barnesdreamcatcher

[barnesdreamcatcher]

thank you so much!!!! I love that reaction image lol <3

I need you to feel alive

clark kent x f!reader

cw: smut (mdni, 18+), superman stamina, reader passes out during sex, worried!protective!lclark, a thousand apologies, p in v, creampie, overstimulation (r)

wc: 1k

a/n: I recently fainted (in a very different scenario than this one) for the first time in my life and I feel like it changed me as a writer lol, so this was born

now playing: Void - The Neighbourhood

Your thighs ached, your clit throbbed and you wondered whether you were drooling.  Clark’s cock bullied your cervix with every thrust – and not for the first time tonight.

The number of releases you had shared in the last few hours was lost on you. Your brain had stopped working somewhere after number six and that had been when the sun was still setting. Now, it was pitch-black outside. 

Sweat dripped from Clark’s brow as he thrusted into you again, the mushroom head of his cock slipping along your velvety walls until it met that spongy spot deep within you. A broken cry elicited from your lips along with a breathy whisper of his name. You weren’t sure if he even heard it. Actually, you weren’t even sure if any sound had made it out of your mouth. 

Kryptonian stamina was not to be underestimated, so the fact that Clark was at the point of sweating was rather telling of the kind of night you had had.  Purple marks littered every inch of your skin, from the underside of your jaw to the curve of your breast. Saliva, cum and your own juices were in places they had never been before, dripping between your thighs, mingling on your back and painting the skin of your tummy. 

It was filthy, it was nasty, it was so Clark and you.

“You with me, baby?” He asked, not stopping the roll of his hips as he tried to merge himself even deeper in you. There was a rasp to his voice, an almost broken quality while he let himself be enveloped by your fluttering walls. 

You nodded as dark spots flickered across your vision. “Mhm,” you slurred and he halted. Still sheathed in you, he grabbed your chin with a trembling hand as he struggled to keep himself in check.

“Can you say it with big girl words, please?” Clark mumbled and brushed his thumb across your jaw.

“I’m good,” you muttered, “But this is the last one, okay?” 

He nodded affectionately and placed a gentle kiss on your cheek which contrasted like black and white as he resumed rutting his hips into yours. 

“Last one,” he echoed, “You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Taking it like the best girl in the world. My girl.”

The bed creaked dangerously as his pelvis pushed forward again, and your eyes rolled back until you saw stars. He panted in your ear while his whole length twitched in you. Three shaky fingers found your clit, drawing messy circles, almost slipping off with how wet you were. Anything was lube tonight: spit, previous cum, sweat. 

He fucked into you a little faster like he had taken pity on your aching body. One part of you – your brain – knew two things: You should either tap out or at least tell him to hurry up. But the other part of you – namely your cunt – clenched around him so tight that he winced, not letting go yet. 

“Baby, gosh, you are gonna.. oh my…,” he grunted and circled your throbbing bundle of nerves faster while diving harder into you, little desperate sounds tumbling from his mouth, “Please, you’re…. you feel so good. Just one last…”

The spots on your vision darkened even more and spread as your orgasm built up. 

“Clark,” you whined and he misinterpret severely. 

“I know, baby, almost there,” he drawled and increased the rhythm of his hips and fingers even more. 

Your release washed over you like a tidal wave, tingling from your spine to your fingertips and toes. A moan that rivaled any pornstar’s slipped from you and your nails weakly dragged across his back while he buried himself to the hilt in your warmth. 

Then the world went dark. 

“Oh… oh gosh, what the… baby? Sweetheart? Please, oh my gosh, please wake up. Can you hear me?”

Your vision didn’t return immediately, neither did the feeling in your fingers. You laid on the mattress, something warm dripping out of you and a clammy hand held yours. 

“Sweetheart?” Clark repeated and then you started seeing him. At first it was just a faint silhouette, then his edges sharpened and baby blue eyes looked at you, filled with horror, concern and relief all at the same time.

“Clark?” You asked, feeling cold sweat pool on your skin. 

He breathed out a shaky laugh and you saw tears build on his waterline. 

“Fuck, you scared me so much. Are you okay? Can you hear me? Can you see me?”

You hadn’t heard him cuss that often in the time you had been together, so his word choice was quite the shock to you. 

“Yeah,” you muttered and wiped a hand across your face. “I’m good.”

When you attempted to sit up, his large hand immediately sprawled across your collar bone, pushing you back down.

“No, sweetheart, please… just stay. My word, you… you were gone for… I don’t know… twenty seconds? I think my heart didn’t beat once.”

He pushed a sweat soaked strand of hair from your forehead and placed a kiss right against your temple. “You feeling okay? Can I… can I get you some water… or something to eat?”

You shook your head and the feeling in your hands returned, like needles pricking your fingertips again and again. 

“No, I don’t need anything. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He gently cradled your face between his hands and tilted your head to meet his eyes.

“Please don’t apologize. That was… that was on me… I am the one who’s sorry. I shoulda…. I shoulda seen that you were done. I’m sorry, I was so selfish. Please forgive me.”

Clark’s voice shook with unshed tears, his fingers desperately holding onto you. His lower lip wobbled and his eyes… his eyes glistened as he struggled to meet yours.

“It wasn’t your fault, baby,” you muttered and now you were the one reaching out to cup his face. “I should’ve told you. But nothing happened, I’m fine. Just… you’re just that good.”

A wet chuckle sounded through the room and he pulled you into his arms. 

“You’re insane. And I love you. But you’re insane,” he muttered, gently swaying the two of you back and forth. 

❤︎ just a quick reminder that the best way to support authors on here is to comment and reblog ❤︎ ☆ find my masterlist here ☆

[barnesdreamcatcher]

And his eyes all over me

bucky barnes x f!reader

cw: smut (mdni, 18+), touch starved!bucky, needy/subby!bucky, begging, whimpering, pathetic man <3, handjob (m), orgasm denial(ish), overstimulation, p in v, creampie, hair pulling, drug usage (weed)

wc: 1.7k

a/n: i’m so in love with ethel’s new album, if anyone has listened to it, please talk to me about it!!!!

now playing: Dust Bowl – Ethel Cain

Red rimmed eyes, tent in his jeans and lips slightly parted, like words were already forming on his tongue – that’s how Bucky looked at you.

Your brain was buzzing with the aftereffects of the half-smoked joint, embers still glowing as it rested on one of your jewelry dishes. With fascination you watched as the smoke curled up into the air, like little claws reaching out to the sky. 

Fabric rustled as Bucky shifted on your bed. His bleary eyes didn’t leave you as he adjusted, one hand twitching on his thigh, right next to his hard on.

Your limbs felt heavy as you turned to face him, a dozy smile on your lips. 

“Hi,” you drawled, slowly easing off of your chair to walk to him.

His chest rose quicker, fingers itching to reach out.  “Hi,” he rasped, fiddling with the soft material of your comforter.  Your eyes dropped to the hard outline in his jeans and a small smirk grew on your face. 

“You know, most guys’ libido goes down as they get high,” you teased softly, sitting down next to him on the bed.

Bucky groaned softly as your thigh brushed against his, the muscles twitching under his jeans. 

“Not for me,” he murmured, gaze downcast. 

“Want me to help you out?” You asked, two fingers travelling over the blanket, then stopped just shy of his leg. 

He met your eyes and you saw his lower lip trembling.

“Please,” he breathed out. 

“How about,” you began and played with the waistband of his jeans, “We take these off, hm?”

His hips jerked upwards, your palm flattening against his crotch and he whined softly. 

“Sounds… sounds like a plan,” he muttered, fingers coming up to undo his zipper. 

You tsked softly and swatted him away, then gently eased off his pants. He eagerly raised his hips to help you. 

“You just lean back, and lemme take care of you, yeah?” You whispered, dropping his jeans to the floor. 

The bulge was obscener when the only fabric covering him was his underwear. You slowly ran your hand over the cloth, feeling the heat simmer beneath it. 

“Fuck, don’t…. don’t tease, please,” he murmured feverishly. 

“’m not teasing,” you replied softly, letting your fingers dip into his boxers. His cock was hot and heavy as you wrapped your fingers around him, feeling every vein and the slight curve upwards.  Bucky’s head tipped back against your headboard, a quiet grumble bubbling from his chest. 

“Shit, baby, don’t stop,” he whimpered, actually whimpered. 

You felt his velvety skin, wet and hot with precum, and slowly stroked up and down. His breath hitched as he bucked his hips into your grip, eyes closed and lips slightly agape.

Warm spasms pulsed against your hand as you worked him, twisting your wrist a little whenever you reached his tip. He shuddered as you dragged the pad of your thumb over his slit, collecting his glistening drops. 

“Doll,” he moaned, his own fingers twitching in the sheets, fisting the cloth like he needed to hold onto something.

“Please, I… I need to… I can’t…,” he rumbled, short gasps filling the gaps between his words. 

“You’ll hold it, okay? Just a little.” Your instruction was gentle but firm, just like your grip on him. His cock grew even harder if that was possible, pulsating with need as he focused on holding back his release.

“I… god, baby, I don’t know if… if I can… you feel so good,” he whimpered, cheeks flushing. 

“You’re a big boy, Barnes,” you reminded him, “You can do it. Just hold it.”

Desperation swam in his eyes, genuine tears collecting on his waterline as he panted, pressing his back into the mattress like he was trying to escape you. 

You continued to clench his cock, giving him teasing little squeezes, slowing down and speeding up, then stopping every few seconds. His breathing grew quicker and a tear escaped his eye, rolling down his cheek. 

“Please,” he begged, “I can’t… it feels so good but it hurts… please… just lemme… just once.”

He pleaded so prettily, so full of anguish, that you gave him what he needed. You picked up your pace, tightened your digits around him and moved your hand up and down his length faster. 

“Alright, baby, there you go. Cum for me.”

Not a second later, Bucky busted. Hot ropes of cum spilled from his tip, leaking all over your fist and his abdomen, slickening his skin along with his sweat. A deep groan, throaty and wet, tumbled from his mouth as he twitched in your grip. His hand came up to your wrist, holding onto you as you continued to work him through his release.

He came for what felt like an eternity, shiny fluid coating his tummy and running in between the crevices of your hand – still you didn’t let up.

“Baby, stop,” he whined, “I can’t… please… oh fuck,” he whimpered. 

“Thought you wanted this,” you mocked him, a small smile playing on your lips. 

“All done,” he pleaded, “I can’t…”

His hand tightened on your wrist as he sobbed – a mix of pleasure and pain. 

You slowed down, then let go and he could somewhat breathe again. His chest still rose and fell rapidly. 

A few moments passed during which you allowed him to catch his breath before you started stripping off your own clothes. 

For someone who had been so wrecked just seconds ago, he watched you eagerly, hungrily reaching out to let feel every inch of skin bared to him. “So beautiful,” he murmured, more to himself than you as he pulled you closer by your hips.

“’m not done with you yet,” you warned him and straddled his lap, your thighs bracketing his. 

Bucky glanced up at you, his fingers settling on your waist and nodded.  “Good,” he replied in a raspy voice.

He was hard again, or maybe he had never softened in the first place, either way, you could feel his cock hot and waiting under you as you settled on top of him.  Gently, you placed your hands on his shoulders and caught his eyes.  Bucky tightened his grip on your sides like he was trying to crawl into your skin and blinked up at you. His pupils were dilated, blown with lust. 

“Please,” he uttered, “Need to feel you, doll.”

The nod came easily to you, just as easy as it was to reach between you two and line him up with your weeping entrance.  You fought to keep your eyes on him as you slowly sank down, feeling your walls expand and adjust to every inch of him. 

Bucky’s breath stuttered harder the further you enveloped him in your heat, knuckled turning white as he surely left marks on your hips. 

“You feel like heaven,” he mumbled quietly, his hands sliding down to cup your ass.

His cock split you in two, hot and pulsing in you as you sat on his lap, filled to the brim with him. The usually neatly trimmed hair at his base curled with moisture and stuck to your folds, dragging across the sensitive skin as you rolled your hips for the first time.

Both of you gasped, melting into each other. 

Bucky found his strength while you felt more boneless than ever and he took over, helping you find a rhythm as he guided you up and down around him. 

Stars exploded behind your eyes as he hit that one gummy spot in you, the one that was practically shaped in his memory. He angled his hips a little and tilted you to keep battering that area while you threaded your fingers through his hair.

You leaned in to kiss him, gasping into his mouth with every thrust, wet moans spilling from your throat as he suddenly started meeting your movements. 

“Jesus, baby, you always make me feel so good,” he groaned huskily, “Fuck… like a damn dream.”

Your lips travelled over his face, from the corner of his mouth to the underside of his jaw, tongue and teeth dragging across the skin there, sucking and pinching uselessly. He would heal within less than five minutes but not only did you enjoy the sensation of it, you were also addicted to the taste of him. Salty like sea water but sweet at the same time.

He whined again and you realized that your hands were still in his hair, holding on tightly, occasionally tugging at the roots.  Just as you were about to apologize – as best as you could while his spongy tip met your cervix again and again –  he huffed out a few words.

“Do that again, please.”

He moaned shamelessly as you tightened your grip on his hair, pulling it back so that more of his throat was exposed to your hungry mouth.

“Fuck, baby,” he cursed, “That feels so good. Don’t stop. Need to feel you everywhere.”

Bucky’s pelvis crashed into you, somehow advancing even further into your wetness and you swore you could feel him in your guts, rearranging your insides to his desires.

When his hand additionally found your clit, you cried out in pleasure, rutting against him desperately. He messily circled the bundle of nerves, fingers slipping through your wetness as he fought to bring you closer to your high all while chasing his own.

Heat tingled in every inch of your body as he slammed into you, sliding in and out of you like it was the only thing he knew how to do. 

“Need you to cum, baby,” he begged, “Need you to cum first.”

He applied more pressure to your button, your pants and cries muffled as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck. 

“Please, baby.”

Your climax rocked through your body like lightning. Every inch of skin prickled as he continued to thrust into you, his fingers never stopping while he worked you through your high. 

With a groan he then buried himself to the hilt in your cunt and spilled into you. 

“Fuck…,” he hummed, aftershocks making both of you twitch, “I love you.” 

