Top Posts Tagged with #buck x reader insert

Hey love, I'd like to request Buck xreader, with enemies to lovers. Reader and Buck are co-workers, not in good terms tho. After an office/firehouse party they wake up next to eachother!! Reader want to leave before he wakes up, but Buck actually has a crush on her!! If you feel like it, maybe you can use the:《"haven't you seen the way he looks at you?" "how does he look at me?" "like he's hoplessly falling in love." 》, perhaps between Hen or Athena and reader either at the party, or after the incident. Anyway, whatever you feel like writing! Thanks for your time and your work ❤️❤️

Blame It (on the Alcohol)

(read on AO3)

A/N: I’m baaAack!

And we got our first request!!!

I was so excited I literally screamed when I saw it in my inbox, thank you, Anon

Then... I wrote the first bit and promptly procrastinated finishing it for over a week. But fear not — It is here!

I decided to make it a little longer than my usual one-shots. Thought it was only fair since I took so long to post it and also just to show gratitude to whoever sent it <3. I’m truly geeking over the fact that people are actually enjoying my writing. When I read the req I thought it would be more fluff/plot/Teen&Up Rating, but then I started writing and it became…well, this.

So, now it’s rated E — again, wanted to treat whoever is reading these and enjoying them, so there is some smut towards the end. Also, the Title obviously is from the song, but as the author I’ve decided it’s specifically the Glee version (Yes, I am a Ryan Murphy victim, and you probably are too if you’re reading this for fun).

I hope you enjoy this one, lovelies. It’s a little enemies to lovers moment. Little bit of fluff, little bit of smut. No ‘Y/N’ stuff bc personally that really takes me out of it when I’m reading.

Is it weird to you if I spell in British English even though the characters are technically American? I’m not American myself so I just write the way I’m used to usually, but I wonder.

Also…Tears by Sabrina Carpenter is so fitting for Buck/Oliver to me. Like, idk about you, but personally, the thought of (both of?) them does, indeed, get me wet :/

Blame It (on the Alcohol)

18+| One-Shot | Evan Buckley x Reader | Requested| 7.3K

-------------------

“Seriously?!” He complained, like he so often did.

“What now?” You asked, feeling obliged to since you were the only one within earshot of his whining.

He just glared at you, with his lips pursed and nostrils flaring. This is how the majority of your interactions with Buck played out.

Ever since you’d joined the 118, you had found a second family at the firehouse. Everyone was so warm and welcoming, you could hardly believe how close you had grown to these people in such a relatively short period of time. Everyone, that was, except for Buck. God, even his nickname was stupid.

It felt like Buck enjoyed being unpleasant to you. He was curt and critical of everything you did, even when you hadn’t done anything wrong. It was really starting to get on your nerves.

You had heard through the grapevine that Buck was tough on probies. Someone had even mentioned the words “chased around” and “chainsaw” in a sentence once, and you thought it had to be a baseless rumour, except after experiencing being a 118 probie, you were inclined to believe that there was truth to it.

Except, you had finally worked your last shift as a probie.

Having completed a whole year on the job, you were about to be properly welcomed into the Los Angeles Fire Department, and consequently, hopefully, gain the respect of your peers. Or at least you hoped so.

Now that you were no longer a probationary firefighter, you would no longer Buck’s subordinate, and he had to start treating you as an equal.

There was a small formal ceremony where you were officially promoted, but the 118, being a tight-knit bunch, took every opportunity to party, so they planned a little get-together to celebrate your achievement.

Over the past year, you had become well-acquainted with the friends and family of the 118, and this was not the first time you had been to one of their houses to celebrate a milestone or holiday, but you were touched when they decided to throw a party in your honour; a sign that they had truly embraced you into their little group.

The party was set to be held at the end of the week, so, before celebrating anything, you showed up to the firehouse to work your first shift as a proper, honest-to-God, non-probationary firefighter.

You walked in with your head held high and a renewed sense of confidence. Up on the loft level, Bobby, Chimney, Hen and Eddie were sat around the table drinking coffee and when you climbed up, they each congratulated you with warm smiles.

Then, a loud, bellowing voice called out your last name from the staircase, followed by the sound heavy boots marching up the stairs. Buck appeared at the top of the stairs with a scowl painted on his face.

“Floor needs mopping,” He grunted in your general direction.

