serious trouble.
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Miles sat in the passenger seat of his moms car, the leather caressing his skin as he looked out the window. A hushed silence had fallen over the two a while ago. Silence is always worse than actually being screamed at, the anticipation is always so suffocating. “So.. who’s the girl?” His mom said, looking at the road ahead. Miles glanced at her before looking back out the window, “classmate.” She nodded, humming. Rio knew her son, and she knew Miles wouldn’t damn near end a kids life just just for some classmate.
“Ella tiene un nombre?” He sighed lightly, “Y/n.” Rio nodded and hummed again, looking at miles through the corner of her eye. “At some point throughout the week, I expect her over for dinner.” “I don’t even have her number, how is she supposed to know” Rio clicked her teeth and smirked,
“Encontrarás una manera”.
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©axeoverblade
5K notes · View notes
seokgyuu · 2 months
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What could be worse than a valentine’s day alone? Exactly, a valentine’s day spent with your academic rival, Jeon Wonwoo, stuck in the home eco’s kitchen because you were both sentenced to take over the cookie baking for this season’s day of love. 
pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader
genre: academic rivals to lovers, smut, heart wrenching and tooth rotting fluff (wonwoo is down bad bad)
warnings: sexual content, smut warnings under cut! wonwoo is a little bit mean? but like not too mean? she’s also kinda mean. but they are in love! promise.
word count: 5k
a/n: hi everyone!! this is part of the cupids collab hosted by the wonderful @wongyuseokie for @svthub! this work is dedicated to the wonderful, the lovely, the hilarious @highvern! i hope you like it, babes!! sending you loads of love this valentine's day and thousands of kisses, mwah! i had loads of fun writing this and am happy to be a part of this collab, hehe. also thank you @ourdawnishotterthanourday for betaing, ily! <3
“I’m giving you one chance to get out of here,” you say, holding open the door. Wonwoo doesn’t move.  “Who says I’m the one who has to go? You’re obviously the worse baker.”  Oh, he is truly playing with you right now. You let the door fall shut, eyes squeezed as you stare at him. “Fine. Then it’ll be me and you, buddy.” “I guess so,” he pauses, eyebrow raising, “and I’m not your buddy.”
smut warnings: minimal degradation (usage of the word “slut”), praising, pet names (princess, sweetheart, darling, pretty girl) oral (f. receiving), begging, softdom!wonwoo, unprotected sex (you know the drill - wrap it before you tap it, folks!), creampie (get it… cream…pie? cookies & cre- ok i’m sorry).
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There are approximately seven thousand three hundred and twenty eight places you would rather be than here. 
Nothing has helped you get out of this unfortunate situation. No pleading, no begging, not even wanting to send Seungkwan in your stead. Professor Yoon had been adamant in his decision to send you and him to this god forsaken home eco kitchen to bake the badge of cookies for the Valentine’s day sale. 
“It’s not even a real holiday!” you had whined to Seungkwan, “if it were, we wouldn’t even be at class in the first place!” 
All your best friend did was rub your back and tell you it was all gonna be fine, all while writing a text to Vernon on his phone in his other hand. He was used to your antics when it came to Jeon Wonwoo. Everyone was, at this point. Both of you had not made it hard to get used to - just by the amount of times you had decided to fight and dive right into rivalry when there was no reason to. Perhaps, he thought, it wasn’t even a bad idea to put you two in one room together for several hours with no one else. It could give you time to talk out your differences. Call for a truce. Screw the anger out of each other. Anything that would make Seungkwan’s life easier. 
That day comes sooner than you wanted it to, and while your hand lays on the handle of the car door, you feel the uneasiness inside you raise. 
“I can’t do this, Seungkwan. One of us is gonna end up dead.”
“Yeah, my money’s on Wonwoo. Please don’t disappoint me.” Seungkwan hums back, hands on the steering wheel and his eyebrows raised. You turn around, your mouth slightly agape before scoffing and opening the door.
“Pick me up at 4?” you ask and your best friend nods, waving at you once the door is closed. He truly hopes neither of you ends up dead (but if push comes to shove, obviously Wonwoo because then Vernon would owe him 5 bucks). 
Professor Yoon had told you that all necessities would be at the university and that you wouldn’t have to bring anything except for a good mood, something you didn’t dare to say was impossible in the given situation. 
You aren’t stupid (Wonwoo would beg to differ), you are well aware that your professor is trying to end whatever war you and Wonwoo have going on by pairing you up for this. And while you get the sentiment and might even appreciate it a little - you’re more than sure that nothing will ever come out of this - Wonwoo and you despise each other. It has been like this since your first semester and it most definitely wasn’t going to change over something as trivial as baking cookies together. 
The home eco’s kitchen is in the basement of the economics building and you are happy to notice you’re the first to arrive. Smiling to yourself, you fish the key to the room out of your bag and unlock the door, walking in and turning on the lights. 
The kitchen is spacious and modern, everything is made out of gray steel, with a few dark wood accents on the cupboards. You spot the boxes with ingredients on the island, and place your bag next to it before unpacking the things provided for you and Wonwoo. It becomes your mission to arrange the cookbook with the recipe in the center of the right side of the island, gathering all the needed ingredients around it in the order you would need it. Then, you search the cupboards for a big bowl, wooden spoon and a mixer. 
You have gathered almost everything except for the mixer, spotting it in one of the higher cupboards you most definitely can’t reach without some sort of help. Biting down on your lip and gnawing on it, you look around the room, coming up empty. There are chairs in the room next to the kitchen, but you don’t have the key for it. With a sigh, you stretch yourself as much as you possibly can, hand reaching for the kitchen gadget - with no luck. Just when you’re about to climb on top of the counter, you feel something shift behind you, a body suddenly pressed against yours and an arm reaching up to grab the mixer for you without any trouble at all. 
Wonwoo. Your body stiffens at his touch and only relaxes once he backs off, putting the mixer down next to the other stuff. Immediately you turn around, your eyes glaring at him.
“Someone decided to show up, after all.” You spit at him and he rolls his eyes. 
“I was forced, if you must know.” He says not even looking at you. His eyes are focused on the ingredients on the counter, his lips slowly drawing into a smug smile.