[barnesdreamcatcher]

thank you ilysm that's so nice <3

They all wanna take her out, but no one ever wants to take her home

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader wc: 4.8k (i cannot shut up apparently) cw: SMUT (mdni, 18+) with plot so be patient, no outbreak au, reader is Sarah’s best friend, age gap relationship (reader is her early twenties, Joel in his mid 40s), thigh riding, unprotected p in v, pull out method (not a good idea irl!), intoxication (smut happens later tho), toxic family, implied/referenced abuse (from family members), strong language now playing: Fuck Me Eyes -  Ethel Cain

The music was muffled the second you stepped out of the bar, cold air whipping your face mercilessly. The straps on your heels dug into the delicate flesh of your feet as you staggered across the sidewalk, phone and cigarettes clutched in your hands.  You made it all of the way – surprisingly – and then sank onto the curb less than gracefully. Loose pebbles pressed into your skin as you cowered down on the edge of the street. You still tasted the kisses of men on your lips – men who didn’t wanna know you, only touch and own and then discard of you. 

You lit the cigarette first before unlocking your phone. The screen spun uncomfortably, or maybe it was your vision – who knew. Certainly not you. So you blinked a few times, hoping to clear your eyesight and started tapping on the screen, mostly guided by muscle memory. 

The uber app was loading. And it continued to load. And then it stopped. And then the screen went black. 

“Fuck,” you whispered, shaking your phone and pressing the power button multiple times in a row but it was no use. The battery was empty. And now you had no way home.

You raked your fingers through your hair, inclined to start ripping it out in frustration. “Fuck,” you mumbled again. Word of the evening, apparently. 

You were stranded. The walk home would take you about an hour and a half – manageable for the average person, yes. But you, no. There was currently more tequila in your bloodstream than in a bottle on the shelf, and your lungs were already threatening to collapse, curtesy of your hardest-to-shake habit: smoking. 

Speaking off, you took a drag of the still lit cigarette and inhaled deeply, keeping the smoke there until your lungs felt warm and full, then breathed it out. 

Desperate times made for desperate measures, and you eyed the street a little closer. There was a bus stop with a bench. The last bus had been scheduled over two hours ago and the next one was not until well into the morning.

You had two options:  1) go back into the bar and give yourself alcohol poisoning (upside: warm meal and bed at the hospital, downside: medical bill so high you’d rather die from liver failure)  or 2) sleep at the bus stop (upside: a couple hours of sleep, downside: potential for being kidnapped and sold to human traffickers)

Both were less than tempting, but one didn’t send your family into even more debt, so you stubbed out your cigarette and took off your shoes before getting to your feet.

It was late October, so it was considerably cold as you curled up on the bench. You wore a coat over your thin tank top and skirt but it was cheap polyester that made you sweat and didn’t keep the cold out at the same time.

You were in for a long night. Or so you thought.

Fifteen minutes later, you heard a car first speed up the road and then come to a screeching halt. The driver’s door slammed and it sounded like a memory. 

You and Sarah squealing in the backseat on the way to the lake. A trip to the amusement park together. Early school rides and afternoon pickups. Hours shared together in that truck, singing songs and telling stories, spilling drinks and fries until he told you two off.

You knew the car and you knew the driver before you opened your eyes. But you kept them closed because there was no way that Joel Miller just so happened to have received divine intuition about your precarious situation and whereabouts tonight. Not when you hadn’t seen him in a little over three months. 

The last time you had laid eyes on him had been at Sarah’s birthday party. Then she had gone back to college and you had stayed here, in this town you would probably die in, and avoided Joel at every cost.

Fast steps echoed across the side walk and you smelled him.  Masculinity, earthiness and warmth seeped into your nose as he crouched down before you. 

“Baby, can you hear me?” He patted your arm gently. “Open your eyes f’me, babygirl. Come on now.”

You groaned softly and pried your lashes apart, blinking heavily up at him.  “There you go, baby, good job,” he cooed. “Can you hear me? Are you hurtin’?” The care in his voice cracked your heart in two. You had missed him terribly, just as much as you missed Sarah. 

“Joel,” you rasped, “What are you doin’ here?” He scoffed almost instantly.  “What am I doin’ here? What are you doin’ here, that’s the better fucking question. Drunk off your ass, in the cold, asleep on a goddamn bench!?”

He pulled you upright and immediately draped his flannel around you.  “Hmm, baby? Tell me. What were you thinkin’, goddammit?”  Anger and concern were battling each other, fighting to dominate the tone of his voice but the latter won. 

You stared down at your nails, red and chipped at edges, as you refused to answer. 

Joel sighed and slung his arm around your waist.  “Let’s get you home, babygirl,” he murmured and holstered you up, his other arm sliding under your knees to carry you to his truck as if you weighed nothing. 

He opened the passenger’s door and set you down, then fumbled with the seatbelt.  “You good, kiddo?” He asked and grabbed your chin to tilt your face upwards to him.  “I can’t go home, Joel,” you answered, “You know I can’t.” 

Joel’s heart shattered as he heard the fear in your voice.  “I didn’t mean your parents’ place,” he replied softly and brushed the hair out of your eyes, “I said I’d take ya home.” --- He also carried you from the car to his house. His knees complained but he held you as if you were nothing but a feather, one arm slung under your shoulders and the other bend under your kneecaps. 

The front door creaked open as he brushed against it with his shoulder, mindful to watch your head. 

“Didn’t lock the door?” You asked quietly, your cheek resting against his chest, “You’re always on my ass that I do it.” He chuckled grimly, then looked down at you. “Didn’t have the time. Got a call about one of my girls half passed out in the middle of the damn street.”

One of his girls. Sarah was his girl. You were just her best friend, known for bad decision making and desperate attempts to get him to fuck you since you turned 18 – all of which he had turned down. A lump built in your throat, straining against your vocal cords. You kept your head buried in his chest, inhaling deeply, both in order not to cry and to breathe in his scent.

“Are you mad at me?” You whispered, feeling utterly stupid.

He stayed quiet for a second too long and you heard your own heartbeat. “No,” he answered then. Another moment of silence passed before he continued. “I’m worried ‘bout you though, darlin’. But we’ll talk ‘bout it tomorrow. Right now, you just need to sleep off that tequila. Could smell it from a mile away.”

The stairs creaked as he walked up with you in his arms. His thumb caressed your thigh – not in a sexual way. It was so careful and loving that it made your heart ache. “You wanna sleep in Sarah’s room?” He mumbled and looked down at you. You shook your head. “Please don’t make me stay on my own tonight,” you pleaded. He sighed heavily and then nodded.  “Alright then.”

His scent filled your nostrils as he laid you down in the plaid sheets. He kept his eyes on your face as he took of your shoes and skirt, his touch not lingering a second longer than necessary. Then he pulled the blanket up to your chin, burying you beneath the cotton. A calloused but gentle hand brushed away a few strands from your forehead and he rested it next to your head on the pillow before he spoke “You sleep now, you hear me?” He muttered. You nodded quietly. 

Joel sat with you, not touching, only present, until you fell asleep. Once you were deep in your dreamland, he rubbed a hand over his face and exhaled through his nose.  He was quiet as he changed into his pajamas and then carefully slipped into bed next to you, keeping the distance wider than his heart could bare. Joel didn’t sleep a lot that night. He listened to your breath like it was a prayer and kept his eyes closed so that he wouldn’t have to confront the fact that you were lying there and what that did to him.

--

The morning came like a punishment. Your stomach complained with unease and your eyes fought the sunlight filtering in between Joel’s curtains. 

He wasn’t there anymore, the bed just growing cold. A faint trace of his body heat still lingered on his side as if he had fled the sheets just minutes ago.  Your bones complained as you pushed the blanket away, bare legs and panties a reminder of how Joel’s eyes had been glued to yours as he had undressed you. Not even a short dip down. 

You found a pair of sweatpants that you had seen him in countless times. The cotton was soft and worn. With shaky hands you rolled the waistband a few times until they didn’t threaten to fall of your hips anymore and then you ventured out of the room.  Downstairs, in the kitchen, you found your bag and plucked your cigarettes and lighter.

The screen door to the porch squeaked as you stepped outside, fingers already playing with the switch of the lighter. You brought the flame to the cigarette while shielding it from the light breeze with your other hand and inhaled shortly until it lit properly. 

Just as you were about to take another drag, a large hand pricked the cigarette from you. “That shit’s gonna kill you,” Joel mumbled and threw it off the porch. You watched your 34 cents worth of nicotine sail down and land in the grass, dying down immediately, before you gave him a pout. 

“So could crossin’ the street,” you replied. 

“’s not the same, and you know it.”

He filled your empty hand with a mug of steaming coffee. It was Sarah’s mug, hand painted by her at the age of eight with what was supposed to be Ariel, but it rather resembled a red and green blob. Your matching one (with Belle, equally not resembling) had met your kitchen wall in one of your father’s fits of rage just days after you and Sarah had done that pottery course.

“I love that mug,” you muttered and brought it up to your lips. The brown liquid was hot and bitter but it warmed away the unease in your stomach bit by bit.

“I know,” Joel answered quietly. 

The silence stretched poignantly and you glanced to gage Joel’s state. “You mad at me now?” You asked after a few minutes.

“Sweetheart, like I said, I’m not mad but I’m really fuckin’ worried ‘bout you. You’re such a smart girl, with so much goddamn potential. And you’re wasting it. Every day. Every night, when you go to these damn bars, sleepin’ with them idiots who don’t give a shit ‘bout you, puttin’ yourself in danger, bein’ so goddamn reckless?You think this is gonna get you anywhere?”

There it was. That speech that he expected to change your life. To make you realize that you deserved to make something out of yourself. But it didn’t.

“Joel, what do you want me to do? You expect me to go to get outta this town, go to college, like Sarah? That what you want from me? Are you scared you’re not gonna be able to say no to me anymore if I stay here any longer?” Your words were unfair. He cared about you on a way deeper level and you knew it. You had no right to give him hell like this, not when he had saved you from hypothermia and potentially worse just last night. You put your mug down and crossed your arms. “I want you to give a damn about yourself, girl!” He rumbled. His voice had grown louder. “I don’t care if you go to college or not. You’re intelligent, you could have a great life as long as you’d start spendin’ more than three seconds on your decisions. And this has nothin’ to do with whatever this,” he gestured between you and him, “is.”

“It has everythin’ to do with that,” you argued angrily. His nostrils flared but you cut him off before he could start again. “You might see this all this potential in me, but I don’t. All I want is to be happy for a few fuckin’ hours. And you don’t wanna sleep with me – fine! But if you’re not gonna do it, I’ll find someone else. I always do.”

“Oh, I know you do,” he chuckled bitterly, “I heard ‘bout how many guys you been with the last few weeks, whorin’ around and thinkin’ it’s gonna make your daddy care and not just beat the shit outta you.”

He caught your wrist before your palm could land on his cheek.  “Wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he muttered, tightening his grasp on you. “’s not a good fuckin’ idea.”

He pressed you against the house wall, just inches between you. You were boiling with anger, but the proximity had your core aching. His eyes darted across your face and this time, they dipped down to linger on your lips. 

“Seems like you don’t care that much ‘bout how I whore around. You still wanna sleep with me,” you murmured, arching yourself against him.

He groaned and shook his head. “No.” But he didn’t let up, didn’t look away from your mouth, and you felt the traitorous stirring of his cock against your thigh. “You sure?” You teased and rubbed yourself against the indistinguishable hardness, making him groan again.

“Stop it,” he whispered, leaning in closer. You felt his breath fan across your face, smelling faintly like coffee and mint.

“You’re the one keepin’ me against the wall,” you reminded him, “You could always just let me go.”

His hand cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing just below your lip. “Christ,” he whispered, “Don’t think I can.”

Then he crashed his lips onto yours, knocking the back of your head against the wall but neither of you cared. His mouth moved against yours like he was trying to steal the breath from your lungs, tongue dashing in and exploring yours with stealth. He pushed himself closer, parting your thighs with his own, and grabbed your hips tight enough to leave you with bruises you could admire tomorrow.

You rocked forward and gasped into his mouth as your core throbbed against his jean covered thigh. “Please,” you babbled, not sure what you were even asking for. He eased your hips forth and back until your head spun. Heat pooled in your lower belly as your covered clit eased against his thigh again and again, and you desperately started chasing the friction. 

“Joel,” you pleaded, gasping his name like it could cure cancer.

Suddenly he pulled away, leaving you high and – well – not dry. “What the hell?” You hissed breathlessly. 

He cupped your face and tilted it upwards, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You’re not still drunk, right?” He asked, scrutinizing your pupils and taking in every inch of you. 

“No,” you answered, a mix of irritation and desperation tinting your voice. “I slept it all off.”

He nodded. “Ok, had to make sure,” he muttered.  It would’ve been a comical picture to anyone walking by – you balanced on his thigh, flushed and desperate while his cock strained hard against his pants. 

“Could’ve asked me that before instead of gettin’ me all needy,” you complained gruffly, trying to ease off of his thigh but he kept you in place.

“Do you really want this?” He asked, hands stabilizing you on his leg. He didn’t look away, not for a second.

You nodded, already rocking forward again but he stopped you.

“No, no, that’s not gonna cut it, darlin’. I need you to say it. Use your words.” Joel sounded wrecked, almost distraught. 

“I want you so bad. You. Only you. Every other guy I’ve hooked up with, I imagined you instead. When I can’t sleep at night, I play with myself and I close my eyes so that I can pretend they’re your hands. I-“ He clasped his hand over your mouth before you could finish the sentence. 

“Jesus Christ, baby, you got a mouth on you… gonna make me cream my fucking pants like a goddamn teenager if you keep goin’,” he mumbled. You grinned, almost determined to get him that far. But the ache between your thighs was not dulling down and this might be your one chance with him so were you not about to waste it with making him come in his pants instead of you. Even if the idea of it was promising.

You licked a slow stripe against his hand that still covered your lips and he smirked. 

“You’re twisted, baby,” he muttered and removed his hand. It immediately came into use again as he picked you up like you were nothing but a doll and carried you back inside. 

“Not gonna fuck you on the porch for everyone to see,” he purred and closed the front door with a  slam before walking to the couch.

