#tipsy reader

Curled sideways on the couch, socked feet tucked beneath you, a half-finished glass of wine balanced precariously on the coffee table. The TV flickered quietly, some show you weren’t really watching, casting soft blue light across your face.

He paused in the doorway, jacket still slung over his shoulder, taking you in.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice already softer than usual, like he could feel the fragile state of you from across the room.

You blinked at him, slow, a little dazed—and then your face lit up in a way that made something in his chest squeeze tight.

“Bucky,” you said, like he was the best part of your entire day.

Yeah. That did something to him.

He crossed the room in a few long strides, crouching in front of you, big hands automatically settling on your knees. “You okay?” he asked, brows pulling together.

You nodded a little too quickly. “Mhm. I’m just—” you waved your hand vaguely in the air, nearly knocking over your glass. “Relaxing.”

His lips twitched. “Relaxing, huh?”

“Mhm,” you repeated, far too serious for someone clearly tipsy.

He reached out, steadying your wine before it could spill, then gently pried it from your fingers. “How much have you had?”

You squinted at the glass like it personally offended you. “…Not enough to fix the week.”

That earned a soft huff of laughter from him, the sound warm and low. He set the glass aside and shifted, easing himself onto the couch beside you. The cushions dipped under his weight, naturally pulling you closer.

“C’mere,” he murmured, tugging you against him.

You didn’t resist for even a second.

You melted into him, head immediately finding its place against his chest, arms looping around his middle like you needed to anchor yourself there. He wrapped around you just as easily, one arm draped across your back, the other coming up to cradle the back of your head.

He pressed a kiss into your hair.

“You’ve had a rough one, huh?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled into his shirt. “Everything was stupid.”

He hummed, fingers starting to comb slowly through your hair, grounding, soothing. “Yeah? Wanna tell me about it?”

You did. Kind of.

Your words started off coherent—complaints about work, about people being annoying, about things not going right—but somewhere along the way, they dissolved into half-formed thoughts and soft, sleepy rambling. He listened to every bit of it like it mattered, nodding along, occasionally murmuring soft agreements or teasing you gently when your sentences trailed off into nonsense.

Eventually, your voice quieted.

He thought you might’ve drifted off.

Until—

“Hey, Buck?”

Your voice was small. Careful.

He stilled slightly, glancing down at you. “Yeah, baby?”

You shifted, tilting your head back just enough to look at him. Your eyes were glassy—not from sadness, but from that soft, emotional haze alcohol sometimes pulled out of you.

“Can I ask you something?”

There was something about the way you said it that made his chest tighten.

“Course you can,” he said, softer now, thumb brushing lightly along your arm. “Anything.”

You hesitated.

Then, almost like you couldn’t stop yourself—

“Will you make me a mom one day?”

The question hung in the air.

Bucky froze.

Completely.

Your words didn’t sound real at first—like maybe he’d imagined them. But then you kept going, soft and dreamy and completely unguarded.

“You’d be such a good dad,” you murmured, eyes drifting a little as if you were picturing it. “Like…so good. You’re already all protective and sweet and stuff. And you make pancakes on Sundays and—” you huffed a small laugh, a little wobbly. “We’d be such cool parents, Buck. Our kid would be, like…so loved.”

Something in his chest cracked wide open.

It hit him all at once—the image you painted so casually, like it was obvious, like it was already real somewhere in your mind.

You. Him. A kid.

A family.

His hand stilled in your hair.

“…You really think that?” he asked quietly.

You frowned slightly, like the answer should’ve been obvious. “Yeah.”

Your fingers came up, poking lightly at his chest. “You’re Bucky. You’re already, like…insanely good at taking care of people. And you love so big. It’s kind of ridiculous.”

He let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, but there was something heavier underneath it.

“Sweetheart…” he started, but the words got stuck.

Because the truth was—

The idea didn’t just make him soft.

It made him a little feral.

His grip on you tightened just slightly, pulling you closer, like he needed to feel you there, real, in his arms.

“You have any idea what you just did to me?” he muttered, voice lower now, rougher.

You blinked up at him, confused but curious. “What?”