You just stared surprised, expecting him to maybe soften up a little and congratulate you like the others had, before barking out orders to mop. So, you waited a beat, thinking maybe he was razzing you, and was going to burst out laughing any second —He didn’t. The rest of the team seemed equally puzzled.

“She’s not a probie anymore, Buck,” Chimney chimed in to your aid.

“I know. That’s why I used her last name,” he said matter-of-factly, walking right past you to the kitchen.

You swallowed your pride and made your way to the stairs before Bobby told you to stay and drink your coffee first, before starting the chores, then reminded Buck that he is not the Captain and doesn’t get to give orders.

As the day went on, you began to realise that Buck’s attitude towards you had not changed with the end of your probation. If anything, the way he was acting around you during this shift was a digression.

It bothered you that he would be so blatantly rude, especially now that there was no longer a professional hierarchy for him to uphold. He was just purposely being an asshole.

Despite what you had heard, about Buck’s treatment of probies, you had also heard that he was a goofball with a heart of gold to the rest of his coworkers. People actually used the words “golden retriever” to describe him. Well, with you, he was acting more like a rabid Rottweiler. Okay, maybe that’s a stretch, but you still couldn’t believe that anyone would ever be inclined to compare the person you knew as Buck to a golden retriever.

You had seen him interact with the rest of the team. He was always sweet to them. You seemed to get on his nerves. Even the cadence of his voice changed when he spoke to you. Deeper. More intimidating. You found yourself wishing you could uninvite him to the party, like a middle schooler holding a grudge, but despite how unprofessional he seemed to be, you refused to stoop to his level.

The weekend rolled around, and it was the day of your party. Bobby and Athena graciously offered to host the party in their backyard, which was decorated with twinkling lights and a banner of congratulations. When you got there, the yard was already crawling with people: your coworkers, their spouses, and a small army of children wreaking havoc.

The smile on your face widened when you realised that none of the faces in the small crowd of people belonged to Buck. The joy is short-lived, though, when soon after, Buck strolls in, fashionably late. He seemed different than he did at work. More relaxed. He even…smiled at you? Was your vision playing tricks on you? Did he have something in his eye he was trying to blink away?

Buck came up to you, handing you a cold beer, then clinked his own beer bottle against yours. You fought the reflex to thank him, instead taking a long swig. He smirked like he was amused at your little act of defiance, but you didn’t engage. Instead, you turned your attention to Eddie, continuing the conversation the two of you were having before you were rudely interrupted.

As the party went on, you had a few more drinks, but nothing too crazy. It was a work event, after all. At your Captain’s home, no less.

It started getting late, and, not wanting to inconvenience Bobby and Athena by hanging around too long, people began to slowly file out. You were still full of energy and suggested that you move the party to a bar. Hen and Karen declined the invitation, seeing as they were there with their kids. Chimney and Maddie too. Eddie, however, agreed, since Christopher already had plans to sleep over at Hen and Karen’s place.

Unfortunately, wherever Eddie goes, Buck follows. When he heard Eddie agree to extending the party, Buck was quick to swoop in and invite himself too. The three of you took an Uber to a nearby dive bar. Unbeknownst to you, you were out with the party kings, as it turned out. The night quickly got out of hand. You attracted a crowd of partygoers who were buying you drinks left and right, shooting shots together, and dancing to every song.

All three of you became heavily intoxicated. So drunk, in fact, someone had decided it was time to end the night and call an Uber home. You, Buck and Eddie swayed on the sidewalk, trying to figure out how to order the cab and add each of your addresses to the destination, typing into the phone.

You remembered that part semi-clearly, in fact. You definitely put in your address. Which is why what happened next was all the more confusing.

—————

You stir awake slowly, eyes still closed and face smushed into the pillow. You can already feel the way your head is pounding, and you would rather postpone opening your eyes to sunlight as far as possible. The first thing you notice is that your pillow feels…different. You can also tell that you are completely naked under the covers, which checks out. You probably got home too drunk to change into your pjs. Typical after a night out.

Then, something really weird happens. The covers move, pulled slightly off your body. The unmistakable sound of a person’s shifting body weight and a soft groan coming from your left. Now you have to open your eyes.

You brace yourself, lifting yourself a little to look over. You can barely see anything under the mountain of white fabric, but you see enough. A little tuft of dark blond curls peeking through between the sheets. Your eyes are now wide open and you feel frozen in place.