“Don’t you wanna go to your room?” You asked carefully. Not doing it in the bedroom felt like he was purposefully putting distance between the two of you. 

“No,” he replied quietly, “Don’t think I’d ever be able to sleep in that bed again if we did.”

It stung but you’d take what he was willing to give. And he was willing to give. He towered over you, covering your body with his and pressing your hips into the couch as he trailed breathless kisses down your neck to the hem of your top. His lips were hot wand wet against your skin, and lingered occasionally, just long enough to leave a faint bruise in their wake. 

Joel’s hand ghosted over the waistband of your/his sweatpants. “These are mine,” he muttered, “Care if I take ‘em back?” You shook your head and lifted your hips eagerly to help him ease them off. He dropped them carelessly to the side and now you were in the same position as last night but this time he looked. God, he looked. He drank you in like you were oxygen and he had spent the last 5 minutes underwater. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something – maybe even something sweet but he stopped himself. Instead he used his open mouth to kiss the skin on your inner thigh, trailing close to the line of your panties. 

The gusset already had a darkened patch from his earlier teasing and the ruined orgasm. Your clit hadn’t stopped throbbing since then but now it almost ached as his breath met your clothed core. 

The second you moved your hips to get the friction you wanted, needed, he pinned you down with his hands.  “Don’t you move,” he warned lowly, “Lemme do this f’you.”

He kept you stuck in place as he pressed kisses to the place where your pelvis and thigh met, parallel to the hem of your panties that slowly grew damper with your arousal. 

“Please,” you whispered, straining against his tight grip, “Don’t tease.”

Joel chuckled and the vibration gave you goosebumps as his mouth stayed on your sensitive skin.

“So needy,” he mumbled and hooked his fingers into your panties’ waistband, then slowly, agonizingly slowly bared your pussy to the warm air. His breath quickened and he stared. Not an ounce of shame on his face as he drank in the sight before him, your folds glistening in the low lighting of the living room, puffy and pink with need. 

“You want it bad, hm?” He teased you and blew a soft stream of air directly onto your cunt which made you whine. He chuckled again as you nodded and finally leaned in. The scruff on his cheeks scraped against the sensitive skin on your thighs and made you shiver. You were seconds away from complaining again, or maybe even begging, when his mouth made contact with your clit. 

The shock of the connection made you cry out in pleasure and your hips would have probably lifted off the bed if Joel hadn’t held you down, forcing you to take his administrations. Your hands flew to his head, fingers slipping between his greying locks for purchase as he lapped at your core like a man starved. 

“Fuck,” was all you managed to say as his tongue traced across your button and when he sucked it in between his teeth, you pulled on his hair. You were milliseconds away from stammering an apology when you felt him laugh against your cunt, clearly enjoying the sensation. 

“Pull all you want, darlin’,” he mumbled, lips barely lifting off of your pussy, “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

His tongue went lower, tracing your slit and briefly dipping into your hole before returning to your clit, instead replaced by two of his thick fingers which split you open and briefly had you believing in the supernatural – because there was no way that this was really happening. 

He picked up the pace of his fingers while simultaneously stimulating your bundle of nerves with his tongue, flattening it against it and dragging upwards. His fingers spread apart in you which had you gasping and moaning so loud that you could probably never show your face in this neighborhood again. 

“Joel,” you mewled between sobs of pleasure, his name the only thing on your mind as you felt warmth collect at the base of your tummy, heat spreading into all your limbs. He was working overtime on your cunt and had you crying out with every thrust of his fingers. 

He groaned into you as your legs started shaking, the warmth in your lower abdomen tightening and forming a coil that was about to snap.  “Please,” you whimpered, “’m so close, Joel.”  You felt his smile as he sucked hard on your clit and sent you right over the edge, the coil unravelling with a force that knocked the breath from your lungs. 

He didn’t relent, keeping his lips and tongue connected to your dripping core until you were writhing and trembling beneath him. “Jesus fucking Christ,” you whispered, breathless, when the aftershocks subsided. 

Joel grinned like the devil, your arousal glistening on his lips and beard. His hands kneaded your hips, slowly releasing the tension from your muscles as he allowed you to come down to Earth.

“Satisfied?” He asked smugly.  “No,” you muttered, equally self-satisfied. His smile dropped and you used his confusion to pull him closer.  “I want you to fuck me,” you whispered against the shell of his ear. The tent in his pants was still unmissable.

“God, you’re fucking insatiable,” he replied, dipping his head down further until the tip of his nose brushed up against yours. “You really want this?” He asked. 

“Yeah, I do. I want you, Joel, I’m not fuckin’ kiddin’.”

You barely had finished the sentence when he started discarding his clothes. Quickly, you followed suit, taking off the only thing that still covered you: your tank top.

As your breasts spilled out, Joel grew more frantic, his hands seemingly aching to reach out.  Once he had undressed himself down to his boxer briefs, he drank in the sight of you, now fully bare. He reached out, his hand wandering from your clavicle over the swell of your breasts, then slowly palmed your nipple. A rush of heat went through you as his mouth enclosed your other nipple, tongue dragging over the nub repeatedly while his other hand continued its massage.

With an obscenely wet pop Joel pulled off your nipple after a few moments, looking down at you, still spread out for him.  “You gonna be good?” He asked, voice deep with need. 

You nodded but he shook his head. “Words, baby,” he mumbled, “Use your words.”

“I’ll be good,” you replied, your voice coming out a lot softer than you had expected. “I swear.”

His boxers met the rest of your clothing on the floor and you swallowed hard at the sight of him. His cock was flushed a dark pink, the tip leaking precum and glistening in the low lighting. He was reasonably big but exceeded in girth, thicker than you had expected.

“Still good, baby?” He asked and you nodded in a daze, then quickly added a clearer sounding ‘yes’ before he could complain again.

“Alright,” he rumbled and slotted himself between your legs. His tip brushed up against your quivering hole, not pushing yet, just teasing.  His eyes stayed on your face, taking in every muscle movement in your facial muscles as he slicked himself with your juices. The stimulation had you moving your hips against him already.

“Now’s the time to back out,” he rasped, the restraint on his face visible.  You shook your head and this time he didn’t need vocal confirmation, just the soft gasps already spilling from your lips enough as your hand found the low dip of his back, beckoning him in.

He sank in inch by inch, letting you adjust to him in between. The muscles in his thighs and hips were taut from holding back as he gave you more time then necessary.  “Joel,” you whined as he stayed unmoving but buried to the hilt, “Can you… please…”

He groaned with relief and nodded, pulling out just a few inches to slam back in seconds later. A deep moan slipped from his mouth as he truly let himself feel your warmth and tightness. “God-fucking-dammit,” he muttered, one hand on your thigh to push it towards your chest.  As he kept you in position, you felt him deeper now, the new angle allowing him to thrust further into you. 

His cock hit spots that not even his fingers had reached earlier, the fullness something you had never experienced on this level before. He pulled out almost completely before letting himself glide back in, the slickness coating your velvety walls making it easy. 

Every thrust had your eyes rolling back, nails desperately dragging across his back or pinching the flesh of his hip. Needy sounds, building up from little gasps to outright pornographic moans, filled the room, bouncing off the wall along with the traitorous sound of skin slapping against skin. Joel’s hand slipped between the two of you, just above where he was sinking into you again and again. He drew tight circles across your clit while his eyes were glued to the spot where he disappeared into you relentlessly. 

“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he drawled, “Takin’ me so well.”

Maybe it was the praise, maybe it was the deepness of his voice while he was balls deep in you, or maybe it was his fingers constantly dancing across your bundle of nerves but it resonated in your chest like a kind of drug you would never want to go without again. 

And as Joel Miller made you come for the second time today, you saw a glimpse of your future: your heart absolutely shattered because you had fallen for your best friend’s father who might want you but would never allow himself to have you.

He had more sense than you, at least remembering to pull out instead of painting your walls white, a dark groan accompanying his release. He came on your stomach and thighs, and some dark twisted part of your brain regretted letting his cum go to waste. 

Joel held himself up on his elbows, panting quietly next to you for a few seconds before he straightened up.  Without a second glance he got up, keeping his eyes on the ground as he walked away.

You never felt dirtier than in that moment, watching him disappear into the kitchen. You were convinced that he wasn’t about to come back but he surprised you.

With a towel clutched in his hand but his eyes still glued anywhere but on you, he returned and slowly sank to his knees on the couch as he cleaned you up, keeping his touch light and mindful.

It was quiet for a long time – not necessarily uncomfortable but charged, heavy. Then he spoke up. “God, we really shouldn’t have done this.”

❤︎ just a quick reminder that the best way to support authors on here is to comment and reblog ❤︎ ☆ find my masterlist here ☆

[barnesdreamcatcher]

I need you to feel alive

clark kent x f!reader

cw: smut (mdni, 18+), superman stamina, reader passes out during sex, worried!protective!lclark, a thousand apologies, p in v, creampie, overstimulation (r)

wc: 1k

a/n: I recently fainted (in a very different scenario than this one) for the first time in my life and I feel like it changed me as a writer lol, so this was born

now playing: Void - The Neighbourhood

Your thighs ached, your clit throbbed and you wondered whether you were drooling.  Clark’s cock bullied your cervix with every thrust – and not for the first time tonight.

The number of releases you had shared in the last few hours was lost on you. Your brain had stopped working somewhere after number six and that had been when the sun was still setting. Now, it was pitch-black outside. 

Sweat dripped from Clark’s brow as he thrusted into you again, the mushroom head of his cock slipping along your velvety walls until it met that spongy spot deep within you. A broken cry elicited from your lips along with a breathy whisper of his name. You weren’t sure if he even heard it. Actually, you weren’t even sure if any sound had made it out of your mouth. 

Kryptonian stamina was not to be underestimated, so the fact that Clark was at the point of sweating was rather telling of the kind of night you had had.  Purple marks littered every inch of your skin, from the underside of your jaw to the curve of your breast. Saliva, cum and your own juices were in places they had never been before, dripping between your thighs, mingling on your back and painting the skin of your tummy. 

It was filthy, it was nasty, it was so Clark and you.

“You with me, baby?” He asked, not stopping the roll of his hips as he tried to merge himself even deeper in you. There was a rasp to his voice, an almost broken quality while he let himself be enveloped by your fluttering walls. 

You nodded as dark spots flickered across your vision. “Mhm,” you slurred and he halted. Still sheathed in you, he grabbed your chin with a trembling hand as he struggled to keep himself in check.

“Can you say it with big girl words, please?” Clark mumbled and brushed his thumb across your jaw.

“I’m good,” you muttered, “But this is the last one, okay?” 

He nodded affectionately and placed a gentle kiss on your cheek which contrasted like black and white as he resumed rutting his hips into yours. 

“Last one,” he echoed, “You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Taking it like the best girl in the world. My girl.”

The bed creaked dangerously as his pelvis pushed forward again, and your eyes rolled back until you saw stars. He panted in your ear while his whole length twitched in you. Three shaky fingers found your clit, drawing messy circles, almost slipping off with how wet you were. Anything was lube tonight: spit, previous cum, sweat. 

He fucked into you a little faster like he had taken pity on your aching body. One part of you – your brain – knew two things: You should either tap out or at least tell him to hurry up. But the other part of you – namely your cunt – clenched around him so tight that he winced, not letting go yet. 

“Baby, gosh, you are gonna.. oh my…,” he grunted and circled your throbbing bundle of nerves faster while diving harder into you, little desperate sounds tumbling from his mouth, “Please, you’re…. you feel so good. Just one last…”

The spots on your vision darkened even more and spread as your orgasm built up. 

“Clark,” you whined and he misinterpret severely. 

“I know, baby, almost there,” he drawled and increased the rhythm of his hips and fingers even more. 

Your release washed over you like a tidal wave, tingling from your spine to your fingertips and toes. A moan that rivaled any pornstar’s slipped from you and your nails weakly dragged across his back while he buried himself to the hilt in your warmth. 

Then the world went dark. 

“Oh… oh gosh, what the… baby? Sweetheart? Please, oh my gosh, please wake up. Can you hear me?”

Your vision didn’t return immediately, neither did the feeling in your fingers. You laid on the mattress, something warm dripping out of you and a clammy hand held yours. 

“Sweetheart?” Clark repeated and then you started seeing him. At first it was just a faint silhouette, then his edges sharpened and baby blue eyes looked at you, filled with horror, concern and relief all at the same time.

“Clark?” You asked, feeling cold sweat pool on your skin. 

He breathed out a shaky laugh and you saw tears build on his waterline. 

“Fuck, you scared me so much. Are you okay? Can you hear me? Can you see me?”

You hadn’t heard him cuss that often in the time you had been together, so his word choice was quite the shock to you. 

“Yeah,” you muttered and wiped a hand across your face. “I’m good.”

When you attempted to sit up, his large hand immediately sprawled across your collar bone, pushing you back down.

“No, sweetheart, please… just stay. My word, you… you were gone for… I don’t know… twenty seconds? I think my heart didn’t beat once.”

He pushed a sweat soaked strand of hair from your forehead and placed a kiss right against your temple. “You feeling okay? Can I… can I get you some water… or something to eat?”

You shook your head and the feeling in your hands returned, like needles pricking your fingertips again and again. 

“No, I don’t need anything. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He gently cradled your face between his hands and tilted your head to meet his eyes.

“Please don’t apologize. That was… that was on me… I am the one who’s sorry. I shoulda…. I shoulda seen that you were done. I’m sorry, I was so selfish. Please forgive me.”

Clark’s voice shook with unshed tears, his fingers desperately holding onto you. His lower lip wobbled and his eyes… his eyes glistened as he struggled to meet yours.

“It wasn’t your fault, baby,” you muttered and now you were the one reaching out to cup his face. “I should’ve told you. But nothing happened, I’m fine. Just… you’re just that good.”

A wet chuckle sounded through the room and he pulled you into his arms. 

“You’re insane. And I love you. But you’re insane,” he muttered, gently swaying the two of you back and forth. 