He shook his head once, more to himself than to you, jaw flexing as his gaze dragged over your face—soft, flushed, open.

“Talkin’ about havin’ my kid like that,” he murmured, thumb brushing over your cheek. “Like it’s the easiest thing in the world.”

You smiled a little, sleepy and sincere. “Isn’t it?”

God.

That did it.

His forehead dropped to yours, breath warm against your lips as he let out a low, almost disbelieving sound. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

You giggled softly, clearly pleased with yourself.

He kissed you then.

Slow at first. Careful.

But it didn’t stay that way.

Because the thought wouldn’t leave his head now—the idea of you like that, soft and glowing and carrying something that was both of yours. The way you said it like you wanted it. Like you wanted him.

His hand slid up to cup your jaw, deepening the kiss, something more intense creeping in. Not overwhelming—never that—but charged.

“Say it again,” he murmured against your lips.

You blinked, dazed. “Say what?”

His nose brushed yours, eyes dark, a little wild around the edges now. “That you want that. With me.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you didn’t shy away.

“I do,” you whispered. “Someday.”

That was enough.

He exhaled sharply, pulling you flush against him, burying his face in your neck like he needed to ground himself.

“Christ,” he muttered. “You have no idea what that does to a man.”

You laughed softly, fingers threading through his hair.

But then his hold softened again, just as quickly as it had tightened.

Because underneath all of that—

There was something gentler.

His hand drifted down to your stomach, resting there, almost absentmindedly.

His voice, when he spoke again, was quieter.

Full.

“Yeah,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “We would be.”

You hummed, already half-asleep again, curling into him.

“Cool parents,” you mumbled.

He smiled against your hair, eyes softening in a way no one else ever really got to see.

We reached Dusthaven just after full dark. The little settlement was nothing more than a handful of patched shacks and rusted pre-war storefronts huddled around a cracked main street. Lanterns flickered in windows, generators hummed in the distance, and the air carried the faint green glow of distant radstorms on the horizon. Dogmeat trotted ahead, nose to the ground, tail wagging like the town was an old friend. My legs still felt loose from the diner, every step reminding me of Cooper’s mouth and the way he’d talked me through three shattering orgasms like it was the most natural thing in the wastes. The tension between us hadn’t eased; if anything, it had thickened, humming under my skin like a live wire.

“I need a drink,” Cooper muttered, eyes fixed on the only building with life spilling out of it—the Rusty Spur. Smoke and raucous laughter leaked through the propped-open door.

I swallowed, heart picking up. “I’ve never had one. Vault rules. No alcohol, no chems, nothing that clouded the mind. Just water and the occasional warm Nuka on birthdays.”

His ruined mouth curved. “Tonight you do, darlin’. Consider it part of your education.”

We left Dogmeat curled under the awning with a strip of jerky and a stern “stay.” She whined once but settled, watching us with trusting eyes. Inside, the bar hit me like a wall. Dim yellow bulbs swung from bare wires. Thick smoke hung in layers—cigarette haze mixed with the sharp-sweet burn of Jet and the metallic tang of Mentats. A jukebox in the corner scratched out an old pre-war tune, warped and slow. A handful of patrons hunched at the scarred bar: two ghouls with glowing eyes, a raider woman with a machete on her hip, a smoothskin trader nursing a bottle. Everyone looked like they’d kill for caps or a reason.

Cooper dropped onto a stool like he owned the place. “Two whiskeys. Leave the bottle.”

The bartender—a bald ghoul with half his face missing—slid two cloudy glasses and a half-full bottle our way. Cooper pushed one toward me. “Small sips, vaultie. It bites.”

I lifted the glass. The smell was sharp, smoky, like fire and old wood. First sip burned all the way down. I coughed, eyes watering. “Holy shit—that’s awful.”

He chuckled, low and rough. “Takes getting used to. Keep sipping. It’ll warm you up.”

I did. One sip, then another. The burn eased into a golden heat that spread through my chest and loosened my limbs. By the third glass I was giggling at nothing, the world tilting pleasantly. My cheeks felt hot. The smoke didn’t bother me anymore. Everything felt softer, funnier, warmer.