It can’t be…but…but.

The sleeping giant next to you shifts again, this time turning his body towards you, arm coming around and dropping over you, almost crushing you.

Yeah. It definitely is.

He’s very clearly still fast asleep, but his arm grabs onto you, his body pulling yours closer in sleep.

You contemplate your life choices and how the hell you ended up in bed with him. You try to recall anything that could maybe explain this away. Nothing resurfaces. The last thing you remember is leaving the bar, typing your address into the Uber app on someone’s phone…Eddie’s phone? Then you seem to remember flashes of being in a car, sitting in the middle, smushed between your two coworkers. That’s all you can come up with.

The torn up piece of foil shining on the nightstand and the soreness you feel between your thighs confirm what you already know to be true.

You had sex with Buck last night.

———

This cannot be happening.

You feel like screaming but you definitely can’t risk waking him up. How much did you drink? You didn’t think any amount of alcohol could convince you to do this. Him. It’s not like he was unattractive. In fact, you hated just how hot you thought he was. How infuriating it was that the jerk from work was so undeniably sexy, casually lifting your body weight in his stupid cutoff shirts that showed off his stupid sculpted shoulders and stupid veiny biceps in the middle of the firehouse gym.

He stirs in his sleep, tightening his grip on you, and you can see a fresh little lovebite right on the edge of where his shoulder meets his neck. It almost makes you groan out loud —from embarrassment, of course.

He seems so different this way. His face relaxed, lips slightly parted. So pink, and bitten and close. He snores softly, too, which almost makes you giggle. You wish the snores were the only sounds to come from those lips, instead of barked orders and quiet murmurs of disapproval.

He looks…cute?, You think. All peaceful and flushed and pretty. Definitely pretty.

You quickly snap out of it. You need to get out of his bed. Out of his apartment. Out of his arms. That was gonna be tough. His arm was heavy, draped over you, pulling you close. You wouldn’t be able to slip out without moving him and moving him would wake him. You definitely don’t want to wake him.

You decide to do the only thing you can do and just wait it out. So you stay still, waiting until he shifts again and moves his arm off you so you can slip out inconspicuously.

Except he doesn’t. It seems like an eternity. The only times he moves, he somehow pulls you in closer, and at some point he nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck. You just lay there, trying to ignore the way his hot breath on your skin makes something flutter in the depths of your stomach.

Then something weird happens. He shifts a little again, his hand caressing your arm, and nose still pressed into your neck. That’s when you feel it. The gentlest, softest kiss, planted right in the crook your neck. For such a light touch, it knocks the air from your lungs.

Then, while you’re trying to recalibrate yourself, something even stranger happens. He says something. His voice is gravelly and quiet, but it’s unmistakable.

He says your name.

Your first name. Not ‘probie’. Not your last name. Just your name, plain and simple. Just one whisper, but for a second you think it was the only way you ever wanted to hear your name spoken from now on.

Then he finally shifts, moving his arm off you, freeing you from the embrace. You snap into focus, slipping away until you roll off the bed. You begin the search for your clothes, shuffling around stark naked in his room. You find one shoe next to the stair, your bra on the nightstand, and your dress on the floor, in a pile with his pants. Downstairs you find your other shoe and your jacket. You get dressed quickly, realising you never found your underwear. You’re torn between going back up to look for them or leaving, but you hear the bed creak again and decide to just cut your losses and run out of there.

————

It’s now a new day. You walk into the firehouse once again, for the start of a new shift, a little nervous about seeing Buck again. You two didn’t speak about whatever happened. In fact, you hadn’t spoken at all since that night. It wasn’t unusual, after all, you weren’t exactly close. Except now you knew what his lips felt like on the skin of your neck. And, presumably, your subconscious knew what his lips felt like on other parts of your body, too.

When you step into the locker room, Buck’s there, back to you, with his shirt off. Of-fucking-course. You can see the fading bruise of the lovebite on his shoulder when he lifts his arms up to slip on his LAFD T-shirt.

You clear your throat to alert him of your presence, and he glances towards you. There’s no scowl on his face this time. In fact, his expression is unreadable.

The rest of the day, there’s no snide remarks, no jabs, no teasing. In fact, it seems like he’s avoiding you. Your stomach is in knots. Did he remember? Did you forget something important? Something bad? You hated not being able to remember; forced to wonder what could have possibly happened to change his attitude towards you so drastically.

