#a guy comes out but not bc i pressed the button. he was just a guy

[florida3exclamationpoints]

[aaagustd]

make it cute | jjk (m)

title: make it cute pairing: jeon jungkook x (f)reader genre/rating: smut, pwp, 18+ summary: if jungkook loans someone money, he expects to be paid with just that. but tonight, he just might make an exception. wc: 1.8k warnings: infidelity, swearing, mentions ransoms and everything that comes with that (threats, m*rder, etc), pictures??, consensual g*n play (more like oral but yeah), sloppy bl*wjob/deep throating, consent bc it's sexy, pet names, degradation, m*sturbation, facial c*m shot, dirty talk, slight power play dynamics, Dom/sub themes, obedience kink, hair pulling, face f*cking, that should be all release date: september 21st, 2024; 10:18pm est

note: reposting this baby. it’s from the old aaagustd account. i hope y’all enjoy the new version. divider credit.

check out my taglists here.

"That’s it. Keep going until I tell you to stop."

Jungkook can feel the material of his pants stretching to accommodate the growing boner pressing against the fabric. One wrong jerk of his hips, and he fears the measly button and zipper securing his trousers will go flying across his lavishly decored master bedroom.

He’s done some sick shit in his life, but this. This was your idea.

If only he could hear how you begged for it.

"Damn, baby, You are dead-ass enjoying this, aren't you?"

You don’t have to respond, but you do. "M-Mhm," you exhale in a needy moan as your throat engulfs the barrel of his gun.

There’s no way you can deny what is visibly present in both your eyes. 

The way your middle finger teases your soaked cunt. Your erected nipples leave two perfectly sculpted peaks that he can see through your sheer top.

He can't lie; he’s impressed and turned on by the sight. 

However, the reason you’re on your knees on his bedroom floor isn’t because he had a taste for a bored housewife. Your darling husband owes him a lot of money, and he will pay it if he wants his little trophy home by dinner.

Otherwise, Jungkook will gladly keep you—if you can behave.

With an ass like yours, Jungkook wouldn't let you out of his sight. Your place would be right on his lap, no matter the time or the place.

You have to keep a tight leash on this kind of pussy. The man’s an idiot. 

A woman as beautiful as you begging to be fucked? He’s not a nice guy, but how could he not show pity?

Jungkook can only stand there and imagine how your plump lips would look wrapped around his dick. The thought of it has him twitching inside his boxers.

As if you are reading his mind, your sticky digits abandon your wet panties and you place them on his designer-covered crotch. A sharp hiss pushes through his clenched teeth, biting back a slew of insults that could imply that he’s angry. Not in the slightest, he was just shaken by the sensitivity.

Staring into the desperation lingering deep in your irises, Jungkook knows what you’re asking for. Your mouth is filled to the brim, but you’re still begging for more.

Jungkook isn’t a gentleman, but he’s mindful of his strength when he grips your hair, snatching you away from his gun. He should have been cautious of your teeth, but you won’t need them anyway for what you’re about to do.

“Hey!” He watches your swollen lips part as you suddenly take in a large breath of air. Your lungs struggle to accommodate the pressure, leaving you coughing and choking for several seconds. The sound nearly drowns out his voice. “Look at me, dollface!”

Jungkook stares into your watery blown-out eyes, holding an intense gaze to make sure you understand him clearly. He realizes then that he has a problem on his hands.

Sexy and obedient. Fuck.

"Doll, you can get up if you want. I just want my money-"

"Fuck my throat."

Jungkook almost shudders when he hears your sweet voice. The lust hidden within that raspy tone is intoxicating.

"What?" he asks.

He heard you, though. Jungkook never misses a beat, but he’s just—stunned.

Clearing your throat, you repeat your request without an ounce of shame.

"My throat. Shove it down my throat, please."

Please.

You didn't have to add that last part. He was already preparing to take his dick out.

"Well, shit," he curses. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am.”

Jungkook quickly places his gun on the dresser behind him and unbuckles his belt. He steals glances at you waiting patiently on your knees—like a good little slut. 