“You’re staring,” I teased, leaning closer. His yellow eyes had gone half-lidded, watching me with that dangerous hunger again.

“Can’t help it. Tipsy vaultie is a hell of a sight.”

I laughed and reached up without thinking, snatching the battered cowboy hat off his head. I plopped it on my own, tilting it low like he always did. “There. Now I look like a real cowboy. How do I look, partner?”

The whole bar went quiet for half a second. Then a raider at the end of the bar snorted into his drink. “Girl just took the ghoul’s hat. You know what that means, right?”

Cooper’s jaw tightened. “Forget it.”

But the whiskey made me bold. I spun the hat on my finger, grinning. “No, wait—what does it mean? Tell me. You can’t just say ‘forget it’ after someone drops a cryptic line like that.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, claws scraping scarred skin. “It’s an old pre-war thing. Stupid cowboy etiquette. Ain’t worth explainin’.”

I leaned in, hat slipping over one eye, voice playful and slurred. “I took your hat. I’m wearing it. Spill, cowboy. Or I’ll ask the whole bar.”

He exhaled through his teeth, then leaned close so only I could hear, voice gravel-rough and low. “Fine. In the old west, if a woman takes a man’s hat and puts it on… it means she’s claimin’ him for the night. Means she’s ridin’ him. Means you just told every son of a bitch in here you’re takin’ me to bed.”

My breath caught. The whiskey heat flared hotter, pooling low in my belly. I could feel my face burning, but I didn’t take the hat off. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” His eyes dragged over me—slow, deliberate—lingering on the way the hat sat crooked on my head, the ripped collar of my vault suit, the flush on my cheeks. “Now you know, darlin’. So either put it back or be ready to follow through.”

I bit my lip, tipsy courage making me bold. “What if I don’t want to put it back?”

He growled softly, the sound vibrating through me. “Then finish your drink, sweetheart. Because that hat just started somethin’ we ain’t finishin’ in this bar.”

The jukebox scratched on. Smoke curled around us. My heart hammered, the whiskey making everything feel electric. I kept his hat on, tipping it at him with a tipsy grin, while the tension between us crackled like the storm we’d left behind.

Outside, Dogmeat waited patiently, unaware that one silly hat had just turned the night into something filthy and inevitable.

The whiskey still burned sweet in my throat as I sat there wearing Cooper’s hat, the brim low over one eye like I actually knew what I was doing. My cheeks were flushed hot from the liquor and from the way every eye in the Rusty Spur kept flicking toward us. The raider at the end of the bar was still smirking into his glass. I could feel my heart hammering against my ribs, a mix of tipsy courage and that deep, aching want that had been building since the diner.

I spun the hat on my finger again, grinning at Cooper. “So if I keep this on, the whole bar thinks I’m dragging you upstairs to ride you like a wild brahmin. That about right, cowboy?”

He leaned in close, yellow eyes dark and amused, voice dropping to that gravel rasp that made my stomach flip. “That’s exactly right, darlin’. You just publicly claimed yourself a ghoul for the night. Bold move for a vault girl who was blushing at two strangers fuckin’ in the street yesterday.”

I laughed, the sound a little too loud, a little too breathless. The whiskey made everything feel loose and warm, but underneath it my nerves were buzzing. “Hey, I’m learning how to live out here. Surface rules, right? You said real men don’t hide behind curfew lights. So maybe I’m done hiding too.”

His claws tapped the bar once, slow and deliberate. “You sure about that? ‘Cause once that hat stays on your pretty head, I ain’t stoppin’ at the door. I’ll have you spread out and beggin’ before the bartender finishes his next round.”

Heat pooled low in my belly, sharp and sudden. I was still sore and sensitive from the diner, but the thought of more—of him inside me—made my thighs press together under the bar. “Big talk. You gonna back it up, old man, or just keep running that mouth?”

Cooper’s laugh was low and filthy. He stood, tossing a handful of caps on the bar. “Room upstairs. Now. Before I bend you over this stool and give the whole damn bar a show they won’t forget.”