“Control freak much?” 
Your head burns and you scoff, walking over to the door and feeling his eyes on you as you move. 
“I’m giving you one chance to get out of here,” you say, holding open the door. Wonwoo doesn’t move. 
“Who says I’m the one who has to go? You’re obviously the worse baker.” 
Oh, he is truly playing with you right now. You let the door fall shut, eyes squeezed as you stare at him.
“Fine. Then it’ll be me and you, buddy.”
“I guess so,” he pauses, eyebrow raising, “and I’m not your buddy.”
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For the most part the two of you are quiet. Mainly because you don’t have anything to say to each other. You split the ingredients evenly (either one of you starting with their own batch since there is a whole lot of cookies to bake) and begin working on opposite ends of the kitchen. You get through the first batch without so much as exchanging looks. You do your thing and he does his. Only, when you get the first batch out, you ask him to hand you the oven mittens, which he does without any fuss. You’re surprised but don’t say it. 
It’s when the both of you start to work on your second batches that things… change.
You hate to admit the tension in the room. In fact, you’ve been hating it since the first day you’ve met him. It’s a shame he’s so hot when he’s the absolute bane of your existence. Your friends (mainly Seungkwan, really) tease you about your obvious attraction to the man you call your archnemesis every chance they get, causing you to flip them off, or scoff, or just roll your eyes at how extremely wrong they are. If you could change it, you would! Finding him attractive whilst hating him truly is exhausting. 
Slowly, you let yourself turn around in hopes he doesn’t notice. Thankfully, he is entirely focused on sprinkling chocolate chips into the cookies - white chocolate chips. You let out a gasp and your wooden spoon falls onto the top of the counter you’re working on.
“That’s cheating!” You shout, pointing at the package of sweets that he so obviously brought himself. What a jerk!
Not even looking at you, Wonwoo chuckles at your words, placing the chocolate chips next to him and wiping his hands on the apron he had put on earlier. Then, he turns to you, hip leaning against the counter, arms crossed and his eyebrows raised as he smirks like the douchebag you know he is.
“Cheating, yeah?” He repeats, licking his lips, “not sure it counts as cheating when it was clear from the beginning I would make better cookies, sweetheart.”
His condescending way of talking to you has always succeeded in making your blood boil, just like right now. You scoff, shaking your head and cleaning your own hands with a kitchen towel to your left.
“You know, considering these are for the day of love it is quite ironic Professor Yoon paired me with you, the person I hate the most.” You present Wonwoo with a honey dripping smile that couldn’t be more fake. Wonwoo doesn’t waver though. He just continues to smirk, his eyebrows shooting up even more, and before you know it he starts walking towards you, a click of his tongue almost making you flinch.
“See, love and hate are like siblings. While on the surface they couldn’t be more different, in their core they are irritatingly similar,” his voice is deep and his eyes are right there on yours and somehow you feel like he has taken away your ability to breathe. What the hell is he doing?
“You were always fascinating to me, darling. Always so sure of your opinion, never wavering. That first day we met, do you remember? How you were on my ass for the rest of the day because Professor Cha liked my answer better than yours?”
“He did not!” You shoot back, surprised by your own whiny tone. Looking at Wonwoo’s face, the defined jawline and cheekbones, the round specs on top of his nose and the brown soft curls falling into his forehead, you immediately regret speaking up at all. There is something in his eyes now, something you have never seen before  - at least not on him. Something inside of him shifted, like a switch that had been flipped, and the way he looks at you makes all of your skin erupt in goosebumps. 
“Ah, so I imagined things?” Wonwoo only so much as whispers, his large frame coming even closer, “Are you saying I’m a liar, pretty girl?”
Pretty girl. What the fuck? Your eyes widen and you feel your throat closing up. Absolutely not, you could not freeze right now! He was testing you, seeing how far he could go before you actually fell for whatever he was trying to do. Gathering all your confidence, you bring your hands up to place them on his chest and softly push him away. It gives you extreme satisfaction when you see the surprise on his face.
“And if I am? What are you going to do about it, Wonwoo?” Your smile turns smug and the little vein on Wonwoo’s forehead pops out just slightly. About to retrieve your arms, you are met with his hands around your wrists and his body even closer to yours. 
To say he catches you by surprise would be an understatement. Your lower back is pressed against the counter, your hands in his grip and your lungs missing the necessary air to not get dizzy. Why does he smell so good? You catch yourself thinking thoughts you normally would try to suppress at any given time - especially when Wonwoo is right in front of you. This time, though, there is no escaping. Not with him so close, not with him staring right into your soul.
“I have learned one thing over the years we’ve known each other, Y/N,” he breathes, eyes not leaving your face, “you can be a real fucking brat.”
The gasp you want to let out gets stuck in your throat. Instead, something like a choke comes out, something that makes Wonwoo smirk and your legs weak.
“You really think you’re sly. Do you honestly believe I don’t know how attractive you find me? How you need to look away everytime I come in wearing tighter shirts or pants that hang low enough to see the waistband of my underwear? You always try to act like you hate me and, you know what, maybe you do, but what I said earlier isn’t wrong, darling, love and hate are like yin and yang - they can’t exist without the other.”
He has your wrists in a strong grip and his lower body is now pressed against yours, something you never realized you craved. Feeling his growing erection against you, knowing he is turned on by you, by the situation, you feel like your head is about to explode. 
“So, what if I tell you that maybe I don’t actually hate you, but I actually find you attractive as well? What if I tell you nine out of ten times I want to shut your annoying mouth up by shoving my cock right down your tight throat? Or how whenever you bend over your desk to tell someone something you, of course, know better than them, I want to take you just like that and make everyone see just how much of a desperate pretty slut you actually are?”
You’re done for. With every word he’s saying, you can feel yourself actually becoming what he says you are. Desperate. The heat between your legs has turned into liquid in your panties, has turned into your heart beating at triple speed. 
“Y-You can’t just say that!” You stutter, knowing full well he will just laugh at you. And he does. He laughs and he throws his head back and then he looks at you again, his eyes glinting with want that only gets emphasized by the hard cock pressing against you. 