❤︎ just a quick reminder that the best way to support authors on here is to comment and reblog ❤︎ ☆ find my masterlist here ☆

[barnesdreamcatcher]

someone pass that damn senior citizen pls

mean dom!Joel headcannons

cw: smut (mdni, 18+)

➺ joel checks the lengths of your skirts. there’s no leaving the house without him making you stand up straight with your arms at your sides. if the material doesn’t go past your fingertips, you can bet your ass you have to change

➺ he teases you whenever he can. at home, in public, in front of other people – he doesn’t care. a wandering hand between your thighs, a stolen kiss on your neck or a whisper that makes your face heat up. anything to get a reaction out of you, especially if it makes you shift your thighs closer together

➺ if you’ve been bratty, he will not kiss you. even once he’s spanked the attitude out of you, leaving behind a trembling, crying mess, he won’t give in, no matter how much you plead or apologise

➺ he likes to make you beg. cupping your mound, applying just a hint of pressure for what feels like hours. making you sit on his thigh and slowly dragging you up and down the length of it but never giving you the speed you needed. even spread out before him, he’ll edge you until you think release is on the horizon only to pull away at the last minute

➺ this man goes crazy for overstim. he’ll have you laid out in front of him, eating you out and pumping his thick fingers in and out of you until your thighs clench together, locking his hand in place. a condescending ‘tsk’ and his strong hands are already prying you open again

➺ god, he loves your tears. whether it stems from edging or overstimulating, he’ll coo at you. “pathetic little babydoll, hm?” he’ll put on that texas drawl that makes you drip when he talks down on you

➺ this man is a munch. but god, he loves your throat a little too much. down on your knees is one of the most beautiful positions for him. he’ll have you keep up eyecontact, his fingers set on your jaw to keep your gaze on him while he sinks inch after inch into you. he bullies the back of your throat with his tip until you swallow him down, then buries himself to the hilt until you can’t breathe and then some

➺ he loves doggy. especially when he’s standing at the edge of the bed, pounding into you. the bed creaks as much as his knees but he can’t hear either while he pushes your head into the pillows to muffle your whines. the only thing better than that is when he forces your entire upper body into an upright position as he keeps fucking into you while his arm locks around your throat

[barnesdreamcatcher]

just listened to Willoughby Tucker, I'll Always Love You, and i swear to God, that woman is gonna put me into an early grave.

but hey, the amount of fic ideas I got from that album is incredible! thank you, ethel

[barnesdreamcatcher]

THANK YOU!!!! lots of love to you xx

mean dom!Joel headcannons

cw: smut (mdni, 18+)

➺ joel checks the lengths of your skirts. there’s no leaving the house without him making you stand up straight with your arms at your sides. if the material doesn’t go past your fingertips, you can bet your ass you have to change

➺ he teases you whenever he can. at home, in public, in front of other people – he doesn’t care. a wandering hand between your thighs, a stolen kiss on your neck or a whisper that makes your face heat up. anything to get a reaction out of you, especially if it makes you shift your thighs closer together

➺ if you’ve been bratty, he will not kiss you. even once he’s spanked the attitude out of you, leaving behind a trembling, crying mess, he won’t give in, no matter how much you plead or apologise

➺ he likes to make you beg. cupping your mound, applying just a hint of pressure for what feels like hours. making you sit on his thigh and slowly dragging you up and down the length of it but never giving you the speed you needed. even spread out before him, he’ll edge you until you think release is on the horizon only to pull away at the last minute

➺ this man goes crazy for overstim. he’ll have you laid out in front of him, eating you out and pumping his thick fingers in and out of you until your thighs clench together, locking his hand in place. a condescending ‘tsk’ and his strong hands are already prying you open again

➺ god, he loves your tears. whether it stems from edging or overstimulating, he’ll coo at you. “pathetic little babydoll, hm?” he’ll put on that texas drawl that makes you drip when he talks down on you

➺ this man is a munch. but god, he loves your throat a little too much. down on your knees is one of the most beautiful positions for him. he’ll have you keep up eyecontact, his fingers set on your jaw to keep your gaze on him while he sinks inch after inch into you. he bullies the back of your throat with his tip until you swallow him down, then buries himself to the hilt until you can’t breathe and then some

➺ he loves doggy. especially when he’s standing at the edge of the bed, pounding into you. the bed creaks as much as his knees but he can’t hear either while he pushes your head into the pillows to muffle your whines. the only thing better than that is when he forces your entire upper body into an upright position as he keeps fucking into you while his arm locks around your throat

[barnesdreamcatcher]

Terrified you’ll bite the hand that needs you – and right now I need you

pairing: ex!bucky barnes x f!reader cw: angst, argument, mutual pining (“but we can’t”), codependency + commitment issues, toxic relationship dynamics, smut (mdni, 18+), p in v, creampie, crying, bucky king of consent barnes, emotional sex, these two really need to talk and they need to do it while they’re not having sex wc: 2.7k now playing: crying during sex – Ethel Cain

The rain mingled with your tears as you stood opposite Bucky. It was embarrassing – really. Your mascara was running across your cheeks while your chest heaved, struggling to give your lungs the oxygen it needed.

“Baby, please, just go home,” he pleaded, “You know we can’t get back together.”

Oh, you did know. It shattered your heart every time you thought about how toxic you two were, but the idea of letting go hurt even more. 

You had broken up a little over a month ago, after a terrible fight that had involved you throwing a picture frame at the wall behind him and Bucky punching the exact same wall so hard the building shook. 

Keeping your distance was hard – it crumbled you. It felt like you were losing your mind, unable to eat or sleep more than a few hours per night. You found no rest without him next to you, without his arms tightly wrapped around you.

Four weeks, or to be more precise 29 days, you had managed to go without him. Then Sam had called you out of the blue to ask you where Bucky was and you realized that he hadn’t told anyone. To you, that was your chance, your one chance to get him back. 

Your plan had been to be all collected and rational. That had gone out the door the second he stepped out of his apartment building before you could even ring the doorbell. He hadn’t been surprised to see you, so he must have caught sight of you when you had walked up. 

He had already started protesting, attempting to usher you home. Which led to this.

“Why?” You sobbed out. “Why can’t I stay here?”

He rubbed his jaw, eyes half lidded with desperation and worry.  “You… you just can’t. Go home, please. You’re gonna get sick out here.”

“I don’t wanna go home.” You started to sound like a petulant child, seconds away from throwing a temper tantrum. Your lower lip wobbled and he saw it. His fingers twitched, like he had to hold himself back from reaching out. For a second, you could almost feel the memory of his fingers, resting at your chin, thumb swiping over your skin. Then the spell broke.

“I mean it, sweetheart, go home.”

His voice wasn’t cold but definite. Absolute. It was his no-nonsense-voice, the one he used to use to tell you off when you were awake past midnight, working too long or drinking too much. The words snapped you right back into the presence as anger boiled in you.

“Fuck you, Bucky, you don’t get to tell me anything,” you snarled, covering the hurt with rage. “You’re not my fucking boss.”

The vein on his temple twitched ever so slightly. Composure – something he had worked so hard on to regain after years of chaos and torture – and you made him lose it with just a few words. You saw how his chest stretched under his black fitted shirt, the way the ribs expanded as he took a deep breath. His eyes darkened as he took a step toward you but you didn’t back down. 

“Go. Home,” he growled, clearly still holding himself back. 

You mirrored him, advancing forward as well until you shared the same oxygen. “No.”

Neither one of you backed down, staring, calculating, assessing the other. Silence stretched – not even the drumming of the rain registering anymore as you held eye contact. But then your gaze dipped just for a second – a traitorous, long stretching second as you caught a glimpse of these perfect pink lips, plump and warm, wet with raindrops and his hot breath. 

He saw it, and something changed in his eyes. Anger turned to hunger. Irritation became cockiness. And his discipline, his collectedness – it crumbled. You watched it break down, slow at first, then picking up speed, like an avalanche. 

And then his own eyes dropped down. They raked over your face, inching across every stretch of skin, your nose, your mouth, your jaw. Then lower. Your chest was heaving with emotion and Bucky – the goddamn idiot – smirked as his stare stuck to the hem of your shirt. 

“Goddamnit,” he muttered. And then he pulled you in by your hips. His hands raked across the fabric separating you two, dipping below it as he pushed himself against you as if he was trying to merge the two of you into one being.

His lips were as soft as you remembered, and you felt his heartbeat – or maybe your own.

A soft moan tumbled from your lips as his tongue met yours, heated, demanding and relentless.

His hands lingered on your waist, under your shirt, kneading you like he wanted to shape you into whatever worked for him. His thumbs drew circles across your hips, then ghosted across your stomach while his mouth moved against yours feverishly. 

He pulled away for a second, not able to keep himself from making some snarky remark. 

“You’re gonna kill me, baby.”

It didn’t come out the way he planned – not cocky, not teasing. It sounded wrecked, broken, genuine.

Then his lips were on yours again and he manhandled you against his front door. One hand let go of your waist and instead cradled the back of your head to protect you from the impact as he shoved you against the wood, his hips following yours. You were sandwiched between him, feeling every part of him, heated, begging for you.

His other hand came free as well and fumbled with the door knob, missing it a few times as he didn’t look up once, just kept kissing you like nothing else mattered. Then the door finally gave in and you stumbled into his apartment building. He caught you, stabilized you by your hips, then almost brought you to fall again as he ushered you up the stairs at neck breaking speed. 

The door to his apartment unit was open, like he had left in a daze, forgetting to close it behind him. He guided you through it, a hand on the small of your back, then kicked it shut the second he slipped in after you.  You turned to face him, to speak but he swallowed every word burning on your tongue with another kiss. 

He shushed you softly while he buried his tongue down your throat, his hands wandering over your curves, squeezing, palming, massaging. He pulled his shirt off, dropped it carelessly on the floor of the entryway and pushed you further into his apartment. You would have found the way to his room blindfolded, two legs broken and gagged, that’s how often you had spent the night here. 

The smell of the bedsheets hit your senses like a slap across your face. Bucky was everywhere. Leather, rain, pine and whatever made him your Bucky – it buried itself in your nose as he pressed you into the comforter, already pulling at your shirt. 

The scent was so overwhelming that you clutched at the fabric of your top and pulled away from Bucky to look at him. He stopped immediately and caught your eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked and sat back on his heels. 

What wasn’t wrong? What were you doing? You came here to talk and now he was half naked and you weren’t from far from joining him.

“I…,” you stammered, “I-“

He watched you with an almost pained expression and you knew. You knew that he knew. 

“I know,” he mumbled, “I swear I know. But I don’t have the answer you want.”

“Do you love me?” The words came out before you could stop yourself.

“You know I do,” he replied. He didn’t look away, his blue eyes burying themselves into yours. 

“Then why?”

“Because I hate how much I love you.”

The words hurt. The way he emphasized it, no questioning tone behind it, just clear and utter acceptance.

“That is all I can give you,” he whispered, “That and… this.” He took your hand and rested it against his bare chest, allowing you to feel the pounding of his heart. “I want you. I love you. But I can’t be with you. Not how you want me to. I can only give you this – if that’s what you want.”

He grabbed your chin and kept you from looking away. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. You shook your head, neither of you knew what it meant.  But if this was all what you were going to get, you would take it.

You sniffled softly and grabbed the hem of your shirt, then pulled it over your head. His gaze didn’t drop immediately, he kept his focus on your face. 

“Is that what you want?” He asked, not touching, not looking yet.

You nodded.

“That’s not gonna do, baby. Use your words. You say it, or you don’t mean it.”

“I want it,” you rasped. There was a big, ugly obstruction in your throat, and it hurt to swallow. It hurt to breathe. 

Bucky cradled your face between his hands. You felt the callouses, the roughness of his skin, contrasting with your soft cheeks. 

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Clothes littered the room, tossed around like an afterthought – if that.  His lips were on yours again, his bare skin pressed against yours.

Because I hate how much I love you.

One of his hands dipped between the two of you and hiked your thigh up as he slotted himself between your legs. 

Because I hate how much I love you.

He looked at you as he pushed the tip of his cock in. You sucked in a shaky breath, fingers digging into his shoulder as he slowly filled you up. A dark groan built in his chest but a contrastingly soft kiss landed on the inside your knee as he inched forward. The stretch burned so good it had your eyes rolling back, the fullness overwhelming, fighting off the loneliness you had felt without him.

Because I hate how much I love you.

He muffled his moan by pressing his mouth into the crook of your neck as he buried himself to the hilt in your tight, warm wetness.  “Fuck,” he murmured, “You feel so good. Always feel so damn good.”

Because I hate how much I love you.

Your fingers travelled from the base of his neck to his hair, raking through the brown curls softly, keeping him pressed against your skin while he slowly pulled his hips back. He couldn’t see the first tear that slid down your cheek.

Because I hate how much I love you.

Nothing hurt – nothing physical at least. In fact, every thrust, every glide of his fingers made you see stars, made you want more, made you clench around him tighter to keep him there. When his fingers danced over your clit, you arched into his touch, a pleading gasp of his name spilling from your lips.

Because I hate how much I love you.

He looked at you as you called out his name – and froze.  The sight of tears, the redness in your eyes, it was too much. Every single muscle went taut with restriction, with holding back. “Doll, what’s wrong?” He mumbled frantically, a hand hovering next to your cheek like he wanted to cup it, wanted to brush away the tears but didn’t dare to.

Because I hate how much I love you.

“Nothin’.” The word came out like a whimper and he sucked in a sharp breath.  “Please don’t lie, baby. Am I hurting you? Are you in pain?”

Because I hate how much I love you.

“No,” you mumbled and shook your head. “I’m just… I… I want this, believe me, I do.”

Because I hate how much I love you.

“But?” He asked quietly, still sheathed in your heat.

Because I hate how much I love you.

“What you said… earlier… it hurt my feelings.” That was probably the most honest, raw sentence he ever heard from you. No matter how many fights, how much pleading, how often you had begged him, you had never said something this true and from your heart to him. And it him like a ton of bricks.  “You hate how much you love me,” You echoed his words.

His hand finally came to rest on your cheek, swiping away the tears.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, “That… that came out wrong. What I meant is that I hate myself for how much I love you. And for how I’m not… not able to fix this for us.”

He pulled back slightly, but you shook your head and wrapped your free leg around him.  His eyebrows scrunched up and he looked at you.  “Don’t you wanna stop?”