It’s goddamn shame how you have him fidgeting like a virgin.

Once his pants are loosened enough to slip a hand in and pull down his boxers, his cock springs out and introduces itself. Your reaction leaves a prideful smirk spreading across his face. Whatever you were expecting he knows that has been exceeded.

"Bit off more than you can chew, huh?"

You appear to be offended by his assumption. At least that’s what your expression reads. "Not at all," you reply, straightening your posture to align with his midsection. "May I?"

With Jungkook’s permission, you make contact with his length by grasping it gently in your smooth hand. Your fingers wrap around his girth as your eyes size him up.

Stroking him lazily in your warm palm, you admire his protruding veins that run along his length. You pause at the reddened tip, tapping the pool of precum that has developed at his slit. Your tongue licks your lips as if you’re sitting before a feast.

He understands it’s probably been forever since you’ve been in the presence of someone his size, but he’s impatient. You’ll have to do this another time.

"Don't fuck around, alright? I still got a bullet with your name on it, dollface."

You heed his warning and move closer, determining the best method of swallowing him whole.

"Sorry," you say in a whisper.

Those manners of yours will take you places; if you play your cards right.

"It’s no sweat, beautiful. Just keep going."

It's probably the first time he's said something as sincere; but honestly, he's just trying to get gobbled up before he cums all over his freshly waxed floors. His men are probably wondering what the hell is taking so long. For all they know, you’re using his bathroom to clean yourself up from the bumpy ride you had in the trunk of their car.

Without warning, Jungkook’s dick is sucked into your heavenly mouth. The warm and wetness invite him in without hesitation, comforting his throbbing length like a compress. He struggles to maintain his composure.

He isn't sure if he should allow you to take over because he cannot move. He couldn’t thrust if he wanted to. He’s mentally and physically stuck. The way you're slurping him up…he might not even be able to walk after this.

"Easy," Jungkook warns, which causes you to raise an eyebrow.

Finally, a bit of cockiness breaks through the surface.

Jungkook has no choice but to pull himself together and find his bearings because he’d die before boosting your ego.

"Fine," he grunts. "I can play rough too."

His hands snake their way to the back of your head, granting him full control. Your dark eyes never tear away from his face as he harshly uses his grip to push your head into his swift thrusts. You start to gag and choke, dropping saliva all over his cock and the floor. Something that would usually piss him off—but tonight, he can’t find an ounce of care.

It's not like he has to clean it up.

"Goddamn. Who's training this throat, hm?" He buries himself in your throat, making your forehead collide with his pelvic area. "Can’t be your hubby?"

When he hears a gurgled moan, he pulls away and allows you to speak. Through labored pants, you huff out your response. It’s one he's sure you've never shared with your husband.

"I'll suck that bastard dry every night before I let him cum inside me."

Jungkook nods. "Smart woman."

However, your business has nothing to do with him. Right now, he needs your undivided attention.

"Come here," he demands.

Jungkook hopes you were able to take in a breath before he lets go of his self-control.

You two had a deal, and he will uphold his part as you are yours. You’ve complied and given him some of the best head he’s ever received. Now, it’s time for the real show.

It’s been a month since he loaned your spouse some money; it’s time to pay up. To remind him of that, he’ll send your husband some face shots of his beautiful wife.

Jungkook will get his payment—one way, or another.

"Fuck!"

His body tenses now that he’s hitting the back of your throat. No matter how deep he goes, you never run out of space. The sweat rolling down his face is ignored because he’s too focused on how good your mouth feels around him.

Your warmth has him hunched over and leaning on his toes, his mouth stuck in an O-shape as he comes dangerously close to release. As he moves in and out of your crevice, he catches a glimpse of your juicy cunt being filled with your fingers, your body squirming and seeking the same relief he's chasing.

Both of your moans fill the room as you reach the peak of your highs. Your eyes roll back as your body becomes stiff. Jungkook knows exactly what's going on with you, and as you're riding out the waves of your orgasm, he waits for the perfect moment to pull out and paint you with his seed.