In the evening, you try to get some rest in the bunks but you can’t seem to sleep. You grow frustrated and decide to go to the kitchen to make yourself some tea instead. When you get there, you find Buck at the table, sitting alone in the dim light. You contemplate turning back down the stairs, but he already looked up at you, and it would be weirder to leave now. So, instead, you walk past him casually, turning on the kettle.

“Hey, uh…Can I ask you something?” He asks from behind you. You groan inside.

“Yeah, sure. What is it?” You answer, turning and steadying yourself against the countertop. His gaze is still focused away from you as he speaks.

“After your party…”

Oh, God. Here we go. You think.

“Did we, uh…” He continues, “…Have sex?”

You try to keep your expression neutral. So, he didn’t remember it either?

“Why do you think that?” You ask, trying hard to keep your voice steady.

There’s a hint of a smirk on his face, “Found a pair of lacy panties tangled up in my sheets when I was making the bed…they weren’t exactly my size, so…”

You purse your lips, “That’s it?”

“And some…other stuff. Anyway, did we?”

“Why do you assume it was me? We were drinking with all those people at the bar.”

“Yes, right. Exactly. And that’s what I thought too, but…” He begins.

“But what?” You ask, and his brow is furrowed but the corners of his mouth are upturned.

“Well, I seem to remember an Uber ride, after we left the bar. With you and Eddie. And unless Eddie’s started wearing lacy thongs…”

The kettle finishes boiling and you thank your lucky stars for the distraction, turning away from him to steep your tea, hiding the way your face was burning.

“It’s not a big deal. I just…I can’t really remember what happened. I just woke up alone really confused. So, if you can shed some light,” he says.

“Well, I can’t.”

“No, yeah. It must have been someone else, then I guess.”

Did he sound disappointed?

“No, I mean…” You take a deep breath, and a sip of tea, hoping it would help calm your nerves but it just scalds your tongue, “I don’t remember much either.”

His eyebrows shoot up at your words.

“S-so it was you?”

You cringe a little, “Uh, well…yeah. I woke up in your bed,” You whisper, desperately hoping the ground would open and swallow you whole, “didn’t exactly remember how I got there. Or why.”

His expression turns coy, “‘why’?” He echoes.

“Yeah, ‘why’. You’re not exactly nice to me, usually. I mean you-”

You’re cut off by the alarm, signalling a call coming in. You drop the mug of tea in the sink and the two of you rush downstairs, putting on your turnouts.

The next morning, you sit on the roof watching the sunrise. You’re exhausted, having gotten no sleep the whole shift. You hear the door swing open and you hope it’s not Buck. When you turn to look, you’re pleasantly surprised to see Hen coming to sit next to you.

She takes one look at you and knows something off. God, did you really look that mopey?

“Come on. Say it. What’s wrong?” She asks.

“Why do you think something’s wrong?”

“Oh, please. Do not pretend right now. Save us both the time and just tell me what happened,” She orders.

“Fine.”

“I knew it!”

“Knew what? I haven’t said anything yet,” You protest.

“Okay, but I knew something was up. Go on. Spill,” She encourages.

“Well…you know how after the party last time, Eddie and Buck and I went to a bar…” You begin. The look on Hen’s face tells you she already understood exactly where this was going.

“Buck or Eddie?” She asks simply. You groan.

“Buck.”

She looks like she’s stifling laughter, pursing her lips with an amused look on her features.

“I know, I know. Stupid. I just…I don’t know. We got really drunk. I don’t even remember it,” You explain and she frowns.

“Wait, did he…take advantage of you?”

“No, no. It’s not like that. He doesn’t remember anything either. I just think I momentarily forgot that he hates me around the 6th drink.”

“You mean you forgot that you hate him,” she corrects.

“What’s the difference?” You ask.

“The difference is Buck definitely doesn’t hate you,” she asserts.

“Oh, come on, Hen. You’ve seen how he talks to me. How he treats me.”

“Well, Buck doesn’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to this kind of thing. He just gets weirdly jealous and destructive. Which, I know, is ridiculous, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s totally into you.”

You scoff.

“I know he has a…strange way of showing it, but trust me. I mean, we’ve all seen the way he looks at you.”

“And, how does he look at me?” You ask.

“Like he’s hopelessly falling in love,” she states, matter-of-factly.