My pulse spiked. Part of me wanted to keep bantering forever—just to hear that voice—but the rest of me was already following him up the narrow, creaky stairs behind the bar. The bartender didn’t even blink when Cooper slapped extra caps down for the key. “One night. No questions.”

The room was small and dim, one flickering bulb, a sagging bed with a surprisingly clean blanket, and a window that looked out over the quiet street. Dogmeat had stayed curled under the awning downstairs with her jerky; she’d be fine. Cooper shut the door behind us and locked it with a soft click.

I stood in the middle of the room, still wearing his hat, suddenly aware of how fast my heart was racing. Tipsy warmth buzzed in my veins, but underneath it a cold thread of panic twisted tight. I’d never done this. Never gone further than the fumbling kisses and quick hands in the vault dorms. Never had anyone inside me. What if I was bad at it? What if I disappointed him—the man who’d already made me come apart three times with just his mouth? I wanted this. I needed this. Out here on the surface you had to learn to take what you wanted, to survive, to feel alive. If I was going to live in the wastes, I had to learn how to fuck like the wasteland did—raw, real, without shame.

Cooper stepped close, claws gentle as he tilted my chin up. “You’re thinkin’ loud, vaultie. Talk to me.”

I swallowed hard. “I… I’ve never done this before. Like, all the way. I’m a virgin, Cooper. The vault was all rules and quickies in the dark if anything happened at all. I’m freaking out a little, but I don’t want to stop. I want to learn. I have to learn how to live out here. So… teach me.”

His eyes softened for half a second, then that predatory smirk returned, warmer now. “Aw, darlin’. My sweet little virgin vaultie. You’re doin’ so good already. Takin’ my hat, followin’ me up here, tellin’ me the truth. I’ll talk you through every second. You just breathe and feel. Ain’t no disappointin’ me tonight.”

He kissed me then—slow at first, then deeper, tongue sliding against mine with the same filthy patience he’d used earlier. My hands fisted in his duster as he walked me backward to the bed. “First thing,” he murmured against my mouth, “lose the suit. Let me see all of you.”

I peeled it off with shaky fingers, the fabric whispering down my legs. Naked now except for his hat still on my head. The cool air made my nipples tighten. I felt exposed, vulnerable, but the way his eyes dragged over me—hungry, reverent—made heat rush between my thighs.

“Beautiful,” he growled. “Now lie back, sugar. Knees up. Let your cowboy look at that pretty pussy he’s about to ruin.”

I did, heart pounding so hard I felt dizzy. He stripped off his coat and shirt, scarred chest bare, then knelt between my spread legs. His claws traced my inner thighs, light and teasing. “Easy, darlin’. You’re tremblin’. That’s okay. First time’s supposed to feel big. I’m gonna start with my fingers, get you nice and wet and open for me. Breathe.”

Two thick fingers slid through my folds, circling my clit slow and perfect. I gasped, hips jerking. The stretch when he pushed one inside was new, intense, but good. “Feel that? That’s me openin’ you up. So tight, sweetheart. So perfect. Relax for me. Let it in.”

I moaned, trying to breathe through the flutter of panic in my chest. What if it hurts? What if I can’t take him? But his voice kept me grounded. “Second finger now. Good girl. You’re takin’ me so well. Look at you, drippin’ all over my hand already. That’s my brave vaultie learnin’ how the surface feels.”

The stretch burned sweetly. I rocked against his hand, the whiskey and his praise making everything hazy and hot. “Cooper… please… I want you inside me. I want to feel all of you.”

He groaned, pulling his fingers free and freeing himself from his pants. His cock was thick, hard, flushed dark at the tip. My stomach flipped with nerves again. “It’s… big. I don’t know if—”

“You will,” he said, voice rough but gentle. “We’re goin’ slow. You set the pace, darlin’. I’m right here. Hold onto me.”

He notched the head against my entrance, one hand on my hip, the other braced beside my head. “Push out a little, sugar. Relax. That’s it. Just the tip first. Feel me stretchin’ you? Good girl. Breathe through it.”

The pressure was intense—burning, full, overwhelming. I whimpered, fingers digging into his shoulders. Panic flared for a second. Too much. Too real. But I wanted this. I wanted to be the girl who survived the wastes, who took what she craved. “Don’t stop,” I gasped. “I can take it. I want to learn. Keep talking to me.”