You shook your head. “No, please, I… Keep going.”

He looked at you doubtfully. 

“I don’t wanna keep going if you’re crying. It’s not right.”

“I want you to. I… I need you to. Please.”

A few seconds passed as he weighed his options. His eyes never left you, assessing, gaging and evaluating. “Are you sure?” 

You nodded again and pulled him close. 

“Please.”

This time, he kept looking at you as he pulled back slightly and then pushed back in. Not one change in your expression went unnoticed by him, like he had to make sure there was not an ounce of doubt. And there wasn’t.

Yes, this wasn’t ideal. But if this was the only way to have him, you would take it.

He started to pull little moans from you again, soft breathy sounds that grew louder with every thrust. His fingers returned to your bundle of nerves, dragging across it, smearing your wetness that was seeping out of you over your button while his hips met yours again and again. 

“Don’t stop, please,” you whispered breathlessly, pulling him in closer and closer. His hand gripped your thigh like he was trying to anchor himself.

“Never,” he replied quietly. It sounded like a vow.

His thrusts became more frantic, more needy. “God-fucking-dammit, you feel so good. So warm and- oh fuck- god.” He buried himself deeper with every roll of his hips, hitting that one spot within you. By now you were sure you were molded to the exact shape of his cock, your walls shaped to every vein and indent of his. You clenched around him and he groaned heavenly.

No matter how much he talked you through it, how much he controlled the speed and strength of his thrusts, how cockdrunk you got on him – he always fell victim to the feel of you.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” he growled and sped up even more, seeking to ground himself in that control. He drew tighter, faster circles on your clit, speeding up and applying more pressure. But his hips stuttered and his fingers faltered when you tightened around him again. 

“Doll, god- you’re gonna kill me,” he whimpered and a victorious grin grew on your face. “I’m tryna make you feel good here and you’re- oh, fuck,” he complained, cut off by your squeezing again. 

It was like a game, who could make the other cum first. You chased his orgasm more than your own, clamping down on him like a vice but he was the supersoldier. In the end, he won, bringing you over the edge, but followed you right over. Liquid heat pooled from your core as your legs spasmed and you threw your head back against the pillow as the warmth of pleasure overwhelmed you. His name fell from your lips while he buried himself to the hilt and spilled deep within in you, twitching and pulsing hot.

Neither one of you moved for a long time. He stayed in you until he went soft, and then some. Breaking the connection, facing each other was out of the question. His head rested on your breasts, his bare cheek squished into your soft flesh. Your fingers wandered through his hair, soothing to both him and you. 

“I swear,” he murmured after a while, “I’ll die in your arms and I won’t complain.”

❤︎ just a quick reminder that the best way to support authors on here is to comment and reblog ❤︎ ☆ find my masterlist here ☆

[barnesdreamcatcher]

[barnesdreamcatcher]

mean dom!Joel headcannons

cw: smut (mdni, 18+)

➺ joel checks the lengths of your skirts. there’s no leaving the house without him making you stand up straight with your arms at your sides. if the material doesn’t go past your fingertips, you can bet your ass you have to change

➺ he teases you whenever he can. at home, in public, in front of other people – he doesn’t care. a wandering hand between your thighs, a stolen kiss on your neck or a whisper that makes your face heat up. anything to get a reaction out of you, especially if it makes you shift your thighs closer together

➺ if you’ve been bratty, he will not kiss you. even once he’s spanked the attitude out of you, leaving behind a trembling, crying mess, he won’t give in, no matter how much you plead or apologise

➺ he likes to make you beg. cupping your mound, applying just a hint of pressure for what feels like hours. making you sit on his thigh and slowly dragging you up and down the length of it but never giving you the speed you needed. even spread out before him, he’ll edge you until you think release is on the horizon only to pull away at the last minute

➺ this man goes crazy for overstim. he’ll have you laid out in front of him, eating you out and pumping his thick fingers in and out of you until your thighs clench together, locking his hand in place. a condescending ‘tsk’ and his strong hands are already prying you open again

➺ god, he loves your tears. whether it stems from edging or overstimulating, he’ll coo at you. “pathetic little babydoll, hm?” he’ll put on that texas drawl that makes you drip when he talks down on you

➺ this man is a munch. but god, he loves your throat a little too much. down on your knees is one of the most beautiful positions for him. he’ll have you keep up eyecontact, his fingers set on your jaw to keep your gaze on him while he sinks inch after inch into you. he bullies the back of your throat with his tip until you swallow him down, then buries himself to the hilt until you can’t breathe and then some

➺ he loves doggy. especially when he’s standing at the edge of the bed, pounding into you. the bed creaks as much as his knees but he can’t hear either while he pushes your head into the pillows to muffle your whines. the only thing better than that is when he forces your entire upper body into an upright position as he keeps fucking into you while his arm locks around your throat

[barnesdreamcatcher]

They all wanna take her out, but no one ever wants to take her home

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader wc: 4.8k (i cannot shut up apparently) cw: SMUT (mdni, 18+) with plot so be patient, no outbreak au, reader is Sarah’s best friend, age gap relationship (reader is her early twenties, Joel in his mid 40s), thigh riding, unprotected p in v, pull out method (not a good idea irl!), intoxication (smut happens later tho), toxic family, implied/referenced abuse (from family members), strong language now playing: Fuck Me Eyes -  Ethel Cain

The music was muffled the second you stepped out of the bar, cold air whipping your face mercilessly. The straps on your heels dug into the delicate flesh of your feet as you staggered across the sidewalk, phone and cigarettes clutched in your hands.  You made it all of the way – surprisingly – and then sank onto the curb less than gracefully. Loose pebbles pressed into your skin as you cowered down on the edge of the street. You still tasted the kisses of men on your lips – men who didn’t wanna know you, only touch and own and then discard of you. 

You lit the cigarette first before unlocking your phone. The screen spun uncomfortably, or maybe it was your vision – who knew. Certainly not you. So you blinked a few times, hoping to clear your eyesight and started tapping on the screen, mostly guided by muscle memory. 

The uber app was loading. And it continued to load. And then it stopped. And then the screen went black. 

“Fuck,” you whispered, shaking your phone and pressing the power button multiple times in a row but it was no use. The battery was empty. And now you had no way home.

You raked your fingers through your hair, inclined to start ripping it out in frustration. “Fuck,” you mumbled again. Word of the evening, apparently. 

You were stranded. The walk home would take you about an hour and a half – manageable for the average person, yes. But you, no. There was currently more tequila in your bloodstream than in a bottle on the shelf, and your lungs were already threatening to collapse, curtesy of your hardest-to-shake habit: smoking. 

Speaking off, you took a drag of the still lit cigarette and inhaled deeply, keeping the smoke there until your lungs felt warm and full, then breathed it out. 

Desperate times made for desperate measures, and you eyed the street a little closer. There was a bus stop with a bench. The last bus had been scheduled over two hours ago and the next one was not until well into the morning.

You had two options:  1) go back into the bar and give yourself alcohol poisoning (upside: warm meal and bed at the hospital, downside: medical bill so high you’d rather die from liver failure)  or 2) sleep at the bus stop (upside: a couple hours of sleep, downside: potential for being kidnapped and sold to human traffickers)

Both were less than tempting, but one didn’t send your family into even more debt, so you stubbed out your cigarette and took off your shoes before getting to your feet.

It was late October, so it was considerably cold as you curled up on the bench. You wore a coat over your thin tank top and skirt but it was cheap polyester that made you sweat and didn’t keep the cold out at the same time.

You were in for a long night. Or so you thought.

Fifteen minutes later, you heard a car first speed up the road and then come to a screeching halt. The driver’s door slammed and it sounded like a memory. 

You and Sarah squealing in the backseat on the way to the lake. A trip to the amusement park together. Early school rides and afternoon pickups. Hours shared together in that truck, singing songs and telling stories, spilling drinks and fries until he told you two off.

You knew the car and you knew the driver before you opened your eyes. But you kept them closed because there was no way that Joel Miller just so happened to have received divine intuition about your precarious situation and whereabouts tonight. Not when you hadn’t seen him in a little over three months. 

The last time you had laid eyes on him had been at Sarah’s birthday party. Then she had gone back to college and you had stayed here, in this town you would probably die in, and avoided Joel at every cost.

Fast steps echoed across the side walk and you smelled him.  Masculinity, earthiness and warmth seeped into your nose as he crouched down before you. 

“Baby, can you hear me?” He patted your arm gently. “Open your eyes f’me, babygirl. Come on now.”

You groaned softly and pried your lashes apart, blinking heavily up at him.  “There you go, baby, good job,” he cooed. “Can you hear me? Are you hurtin’?” The care in his voice cracked your heart in two. You had missed him terribly, just as much as you missed Sarah. 

“Joel,” you rasped, “What are you doin’ here?” He scoffed almost instantly.  “What am I doin’ here? What are you doin’ here, that’s the better fucking question. Drunk off your ass, in the cold, asleep on a goddamn bench!?”

He pulled you upright and immediately draped his flannel around you.  “Hmm, baby? Tell me. What were you thinkin’, goddammit?”  Anger and concern were battling each other, fighting to dominate the tone of his voice but the latter won. 

You stared down at your nails, red and chipped at edges, as you refused to answer. 

Joel sighed and slung his arm around your waist.  “Let’s get you home, babygirl,” he murmured and holstered you up, his other arm sliding under your knees to carry you to his truck as if you weighed nothing. 

He opened the passenger’s door and set you down, then fumbled with the seatbelt.  “You good, kiddo?” He asked and grabbed your chin to tilt your face upwards to him.  “I can’t go home, Joel,” you answered, “You know I can’t.” 

Joel’s heart shattered as he heard the fear in your voice.  “I didn’t mean your parents’ place,” he replied softly and brushed the hair out of your eyes, “I said I’d take ya home.” --- He also carried you from the car to his house. His knees complained but he held you as if you were nothing but a feather, one arm slung under your shoulders and the other bend under your kneecaps. 

The front door creaked open as he brushed against it with his shoulder, mindful to watch your head. 

“Didn’t lock the door?” You asked quietly, your cheek resting against his chest, “You’re always on my ass that I do it.” He chuckled grimly, then looked down at you. “Didn’t have the time. Got a call about one of my girls half passed out in the middle of the damn street.”

One of his girls. Sarah was his girl. You were just her best friend, known for bad decision making and desperate attempts to get him to fuck you since you turned 18 – all of which he had turned down. A lump built in your throat, straining against your vocal cords. You kept your head buried in his chest, inhaling deeply, both in order not to cry and to breathe in his scent.

“Are you mad at me?” You whispered, feeling utterly stupid.

He stayed quiet for a second too long and you heard your own heartbeat. “No,” he answered then. Another moment of silence passed before he continued. “I’m worried ‘bout you though, darlin’. But we’ll talk ‘bout it tomorrow. Right now, you just need to sleep off that tequila. Could smell it from a mile away.”

The stairs creaked as he walked up with you in his arms. His thumb caressed your thigh – not in a sexual way. It was so careful and loving that it made your heart ache. “You wanna sleep in Sarah’s room?” He mumbled and looked down at you. You shook your head. “Please don’t make me stay on my own tonight,” you pleaded. He sighed heavily and then nodded.  “Alright then.”

His scent filled your nostrils as he laid you down in the plaid sheets. He kept his eyes on your face as he took of your shoes and skirt, his touch not lingering a second longer than necessary. Then he pulled the blanket up to your chin, burying you beneath the cotton. A calloused but gentle hand brushed away a few strands from your forehead and he rested it next to your head on the pillow before he spoke “You sleep now, you hear me?” He muttered. You nodded quietly. 

Joel sat with you, not touching, only present, until you fell asleep. Once you were deep in your dreamland, he rubbed a hand over his face and exhaled through his nose.  He was quiet as he changed into his pajamas and then carefully slipped into bed next to you, keeping the distance wider than his heart could bare. Joel didn’t sleep a lot that night. He listened to your breath like it was a prayer and kept his eyes closed so that he wouldn’t have to confront the fact that you were lying there and what that did to him.

--

The morning came like a punishment. Your stomach complained with unease and your eyes fought the sunlight filtering in between Joel’s curtains. 

He wasn’t there anymore, the bed just growing cold. A faint trace of his body heat still lingered on his side as if he had fled the sheets just minutes ago.  Your bones complained as you pushed the blanket away, bare legs and panties a reminder of how Joel’s eyes had been glued to yours as he had undressed you. Not even a short dip down. 

You found a pair of sweatpants that you had seen him in countless times. The cotton was soft and worn. With shaky hands you rolled the waistband a few times until they didn’t threaten to fall of your hips anymore and then you ventured out of the room.  Downstairs, in the kitchen, you found your bag and plucked your cigarettes and lighter.

The screen door to the porch squeaked as you stepped outside, fingers already playing with the switch of the lighter. You brought the flame to the cigarette while shielding it from the light breeze with your other hand and inhaled shortly until it lit properly. 

Just as you were about to take another drag, a large hand pricked the cigarette from you. “That shit’s gonna kill you,” Joel mumbled and threw it off the porch. You watched your 34 cents worth of nicotine sail down and land in the grass, dying down immediately, before you gave him a pout. 

“So could crossin’ the street,” you replied. 

“’s not the same, and you know it.”

He filled your empty hand with a mug of steaming coffee. It was Sarah’s mug, hand painted by her at the age of eight with what was supposed to be Ariel, but it rather resembled a red and green blob. Your matching one (with Belle, equally not resembling) had met your kitchen wall in one of your father’s fits of rage just days after you and Sarah had done that pottery course.

“I love that mug,” you muttered and brought it up to your lips. The brown liquid was hot and bitter but it warmed away the unease in your stomach bit by bit.

“I know,” Joel answered quietly. 

The silence stretched poignantly and you glanced to gage Joel’s state. “You mad at me now?” You asked after a few minutes.

“Sweetheart, like I said, I’m not mad but I’m really fuckin’ worried ‘bout you. You’re such a smart girl, with so much goddamn potential. And you’re wasting it. Every day. Every night, when you go to these damn bars, sleepin’ with them idiots who don’t give a shit ‘bout you, puttin’ yourself in danger, bein’ so goddamn reckless?You think this is gonna get you anywhere?”