You want to protest, scoff again, or roll your eyes into the back of your head. Maybe even fling yourself off the roof just to prove a point. But it was almost like her words froze you solid.

Could it be? Was Buck in love with you? Sorry,—hopelessly— in love with you. It didn’t make any sense. What did Hen even mean by that? You barely ever saw him look at you. Every time your eyes were on him, he seemed to look right past you, averting his gaze to anything else, unless he was scowling, in which case his eyes would turn to daggers pointed right at you.

Except the way he kissed your neck that morning still rings through your mind. Impossible to forget or ignore. Your name on his tongue. He may have been asleep but even in sleep he knew it was you he was kissing. Or if he didn’t know, he certainly wanted it to be you.

“Henrietta Wilson, have you lost your mind?” You ask with a smile.

“Call me that again and see what happens,” she threatens and you laugh. In fact, you couldn’t close your mouth if you tried. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, the idea of Buck being in love with you, at the very least amused you. At the very worst, terrified the shit out of you.

“I think you need to talk this out with him,” She continues.

“And say what?”

“Well, first you should probably figure out what you feel,” she states, “So, how do you feel? Do you like Buck?”

“N-no, well, maybe, kinda. No. He’s so mean to me. But…He is really, you know, attractive,” your cheeks feel boiling, “And yeah, when I’m around him sometimes it’s…a little hard to breathe, but that’s only because he’s so infuriating and…”

“…And?” Hen wills you to continue. You can only think about how his arm felt around you. How his body heat felt against yours. How his lips on your skin left invisible ink, electrical impulses. How the way he whispered your name made you finally feel like your name suited you. How you wanted so desperately to recover the missing memories, to know what it was like to have him.

“…And, I think I maybe do…like him, yeah.”

“Great. So, talk to him. Ask him what he’s thinking and feeling. See if you two are on the same page,” She suggested. You just nodded silently.

A few days passed since your conversation with Hen on the roof. Despite her counsel, you hadn’t made time to speak to Buck.

Now, you were home, in your own apartment, finishing up some dishes and getting ready for a quiet night in. That’s when the doorbell rings.

You dry your hands on a tea towel and head to the door, looking through the peep hole.

Buck?!

You open the door, confused more than anything.

“How do you know where I live?” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. He grins.

“Good evening, to you, too. Is this how you greet all your guests? Not very hospitable, are you?” He teases.

“Guest implies invited,” You retort.

“I asked Hen,” He answered your first question.

“What are you doing here, then?” You ask.

He holds up a pair of lacy black panties, which he seems to have washed. “Came to return this to its rightful owner.”

You grab his wrist and pull him inside, hoping none of your neighbours were in the hallway and saw any of that. He just laughs.

“What is wrong with you?!”

“Oh, come on, are you actually upset? Don’t you want them back?” He sees the frustration on your face, “Okay, hey. Listen, I know we kinda got off on a weird foot…”

“Buck…we’ve known each other for a whole year. I don’t think ‘got off on the wrong foot’ applies here.”

“You’re right. Yes. But, considering recent developments, maybe we should just…talk about it. Squash this…thing between us. Whatever it is.”

Your heart sinks at the idea of ‘squashing’ whatever was going on between the two of you, but you kept your expression stoic.

“It was a drunken mistake, Buck.”

“Yeah, no. I didn’t mean that. I mean, me. Okay, I’m making this about myself, aren’t I. Damn it. What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry. Okay? I’ve been a dick to you. I tried to convince myself I was just trying to be hard on you to train you well, but…”

“But what?”

“But, now you’re not a probie anymore. So, I’m out of excuses,” He explains.

“So…you’re just a dick” you clarify.

“Yeah…” He scratches the back of his neck, “Except also, maybe I’m an idiot, too?”

“Maybe?”

“Okay, I’m an idiot. Can I be honest with you for a minute?” He asks, and you just nod. “I think maybe the reason I’ve been such a dick to you is because I have some…complicated feelings.”

“Complicated? Complicated how?” You ask, trying not to sound too eager.

“Complicated like the day you walked into the firehouse for the first time I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“oh”

“Yeah. And, listen, I know you don’t like me. I mean, why would you. I’ve made an ass of myself for an entire year-”

“Yeah, you have,” you cut him off.