The time comes when you're no longer able to control your breathing, and you're desperately looking for a source of air. It's not a second too soon because Jungkook cannot bear another deep dive into your wet hole.

He slips out and gives his boner a couple of quick strokes before ropes of his cum paint your pretty face. The sounds you make indicate just how pleased you are with the results of your messy blowjob.

…And messy it is indeed.

It's everywhere, but he kept his promise and didn't get any in your hair.

"Ready?" Jungkook asks, still trying to catch his breath.

"Yeah."

Jungkook pulls his phone out of his back pocket and finds his camera. He positions it directly in front of your face. Your exhausted eyes and fucked out expression brings him some amusement. A contrast of how he felt before meeting you. 

"Is my hair okay?" you ask him, and this time he actually has to chuckle.

Since you've made his night a little better, he does a quick job smoothing down flyaways and kinks. 

Honestly, he didn't have to because you already look hot. Your hair all messy with his load dumped all over your face. All while adorned in an expensive diamond necklace your husband bought you—probably with his money.

Before he gets angry, he instructs you to look at the camera.

You pose provocatively as he takes a few pictures, giving your best doe-eyed pout.  When he’s done, he finally guides you to the bathroom. He allows you to use his shower or whatever else you’d need to clean up. 

Jungkook then lets you know that you may take as long as you need to freshen up while he sits on the bed to make this official.

He searches his contacts for the correct number. A mischievous grin slowly forms on his face as he taps the latest images in his camera roll, sending his debtor a little message to stir the pot.

03:14 am Sent: img.788, img.789....

03:14 am Sent: at the crib fucking your bitch. bring my bread and i might give her back.

He's lying. You’re staying right here.

Or…you can join your husband, in the cozy six-foot bed his men dug up for him in the woods.

[cameronsprincess]

Reader sucking off rafe giving him a sloppy blowjob and rafe making jj watch without touching himself until he asks him to come closer he start jerking him off telling him how needy and pathetic he is letting a guy touch him and jj get turned on more by his degrading words hiding in the crook of his neck. When the both reach out their orgasms rafe come in your mouth and jj in rafe hand. Rafe will tell you to clean it then make you kiss jj then the three of you make out

😮🙏🏻🫡 your wish is my command bc HOLY FUUUCK.

CW: smut! 18+ only! dom!rafe, sub!reader, sub!jj, male receiving oral, mxm, degrading.

deadly duo masterlist | requests

“That’s it baby, swallow my cock. Fuuuuck, see how good she’s doin’, J? Suckin’ my cock like the good little slut she is.”

Rafe wraps his large hand in your hair, thrusting his cock all the way down your throat, keeping your face pressed into his groin. You move your tongue, softly licking at the vein that runs up the underside of his shaft, whimpering and gagging around him. He pulls your head back, strings of spit attached to your lips and Rafe’s cock flying to the floor.

You chance a look at JJ, who stands silently in the corner of the room, watching you suck Rafe off, his hard cock pressing painfully against the zipper of his dark-wash jeans. Rafe snaps his fingers in your face, and you quickly put your eyes back on him. “Eyes on me, baby.” he rasps as he runs his thumb across your bottom lip.

He pushes his thumb past the seam of your lips, and you unconsciously suck it into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and moaning. Rafe’s cock twitches, quickly pulling his thumb from your mouth and shoving his dick back down your throat. You press your palms firmly against his muscular thighs, grounding yourself as you begin sloppily sucking him again.

Rafe throws his head back, groaning at the pleasure you were giving him. He slowly lifts his head, eyes finding JJ’s, “Come here, JJ.” he demands, and JJ quickly makes his way toward the two of you.

Rafe groans again as you continue to sloppily suck his cock. “Take your pants off, JJ.” Rafe demands and JJ gives him a confused look.

“What? I don’t-”

“Do you want to cum or not, Maybank? If you do, just fucking listen! Take. Off. Your. Pants.”

Rafe’s loud voice has you flinching, but you quickly shake it away, gripping the base of his dick in one hand and stroking him as your mouth sucks on his swollen tip. You slide Rafe’s cock all the way down your throat, eyes shifting to the side to watch as JJ calmly works the button and zipper on his jeans, shoving them down his legs and stepping out of them.