There it was. That speech that he expected to change your life. To make you realize that you deserved to make something out of yourself. But it didn’t.

“Joel, what do you want me to do? You expect me to go to get outta this town, go to college, like Sarah? That what you want from me? Are you scared you’re not gonna be able to say no to me anymore if I stay here any longer?” Your words were unfair. He cared about you on a way deeper level and you knew it. You had no right to give him hell like this, not when he had saved you from hypothermia and potentially worse just last night. You put your mug down and crossed your arms. “I want you to give a damn about yourself, girl!” He rumbled. His voice had grown louder. “I don’t care if you go to college or not. You’re intelligent, you could have a great life as long as you’d start spendin’ more than three seconds on your decisions. And this has nothin’ to do with whatever this,” he gestured between you and him, “is.”

“It has everythin’ to do with that,” you argued angrily. His nostrils flared but you cut him off before he could start again. “You might see this all this potential in me, but I don’t. All I want is to be happy for a few fuckin’ hours. And you don’t wanna sleep with me – fine! But if you’re not gonna do it, I’ll find someone else. I always do.”

“Oh, I know you do,” he chuckled bitterly, “I heard ‘bout how many guys you been with the last few weeks, whorin’ around and thinkin’ it’s gonna make your daddy care and not just beat the shit outta you.”

He caught your wrist before your palm could land on his cheek.  “Wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he muttered, tightening his grasp on you. “’s not a good fuckin’ idea.”

He pressed you against the house wall, just inches between you. You were boiling with anger, but the proximity had your core aching. His eyes darted across your face and this time, they dipped down to linger on your lips. 

“Seems like you don’t care that much ‘bout how I whore around. You still wanna sleep with me,” you murmured, arching yourself against him.

He groaned and shook his head. “No.” But he didn’t let up, didn’t look away from your mouth, and you felt the traitorous stirring of his cock against your thigh. “You sure?” You teased and rubbed yourself against the indistinguishable hardness, making him groan again.

“Stop it,” he whispered, leaning in closer. You felt his breath fan across your face, smelling faintly like coffee and mint.

“You’re the one keepin’ me against the wall,” you reminded him, “You could always just let me go.”

His hand cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing just below your lip. “Christ,” he whispered, “Don’t think I can.”

Then he crashed his lips onto yours, knocking the back of your head against the wall but neither of you cared. His mouth moved against yours like he was trying to steal the breath from your lungs, tongue dashing in and exploring yours with stealth. He pushed himself closer, parting your thighs with his own, and grabbed your hips tight enough to leave you with bruises you could admire tomorrow.

You rocked forward and gasped into his mouth as your core throbbed against his jean covered thigh. “Please,” you babbled, not sure what you were even asking for. He eased your hips forth and back until your head spun. Heat pooled in your lower belly as your covered clit eased against his thigh again and again, and you desperately started chasing the friction. 

“Joel,” you pleaded, gasping his name like it could cure cancer.

Suddenly he pulled away, leaving you high and – well – not dry. “What the hell?” You hissed breathlessly. 

He cupped your face and tilted it upwards, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You’re not still drunk, right?” He asked, scrutinizing your pupils and taking in every inch of you. 

“No,” you answered, a mix of irritation and desperation tinting your voice. “I slept it all off.”

He nodded. “Ok, had to make sure,” he muttered.  It would’ve been a comical picture to anyone walking by – you balanced on his thigh, flushed and desperate while his cock strained hard against his pants. 

“Could’ve asked me that before instead of gettin’ me all needy,” you complained gruffly, trying to ease off of his thigh but he kept you in place.

“Do you really want this?” He asked, hands stabilizing you on his leg. He didn’t look away, not for a second.

You nodded, already rocking forward again but he stopped you.

“No, no, that’s not gonna cut it, darlin’. I need you to say it. Use your words.” Joel sounded wrecked, almost distraught. 

“I want you so bad. You. Only you. Every other guy I’ve hooked up with, I imagined you instead. When I can’t sleep at night, I play with myself and I close my eyes so that I can pretend they’re your hands. I-“ He clasped his hand over your mouth before you could finish the sentence. 

“Jesus Christ, baby, you got a mouth on you… gonna make me cream my fucking pants like a goddamn teenager if you keep goin’,” he mumbled. You grinned, almost determined to get him that far. But the ache between your thighs was not dulling down and this might be your one chance with him so were you not about to waste it with making him come in his pants instead of you. Even if the idea of it was promising.

You licked a slow stripe against his hand that still covered your lips and he smirked. 

“You’re twisted, baby,” he muttered and removed his hand. It immediately came into use again as he picked you up like you were nothing but a doll and carried you back inside. 

“Not gonna fuck you on the porch for everyone to see,” he purred and closed the front door with a  slam before walking to the couch.

“Don’t you wanna go to your room?” You asked carefully. Not doing it in the bedroom felt like he was purposefully putting distance between the two of you. 

“No,” he replied quietly, “Don’t think I’d ever be able to sleep in that bed again if we did.”

It stung but you’d take what he was willing to give. And he was willing to give. He towered over you, covering your body with his and pressing your hips into the couch as he trailed breathless kisses down your neck to the hem of your top. His lips were hot wand wet against your skin, and lingered occasionally, just long enough to leave a faint bruise in their wake. 

Joel’s hand ghosted over the waistband of your/his sweatpants. “These are mine,” he muttered, “Care if I take ‘em back?” You shook your head and lifted your hips eagerly to help him ease them off. He dropped them carelessly to the side and now you were in the same position as last night but this time he looked. God, he looked. He drank you in like you were oxygen and he had spent the last 5 minutes underwater. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something – maybe even something sweet but he stopped himself. Instead he used his open mouth to kiss the skin on your inner thigh, trailing close to the line of your panties. 

The gusset already had a darkened patch from his earlier teasing and the ruined orgasm. Your clit hadn’t stopped throbbing since then but now it almost ached as his breath met your clothed core. 

The second you moved your hips to get the friction you wanted, needed, he pinned you down with his hands.  “Don’t you move,” he warned lowly, “Lemme do this f’you.”

He kept you stuck in place as he pressed kisses to the place where your pelvis and thigh met, parallel to the hem of your panties that slowly grew damper with your arousal. 

“Please,” you whispered, straining against his tight grip, “Don’t tease.”

Joel chuckled and the vibration gave you goosebumps as his mouth stayed on your sensitive skin.

“So needy,” he mumbled and hooked his fingers into your panties’ waistband, then slowly, agonizingly slowly bared your pussy to the warm air. His breath quickened and he stared. Not an ounce of shame on his face as he drank in the sight before him, your folds glistening in the low lighting of the living room, puffy and pink with need. 

“You want it bad, hm?” He teased you and blew a soft stream of air directly onto your cunt which made you whine. He chuckled again as you nodded and finally leaned in. The scruff on his cheeks scraped against the sensitive skin on your thighs and made you shiver. You were seconds away from complaining again, or maybe even begging, when his mouth made contact with your clit. 

The shock of the connection made you cry out in pleasure and your hips would have probably lifted off the bed if Joel hadn’t held you down, forcing you to take his administrations. Your hands flew to his head, fingers slipping between his greying locks for purchase as he lapped at your core like a man starved. 

“Fuck,” was all you managed to say as his tongue traced across your button and when he sucked it in between his teeth, you pulled on his hair. You were milliseconds away from stammering an apology when you felt him laugh against your cunt, clearly enjoying the sensation. 

“Pull all you want, darlin’,” he mumbled, lips barely lifting off of your pussy, “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

His tongue went lower, tracing your slit and briefly dipping into your hole before returning to your clit, instead replaced by two of his thick fingers which split you open and briefly had you believing in the supernatural – because there was no way that this was really happening. 

He picked up the pace of his fingers while simultaneously stimulating your bundle of nerves with his tongue, flattening it against it and dragging upwards. His fingers spread apart in you which had you gasping and moaning so loud that you could probably never show your face in this neighborhood again. 

“Joel,” you mewled between sobs of pleasure, his name the only thing on your mind as you felt warmth collect at the base of your tummy, heat spreading into all your limbs. He was working overtime on your cunt and had you crying out with every thrust of his fingers. 

He groaned into you as your legs started shaking, the warmth in your lower abdomen tightening and forming a coil that was about to snap.  “Please,” you whimpered, “’m so close, Joel.”  You felt his smile as he sucked hard on your clit and sent you right over the edge, the coil unravelling with a force that knocked the breath from your lungs. 

He didn’t relent, keeping his lips and tongue connected to your dripping core until you were writhing and trembling beneath him. “Jesus fucking Christ,” you whispered, breathless, when the aftershocks subsided. 

Joel grinned like the devil, your arousal glistening on his lips and beard. His hands kneaded your hips, slowly releasing the tension from your muscles as he allowed you to come down to Earth.

“Satisfied?” He asked smugly.  “No,” you muttered, equally self-satisfied. His smile dropped and you used his confusion to pull him closer.  “I want you to fuck me,” you whispered against the shell of his ear. The tent in his pants was still unmissable.

“God, you’re fucking insatiable,” he replied, dipping his head down further until the tip of his nose brushed up against yours. “You really want this?” He asked. 

“Yeah, I do. I want you, Joel, I’m not fuckin’ kiddin’.”

You barely had finished the sentence when he started discarding his clothes. Quickly, you followed suit, taking off the only thing that still covered you: your tank top.

As your breasts spilled out, Joel grew more frantic, his hands seemingly aching to reach out.  Once he had undressed himself down to his boxer briefs, he drank in the sight of you, now fully bare. He reached out, his hand wandering from your clavicle over the swell of your breasts, then slowly palmed your nipple. A rush of heat went through you as his mouth enclosed your other nipple, tongue dragging over the nub repeatedly while his other hand continued its massage.

With an obscenely wet pop Joel pulled off your nipple after a few moments, looking down at you, still spread out for him.  “You gonna be good?” He asked, voice deep with need. 

You nodded but he shook his head. “Words, baby,” he mumbled, “Use your words.”

“I’ll be good,” you replied, your voice coming out a lot softer than you had expected. “I swear.”

His boxers met the rest of your clothing on the floor and you swallowed hard at the sight of him. His cock was flushed a dark pink, the tip leaking precum and glistening in the low lighting. He was reasonably big but exceeded in girth, thicker than you had expected.

“Still good, baby?” He asked and you nodded in a daze, then quickly added a clearer sounding ‘yes’ before he could complain again.

“Alright,” he rumbled and slotted himself between your legs. His tip brushed up against your quivering hole, not pushing yet, just teasing.  His eyes stayed on your face, taking in every muscle movement in your facial muscles as he slicked himself with your juices. The stimulation had you moving your hips against him already.

“Now’s the time to back out,” he rasped, the restraint on his face visible.  You shook your head and this time he didn’t need vocal confirmation, just the soft gasps already spilling from your lips enough as your hand found the low dip of his back, beckoning him in.

He sank in inch by inch, letting you adjust to him in between. The muscles in his thighs and hips were taut from holding back as he gave you more time then necessary.  “Joel,” you whined as he stayed unmoving but buried to the hilt, “Can you… please…”

He groaned with relief and nodded, pulling out just a few inches to slam back in seconds later. A deep moan slipped from his mouth as he truly let himself feel your warmth and tightness. “God-fucking-dammit,” he muttered, one hand on your thigh to push it towards your chest.  As he kept you in position, you felt him deeper now, the new angle allowing him to thrust further into you. 

His cock hit spots that not even his fingers had reached earlier, the fullness something you had never experienced on this level before. He pulled out almost completely before letting himself glide back in, the slickness coating your velvety walls making it easy. 

Every thrust had your eyes rolling back, nails desperately dragging across his back or pinching the flesh of his hip. Needy sounds, building up from little gasps to outright pornographic moans, filled the room, bouncing off the wall along with the traitorous sound of skin slapping against skin. Joel’s hand slipped between the two of you, just above where he was sinking into you again and again. He drew tight circles across your clit while his eyes were glued to the spot where he disappeared into you relentlessly. 

“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he drawled, “Takin’ me so well.”

Maybe it was the praise, maybe it was the deepness of his voice while he was balls deep in you, or maybe it was his fingers constantly dancing across your bundle of nerves but it resonated in your chest like a kind of drug you would never want to go without again. 

And as Joel Miller made you come for the second time today, you saw a glimpse of your future: your heart absolutely shattered because you had fallen for your best friend’s father who might want you but would never allow himself to have you.

He had more sense than you, at least remembering to pull out instead of painting your walls white, a dark groan accompanying his release. He came on your stomach and thighs, and some dark twisted part of your brain regretted letting his cum go to waste. 

Joel held himself up on his elbows, panting quietly next to you for a few seconds before he straightened up.  Without a second glance he got up, keeping his eyes on the ground as he walked away.

You never felt dirtier than in that moment, watching him disappear into the kitchen. You were convinced that he wasn’t about to come back but he surprised you.

With a towel clutched in his hand but his eyes still glued anywhere but on you, he returned and slowly sank to his knees on the couch as he cleaned you up, keeping his touch light and mindful.

It was quiet for a long time – not necessarily uncomfortable but charged, heavy. Then he spoke up. “God, we really shouldn’t have done this.”

❤︎ just a quick reminder that the best way to support authors on here is to comment and reblog ❤︎ ☆ find my masterlist here ☆

[barnesdreamcatcher]

Hi babe. I had this idea for a while

Nerd! Bucky x popular! Reader

Typical cliche where Bucky is bullied by some students and no one understands how he ended up with the prettiest girl. This being said...

Imagine the reader being a lot more experienced giving Bucky a blowjob for the first time, boy never got his big pretty balls sucked before🥺 he's so pent up (losing Virginity too)

Make it filthy pls🤖

I feel like once he learns more they would be fucking like rabbits

You can get anything you’d like

cw: smut (mdni, 18+), oral (m), bucky’s huge [redacted], experienced reader, inexperienced bucky, college au

wc: 1.4k

a/n: hi sweet anon, i’ve been thinking about your request for a while now and finally managed to write it (yay), hope you & everyone else enjoys it <3

now playing: dandelion – Ariana Grande

All your clothes except a lacy set of underwear – picked out for today – were gone, your cunt already aching with need but this was about him. His legs were spread, giving you enough space to sit between them on the floor, eyes level with his boxers. The huge bulge was absolutely unmissable and you felt the saliva collect in your mouth. He sat on the bed, blue eyes cast downward, then up to the ceiling, literally anywhere but on you while you kneeled before him.