“Right. Uh, I just mean, I know it’s not an excuse. I’ve been trying to work on it. But I just wanted you to know that you didn’t do anything wrong and there’s no bad blood on my end. I just…lost my mind a little,” a faint pink hue brushes over his cheeks.

“Anyway, uhh, here. I washed them for you…Hope that’s not weird. It seemed weirder to return them used. Don’t worry, I used the delicate cycle on the washing machine and some really nice fabric softener. It’s meant to smell like peonies. I know you like those…so, yeah. I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing. And, again, I’m sorry.”

“No, Buck. Wait!” You call out, holding your arms steady on your side so they don’t shake, “Do you want a drink? Maybe something non-alcoholic this time?”

He raises his eyebrow confusedly, but the smirk on his face tells you he will take you up on the invitation.

The two of you sip tea on the couch. It’s a little awkward. After all, you’ve never really spoken much to each other, and the fact that you had sex that neither of you remembers it hangs over both of your heads like a dark cloud.

Except, you say something dumb and it makes him laugh, and he whispers your name again. The way he said it in bed that morning. And it sends a shiver down your spine, which he notices—he notices everything about you.

Few words are exchanged after that.

Your name, again. A smirk on his lips. Another shiver down your spine. The smirk grows into satisfied grin.

His finger on your cheek. Bated breath. A ‘w-what’re you d-?’ from you, cut off by the creak of the sofa when he scoots closer, finger still resting gently on your face.

A ‘can I?’ from him. You just nod minutely, like you don’t want to be implicated if things go south.

Then his lips, your lips. Touching. Kissing. Crashing. Familiar in taste, like an old perfume that transports you back in time. You’ve kissed those lips before. Hell, you’d tasted every part of him. Still, you want more. He seems to have the same idea, you think as his tongue licks into your mouth.

His strong hand is on your thigh, fingers digging into the skin, nails bitten to the quick, just as they always were. You relish the familiarity.

He doesn’t push further, keeping his hand at a respectable position on your thigh. Definitely suggestive, but not imposing. He’d never impose. Not this. The ache in his core was hard to ignore, but that was his own problem to deal with if you weren’t up for more.

Luckily for both of you, you definitely are up for more.

Your hands cup his face on both sides, and you push yourself closer to him, simultaneously pulling him closer to you.

“Want you…again,” you whisper breathlessly into his mouth. This seems to fan the flames, making him audibly groan back into your mouth, and his hands moves with a renewed sense of purpose slowly up your thigh. You tug desperately at his shirt, wanting to rip it off him. He helps you undress him, then yourself.

You keep kissing, skin, lips, all of it, tangled up on the couch, until he breaks the kiss, pulling away from you a little. You almost begin to blush until he makes his intentions clear. He wasn’t about to stop this. Not even close.

“I wanna do this right,” he professes, fighting his urge to look down at your naked body. He does surprisingly well at maintaining eye contact despite how badly he ached to ogle you. Can you blame him?

“What does that mean?” You ask with a little giggle that sounds pornographic to him in this moment. He goes to speak, getting a mischievous glint in his eye, and a goofy grin on his lips.

“You like me back, right?” He asks coyly. You roll your eyes and he protests.

“No, don’t be like that. Come on. I was so vulnerable, telling you how I feel. Just give me one moment. Be real with me. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” He waits for you to answer.

Your lips part but your tongue is tied for a second. Then you finally speak, “you were vulnerable after a year of machismo bullshit-“

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I was a dick. But, please, sweetheart. Just…say it,” He cuts you off, pleading for you to say what he already knows.

You sigh defeatedly, “Yes, Buck, I like you back.”

That immediately makes his face light up. He leans in and whispers, “Good girl” before capturing your lips and resuming the needy kiss.

His hands wrap around your body and, without breaking the kiss, he picks you up, lifting you onto his body.

You knew he was strong —one look at him was enough to deduce that—but you didn’t realise he’d use that strength to gently manhandle you like this. The feeling of being suspended makes you giggle, “Buck, what are you doing?!” you ask through laughter.

“Hey, I told you. Wanna do this right,” He grins against your lips and your teeth clack a little, “now, which door’s your bedroom?”

He carries you through the hall and into your room, before gently setting you on the bed, then taking a step back, eyeing you with intensity, making you blush crimson.

“Just wanna make sure I remember every part this time,” he speaks softly, leaving a trail of kisses from your knee up to your upper thigh, “Wanna memorise your body. Your pretty sounds. What you like,…All of it.”