Rafe quickly grips JJ’s hand, tugging him closer before he slips his hand into the waistband of JJ’s black boxers. He grips his dick, squeezing at it softly and pulling a small groan from JJ. “God you’re pathetic. You really gonna let me jerk you off?”

JJ whimpers, his eyes wide and lips slightly parted as he watches you suck Rafe off. Rafe snaps his fingers in his face, tangling his fingers in your hair and pushing himself down your throat, holding you there as he speaks.

“Don’t look at her, look at me. You wanna cum? Let me know, JJ, my patience is limited.”

“Y-Yes… Please?” JJ says softly, his eyes never leaving Rafe’s.

Rafe smiles, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. “Pathetic. But I’ll help you out.”

Rafe releases your hair, allowing you to pull back for a breath of air. “Keep goin’ baby, you know how I like it.”

Your lips wrap around his cock again, sucking him down deep as you watch his movements. Rafe tugs at JJ’s boxers, allowing them to fall and pool around his ankles. JJ’s hard cock springs free, precum already leaking from his swollen tip. Rafe grips him in his hand, giving a harsh squeeze before he begins slowly moving his hand up and down JJ’s length, his thumb smearing the precum around the tip.

JJ lets out a breathy sigh, his head falling forward onto Rafe’s shoulder. Rafe lets out a dark laugh, continuing to squeeze and jerk at JJ’s cock. You watch the entire interaction, continuing to suck Rafe. Your clit pulses, and you shift on your knees, taking Rafe in and out of your mouth slowly, moaning around him when you watch JJ’s cock twitch in Rafe’s hand.

It was all so erotic, so hot… And the way Rafe was degrading JJ, the way his large hand was wrapped around JJ’s thick cock, slowly stroking at him, it had your pussy soaked.

“I feel your cock twitching in my hand, Maybank, you’re close aren’t you?” Rafe rasps, his hand picking up in pace. JJ groans, lifting his head from Rafe’s shoulder and staring into his eyes. You feel Rafe’s cock twitch in your mouth, pushing him all the way down your throat and swallowing, allowing your throat to squeeze at his thick length.

“Goddamnit, baby… M’gonna cum if you keep that up.”

You pull your head back, letting Rafe’s cock slip from your mouth. You softly grip him in your hand, giving his cock a tight squeeze before twisting your wrist, stroking him slowly. Rafe’s eyes find yours, and you give him a small smirk, “Wanna taste you, daddy. Please?” you beg, wrapping your lips around him again.

“Shit… Hear that, Maybank? The little slut wants to taste my cum, should I give it to her?”

JJ groans, his eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving as he tried to stave off his orgasm. Rafe slows the movements of his hand, squeezing JJ’s shaft tightly, “Answer me, J. Should I give my little slut my cum?”

“Y-Yes..” JJ stutters out, his cock pulsing in Rafe’s hand. He was so close it was almost painful.

Rafe smirks, gripping the back of your head with his free hand, “Good boy, you’re learning to use your words.”

Keeping his hand tightly wrapped in your hair, Rafe holds your head steady and begins thrusting his hips forward, brutally fucking himself into your throat. His other hand is still wrapped tightly around JJ’s shaft, quick strokes of his hand sliding up and down his length. JJ and Rafe both groan, JJ’s head falling into Rafe’s neck again to muffle his whimpers.

You feel Rafe’s cock throb, his thrusts growing sloppy as your name spills past his lips. He slows his pace on JJ’s cock, thrusting forward one final time before you taste him on your tongue, his cum spilling down your throat in long, slow spurts. Rafe continues stroking JJ as he rides out his high, his hand slowly curling around the head and stroking it gently. JJ lets out a muffled whine, his legs wobbling slightly as his own orgasm reaches him, sticky cum spilling into Rafe’s hand.

Rafe pulls his cock from your mouth, releasing JJ’s cock and bringing his sticky, cum-covered hand in front of your face. “Lick it clean, baby.”