He pushed in another inch, voice low and steady. “That’s my girl. So fuckin’ tight around me. You’re squeezin’ me so good, darlin’. Halfway now. Feel how deep I am? That’s me claimin’ this pretty pussy. You’re doin’ perfect. Just a little more. Let me in all the way.”

I cried out when he bottomed out, full and stretched and burning. Tears pricked my eyes, but the fullness felt right, like something clicking into place. The panic ebbed, replaced by a deep, throbbing pleasure. “Oh god… Cooper… you’re inside me.”

He stayed still, forehead pressed to mine, breath ragged. “I know, sweetheart. You feel incredible. So warm, so tight. My brave little virgin. Now I’m gonna move. Slow at first. Tell me if it’s too much.”

He rocked his hips, shallow and careful. Pleasure sparked deep inside me with every thrust. I moaned, legs wrapping around him, the hat slipping sideways on my head. “More,” I begged. “Harder. I can take it. I want it all.”

His control snapped just enough. “That’s my girl. Takin’ my cock like you were made for it. Feel how deep I’m fuckin’ you? That’s the surface, darlin’. Raw and real and yours.” His pace picked up, still controlled, still talking me through every thrust. “Touch your clit, sugar. Rub it for me. Yeah, just like that. Come on my cock. Let me feel you squeeze me when you come.”

The orgasm hit fast and hard, crashing through me while he kept moving, praising me in that filthy cowboy drawl. “Good girl, good fuckin’ girl. Milk my cock. That’s it. You’re learnin’ so fast.”

He followed soon after, burying himself deep with a guttural groan, spilling hot inside me. We stayed locked together, panting, his hat still crooked on my head.

I laughed shakily, dazed and glowing. “I did it. I actually did it.”

Cooper kissed my forehead, voice soft with something like pride. “Damn right you did, darlin’. And we’re just gettin’ started.”

Outside, the wasteland night stretched on, but in that little rented room I felt more alive than I ever had under blue vault lights. I was learning. One filthy lesson at a time.

We stayed locked together for a long minute, his cock still buried deep inside me, pulsing with the last aftershocks of his release. My body felt boneless, buzzing, every nerve singing from the way he’d talked me through my first time. The hat sat crooked on my head, the whiskey still warm in my veins, and a wild, giddy rush flooded my chest. I’d done it. I’d taken him. I wasn’t just the vault girl anymore—I was the woman learning how to live raw in the wastes.

Cooper’s yellow eyes opened, heavy-lidded and dark with fresh hunger. His claws traced lazy circles on my hip. “You did so good, darlin’. Took every inch like you were made for it. But we ain’t done yet. Not by a long shot.”

I shivered, still full of him, already feeling the slow throb of new want building low in my belly. “What… what comes next?”

He smirked, that ruined mouth curving wicked. “Next, you learn to ride your cowboy. I’m gonna sit on the edge of this bed, and you’re gonna climb on top and take control. You set the pace. You decide how deep, how fast. Think you’re ready for that, sugar?”

My pulse spiked. The idea of being on top—of controlling this massive, scarred ghoul—sent a thrill through me that mixed with a fresh flutter of nerves. What if I messed up? What if I couldn’t make him feel half as good as he’d made me? But the surface had already taught me one thing: you either took what you wanted or the wastes took it from you. I wanted this. I wanted to learn.

“Yes,” I breathed. “Show me.”

He eased out of me with a low groan, the sudden emptiness making me whimper. Then he shifted, sitting right on the edge of the sagging mattress, legs spread wide, boots still on the floor. His cock stood hard again already, glistening with us, thick and flushed. He patted his thigh. “C’mere, darlin’. Straddle me. Knees on the bed.”

I crawled over, heart hammering, and swung one leg across his lap. The position put us face to face, my bare breasts brushing his scarred chest, his hat still perched on my head. I felt exposed, powerful, and a little dizzy all at once. His hands settled on my hips, claws gentle but firm.