“Oh, sweet, sweet baby. Of course, I can,” he hums, finally letting go of one of your wrists to carefully tug a strand of hair behind your ear, “you’re so beautiful, especially when you’re flustered.” 
He must be playing with you. It has to be one of his games. He wants you to give in, wants you to fall for this only to hold it over your head for the rest of your college life. His mixture of dominance and sweetness is about to give you whiplash, especially when he begins to caress your cheek and leans down, his breath hitting your cheek. 
“We need to finish those cookies, Wonwoo.” The words are whispered and almost inaudible, but he hears you and he smiles.
“We’re alone in this basement, sweetheart. We’ve got all day to finish those cookies.” His hand wanders down, finding its place on your hip. You shiver slightly, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips and when his nose bumps against yours, something tells you that maybe he is serious. 
When he kisses you, you figure that something is correct. What’s supposed to start soft turns into something deep, and hot, and uncontrolled, right off the bat. Kissing Wonwoo feels like the only thing you had ever missed out on in life and now you finally got the chance to take what belongs to you. His lips are soft and his tongue is warm, pressing against yours and entangling it in a dance of fire. Your hands are in his hair and his are on your hips and you’re sitting on top of the counter with all of your ingredients pushed to the side, your wooden spoon falling to the floor when Wonwoo lifts you up. 
As if on instinct, your legs wrap around him and you moan against his lips when his hands move up, groping your breasts through your shirt. He licks into your mouth, your fingers digging into his nape, nails dragging along his skin. 
If you could see into Wonwoo’s brain you might have gotten scared. Not because he’s thinking actual scary thoughts but because of how many times he has imagined this. You’re always there, somewhere in his brain, your smile, your eyes, your laugh. And when he’s alone and can’t sleep you’re there too, but this time it’s how he thinks you’d sound when he’s inside of you, when he sucks on your neck and squeezes your tits. There hasn’t been a day since he met you that he hadn’t thought about you. 
It’s a shame you immediately called him out to be your academic rival on that day because all Wonwoo wanted to do back then was to make you his girlfriend, basically falling in love with you at first sight. As cliché as it sounds, it’s even more cliché considering he just played along with you, acting like he hated you, riling you up during class in ways he would rather switch for moments like this one right now. 
Never had he imagined he’d get you alone, especially considering how good you are at avoiding him. But when Professor Yoon had asked him to bake the cookies for the Valentine’s day sale - he couldn’t help but suggest you as his partner. Hours would be spent together in a kitchen, hours you had to spend with him. 
He loves how right he was. How right he was about you giving in, about you finding him hot, about you wanting him. He loves the sounds you make when he begins kissing down your neck and when his hand wanders under your shirt and shoves away your bra to touch the breasts he had been dreaming about. He sucks marks onto your neck and feels himself grow harder with every passing second. There is nowhere on this earth he’d rather be than right here, between your legs. 
“Been dying to do this, you know?” He mumbles against your neck, licking up to your earlobe and twitching in his pants when he feels you shivering under his touch.
“R-Really?” You whimper back and Wonwoo nods, both hands moving to your cheeks, lips back on yours in a heated, passionate kiss. He thinks that nothing will ever feel as good as kissing you. 
“Yeah, baby, wanted to kiss you forever, fuck,” he moans when your fingers move underneath his shirt, when you touch his bare skin and all of him begins to burn.
“Wanted to touch you, taste you.” His words echo in your mind and you open your eyes, a horny daze in them that makes Wonwoo question his sanity. He moves down now, kissing your neck again and shoving your shirt up to kiss your stomach and breasts over your bra, nimble fingers opening the apron you had laced around your hips earlier. 
“Can I taste you, pretty girl?” He asks then and you think you nod, at least you want to nod, but your head is clouded and you feel like you’re about to pass out. When he moves to get the apron off of you, focussing on opening your pants next, you figure you did in the end. 
Having you half naked in front of him makes Wonwoo feel like he has reached the gates of heaven. Your pants are on the floor and your chest is heaving, eyes glossy as you watch Wonwoo move to the floor, his tall body still reaching the top of the counter when he kneels in front of you. He moves his arms, wrapping them around your thighs and pulling you closer, his nose tapping against your sensitive core the next second. With a gasp, your hands reach for his head of hair, grounding yourself in it as you stare down at the way he eyes your pussy as if he had never seen anything more delicious in his life. 
When he moves your panties to the side, his finger softly gliding over your folds, you feel yourself shiver once more. You let out another whimper, biting down on your lip that feels hot and a little bruised after the way Wonwoo had kissed you. 
“God, I can’t even tell you how many nights I’ve dreamt of this moment.” He kisses the inside of your thighs, making you moan quietly, fingers coating themselves in your juices, ready to please you. 
Watching him is messing with your head in the best way possible. The way he looks at you, so full of endearment and adoration. How he touches you as if you’d break if he touched you too vehemently. He lets his tongue glide over your skin, moving until it reaches your dripping cunt, licking over your lips, tasting you for the first time. The moan he lets out has you digging your nails into his scalp, mouth dropped as you continue to stare down, continue to watch Wonwoo, your archnemesis, begin to devour your pussy like a Michelin star dish. 
He starts off slow, licking over your folds, not touching your clit even once. If he died right now, he’d be content. Tasting you, hearing your sounds when you’re aroused, him being the cause of it - it’s almost all of his dreams coming true. His fingers move, one of them circling your entrance, your whines growing louder by the second. You want his fingers inside of you, you need them inside of you. Wiggling your hips against him, Wonwoo chuckles at your antics and finally moves his finger, inch by inch sinking into your needy hole, your eyes squeezing shut as you clench around him. 
“So, so eager, princess,” he mumbles against your pussy, another breathy laugh causing you to thrust forward, his finger now completely inside of you. And, fuck, do you feel wonderful. So much better than anything Wonwoo had experienced before, better than anything he could have imagined. Perhaps, he figures, it’s because it’s you. 
Next thing you know, Wonwoo’s lips are around your clit, sucking it into his mouth, tongue flicking against it and leaving you to moan his name time and time again. Your hips move against him and he lets you, his cock straining against his pants in desperate need for attention. But not yet, he isn’t done with you. First, you’d have to come undone on his tongue and his fingers, first you had to scream his name as you experienced complete and utter satisfaction. Wonwoo does everything in his power for that to happen. He adds another finger and fucks you open, his long fingers meeting your sweet spot with every thrust as if he had studied your body for hundreds of hours. His tongue does the work of a god, his lips kiss you like you had never known you needed to be kissed, especially down there. 