You quickly obey, your tongue darting out and licking at the cum that covered Rafe’s palm and fingers. Rafe breathes out a laugh, pulling you to stand once you’ve cleaned his hand thoroughly. “Such a good fucking girl, aren’t you?”

You smile softly, nodding your head and stepping toward Rafe. He steps to the side, grabbing JJ’s arm and placing him in front of you. “Let Maybank have a taste baby, we can’t be greedy now can we?”

You nod in agreement, stepping into JJ’s body and lifting on your toes, cupping his face in your hands. You slowly pull his head down, eyes flitting from his beautiful blue ones down to his lips. You slowly lean in, pressing your lips again JJ’s. The kiss starts out slow, but you quickly pick up the pace, slipping your tongue into his mouth. JJ groans against your lips, the taste of his and Rafe’s cum on your tongue making his cock grow hard again.

Rafe steps forward, pulling the two of you apart before smirking at JJ, “Enjoy what I let you have of her, because that’ll be the only time you get her, understood?”

JJ nods, “Understood.”

Rafe grins, pulling the two of you into his sides, his lips pressing into yours first before moving over to JJ’s, leaving the blonde more confused than he was when he’d first arrived.

tagging some moots: @starkeysbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @rafescvntyclubgf @rafesheaven @rafesbabygirlx @nemesyaaa @cherrygirlfriend @oceandriveab @bloodibambiidoll @cameronwillow @moon-in-nostalgia @httpsdrewstarkey @sarahsangelicdoll

[gurugirl]

guru, i have a requests bc I need something ✨fluffy✨ as im healing from closing my fingers in my front door!!

could you write any harry au finding out that the reader is in paramore and wrote the only exception for him?

Oh my gosh your fingers! Ahh I hope you didn’t break anything! 😬

Feel better soon hon ❤️‍🩹 Enjoy! (also I hope this is what you wanted )

A/N: I didn't mention Paramore specifically (except for some bits of the song) nor are there any physical descriptions of Y/n so it's inclusive! Imagine who you like! xoxo

Word Count: 1,174

Warning: FLUFFFFFFFFYYYY SWEET! (Harry has a quick moment of anxiety)

. .

Harry wasn’t sure what he was looking at when he saw it. Maybe you were just playing a joke on him—? He always thought your singing voice kind of reminded him of a band he'd heard on the radio a few times… but this?

There you were on video. Right in his phone... wearing a very short skirt hopping around on stage like that. You were usually more of a jeans and t-shirt or sweater gal. It was clearly you–but it was like watching a doppelganger of you.

He blinked his eyes at his screen. His apartment was quiet as he was just waking up and still sitting in his bed. It was a normal morning routine. Wake up and check social media, emails, his daily schedule…

He had no idea how this had come across his feed. You. Like that. He rubbed his eyes. Was he still dreaming?

You hadn't been dating all that long but you were both already head over heels. It'd happened so fast and there was still so much to learn about one another but he knew you were it just like he hoped you felt the same. He knew you had a band and he'd heard you sing. You had guitars at your place and you wrote poems and lyrics in your notebook all the time. You were talented.

A text popped up on his screen from you.

See you in five minutes!

Scooting himself out of bed so he could at least brush his teeth he clicked on the page that had posted the video and there were more! Of you! Of this band that he'd heard of in passing. He held the phone up and started watching the next video. You were singing for a semi-large crowd. He pressed the button on his electric toothbrush and felt his heart thrumming harder and harder as you started singing another song. A song he'd heard on the radio.

It was surreal to see you like that. Why hadn't you told him? Why was he finding out like this? Did you not want him to know? Did you not see a future with him at all?

The questions in his brain were buzzing as various puzzle pieces began to fall into place. It made so much sense now that he was thinking of everything but it also had him worried that you never told him. Maybe you didn't trust him.

When he was done brushing his teeth he splashed water on his face and pressed his palms over his sink counter. He was going to have to confront you.

He looked down at his phone and clicked on the next video. The most recently uploaded video.