“Easy now,” he murmured, voice that low cowboy drawl that melted me. “First, line yourself up. Feel the head right at your entrance? Yeah, just like that. Now sink down slow. You control it. Breathe through the stretch.”

I lowered myself, gasping as the thick head pushed inside again. The angle was different—deeper already. My thighs trembled. “Cooper… it feels… bigger this way.”

“I know, sweetheart. That’s because you’re takin’ me yourself. You’re in charge. Feel how full you are? That’s you ownin’ every inch. Keep goin’. Nice and slow. Let gravity do the work.”

I sank lower, inch by inch, until my ass rested on his thighs and he was buried to the hilt. The fullness punched the air from my lungs. I could feel every ridge, every throb. My clit ground against his pelvis and sparks shot up my spine. “Oh god… I can feel you so deep.”

“Good girl,” he praised, claws flexing on my hips but not forcing me. “Now rock. Just a little. Find what feels good. Roll those hips like you’re ridin’ a wild horse. Slow at first. Feel how I slide inside you?”

I rolled experimentally. Pleasure flared hot and bright. A soft moan slipped out. “Like… like this?”

“Just like that, darlin’. Look at you—fuckin’ yourself on my cock like a natural. You’re so wet I can hear it. Keep goin’. Faster if you want. Use me. Take what you need.”

The praise made me bold. I braced my hands on his shoulders and started moving—rolling, then lifting and dropping in short strokes. Each time I sank down, the head of his cock dragged over that perfect spot inside me. My breath came faster. The hat slipped forward; I pushed it back with a shaky laugh. “I feel like I’m flying. Like I could do this forever.”

Cooper’s eyes were locked on where we joined, watching himself disappear inside me. “That’s my girl. Look how pretty you look takin’ me. Bouncin’ on this ghoul cock like you own it. Faster now, sugar. Grind that clit on me every time you come down. Yeah… just like that. Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so tight.”

I picked up speed, thighs burning in the best way. Sweat slicked my skin. Every bounce sent jolts of pleasure through me—deep, rolling waves that built higher and higher. I was in control, and it felt incredible. Powerful. Free. “Cooper… I’m… I’m getting close already.”

“I know, darlin’. I can feel you flutterin’ around me. Don’t fight it. Ride it out. Come on my cock whenever you’re ready. Let me feel you fall apart up there.”

I rode him harder, the bed creaking beneath us, the hat bouncing on my head. The angle let me grind my clit perfectly with every drop. Pleasure coiled tighter, hotter, until it snapped. I came with a broken cry, walls clamping down around him, thighs shaking as I kept moving through it.

He groaned, claws digging in just enough to hold me steady. “That’s it, sweetheart. Good fuckin’ girl. Milk me. But we ain’t stoppin’. Keep ridin’. Give me another one.”

I was still pulsing, oversensitive, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. The second orgasm built even faster, crashing over me while I bounced on him, moaning his name like a prayer. “Cooper—fuck—I can’t—too much—”

“You can,” he growled, voice rougher now. “You’re doin’ so good, darlin’. Look at you learnin’ how to fuck like a wasteland woman. One more for me. Come on, ride that cock and come again.”

The third hit me like a radstorm—harder, longer, my vision whiting out as I ground down deep and stayed there, trembling. Only then did his control snap. He gripped my hips and thrust up once, twice, burying himself to the hilt with a guttural snarl as he spilled hot and deep inside me again.

We stayed like that, panting, foreheads pressed together, his hat still crooked on my head. My thighs burned. My body felt used and perfect and alive. I laughed softly against his scarred shoulder, dazed and glowing.

“I think I like riding lessons,” I whispered.

Cooper chuckled, low and warm, claws stroking my back. “Darlin’, you’re a natural. And class is still in session.”

"Where's shitty hair?" You heard a familiar voice as you neared the area of where your friends are.

"If you're looking for y/n, she just went to the bathroom, bakubro."

"SHITTY HAIR BROUGHT HER HERE?!"

"Did s-someone say my—hic—" you giggled. "—name?" You took your seat beside Mina, feeling a bit dizzy.

All of your friends eyes landed on you, and so did a pair of red crimson orbs.