“D-Don’t stop! Oh, fuck, Wonwoo!” You cry out, your head thrown back as you focus on nothing but your pleasure, on how he feels on your pussy, how it all is too much and yet not enough. You think about what’s to come, about how he will fuck you next, will sink into you with his cock, will make you feel like you’re the most precious woman on this planet. Even more than he already does. Your high is nearing, it’s so close you can feel it right there in front of you, that tight knot in your stomach about to break free and give you one of the most intense orgasms of your life. 
“Cum for me, baby. Fuck, I want you to cum on my tongue.” Wonwoo’s words are like magic, like a spell that he puts on you. A lewd whine escapes your throat and you do as he wishes, cumming all over his tongue and fingers, your juices drenching his face. He lets you ride out your orgasm on his face, anticipation filling him when he finally parts from you. 
Immediately, you pull down to kiss him when he stands. Tasting yourself on his lips with your hands opening his apron and getting it off his tall frame with his help, you can’t wait to get even closer to him. You slip out of your panties with his lips steadily on yours, a faint sound in your ears when they hit the floor.
“Need you so bad, Wonwoo, please hurry,” you cry out and he laughs, kissing your neck and your cheek, his hands opening his belt, zipper and button, shoving his pants down only for you to gasp at the sheer size of his bulge. He grins, hands back on your face to make sure you’re looking at him.
“Naughty, aren’t you? My perfect, pretty slut,” he kisses your lips again and your eyes roll back, your pussy throbbing in want. And obviously he knows how much you want him - he wants you just the same. As he continues to kiss you, he moves to pull his briefs down, his hard erection springing free, angry tip red and smeared with pre, oh-so ready to sink into your warm embrace. You part from him, eyes now setting on his cock, your mouth watering at the sight. 
“Fuck, you’re big,” you say, swallowing down the saliva pooling in your mouth. Wonwoo only grins wider, his big hands finding purchase on your hips as he leans down again. 
“Beg a little for it, baby, and you might get it.” You shiver and bite down on your lip, your hands wandering over his still clothed torso and down to his cock, slowly wrapping your hand around it.
“Please, Wonwoo, please fuck me…,” is your whispered plead, and the man standing in between your legs groans against your neck, sucking yet another mark into your delicate skin before nodding and grabbing his cock out of your hand, lining it up perfectly with your entrance and slowly sinking in.
His forehead is leaned against yours when he bottoms out and his hands caress your head, coming to a stop on your nape. 
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, kissing the tip of your nose and you smile, giving the tip of his nose a kiss back. Then, he parts from you and the look in his eyes changes from soft to dark. He does his first thrust, catching you off guard, a loud moan escaping you. Your hands grab onto his shoulders as he continues his thrusts, fucking you deep and hard, his eyes focused on your face that contours in absolute bliss. When he said you’re beautiful, he meant it. 
He is holding onto your hips again, pulling you as close to him as he can, his hips chasing yours, his cock in the deepest bits of your pussy, your gummy walls squeezing him for his pleasure. There is nothing you can do besides begging him to go faster, begging him to not ever stop and crying his name when he leans down to suck on your hard nipple over your shirt. 
“Wonwoo! Fuck!” You clench over and over again, stars dancing in front of your eyes accompanied by beautiful lights that slowly but surely turn into fireworks. With every thrust of his hips, you feel yourself coming closer to the edge again. You want him to fill you, want him to claim you as his, make you feel full of him and only him. Nails are digging into his shoulders, your head falling back against the kitchen cabinet, his groans and the beautiful sound of your name coming out of his mouth chasing you off the cliff and into the warm waters of yet another intense orgasm. 
“Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop, oh- Wonwoo!” It’s done, you are done, your climax hitting you hard and making you gush all over his length that is still so deeply buried inside your sensitive cunt. Wonwoo moans, feeling your pussy clench around him, squeeze him, beg him to cum, to decorate you in his shades of white. And he wants to, god, there is nothing he had ever wanted more. His breathing becomes labored and he leans forward, engulfing you in yet another heated kiss, one arm wrapped around you, the other letting its hand rest on your cheek, thumb caressing your chin as his tongue flicks against yours over and over, mixed with his breathless moans. 
When you squeeze him the next time, he erupts. He moans your name, hips becoming frantic as he shoots his load into you, spurts of white and hot cum filling your spent pussy, your and his combined releases dripping down your thighs even as he fucks his cum so, so deep into you.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he pants against your mouth, continuing to kiss you right after, riding out his orgasm and only stopping when you’re both completely out of breath. 
It’s silent for a few moments, the only thing audible your almost synchronized breathing. Your hands are still on his shoulders, his hands are still on your waist and your cheek. His face is buried in the crook of your neck and he softly kisses your sweaty skin, nothing but pure happiness running through him at this point. He softly caresses your face as he leans back again, his eyes searching for yours. 
“Y/N,” he then breathes, a small and maybe even shy smile playing on his lips.
“Wonwoo,” you sigh back, pulling him into a hug that he accepts with a laugh, both his arms now fully wrapped around your body. He’s still inside of you and only leaves you when you part from the hug, more of his release now dripping out of your core. He doesn’t ask whether you’re on birth control because for all he cares he would love to have you pregnant with his child. The thought alone makes his head spin. 
“Well,” he begins, a smug smile on his face as he leans down to pick up your panties, “that definitely gives ‘cookies and cream’ a different meaning.” 
You stare at him, slightly bewildered, for around three seconds before you burst into laughter, grabbing your underwear from him and jumping back onto your shaky feet. “You’re horrible,” you say and shake your head and Wonwoo’s smile grows even wider.
“Maybe. But I promise you, sweetheart, I’ll never ever be horrible to you again.”
“Oh, we’ll see about that, Mr. Know-It-All,” you smile and give his cheek a peck that he reacts to by turning bright red. 