His fingers ghost over your panties, applying pressure. He smiles amused, “So wet for me already, sweetheart?” His lips continue kissing your thighs, as he murmurs perfect over and over, like a broken record.

You mewl softly each time his mouth inches ever so close to where you need him most, not quite touching. You’re still in your underwear but you can feel the heat from his breath through the fabric, which is only making this more torturous.

“Buck…” You plead.

“What’s that, sweetheart? There something you want,” He grins, and you want to reach out and slap that smile right off his face. Haven’t you suffered enough because of him?

He seems to have the same epiphany, because he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties —which are unfortunately decidedly less sexy than the lace thong he had you in last time but he doesn’t seem too concerned with that at the moment — and begins to pull them down your legs.

Once you’re free, he wastes no time, burying his face right into the spot where your thighs meet. You feel his nose first, before you feel his tongue, then after a beat, his fingers begin circling around your opening. You can’t deny that he knows what he’s doing, expertly working his tongue, rocking his whole head against you, drawing obscene sounds from your lips. Your noises make all the blood in his body rush to one single region, and now he’s lightheaded, but he’s never been happier.

He laps over your clit in a relentless rhythm, kissing it like he was kissing your other lips earlier. At some point, his fingers stop tracing your opening, and instead, he slips them into you, one after the other. He curves them up, massaging the spongy texture inside you. His fingers on your g-spot combined with the clitoral stimulation from his tongue make you writhe under his touch.

He can tell you’re close, which only eggs him on to keep going steady, stimulating you from inside and out. You feel the pressure build at the base of your core and your fingers tighten around his curls as your toes begin to tingle and the dam breaks. Your impulse is to squeeze your thighs shut, but Buck’s strong hold keeps them pushed open, presented like a meal to him, and he doesn’t let up. Your legs quiver and vibrate as his tongue works your through your orgasm, and you have to physically tug him off you from his hair to stop him when it becomes too overwhelming.

When you look down at him, that goofy grin is plastered right on his pretty face and you have the urge to both smack it off him with a pillow, and simultaneously to kiss it off him. He doesn’t give you much time to decide which one to go with, climbing up to face level and kissing you deeply. He tastes like pussy and you can’t help but moan a little, which obviously pleases him from the way he hums.

You want him. Need him. So, you tug gently on his boxers but his hand swats yours away, calling you ‘greedy’ between kisses. Instead, he moves his focus to your chest. His hands cup your boobs through your bra, then slip under the fabric, pinching your nipples between his fingers just enough to make you feel electrified. His hand slips under your back and you arch off the mattress to give him access to the clasp. Soon, the bra is on the bedroom floor and his soft, pink lips are latched onto your nipple, while he plays with your other breast. When he switches, he lightly grazes your nipple with his teeth. It doesn’t hurt but the sensation shoots directly to your still-sensitive clit, making you mewl.

“That’s it, sweetheart, make those pretty little noises for me,” he coaxes. You can’t help but oblige.

His mouth moves on you, from your nipple, to the flesh of your breasts, all the way up your neck. He shifts for better access and his clothed cock brushes against your bare cunt, making you arch your back and push your hips closer to his. He doesn’t tease or stop you this time, clearly his self-control is also hanging on by a thread. He wants this. He needs you. Now.

He tugs off his boxers in on fell swoop and his cock springs out, already hard and throbbing. The tip glistens with precum. Teasing you had just as much of an effect on him as it had on you. You can’t help but stare at his cock. It doesn’t surprise you that it’s pretty — that much you assumed, just from looking at the rest of him. What really renders you speechless is the size of it. You can’t believe you’d taken that, and even more how you could have possibly forgotten taking that. No wonder the soreness that lasted for a couple days after.

Buck noticed your admiration, clearly enjoying the stroke to his ego. His hand wrapped around his cock, tugging just slightly, spreading the precum onto the rest of his length.

“Don’t you want me to give you head?” You ask. He just chuckles softly, like what you’re suggesting is so completely ridiculous.

“Not right now, baby. Right now I just need to have you,” He confesses, “Come closer, sweetheart.”

His arms grab your thighs and pull you closer to the edge of the bed, spreading you open. He slips his cock between your slick folds, rubbing both his own length and you with your arousal. Then he stops moving altogether.