"I'm Y/n! Thank you for being here with us tonight!" The crowd was loud and he could hear some whistles and cheering.

"This next song is about a guy that I'm falling for hard. It wasn't supposed to happen. I didn't think it ever would. I haven't told him yet but I have this song." You began to sway as the guitarist started to play. "This is for love. For anyone who's felt it. This is for Harry."

He blinked at the screen and you began to sing.

"When I was younger, I saw my daddy cry and curse at the wind..."

Harry was startled when he heard you knocking at his door. You were there and he was reeling from everything he'd just learned. Pausing the video he made his way to his door and opened it to see your pretty face. You immediately stepped in and wrapped your arms around his middle for a big hug.

He hesitantly placed his arms around you after he closed his door. But you noticed something was off. Harry was still holding his phone in his hand as you looked up at him.

"Everything okay?"

He looked like he was unable to put thoughts into words. Like he was stunned or hadn't expected to see you, even though you'd made plans to come over. Stepping back you clutched your hands over his wrists. "Harry?"

His throat bobbed when he swallowed and he blinked his eyes. "You're famous."

Your heart stopped. You knew he'd find out soon. You'd planned on telling him but it was always tricky telling people. You'd dated people in the past that were just looking for clout or trying to get there own name out there by using you. So it was a precaution. But you didn't need to hide it from Harry anymore.

"Yes. Well... kind of. I mean... a lot of people don't really know who I am. I'm not like at that level of fame but—"

"You don't trust me?"

"I do trust you, Harry. I promise." You slid your palms up his forearms and stepped in closer. "I was going to tell you. I just got a little scared because everything happened so fast between us. It just... I wanted to make sure first. I swear I've been planning to tell you because I... god... I just want to tell you everything."

"I don't understand why you never said anything." He shook his head but he didn't pull away from you.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to find out before I told you. I wanted to share something really special with you and tell you in this like... really romantic way."

He moved his arm and opened up his phone before you heard your song being playe. The song you wrote for him. His eyes flitted from you to his phone as the lyrics you sang poured out around you.

Because none of it was ever worth the risk... Well, you are the only exception...

Harry looked at you, a sheen of tears in his eyes as he let the song play out. You kept your hand on his forearm and let the lyrics do the talking. You just hoped he understood. You hoped that he could see why it took you a bit to work up to telling him.

Oh, and I'm on way to believing…

He tucked his phone into his sweatpants pocket and looked at you with soft eyes. Taking his hands into yours you smiled up at him.

"I have a lot to tell you."

He puffed out a low laugh. "I think that's an understatement."

"Are you mad at me?"

He shook his head. "Kind of hard to be mad after hearing that song you wrote for me. Is all that true, Y/n?" He pulled his hand out of yours and lifted his warm palm up to your cheek.

"Yes. Every word of it."

"Does that mean you love me?"

Your heartbeat tripped up on itself as you nodded. "I do. I love you."

His eyes were piercing and so deep with emotion, you'd drown in them happily. "I guess it's time for me to confess something to you then, too." He grinned and you felt his hand move back to cradle your nape. "I love you too."

. .

@yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swiftmendeshoran @tiaamberxx @closureesny

@angelbabyyy99 @malwtilda @love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @onlyangellucifer

@harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs @lc-fics @hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads

@harrrrystylesslut @elidoho @gotdrxnkonu @cathy-1997 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa

@tiredinwinter @angeldavis777 @lillefroe @monicaalexandraaa @hsonlyangelxo

@brittanyzelazno @lemoncrushh @caynonmoondreams @mellamolayla @ladscarlett

@heartateasee @littlenatilda @finelinepie @michellekstyles @harrysredroom

@harrydeary @mrs-anna-styles211994 @devilsqueen722 @bananabk9756 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite

@idkkkkkkk123lgb @freedomfireflies @fruity-harry @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @mema10

@gmikaelson

[ericscroptop]

You Got All Of My Attention

✧ pairing: bf! eric x gf! reader

✦ genre: fluffy smut

✧ warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), smut, p!rn without plot, dry/wet humping, self-conscious reader about weight for a small portion of this fic but this fic isn’t centered around that and weight is not specified, cursing, teasing, kissing, so much grinding, oral— female receiving towards the end, handjob towards the end, marking, dirty talk, praising/praise kink, pet names, fluff, small aftercare

✦ word count: 6.9k words

✧ synopsis: touching each other sweetly and hotly is one of your favorite forms of communication.