It is in that exact moment you realize Wonwoo was never your archnemesis. Nor has he ever been as much of an ass as you had made him out to be. Jeon Wonwoo is nothing but a loser who’s been in love with you since the very first day you met him, and perhaps you had always known. Perhaps you finally let yourself realize right now, the moment after he had cum inside of you and still blushes like a little kid when you kiss his cheek, that the only reason you had chosen him to be your rival was to run away from how much you knew you’d fall for him if you didn’t. 
“Come on, let’s do what we actually came here for.”
And for the rest of the day you and Wonwoo bake the cookies for the sale and talk about what your plans are for Valentine’s. To no surprise those plans immediately involve hanging out together. Maybe, you think, to give ‘cookies and cream’ that new meaning over and over again. 
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tasteleeknow · 1 year
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BETWEEN
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PAIRING: minho + chan x fem!reader GENRE: smut. fluff. f2l. roommates au. threesome/poly. CONTENT: 18+ minors dni. WORD COUNT: 5k
SUMMARY: Your two roommates are your best friends in the world. You’d also love nothing more than to be sandwiched between them. Queue tension and smut with feelings.
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do not repost to other sites, including translations.
It’s laundry day, a day you’ve put off a little long. You end up grabbing a shirt from Minho’s clean clothing he’d left in the dryer to throw over your head as you wait for your own load to finish. Neither of them were around. You’re leaning over the counter to grab a paper towel when the front door opens. You peak around the corner just as Chris is throwing his shoes aside. Okay, this is fine. The shirt is just long enough to hang over the tops of your thighs, covering the pale blue underwear you’d slept in.
There’s no escape. You’re going to have to face your friend in your underwear. Be casual about it, you tell yourself. It’s not a big deal. You really needed to stop putting off doing laundry. 
You continue with your task, wiping down the kitchen bench as your eggs fry. “Are you hungry?!” you call out. “I’m making breakfast if you want anything.” 
He was always up before you and Minho, spending his early mornings at the gym. 
“I’m starv…ing….” he trails off from behind you. Alright, so he’d noticed the no pants thing. Act casual. 
“Good, I’m making extra. I thought—” 
Then he’s behind you, not quite touching, but hovering so close you're forced to pause your cleaning. He leans over you. “You can wear mine, if you like,” he says, tugging a little at the hem of Minho’s t-shirt. 
Then he’s gone. The shower starts just as the dryer announces your clothes are ready. 
You’d hoped your regular nightmares would be left in childhood. But as you’d grown out of your favourite shoes and your allergy to soy, your nightmares had stuck. The first time you’d crept into Minho’s room after a particularly bad one, you’d nudged him awake hesitantly. He’d welcomed you under his covers, unquestioning. They stayed away with him, with Chris too the few times he’d fallen asleep in your bed. It was only when you were alone that your sleep was disturbed. 
Minho is curled up on his side when you crawl under his sheets, shuffling as close to him as possible without touching. He still stirs when you roll over to face the edge of the bed. He would always wake up when you joined him. He connects his front to your back, as always. But then, with a small contented noise from his throat, his hand slips up under the hem of your shirt—his warm palm resting against your stomach. 
This is new. 
“Min?” you whisper. 
When he doesn’t respond, you roll over. His hand slips to rest on your back. You reach up to brush his hair behind his ear, tucking the soft strands away from his eyes. His hair was longer than you’d ever seen it. He hadn’t bothered getting it cut. He hums, almost a purr. He’s awake. “Does it bother you when I sleep here?” you whisper.
His brows pull together slightly and then he tugs you a little closer, pressing you right up against his chest. You have a feeling that’s all the answer you’ll be receiving. 
You watch as he drifts off. It only takes him a few minutes. His features go slack, lips parting slightly as his breathing evens out. You follow him shortly after. 
It’s only a few hours later that you find yourself staring at the ceiling—Minho’s legs tangled with your own. The nightmare that had led you into this room had been particularly bad, startling you awake with a racing heart. You’re usually fine after joining Minho. But not tonight. It’s enough that you find yourself creeping from his bedroom in the early hours of the morning, completely giving up on more sleep. It’s unsurprising when you find Chris awake, lounging on the couch with a book in his hands. He often had a worse time with sleep than you did. 
“Nightmare?” he says as you settle into his side, resting your head against his shoulder. 
“Mm. Nothing new, it was just… more intense.” 
He lifts the woollen blanket off his legs and drapes it over you. “Intense?” he questions. 
“He-It… stood right over me. It usually just gets to my door before I wake up but… it walked right up to my bed and just… stood there. It felt like he was going to lunge at me any second… it was—” you cut yourself off as you bury your face in his shoulder, a shiver running up your spine. 
“You’re alright,” he soothes. “Promise.” 
“I know. I just… I hate sleeping alone.”
Minho chooses that moment to stumble into the room, fluffy socks sliding along the floorboards as he runs his fingers through his hair. He collapses onto the couch beside you seconds later, dropping his head into your lap as he stretches out as much as he can along the cushions.
Chris huffs out a breathy laugh beside you, draping his arm over your shoulder—book forgotten. “Problem solved,” he says. 
“Where’d you go?” Minho mumbles from your lap, eyes closed. 
“Couldn’t sleep,” you answer as you brush his hair from his face, the soft brown strands a pleasant occupation for your hands. 
A bolt of lightning lights up the room, drowning out the soft glow from the lamp Chris had been using to read. “The storm?” Minho questions as you play with his hair, stroking some of the strands around his temples. 
“My dreams,” you correct. 
“You don’t have them with me.” 
“I know… but the one I had earlier just lingered, I guess.” 
All three of you are quiet as rain starts falling, the type of rain that falls heavy with no build up—creating a curtain between you and the world.
“Stop sleeping alone, then,” Minho says. “Just stay with me.” 
You take a moment to process his meaning. Then, “Everynight?” 
“Mm.” 
The corner of your mouth lifts a little. They were so good to you, both of them. “Love you,” you whisper as your fingers brush the shell of his ear. 
He says nothing, his upper lip twitching a little. 
You told them both as often as you could. You loved them more than anyone on earth. They had to know. It had morphed though, the type of love. That was always how you knew you’d end up loving someone. You had to know them so completely that you were safe, comfortable. Love them as friends, then as lovers. 