“Fuck!” He grunts. You just raise your eyebrow quizzically.

“We used a condom last time. I didn’t bring one with me, today. This isn’t exactly where I thought tonight was heading,” he explains.

“Nightstand. Bottom drawer,” You breathe out, staying still while he reaches over to open the drawer, “but, Buck…I don’t, I mean…I have an IUD.”

He freezes, foil wrapper still in hand, “A-are you sure?”

“Yeah…I mean, I haven’t had a new partner in a while. Not since the last time I got tested. Apart from…well, you,” You blush.

“Me neither…”

You watch as he tosses the condom, hovering over you instead. His gaze is focused on your face, burning holes.

“I wanna see what your face does when I fuck you, sweetheart. Wanna save the memory,” he says, brushing a stray strand away from your face.

“Jesus, fuck!” You exclaim, partly from his filthy comments and partly from how he’s pressing his tip just barely into you.

“Does it hurt, baby?”

You shake your head, no. “Feels…good,” You pant, and he pushes in a little more. This time the noise it louder.

“That’s it. Yeah, let me see that pretty face. So good, lemme hear those noises,” he coos, pushing himself slowly into your warm, wet cunt. The way your body welcomes him makes him see stars. He fights against the impulse to squeeze his eyes shut. He was serious about remembering every moment. He needs to see you through every moment of this.

He buries himself completely inside you and a mangled groan comes out of his throat. Your nails scratch his back as you claw at him to pull him impossibly closer.

“Fuck, baby…How the hell did I forget this?” He groans.

“N-need more. Please, Evan,” you plead. His real name on your tongue makes him shudder. He’s not sure why but he likes it coming from you. Although, he’s fairly certain there wasn’t anything you could do right now that he wouldn’t like.

“Patience, sweetheart. Just, let me enjoy you like this first,” he whispers.

His hand comes up to cup your cheek and he kisses you. Slow this time. Tender. It almost feels wrong, a kiss that intimate, when a second ago you were about to start begging him to fuck you. But, of course, it’s perfectly right. He channels all his confusing, overwhelming emotions into the kiss, and soon, it turns desperate. That’s when he gives you what you want.

He thrusts his hips, in and out. He starts off slow, but very soon, he’s fucking you at a steady pace, making obscene slapping sounds with each contact of his skin with yours. His cock pulls back almost all the way out of you each time. Then, each time, it returns with a driving force, stopping only when the tip of it comes into contact with your cervix. You cringe a little on the first few thrusts, bracing yourself for pain or discomfort, but it doesn’t come. Pretty soon, the only look on your face is bliss.

Buck can see the effect he’s having on you. How you’ve come undone beneath his body, like putty in his hands. He looks at you with nothing but affection. Adoration. Something close to worship. You have all his attention.

“Look at you, taking me so well. You’re my good girl, sweetheart,” he coos into your ear. You can’t bring yourself to try to speak.

“You know what you have to do now, right, sweet girl? You know how to be a good girl for me?” He asks in such a sweet and sexy voice, it makes you short-circuit. You shake your head a little and he chuckles.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll tell you, then.” He speeds up just slightly, making you moan louder.

“What you have to do now, sweetheart, is—it’s really simple, you just have to cum on my cock. D’you think you can do that, baby?”

Your eyes roll back. What kind of a fucking freak is this guy? His words alone push you closer to the edge. You manage to nod this time, letting him know you’re close. He smiles, bringing his fingers to your clit. That’s all it takes. In a matter of seconds you’re writhing and gasping, grasping at him while he keeps you steady, clenching and cumming on him.

He leans in, lips brushing your ear, and asks, “Can I cum inside you, baby? Or do you want it somewhere else?”

You nod frantically, trying to recover from your second orgasm of the night, “Inside,” you manage to croak out.

It doesn’t take long before he stills deep inside you, hands holding your body as close as he can, while he spills deep inside you, filling you like you belong to him.

The two of you are still, tangled up in each other’s limbs. His softening cock is still buried deep in your cunt, where he prefers it. His big arms hold you against his chest, and you let yourself relax into his embrace. His lips press soft, chaste kisses all over your face.

Then, he says it again. Whispers your name in his wrecked voice. It makes you shiver, like clockwork.

You want to hear that sound about a million more times. Which is great, cause all he can think is how badly he wants to make you shiver with his words like this every day of his life.

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#buck x reader insert