"Babe!" You squealed when you saw that your boyfriend is here and immediately went up to him.

You wrapped your arms around him and buried your face into his chest, inhaling his all—too—familiar scent.

He stiffened a bit, shocked that you hugged him in front of your friends when you were the one who told him to hide your relationship from them in the first place.

"I m-missed—hic— you, K-katsu." You hiccuped, giggling once more.

"BABE?!" Mina and Denki screamed in unison, shock visible in their features.

"Damnit." You heard Bakugou cursed under his breath and you felt him sigh. He knew that you were drunk as fuck to even care that you just revealed to your friends that you two are dating.

"You guys are dating?!" Mina screamed, still not getting over her shock.

You turned to her and grinned. "Yep!" You said casually as ever as you buried your face back into the blonde's chest.

"Called it~!" Sero had a big proud smile on his face, proud that he knew you guys would eventually get together even when both of you and Bakugou didn't get along in the first place.

"Who the fuck let her drink?!"

"She did!" You heard Denki yell as he pointed at Mina.

"I didn't! Kiri's the one who gave me permission!" Mina explained.

Bakugou sighed and rubbed his temples, landing a glance at you who still had her arms around him.

"And where the fuck is shitty hair?"

"I saw Kirishima left with a girl earlier, tho."

Bakugou groaned. "I swear y/n, if you didn't like your brother so much, I would've beat him up a long time ago." You heard your boyfriend grumbled.

I giggled. "Don't be mad, babeee. It was my decision to drink."

Without a second thought, she made her way to the bed on the far side of the room. Managing to reach her destination without bumping into anything, she fought with the zip on her dress, cursing herself for wearing one with a back zip rather than a side opening. After several minutes a triumphant “Yes.” escaped her lips as the dress finally fell to the ground. Dean bit back a laugh, praying she wouldn’t hear him, waiting for her to join him. 

She kicked the fabric to one side and then climbed into the bed; feeling far too lazy to find any pyjamas, she laid there, in nothing but her underwear, waiting for sleep to overcome her. But, after barely 5 minutes, she had given up. Her thoughts had begun to wander to a dangerous place, somewhere she knew she could never go. Heat pooled in her core as her mind dived deeper and deeper into her darkest desires. 

Without knowing, Y/N’s hand had made its way south, gliding down her stomach to brush along the hem of her panties. She hummed happily as her finger pushed against her cotton covered clit; pictures began to form in her mind, tempting her to chase her bliss. 

Warm air caressed her shoulder, her mind too preoccupied to remember she wasn’t alone. Dean held his breath as he realised what Y/N was doing. Her fingers began to rub circles over her sensitive bud, causing soft moans to rise through her chest. The man beside her bit his lip, still trying to fight the urge to help her out. 

It was then that she let it slip, one small word, one simple name and she had doomed herself to endless nights of torment. 

“Dean.” She moaned, rubbing harder as the word tumbled from her lips, taking him by surprise. It took him mere seconds to decide on his next actions. 

Dean leaned closer, careful not to move too quickly for fear of scaring her, bringing his lips within inches of her ear as he whispered “I’m right here sweetheart.” 

Y/N gasped, realisation mixing with arousal as his words seeped through to her conscience. Her hand slowed but never stopped, her body too desperate for a release. She felt the bed shift as Dean inched towards her, closing the gap between them. 

“Don’t hold back, I wanna hear you.” He hummed his encouragement, when she didn’t reply he tried again, “Can you take good care of yourself, or would you like me to help?” 

Y/N could hear the smirk in his voice, could feel the heat radiating from his body and could sense the way her body longed for his touch. With a deep breath, she turned to face him and uttered her consent, “I’d like to see you try, Winchester.” 

With that, Dean pushed himself up and on top of her, fitting perfectly between her legs. He stared at her for a second, analysing her expression for any signs of hesitation; upon finding nothing, he swooped down, capturing her lips in an intoxicating kiss. 

Y/N had never realised how loving the man could be. Dean took his time exploring her mouth, almost as if he wanted nothing more than to savour the moment, to enjoy the feel of his lips against hers as they moved in harmony. Her hands rose to grasp at the short strands of his hair, her nails grazed his scalp, coaxing a moan from deep within him. 