“Hey,” you mumbled and reached out. His thigh trembled slightly when you rested your hand on it. “You okay?”

Bucky chuckled breathlessly and covered your hand with his, still keeping his gaze on the wall. “Yeah,” he rasped, squeezing your hand gently.

“Can you look at me for a sec?” You asked then.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause I’m not gonna last a minute longer if I look at you right now. Not when you’re sitting like that.”

Your cheeks heated with pride.  “I don’t mind,” you replied and grinned. “But I do.”

A soft sigh tumbled from your mouth – but not one of annoyance. He was such a sweet, absolutely adorable dork. 

“C’mon, Buck,” you encouraged, “I need to see your eyes. Need to know that you really want this. We don’t have to-,”

He interrupted you. “God, believe me, I want this. I want you, more than anything. But… I don’t wanna mess it up.” Slowly, he tilted his head and met your line of sight. 

“You’re… you. And I’m me. I really… I really want this to be… good,” he admitted quietly.  His words cracked your heart a little.

“Yeah,” you answered, “I’m me and you’re you. And that’s how it’s supposed to be. I… I really like you, like a lot. And it’s not about being good or whatever. It’s about us, being together and having fun and finding this… connection.”

To your own ears you sounded like a self-help book for virgins, even though you fully believed your words but something about Bucky eased. Softened. 

“You mean that?”

“I do.”

He nodded slowly and squeezed your hand again, a little more determined now. “Alright,” he mumbled, “Just… I don’t really know what to do. I mean… I know what to do, of course, but not… how.” He stammered a little and his already flushed face darkened even more.

So, you did him the courtesy of suppressing a chuckle and just let your hands wander closer to his boxers. “Don’t worry so much. I’ll… I’ll guide you. You just say stop if something’s not right, whatever it is, no matter how far we’ve gone, ok?”

He nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

His thighs spread a little further as you let your fingers glide over the material of his underwear, feeling his cock twitch hot and heavy. 

“That okay?” You asked gently and watched his reaction.

His Adam’s apple bobbled and his eyes fell shut immediately.   “Yeah, don’t stop, please” he muttered, bordering on desperate.

You smiled to yourself and continued palming him through his boxers. He was huge, that was no question. Even though a couple of millimeters of fabric still hindered you from getting a glimpse at the real thing, you could feel the outline of him, the light curve, the heat pulsating off of him.

He groaned as you applied more pressure and his hand came flying to yours. Not to stop you but to keep you there.

“Do you wanna take these off?” You offered and played with the waistband of his boxers again. 

“Please.” God, he sounded wrecked. There was a light tremor to his words, as if speaking required more effort than he could bear. 

The offending piece of cloth was quickly discarded with a lift of his hips and his cock sprung free. Your thighs clenched together involuntarily, a faint second heartbeat throbbing in your core as you regarded his length. Not only was he a few more inches than anyone else’s you had ever taken, he also rivalled everyone in circumference. 

Before you took him into your hands, fingers already tingling with need, you met his eyes again, seeking his permission which he gave easily with a nod of his head.

He inhaled sharply as you wrapped your digits around his cock, starting at the base and then slowly moved your hands upwards to his leaking tip. Shiny, translucent desire pearled at the slit and Bucky gasped as you squeezed him gently. 

“God, don’t stop,” he murmured. Even more blood rushed to his cheeks, his eyes half-lidded while his breath came quicker. You worked him for a few moments, twisting your wrist a little every time you came up to his tip and he made a sound that was half moan, half whimper. 

“Baby, please.” You weren’t sure what he was pleading for but you would’ve given him anything, so you leaned forward.  Warmth radiated off of him, so intense that you thought you were able to feel it on your face as your lips ghosted over the length of him. 

His hips bucked involuntarily and a hand flew to your head, gripping the roots of your hair. “Fuck, sorry,” he gasped and loosened his grip a little but didn’t remove it yet like he needed it to stay grounded.

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” You meant that and to soothe his worries further, your tongue darted out as you licked him up from the shaft to the head. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he cursed and his fingers tightened in your hair again, “God, sweetheart, I think- I think you’re gonna kill me.”

“I haven’t even really started yet,” you teased, “You ready for that?”

He gulped and nodded. “What a way to go.”

You parted your lips and allowed him to slip into your mouth. The stretch was intense, your lips tight and jaw a little achy already as inch after inch disappeared slowly. He groaned like it hurt in the best way. 

“God, this- oh my- this is amazing,” Bucky stuttered and once again his hips moved involuntarily, pushing himself a little deeper. 

He tasted salty, a bit like sweat but the kind that hadn’t had the chance to sour yet, like liquified him.  His length turned out to be a bit more of challenge than you had expected. You had to force yourself to relax your muscles that threatened to push him back out but then your eyes met his and you caught a glimpse of what heaven must look like. 

Pink dust on his cheeks, mouth slightly open and a furrow between his brows – utterly undone and it hadn’t even been a minute. 

“Shit, you’re so… so warm and wet and… fuck,” he stuttered. The strong muscles of his thighs tensed as you bobbed your back and forth a little faster.  When you pulled off, a confused whine tumbled from his mouth but he didn’t have the chance to complain as you placed your lips on his balls and started to suck. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, if you don’t.., oh god- I…” His ability to build sentences had left the premises, only need and desire left behind. 

“You like that?” You whispered and replaced your mouth with your hands on his balls. 

“Jesus, do I like that?” He echoed, “Fuck- yes, I- the prettiest, smartest, incredible girl is mine and I-“

He grunted as you opened your mouth again, letting his cock slip back into your warm wetness. “Doll, I swear, I… I can’t… I’m gonna…” His body went taut with restraint, the grip of his fingers in your hair growing even stronger. 

Eye contact – Bucky’s specialty – undid him. Your wet eyes, a few tears on your waterline, met his as you hollowed your cheeks and breathed through your nose while you fully relaxed your throat for him. 

The second his eyes rolled back, you knew he was there.  His cock pulsated then twitched and he managed to groan out a warning, then he buried himself to the hilt, his tip hitting the back of your throat. The fine hair at his base tickled your nose as thicks spurts of cum painted you white. 

For a few seconds he lingered, moaning anything between sacrilegious profanities and your name before he pulled back out. Sweat pearled at his temples as he looked down to you, a dozy smile on his lips.

“That was fucking amazing, baby. I- thank you, I mean… I… was it okay? Are you okay?” He cupped your face and his thumb stroked your cheek.

“I’m okay,” you replied with a smile, “And that… that was more than okay.”

❤︎ just a quick reminder that the best way to support authors on here is to comment and reblog ❤︎ ☆ find my masterlist here ☆

[barnesdreamcatcher]

Against bullies since ‘30

[barnesdreamcatcher]

pull-out game 2/10

⟢ 2 points for effort, nothing else

clark kent x f!reader

cw: smut (mdni, 18+), unprotected p in v, failed pullout, clark is very sorry

“Baby, c’mon, it’ll feel so much better for both of us,” Clark whines into your ear.  “You know condoms are always so tight, and I promise- I swear I’ll pull out.”

And god, it does feel so much better when he rolls off the condom and sinks his cock into your wet heat raw. Clark gasps and nuzzles his face in your chest as he buries himself to the hilt, breathing like he just ran a marathon.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he whimpers, “Oh- fu- oh, god- this is… oh my god.” He slowly pulls his hips back and groans deeply. “I can feel you, every inch of you, like… like… oh fuck,” he trails off.  “You feel so- oh my- oh- fucking good. All warm- and- and so fucking wet, like you- oh my-,”

None of his sentences make sense that night. Just praises after praises, mixed with profanities that he would usually not even look at. But right now he is in heaven despite all the sins committed. Just your tight walls, clenching and dripping around him, pulling him in, pulsing, hugging his cock like they were made for him – and they were. 

You feel his hot breath quicken, your orgasm fast approaching at the same time. “Clark,” you manage to moan between thrusts that have the whole bed shaking, “Clark- I’m gon-gonna cum.”

“Yes, baby, please,” he murmurs, drunk on nothing but the feel of you, “Wanna feel you clamp down on me, please, cum for me.”

“You- oh god- you gotta pull out, yeah?” You remind him, surprisingly clear headed for someone whose stomach is already tightening, legs already shaking. 

“I swear,” he replies eagerly and rolls his hips harder, right against your g-spot. 

You can do nothing but lie there, thighs spasming, lips parted in a silent scream and walls narrowing down on Clark’s dick. 

He moans like it hurts, and maybe it does a little. “Fuck,” he whines, pressing his head into your shoulder, “So good, baby.” His hips speed up and you can tell he’s chasing his own release now. Your lips are already forming his name, tongue twisting around the sound of it, but a broken groan spills from his lip and then you feel it – the sudden tension in his entire body, followed by slow, creeping warmth, spilling into you while he’s buried so deep that your stomach bulges. 

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry, god, fuck, sorry,” he whispers but he’s still cumming, still trembling inside of you, still rocking back and forth a little. Then he sinks down on your breasts, face straight into the soft flesh. “Sorry,” he mumbles again. And you can’t help yourself – you forgive your boy. 

“’s okay,” you mutter, running your hands through his hair while he smothers himself with your tits – you weren’t sure if it was an action of remorse or an attempt to soothe himself.

“You just feel so good, I couldn’t… I couldn’t pull out. Not when heaven’s right between your thighs.”

❤︎ just a quick reminder that the best way to support authors on here is to comment and reblog ❤︎ ☆ find my masterlist here ☆

[barnesdreamcatcher]

sleeping beauty

dark!perv!joel x f!reader cw: dark smut (mdni, 18+), soft!dark!joel, noncon, somnophilia, fingering, stalking, breaking and entering, implied (legal) age gap wc: 1.5k

He knew this was wrong. He shouldn’t be standing here, he should be in bed, tucked away, maybe fisting his cock to the thought of you. But no, he was standing outside your house.

All the lights were turned off, so he figured you must be sleeping soundly.  His fingers twitched at his sides as he walked up the porch. You never locked the door, so this was really your fault. Or maybe, and he liked that idea even better, you were inviting him in.

He reached out and pushed the door handle down. The air inside your house was warm and it smelled faintly like you – soft soap, your perfume and the scent of your skin that was so exclusively yours. 

It drew him in like a magnet followed iron. His first steps were silent, just the soft shuffle of his leather boots against your wooden floors, dampened by the adorable fluffy rug. Then the stairs creaked as he went up. He froze like a deer in headlights, shifting his weight ever so slightly off the unforgiving step.

He listened for a moment but not a sound was to be heard. So he kept going. Tested each fall of his foot silently, not allowing another for another noise to be heard as he went up the stairs. The landing upstairs was neat. Two doors – one to your bathroom and the other to the bedroom. He knew exactly which one was which since this was the not first time he had entered your house. But it was the premiere of you being here as well at the same time.

A soft stream of moonlight trickled in from the gap between your bathroom door and the wall. He advanced carefully and pushed the door open a little further. The shower was still wet, condensation clinging to the glass wall and mirror. He saw the droplets of water in the sink where you had brushed your teeth not too long ago. And the wicker basket was cracked open. 

Light blue lace peaked out. His hands were on it immediately, fishing the pair of panties out with a slight tremor. Whether it was his spiraling mind or reality, he didn’t know, but there was a soft warmth still clinging to the material and maybe- maybe even a bit of dampness.

He brought the flimsy cloth to his nose and inhaled deeply and there it was. A faint musk, sweet and rich, filled his nostrils and he had to hold back a moan. His fingers ghosted across the gusset, prodding and stretching the fabric just like he’d do to you soon. 

Joel froze again when he heard a soft creak. It came from the bedroom. He peered out of the bathroom but couldn’t see you as your door blocked his view. With a quick movement he pocketed the panties and took a step forward. With his ear pressed against the door, he listened for more movement but none followed.

The door knob was cold as he twisted it but it opened without a single sound. And revealed the star of his wettest dreams. You laid in bed a thin sheet tousled over you, one leg out in the open. He could make out your face in the dark, illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp on your dresser. A mental note was made – you preferred sleeping with the light on.

His fingers twitched as he stood looming over you, desperate to reach out. He brushed a strand of hair from your perfect face and smiled to himself. So sweet, so innocent, how you laid there. His heart leaped as he finally dragged his eyes off of you and saw the little plush toy at your side, one of your small hands sprawled across it. It took a lot out of him to hold back a groan as he imagined that same hand wrapped around his cock. 

You stirred slightly in your sleep and he pulled his hand back like you had burned him. He held his breath but your eyes stayed close, your breath even as you shifted on your back. The blanket didn’t move with you, and now, your other leg was equally on display. It also rewarded him with a glance at your flimsy nightgown – a blush pink. 

Fuck, he thought to himself, you are so goddamn perfect. He watched the rise and fall of your chest, the way the nightie dipped low at the valley of your breasts, and how the soft flesh quilled out of the cups and lowered again with every breath. 

With a single shaky finger he slowly followed the neckline of your nightgown, entranced by the lacy hem and the bodily warmth that brew beneath it. He wanted to sink his teeth into the flesh until you caried his bite marks underneath your bra but there was still time for that later. Right now, he longed to make you feel good. Make you realize that he would always be there to take care of your every need.

His hand dipped lower, first across your nipple. It hardened under his touch, practically reaching out to him. Then his touch went along your stomach until he reached your core. That, he spared for a few moments, forfeiting it for your thighs. You shivered as his bare skin met yours but you didn’t pull away.

He massaged slowly, quietly, travelling inwards with every caress. And then – a soft moan tumbled from your lips and he almost came in his pants.  “Fuckin’ Christ,” he whispered breathlessly, retracting his fingers slightly. But you just readjusted, still sleeping, and let out a content breath, your legs now parted.

Allowing him in. Beckoning him in. Giving him permission to do what he wanted. 

And the wet spot growing in between your thighs, darkening the material that covered you with every seep of desire coming out of you, it was his undoing.