It was the way Minho would keep one eye on you in public, when he knew you’d get overwhelmed. He always managed to catch onto when you wanted to leave before you’d even had a chance to voice it. He was quiet with his love, softly spoken words of comfort that you’d absorb without moving a muscle. If you moved, he might startle—shrink back into his comfort zone. 
Chris’ attention was a little different. Rambling words, tripping over himself as he told you about his day. A hand on your back as you made your way through the busy weekend market. While Minho kept his eye on you from a distance, Chris was up close—physical contact and direct questioning. 
A clap of thunder rumbles through the sky as Chris detangles himself from you. “Hot chocolate?” he asks. 
“Mm, thank you.” 
“Minho?” he prompts.
The man in question grunts out something that Chris interprets as a yes. “Three hot chocolates,” he says as he disappears into the kitchen, leaving you with a half asleep man in your lap. You continue playing with his hair as the storm intensifies. You’d always liked storms. They formed a protective barrier from the rest of the world. The air was washed clean, the suffocating heat of summer days was quashed, and no one expected anything from you.
You begin tracing over the tiny scars and imperfections that mark Minho’s face, little traces of evidence from his life before you’d met. It was hard to imagine that you’d ever been without him. It was only out of ignorance that you’d endured it. 
“Do you really not mind if I sleep with you?” you ask, hoping he won’t retract his offer. “You won’t get sick of me?” 
His eyes flutter open, long dark lashes visible even in the dim light. “I like it,” he says simply. I love you, you hear. 
It’s an easy routine to fall into. Your room becomes a glorified closet as you spend each night in Minho’s instead. He even puts up with your pillow talk, and on nights where he’s particularly energetic, he offers a few thoughtful comments in addition to his hums of acknowledgement. 
The feeling of the mattress dipping as someone sinks into the bed behind you wakes you. It’s the smell of his shampoo that tells you it’s Chris that wraps around you. “You awake?” he whispers. 
“Mm, couldn’t sleep?” 
“Yeah,” he confirms. 
Minho makes a small noise before draping his leg over you, smacking his lips before stilling again. You’re completely enveloped now, two warm bodies sheltering you from the darkness. Chris didn’t join you often. You’d spent a few nights with your back to the dark room wishing he would. Minho’s bed was centred in the room. You preferred having yours pushed against the wall. It felt safer. 
Chris makes a small contended noise as he presses up behind you.
“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he whispers after a moment, breath ghosting over your neck. “You bent over the counter… your thighs…” It takes you off guard. You know what he’s talking about, despite it being weeks ago that he caught you in Minho’s shirt. You find yourself unable to breathe, heart thumping so loud you're sure he must hear it. “It’s wrong—dirty to think about you that way,” he continues. “I know. I know I shouldn’t.” 
“Why?” 
A pause. “What?” 
“Why is it wrong?” 
He’s quiet. Then, “Because you don’t want it.” 
“How do you know?” 
His hand rests at your hip, a comforting hold. He’s quiet as you reach down to take his hand in yours and guide it up to your lips. You press a kiss to the side of his hand, just below his thumb. A slow kiss, one you hope conveys all the meaning you intend it to. 
When you release him, he doesn’t move. Not apart from brushing his thumb over your lips. He can’t see at all what he’s doing, still behind you in the dark room. He goes by feel, playing with your lower lip until—with a tiny amount of pressure—he pushes inside. Your lips wrap around him, taking his thumb as he presses it to your tongue. 
Then he starts whispering, “I wanted to hold you down, press you into the counter and lift the shirt a little higher.” 
You hum around his thumb, wrapping your own fingers around his wrist to hold him there. You’re not dreaming, you’re sure of it. You’re awake and sandwiched between the two people you love most. It’s surreal. This was always the way it would have gone. Chris was always going to be the one to bring you all together, finally.
He continues, “How would you sound?” His breathing is heavier now. “If I fucked you against it? Would you make pretty little noises? Would you say my name?” His thumb moves in and out a little as you suck at it. “I can’t stop thinking about it. How warm are you… how would you suck me in…” 
Minho makes a small noise and you both still, waiting to see if he’ll wake. 
“Have you ever heard him whine your name?” Chris starts again. His low whispers are a little more hushed now. “He tries not to. He tries so hard. He usually does it in the shower, when he knows you aren’t home.” 
Your grip tightens on his wrist. 
Chris continues, “You know how he is: he’s shy.” Warm lips to your neck, a firm press. “He wants you though.” His nose brushes the skin behind your ear as he nuzzles a little further into you. Then he laughs, quiet and breathy. “He was so casual when he said you should sleep here, like he doesn’t wrap his hand around his cock and imagine he was brave enough to fuck you into the mattress.”
You pull your lips from his thumb, leaving it wet. “Are you—Are you sure?” you whisper, attempting to turn your head to face him. His hand wraps around your throat, holding you in place and preventing you from turning. 
“I’d never lie to you, baby.” His fingers are gentle at your neck, his thumb stroking your skin slowly. “I love you.” It’s surreal hearing those words in such a new context. Whispered into your neck as his wet thumb traces patterns against your throat. “Should we wake him up? We’ll have to be gentle,” he murmurs into your hair. “Don’t want him to startle.” 
“Chris?” It’s almost a whine. 
“Mm?” he hums, hips pressed right up against you now. 
“Love you too.” 
His fingers press slightly into your neck as he adjusts himself behind you. “Mm, I know.” Then his hand drops from your neck, across your hips, to your lower back. He pushes you a little, moving you across the mattress towards Minho. He still has one leg draped over yours. “Make sure he does. I’m not sure if he knows the same way I do.” He nudges you a little more. “Go on.” 
Minho’s lips are parted. You reach to brush his plush upper lip with the tips of your fingers. Then, with far too much gentleness for someone trying to wake a person, you snake your hand around the back of his neck and into his hair. “Min,” you call gently as your fingers caress his scalp. “Minho.” 
You watch his brows furrow as he stirs. Then his eyes flutter open. His lashes were visible even in the dim light. As you watch them flutter you’re reminded of a morning you’d awoken to find him half draped over you, his face buried in your neck. As his eyes had blinked open only minutes later, you’d felt them—his lashes tickling your neck like the fluttering wings of a butterfly. 