His lips left her as he began his descent down her body, littering her skin with soft kisses as he went. Dean reached the cup of her dra, pulling it aside he captured her hardened nipple between his lips, sucking and teasing her until her hips were thrusting off of the bed, in search of some relief from the pressure building in her core. His hands found her hips, anchoring her to the bed as he left her now sensitive breast, continuing his journey south. 

When he reached the hem of her panties, Dean tugged at them, urging Y/N to lift her hips, allowing him to remove the now soaking fabric. A gasp escaped her lips as the cold air hit her cunt, sending a shiver down her spin, a soft giggle escaped her lips. 

“Perfect,” he whispered, “so fucking perfect.” He bent his head towards her pussy, dragging his tongue across her slit, before sucking her aching bud between his lips. Y/N’s hand flew to his hair as her pleasure took control; within seconds, she was grinding against his face, the scratch of his short stubble only adding to the bliss. 

Soft moans escaped her lips as she felt Dean slip a single digit into her aching cunt. He crooked his finger, brushing against her g-spot, causing her to bite back a cry. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could last, how much more torture she could take before she would burst at the seams. 

As Dean’s finger and lips moved faster, the pressure in her stomach grew and grew until she couldn’t hold back any longer. With one long, low moan, Y/N came, her pussy clenching tight around Dean’s finger as he worked her through her orgasm. 

When it was finally over, he pulled away, dragging his now soaked finger along the inside of her thigh. Dean settled himself between her legs once more, his erection pressed longingly against her cunt. He brought his lips to her, allowing Y/N to taste herself. As her tongue ran across Dean’s full lips, she felt his hips roll against her, his thick length barely contained by his boxers. 

“Why don’t you lose these?” She whispered hooking her index finger over his waistband, “I want you to fill me up, Dean. I want your big, thick cock inside my tight, wet pussy.” With that Dean had pushed himself onto his knees and was rushing to remove the constricting material. As his boxers hit the floor, Dean turned back to her with a slight look of hesitation on his face. 

“Do you want me to suit up?” He asked, crouched and ready to move in which ever direction he needed. To his surprise, Y/N leaned up, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling his ear towards her lips. 

“Listen carefully, Winchester. I want you to fuck me senseless and make me come undone. Then, I want you to fill me up.” She breathed, stroking her hand along the length of his member. 

“Fuck.” Dean pushed Y/N back against the bed before pressing his swollen tip against her entrance. In one thrust, Dean sheathed himself in her pussy, pushing until his thick thighs hit her arse. He paused for a moment, allowing her time to adjust to his size before he began to thrust rhythmically into her. Y/N’s breath quickened as his speed increased and pressure began to build in her stomach once more. 

Before long, the pair were panting and moaning with every snap of Dean’s hips. His movement became uneven as he chased his release. Dean hooked Y/N’s right leg over his shoulder, giving him a better angle to push them both over the edge. 

A few ragged thrusts later and Y/N came with a cry, her pussy clenching around Dean, pulling him over the edge with her. His hot seed spilled into her, coating the walls of her pulsing cunt. Dean thrust lazily into her, working both of their orgasms to a peaceful end before he pulled out, collapsing onto the bed beside Y/N. 

She rolled over, placing her head in the crook of his arm as she snuggled into his side. As she felt his breathing begin to slow, Y/N glanced up at Dean, memorising the look of content on his face as she pressed her lips against his collar bone. 

“Thank you, Dean.” 

“Anytime, princess.” He hummed as he placed a kiss into her hair. The Winchester pulled her closer as they both drifted into blissful slumber. 

****

The morning came all too soon as the trio rose early to pack in preparation for their trip back to the bunker. It wasn’t until the last bag had been placed into the trunk of the Impala, that Sam turned to the couple before him. 

“Next time you have sex, can you wake me so I can leave please? If this is gonna be a regular thing, I’m gonna start booking my own room.” He grumbled as he slid into the back seat. 

Dean glanced at Y/N over Baby’s roof, her slight panicked expression a clear sign of her embarrassment.