His thumb brushed against the hem of your panties and your legs quivered.  “Someone’s needy, hm?” He mumbled and circled his thumb closer to your clit – not yet giving you what you wanted. “Don’t worry, babygirl, I’m here.”

Your hips arched subconsciously, chasing the friction he was offering but not quite giving and he chuckled darkly. “I know, I know,” he whispered, “Give it a second, you greedy girl.” Then his thumb finally found your bundle of nerves, still separated by your panties. Another sigh, vocalized relief, spilled from your lips as he drew tight circles, feeling the wetness grow.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured and applied a hint more pressure. “Let me give you what you need.”  God, he longed to bury his face between your thighs, to kiss your clit, to shove his tongue up your tight, wet channel but he held back. There was still so much time left.

Once your legs started trembling, the pleasure written all over your face even in your sleep, he stopped. A whiny breath sounded through the room, but you still stayed asleep. He wanted to give you exactly what you needed, but he wanted to do it for real, not held back, not disconnected by your panties. He needed to feel you, needed to see you. All of you. How your clit twitched when you got close, how your petals would glisten, how your juices leaked onto his hand, not into the gusset of that string of material you called underwear.

His fingers hooked into the waistband and pulled it down slowly, agonizingly patient. First past your thighs, then over your knees and down your ankles. This pair joined the other one already in his pocket. 

Your glistening sex quivered as it was exposed to the cool air of your room. A faint smell of sweet and saltiness filled his nostrils and he growled quietly. Your perfect pussy was on display for him, pink and soft and wet. Your button was still enlarged, ever so slightly covered by the protective hood. He hiked up one of your knees and gained a glimpse of your hole, barely big enough for him to see in this position.

His middle finger teased it, just running around your entrance before dipping in properly. God, you were tight. But your nectar was leaking all over the place, allowing him to slide in to the first knuckle, and then the second. He immediately felt you clench down, almost trapping him inside. He pulled back with a groan and then added a second finger as he thrusted back into you. 

How are ya still asleep? Knuckles deep in ya but those pretty eyes are still closed.

He continued loosening you slowly, crooking and curling his fingers just right against your g-spot. His thumb came up to your clit, applying pressure as his digits scissored apart in you. Stifled cries left your mouth and your lashes fluttered as you tipped between consciousness and sleep, your orgasm fast approaching.

His fingers sped up, dipping in and out of you harder, while his thumb swirled across your bundle of nerves in tighter and firmer moves and then he physically saw the muscles in your thighs and stomach tense as you gushed all over his hand. His other hand pressed on your lower belly while he dragged out ounce of pleasure from you, his fingers relentlessly moving. 

You murmured sleepily, breathless and confused, as your hips bucked from overstimulation and Joel couldn’t help the smirk that stole itself onto his face.

“Good mornin’, darlin’,” he drawled, “Sleep well?”

❤︎ just a quick reminder that the best way to support authors on here is to comment and reblog ❤︎ ☆ find my masterlist here ☆

[barnesdreamcatcher]

thank you sm 🤍

Dry humping Chubby! Bucky?

Poor baby is insecure, doesn't understand how the hell did he pull a pretty girl like her so she has to show him how much she adores her pretty boy✊🏻 ofc what's better than to start rubbing herself on his lap, tummy, etc etc. lots of dirty talk and praising pls💗

Dainty muse, I must be dreaming

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader cw: emotional smut (mdni, 18+), dry humping, praise kink, insecure bucky :( wc: 1k now playing: love looks pretty on you – Nessa Barrett 

a/n: hi lovely anon, thank you sm for your request <3 i hope this meets your expectations

His metal arm was draped around you tightly as you were tucked into his side, your face buried in the crook of his neck. Every inhale allowed you to take in a deep breath of his scent: metal, leather and the honey soap you had gifted him a few weeks ago. With slow, absentminded circles your fingers ghosted across his chest, rubbing the skin soothingly. 

Bucky was barely even awake anymore and definitely not paying attention to the movie playing in the background. His half-lidded eyes and softly parted lips made him look like a renaissance painting, just seconds away from falling asleep. You wanted him to relax fully and let your hand glide a little lower to draw soft circles across his tummy but he tensed instantly, eyes flying open.

His fingers locked around your wrist and he inhaled sharply.  With a soft sound of disapproval he brought it back up to his chest and closed his eyes again. The tension is his muscles remained.

“What was that?” You asked quietly, propping yourself up a little more to face him.

“What?” He grumbled softly, opening one eye. 

“You didn’t like that? Me touching you like that, I mean?” Worry tinted your voice as you spoke and he sighed, then ran a hand across his face. 

“No, I do. Just… not there,” he muttered. A soft hue of pink dusted his cheeks and you sat up straighter.  “Why?”  He groaned softly at your question – not in annoyance but something else you couldn’t quite place. “Just… I don’t… I didn’t like it. Do I really have to explain?” His puppy eyes blinked up at you.

It was silent for a few moments as you thought about what to say. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you mumbled then, “But maybe you’d feel better after talking about it.”

A soft, non-committal grunt passed his lips. 

“Or not,” you muttered. 

You both tried to relax again but the air was thick with tension and unspoken words. Surprisingly, it was Bucky who broke it.

“I don’t want you to feel how… how soft I’ve gotten.”

The silence stretched heavily as you looked at him in disbelief. You had never laid eyes on a more beautiful man than him and your heart ached at the fact that he didn’t see the same in the mirror. Instead of searching for words that he wouldn’t believe anyway, you moved quickly. Your thighs bracketed his lap and you cupped his face, then placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

Your mouth swallowed the surprised sound he made and despite his shock, his hands quickly found their way to your hips, digging into your flesh gently. He pulled you closer instinctively and his tongue dragged over your lower lip.

“My gorgeous, gorgeous boy,” you whispered in between kisses, “Most stunning man I’ve ever seen.”

He pulled away slightly as you spoke and kept his eyes lowered.

“Stop, please,” he mumbled. You shook your head.

“No, you’re gonna listen to me,” you replied sternly but still gentle. “You are the most handsomest man alive.” You punctuated each word with a kiss peppered onto his face and scooted a little closer on his lap. A small grin grew on his face as he heard your ridiculous superlative.

“You have the prettiest face,” you rasped and brought your lips to his cheek, “And strong shoulders that can carry the world,” your hands snaked over his neck muscles, “And your chest in my favorite pillow,” you muttered, slipping your hand beneath his shirt to ghost across his pecs.

He was about to open his mouth, some self-deprecating protest already on the tip of his tongue but you shut him up with another kiss.

Your fingers hooked into the material of his henley and you dragged it upwards, revealing his soft tummy. “And this is my favorite part of you.”  Your tongue darted out and licked upwards from his navel to the line of his abs. He shuddered under your administrations and winced slightly as you grazed his skin with your teeth. 

Your mouth travelled upwards again until his lips met yours. He couldn’t keep his hands still, kneading your hips vigorously.  “How did I get so lucky with you, hm? How come the most gorgeous girl in the world wants to be mine?” He whispered.

“I’m the lucky one,” you answered and connected your lips with his again. 

There was an unmistakable hardness pressing against your middle as you pushed yourself against him even more and you couldn’t help yourself, you just had to rock forward. He groaned like it hurt, his grip tightening on your sides. 

“Dammit, doll,” he winced but there was no bite behind the words, only need. 

You chuckled softly and rolled your hips towards his again, feeling warm pressure build in your lower tummy as your clit dragged over his clothed core.

His fingers dug into your flesh, hard enough to leave marks, as he helped you move against him, chasing both your high and his own.  You kept up eye contact, desperate to see him fall apart below you. His hot breath fanned across your chest as his lips parted softly. The blue of his eyes was hidden under his blown-out pupils. He looked absolutely wrecked – and it was the most gorgeous sight you had ever set your eyes on.

“You’re so pretty,” you whispered against his lips, rocking your hips further to meet his again and again.  “Don’t you ever forget it. I’m yours and you’re mine. Every inch of you belongs to me,” you continued, “And you don’t get to talk down on what is mine.”

The heat built drastically between you – your praise pushing Bucky further and further, and you weren’t far behind.  His thigh trembled with need and grazed your core with every one of your movements. Seeing him slowly come apart underneath you felt better than anything else in the world. 

His sounds, so needy and desperate, filled the room alongside your moan as he neared the edge. “Fuck, baby, I-,” he whined, unable to finish the sentence. Heat and wetness bloomed at the crotch of his pants as he shot his load, the sensation of him cumming in his jeans triggering your orgasm like pieces falling into place.

❤︎ just a quick reminder that the best way to support authors on here is to comment and reblog ❤︎ ☆ find my masterlist here ☆

[barnesdreamcatcher]

ohhh my goshhhh thank you, i love your blog sm 🫶🏻

Dry humping Chubby! Bucky?

Poor baby is insecure, doesn't understand how the hell did he pull a pretty girl like her so she has to show him how much she adores her pretty boy✊🏻 ofc what's better than to start rubbing herself on his lap, tummy, etc etc. lots of dirty talk and praising pls💗

Dainty muse, I must be dreaming

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader cw: emotional smut (mdni, 18+), dry humping, praise kink, insecure bucky :( wc: 1k now playing: love looks pretty on you – Nessa Barrett 

a/n: hi lovely anon, thank you sm for your request <3 i hope this meets your expectations

His metal arm was draped around you tightly as you were tucked into his side, your face buried in the crook of his neck. Every inhale allowed you to take in a deep breath of his scent: metal, leather and the honey soap you had gifted him a few weeks ago. With slow, absentminded circles your fingers ghosted across his chest, rubbing the skin soothingly. 

Bucky was barely even awake anymore and definitely not paying attention to the movie playing in the background. His half-lidded eyes and softly parted lips made him look like a renaissance painting, just seconds away from falling asleep. You wanted him to relax fully and let your hand glide a little lower to draw soft circles across his tummy but he tensed instantly, eyes flying open.

His fingers locked around your wrist and he inhaled sharply.  With a soft sound of disapproval he brought it back up to his chest and closed his eyes again. The tension is his muscles remained.

“What was that?” You asked quietly, propping yourself up a little more to face him.

“What?” He grumbled softly, opening one eye. 

“You didn’t like that? Me touching you like that, I mean?” Worry tinted your voice as you spoke and he sighed, then ran a hand across his face. 

“No, I do. Just… not there,” he muttered. A soft hue of pink dusted his cheeks and you sat up straighter.  “Why?”  He groaned softly at your question – not in annoyance but something else you couldn’t quite place. “Just… I don’t… I didn’t like it. Do I really have to explain?” His puppy eyes blinked up at you.

It was silent for a few moments as you thought about what to say. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you mumbled then, “But maybe you’d feel better after talking about it.”

A soft, non-committal grunt passed his lips. 

“Or not,” you muttered. 

You both tried to relax again but the air was thick with tension and unspoken words. Surprisingly, it was Bucky who broke it.

“I don’t want you to feel how… how soft I’ve gotten.”

The silence stretched heavily as you looked at him in disbelief. You had never laid eyes on a more beautiful man than him and your heart ached at the fact that he didn’t see the same in the mirror. Instead of searching for words that he wouldn’t believe anyway, you moved quickly. Your thighs bracketed his lap and you cupped his face, then placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

Your mouth swallowed the surprised sound he made and despite his shock, his hands quickly found their way to your hips, digging into your flesh gently. He pulled you closer instinctively and his tongue dragged over your lower lip.

“My gorgeous, gorgeous boy,” you whispered in between kisses, “Most stunning man I’ve ever seen.”

He pulled away slightly as you spoke and kept his eyes lowered.

“Stop, please,” he mumbled. You shook your head.

“No, you’re gonna listen to me,” you replied sternly but still gentle. “You are the most handsomest man alive.” You punctuated each word with a kiss peppered onto his face and scooted a little closer on his lap. A small grin grew on his face as he heard your ridiculous superlative.

“You have the prettiest face,” you rasped and brought your lips to his cheek, “And strong shoulders that can carry the world,” your hands snaked over his neck muscles, “And your chest in my favorite pillow,” you muttered, slipping your hand beneath his shirt to ghost across his pecs.

He was about to open his mouth, some self-deprecating protest already on the tip of his tongue but you shut him up with another kiss.

Your fingers hooked into the material of his henley and you dragged it upwards, revealing his soft tummy. “And this is my favorite part of you.”  Your tongue darted out and licked upwards from his navel to the line of his abs. He shuddered under your administrations and winced slightly as you grazed his skin with your teeth. 

Your mouth travelled upwards again until his lips met yours. He couldn’t keep his hands still, kneading your hips vigorously.  “How did I get so lucky with you, hm? How come the most gorgeous girl in the world wants to be mine?” He whispered.

“I’m the lucky one,” you answered and connected your lips with his again. 

There was an unmistakable hardness pressing against your middle as you pushed yourself against him even more and you couldn’t help yourself, you just had to rock forward. He groaned like it hurt, his grip tightening on your sides. 

“Dammit, doll,” he winced but there was no bite behind the words, only need. 

You chuckled softly and rolled your hips towards his again, feeling warm pressure build in your lower tummy as your clit dragged over his clothed core.

His fingers dug into your flesh, hard enough to leave marks, as he helped you move against him, chasing both your high and his own.  You kept up eye contact, desperate to see him fall apart below you. His hot breath fanned across your chest as his lips parted softly. The blue of his eyes was hidden under his blown-out pupils. He looked absolutely wrecked – and it was the most gorgeous sight you had ever set your eyes on.

“You’re so pretty,” you whispered against his lips, rocking your hips further to meet his again and again.  “Don’t you ever forget it. I’m yours and you’re mine. Every inch of you belongs to me,” you continued, “And you don’t get to talk down on what is mine.”

The heat built drastically between you – your praise pushing Bucky further and further, and you weren’t far behind.  His thigh trembled with need and grazed your core with every one of your movements. Seeing him slowly come apart underneath you felt better than anything else in the world. 

His sounds, so needy and desperate, filled the room alongside your moan as he neared the edge. “Fuck, baby, I-,” he whined, unable to finish the sentence. Heat and wetness bloomed at the crotch of his pants as he shot his load, the sensation of him cumming in his jeans triggering your orgasm like pieces falling into place.

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