“Mm?” he hums now, still blinking himself awake. 
“I love you.” 
He frowns, then grumbles something under his breath before rolling over away from you. You suspect he doesn’t understand how you mean it, that you don’t mean it exactly the way you always do. Another tactic then. 
“Do you think about me in the shower?” 
You feel the bed dip a little, Chris moving behind you. A tiny muffled noise follows. He was laughing into your pillow. 
Minho is still. 
You attempt to repeat yourself, “I said do you—” 
“I heard,” Minho says, still facing away from you. His voice is rough from sleep. “What is he doing here?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” the man in question answers from behind you. “Was kept awake by thoughts of bending our girl over the kitchen counter.” 
Our girl. Our girl. Our—
Minho sits up. So quickly it startles you.
“Are you gonna answer her question?” Chris prods. 
Minho rubs at his eyes as he turns to face you. You sit up, partly just so you can reach up and smooth down a tuft of stubborn hair that sticks out from his temple. He licks his lips. “What’s happening?” he mumbles. 
“I love you,” you repeat. He looks at you now, in that way that clearly betrays the cogs are turning. You press your lips together in poorly suppressed fondness as he processes. 
“You… love me?” he says finally. 
You press a kiss to his cheek in answer, an innocent peck. 
“Answer the question,” Chris says from his reclined position on your pillows, clearly enjoying the show. You don’t turn to him, but you can picture the grin on his face clear as day. 
Minho blinks. You decide to help him a little, “In the shower?” 
His eyes drop, breaking eye contact. 
“I have too,” you offer. “I’ve thought about you.” His eyes are back on yours. You’re half tempted to call a pause so you can flick a light on. The darkness is stealing the depth of his brown eyes from you. “I only ever think about either of you—both of you sometimes. I felt a little guilty… I-I didn’t want you to—”
“Both… of us?” he interrupts. 
You can only nod. What do you say to that? 
Then he’s looking over your shoulder, engaging in a silent exchange with Chris. They did this often. You wonder if they’re able to communicate without words because they were merely remembering conversations they had when you weren’t around. Had they had a conversation about you? About this? 
An arm snakes around your waist. Chris drops a soft kiss to your neck, pressing himself so close behind you you’re practically enveloped by him. Safe. Minho reaches towards you, it’s hesitant and you hold your breath as his fingers brush your cheek. Don’t startle him. 
“Me more though, mm?” he asks with a small tilt of his head and a lopsided smirk. 
Chris rocks you to the side a little as he laughs, detaching Minho’s palm from your cheek. That’s the way he was: Minho. Layers of wit and charm blanketing a soft interior. You don’t give me a chance to retreat any further, falling forward out of Chris’ arms and forcing Minho to catch you in his own. He helps you settle in his lap, lifting you a little as you rearrange your limbs. 
“This doesn’t mean I wanna share with anyone else,” you start as you brush the hair from his face. “Just us, yeah?” 
He nods. His eyes flick over your shoulder and then drop to your lips. “Just us,” he agrees. Then his lips are brushing yours, teasing just like his words so often are. You pull him to you properly by the back of his neck, his grown out hair offering you plenty of leverage to hold him where you need. He lets you take from him, lets you guide him. Teasing… and then giving. That’s the way he was. 
Chris settles himself behind you. He litters your neck with kisses as you squirm a little in Minho’s lap, attempting to have more, more, more. Your arms are practically wrapped around his head as you lift a little on your knees, grasping at his hair until Chris is pulling you off him. You take in the way you’ve left Minho as you’re tugged back against the other man. His hair is a mess, lips wet and slightly parted as he catches his breath. You’re tempted to reach out and grab at him like a baby reaching for candy. 
But then you’re distracted, tipped onto your side and pulled tight against a solid torso. “There’s no rush,” Chris says with a breathy laugh. “He’s not leaving.” You meet Minho’s eyes as Chris returns his thumb to your mouth. “There you go,” he encourages. “Good girl.” 
Your breathing settles back into a normal rhythm. He was right. You’d been frantic, desperate. If you rush it’d be over—the last thing you want. You can’t help rolling your hips a little though, not when Minho is looking at you the way he is, watching as you suckle on Chris’ thumb. They were yours. Take your time. 
You reach for Chris’ wrist, wrapping your fingers around it as Minho lays his head on his pillow. Chris rolls his hips into you as you pull his finger from your mouth, slowly, right to the tip. He presses his finger back in before you have a chance to do it yourself. You tug him free of your lips. “I thought there was no rush?” you whisper.
His lips ghost over your earlobe as he speaks, “Am I being greedy?” 
“You stole her,” Minho answers before you can. 
“I saved you,” Chris argues before pressing his lips behind your ear. “She was devouring you.” 
“Maybe I wanted to be devoured.” 
You reach for Minho’s hand and bring his finger to your lips, pressing a kiss to his fingertip. Chris resumes his grinding as you slip Minho’s finger into your mouth. Devour. It feels like an appropriate description as you lay there sucking on his finger with Chris leaving messy kisses at your neck. “What would you like?” he mutters between kisses. “Tell me what you want.” 
It’s a loaded question. You decide to answer as simply as you can, distracted by the way Minho watches you suck on his finger. He licks his lips as you pull him from your mouth. “Fuck me like this. Just like this. Surrounding me.” 
“Surrounding you?” Chan questions, his hand at your stomach holding you firm against him. 
“Mm. Feels safe.. I-I like being between you.” 
He presses his face into the hair behind your ear. “You’re safe, baby.” His hand slips into the waistband of your shorts. “Always.” 
Minho shuffles a little closer to you, close enough that he can replace his finger with his lips. You go practically limp as they each prepare you—Chris with his fingers playing with your cunt, and Minho with his tongue in your mouth and his hand up your shirt. Surrounded. It’s so easy to lose yourself like this, to roll your hips and grasp at Minho’s hair, to forget about any shame as you let small whimpers escape into his mouth. Chris is playing, it’s the perfect word to describe the way his fingers prod and swipe at your cunt. He must feel how you drip for him, how his fingers slip easily through your folds, but you’re alone with the desperate pulse—the emptiness that begs to be filled with a dull throb. 