✦ note: let’s all take a moment to appreciate pink eric bc i love pink eric sm— live laugh love pink ‘ric

also— *insert that one tweet where someone said they hope dry humping becomes the next pandemic*

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

“What should I put on?” Eric voices to you from the living room with the TV remote within his grasp, eyes scanning through the various movies and shows on you guys’ favorite streaming service.

“Put on our comfort movie!” you answer from the kitchen, putting away leftovers from tonight’s dinner.

He knows exactly what you mean, and so his fingers press on the respective buttons of the control, navigating to find said comfort movie to play.

Once it’s successfully playing, he parks his rear on the couch. He folds his arms back, elbows up and hands behind his head. His thighs instinctively spread out as he leans his head back on the sofa pillows, eyes fluttering closed due to the comfort of the cushions and full-belly from dinner that has left him satisfied.

Meanwhile, you quickly finish cleaning up and strut gleefully towards the couch. You meet with your boyfriend, his eyes still shut, looking so laid-back and madly handsome in his loungewear— light grey joggers and a black fitted tank top.

You don’t hesitate in taking a seat right next to him, plopping yourself over the cushion and bringing your knees to your chest, hugging them.

The couch dipping causes his left eye to open while his eyebrow on the same side raises, corners of his lips tugging upwards now that you’ve joined him.

“Tired?” you question.

“A little, but I still wanna hangout with you for a bit before bed.” his voice comes out in a slight lower pitch.

You hummed in response. His eyes fully absorb your curled-up figure. You’re wearing one of his t-shirts, and it’s big enough to swallow a decent portion of your body. When standing up, it covers your bottom. But in this current position you’re in, your (his) shirt has bunched up enough to give him a glimpse of your seamless cheeky boy shorts.

It was common for you to roam around the house like that. Short-shorts or panties with an oversized t-shirt.

Still, his heart— and even his dick— swelled with various intense feelings. Love tied with lust mainly. As much as he appreciated the effort you would put into dolling yourself up and enhancing your features from time to time, he appreciated just as much when you wore casual clothing.

Especially when it was his clothing. God, how could you look so cute and simultaneously sexy while wearing his t-shirt?

There was a sense of pride that raised his ego when you would dress in his clothing. You wearing his shirt may not seem like anything special to some. But to him, it was a subtle form of intimacy.

You were comfortable with being engulfed in his clothes, and he always insisted on sharing his clothes without hesitation. To the point where you would find yourself in his closet picking through his wardrobe, and even having favorites that you both knew all too well.

Endearment resides inside his heart seeing you so carefree in his shirt, all relaxed, cute, and comfy. There’s something about that loose t-shirt of his that has been imbued plenty of times with his deodorant, cologne, body wash, sweat, laundry detergent, etc., and you wearing it, choosing to be protected by his scent.

Each of your scents would mix together, and it just tied your bond closer. As well as how you felt so safe around him to walk around in your underwear or lazy attire. It was so vulnerable since you always dressed up otherwise— or felt self-conscious occasionally in public.

But with Eric, he was that special person that got to see all forms and sides of you. He was the lucky guy that you trusted beyond words, who you loved enough to be home-free snuggled up in his shirt.

It was beyond adorable seeing you snug like a bug in a rug like this. Though, he can’t help himself in getting the hots for you in his clothes, too.

His shirt over your body was a mark of territory. It was not only a gesture that embodied values of love and connection, but it was also very possessive in a way. It’s like you’re wrapping yourself in his love, and something that has also caressed his skin, now caresses yours.

It doesn’t help that you chose to pair his shirt with solely panties. And, you’re braless underneath.

Your current attire leaves room for his imagination to roam freely, thinking about your bare body underneath, and how you’re his sweet girl, looking so dainty in his shirt swallowing you.