Minho makes a small noise as you tug a little too hard at his hair. He squeezes your breast in his hand as punishment, his palm warm and perfectly sized to hold you. “Are you getting desperate again?” Chris mumbles into your neck. “Be gentle with him, baby.” 
You whimper a little, nipping at Minho’s lip in defiance. He pulls back a little and a flood of anxiety floods into your chest at the thought he might be leaving, that you’d pushed it too far. But then he’s shuffling down the bed and lifting your shirt up, tugging the fabric up above your tits. He stays there, his breath warm against your nipples as his fingers trace patterns across your skin. 
“Listen,” Chris whispers. His fingers speed up without warning, strumming at your entrance—too low to brush your clit. His goal is clear when the wet sounds of your slick fill the room, his fingers stopping their rapid strumming to prod at your hole every few seconds. You should be embarrassed, you would be in any other situation. But not here. Not with them. 
You feel Minho’s whispered, “Fuck.” His breath is hot before he latches onto your breast. It’s a wonderful distraction as your shorts and underwear are tugged down your legs and discarded, as Chris aligns himself behind you and slips his cock between your legs. The tip brushes your click as he grinds into you like this. Minho’s head is perfectly placed to entangle your fingers in his hair and hold him to your chest as he continues sucking at you. 
It should be overwhelming. It’s all new and so much, so, so much. But it isn’t. You’re home. You’re surrounded. You’re with them. You practically float as you’re pressed between them, as they consume you. 
You’re grateful Minho insists on sleeping with the air conditioning going, now more than ever. Heat surrounds you. Minho’s hot mouth at your breast. Chris’ cock hot between your legs and his warm chest pressed to your back. Heat. 
“Do you want me now?” Chan says, voice a little strained. His cock nudges your entrance, tip prodding and retreating over and over. “You want me to fuck you into Minho, hm?” 
“Yes,” you gasp. “Yes.” 
His teeth graze your skin as he pushes in, the ghost of a bite—followed by a low moan. You cling to Minho as you’re filled, holding him to your chest as his tongue laves at you—devouring.
You squeak as Chris pulls out and fucks back in suddenly, shoving you slightly up the bed. Minho makes a small sound before reattaching himself, determined not to be disturbed. Chris is a little gentler after that, deep and slow rolls of his hips that have you pressing into Minho each time. Eventually he detaches from you and moves up the bed. You expect him to kiss you. Instead he keeps just fair enough away that you can’t lean forward and capture his lips. He watches your face, traces his eyes across your features as Chris fucks you from behind. 
You should feel exposed. But you don’t. You always liked when his eyes were on you. He reaches to lift some hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear as Chris fucks into you. Then he leans in, so close his lips brush yours. Each thrust of Chris’ hips bring you tantalisingly close to joining. Teasing and giving, that was Minho. You wait for him to give. It only takes a minute or so longer. Then he’s pressing right up against you, practically crushing you between their two bodies as he bites into your shoulder. 
You cum with Chris’ fingers on your clit and Minho’s teeth on your neck. 
“Do you want my cum?” Chris groans. “I’ll make you all messy for him. Do you want that? He can fuck it back inside you for me.” 
All you can do is nod, a weak noise accompanying it. Minho’s lips are on yours a second later, wet and messy as you let him take what he needs. He swallows the whimper you release as Chris shoves into you one last time and releases inside you. You’re surrounded by heat, pressed between them tightly. 
Chris grinds into you again for a moment, panting into your neck as you lay full of him. “Love you,” he murmurs finally. 
Minho leaves a peck at the corner of your mouth. “Okay?” he asks. Your fingers massage his scalp a little as you hum in response. 
“Need you though.” 
“Now?” 
“Mm. Now… in the morning… tomorrow night too.” 
He smiles, lopsided and satisfied. “Why?” 
“Love you.” 
He drapes a leg over you as Chris slips from behind you and disappears into the bathroom. “Sorry?” Minho questions with a smirk. “Couldn’t hear you.” 
You tug at his hair. “Don’t be a brat.” 
He rolls you onto your back, pressing you into the mattress. “I do think about you,” he says, voice taking on a softer tone. He switched like that often, letting his walls down without warning. “Not just… not just in the shower. I think about you when I’m at work… when something happens and I’m stressed or—” he pauses, lowering himself onto his elbows. “I think about you a lot.”
“About fucking me?” 
His nose scrunches as he drops his eyes. “Not just that. Just… in lots of ways.”
“I love you too.” 
He drops his face to your neck as Chris reenters the room. You roll Minho back onto his side, allowing Chris to resume his position behind you—how you liked it.
It’s a little slower when Minho presses his body to yours and fills you. Less frenzied than Chris had been. He grinds his cock deep, pressing you into Chris’ chest. You silently curse the years you’d spent in your own bed, all the nights you could have been pressed between them like this. It was only out of ignorance that you’d endured it. If you’d known how it felt to be sandwiched between them, to be full of one’s cum as the other fucks it deep inside—
“How does she feel?” Chris asks as his fingers wrap around your throat, a gentle cradle. 
Minho groans in response, reaching to your hip to give him leverage as he sheathes himself right to the hilt. You forget to breathe as he speaks, “Hot… Hot and dripping, fucking sloppy.” Your breath is forced back into your lungs as he suddenly pulls out and fucks back in. “Listen.” He jostles you into Chris as he speeds up, filling the room with the wet sound of his cock fucking the cum into your already wet cunt. He was shy. He was your shy best friend and he was demonstrating how wet you were to the man pressed to your back. 
You latch onto his neck, forcing him to slow as you press your teeth into his skin. His hips stutter a little before he resumes, a scattered pattern much less controlled than the one he’d started with. You lick at the bite mark when you’re done. “You’re so good,” you whisper. “You’re mine.” 
When he cums it’s with a gasp of your name. You imagine it’s how he sounded in the shower, how he’d sounded all the times he’d thought of you. Had he ever thought of you like that a few hours before you’d crept into his bed to seek comfort. 
Chris reaches over you as Minho catches his breath. “Let me feel,” he whispers before his fingers are on you, playing with your dripping entrance and strumming at your clit until you cum with his hand around your throat.
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