Fuck. The dinner you two had left him stuffed, but you’re currently working up his appetite again. He has the urge to bite your cheeks and squeeze your body out of fondness, as well as kiss you until you’re breathless and feel you up shamelessly until you’re squirming and surrender to his touches.

Your eyes are currently trained on the screen, embracing your legs tightly while focused on one of your favorite scenes you’ve watched over a dozen times.

This makes him frown unconsciously, wondering why you didn’t immediately jump your bones on him as soon as you sat down on the couch. Your attention is caught elsewhere. I mean, you did want to watch a movie together. But you could at least be cuddled up in his arms. Why hug yourself when he’s right here?

You say something aloud to your boyfriend, but Eric doesn’t catch it, too busy sulking mentally at the fact that your body wasn’t close enough to be touching his own.

His lack of response makes your facial features shift into a concerned expression, looking over at him in question.

It is then that you see him appear a bit petulant. He doesn’t realize he’s pouting, brows slightly creased as he’s lost in his pettish, whiny thoughts.

Although his lip protrudes naturally, his lips are pushed forward more emphasized than usual. It makes him look rather cute, honestly. You have to push back your instinct to coo at him to instead, question what is the reason for that frowny look on his face.

“Eric? What’s wrong?” you query, perplexed by his down-looking appearance.

The ring of you saying his name hitting his ears gets him to perk up, features softening once he makes eye contact with you.

His heart is practically melting, and he can’t wait any longer to openly display his affection for you. He’s gonna take matters into his own hands.

“C’mere.” he motions with both his hands to come closer to him.

Your eyebrows raise in curiosity as you inch closer until your shoulders are basically touching, making that pout on his lips reappear once you stop since you deem that as close enough— but not in Eric’s mind.

He takes it upon himself to hoist you onto his lap, leaving you to panic at the sudden act.

“What— Eric! That tickles! What are you—”

“There we go.” he interrupts your frantic spouts of words. He spreads his legs enough to get you comfortable, adjusting your body to straddle him and holds you by the hips.

Heat blossoms in your cheeks and your body stiffens from being caught off guard, now seated right over your boyfriend.

Your arms immediately wrapped around his neck to keep yourself secure, and you felt a bit tensed-up.

Even though Eric loved getting handsy with you because you were too lovely to ignore, and you two have been dating for awhile now that you should be used to his impulsive urges of getting you onto his lap— for instance, it would get you all bashful.

Right now, you were conscious of your weight over his lap, hoping you didn’t make him feel uncomfortable in bearing your body in this sitting position. You also were mindful of any movement you could make, knowing you could accidentally hurt him or it be sensitive.

But he just smiled at you with a beautiful twinkle present in his eyes, pleased to be this intimate with you. Him wanting and guiding you on his lap is his display of physical affection and emotional connection towards you.

“Such a pretty baby over my lap, hm.” he speaks sweetly to you, which is second nature for him. He tucks a strand of loose hair that got in the way of your face, behind your ear to soak in your facial features with clarity while he cooed at you.

“Eric.” you whined and drew out his name with a shy chuckle. His eyes continued to scan all over your features, absorbing them admiringly, leaving you sheepish from the spotlight on you.

His staring initiates you to look away on impulse, but his movements are faster. Before you know it, his dominant hand grabs hold of your jaw gently, prompting your eyes and lips to widen slightly.

“Let me appreciate my girl, yeah?” he utters, beginning to thumb your cheek affectionately to ease you up.

His words continue to leave you flustered. Your tummy feels like butterflies are fluttering around wildly, and a spark of heat bursts all over your body.

A soft smile adorned his features, thumb still stroking your cheek. All that was in his mind was how you’re the prettiest girl in the world. Solely focused on how you’re dangerously close in proximity to him, engulfed in his scent.

Eric was such a flirt, always direct in showing you how he wants you. And although he liked toying with you for amusement, his actions were also because you were too seductive and irresistible to ignore.

He loved your cute reactions when he complimented you or touched you. He knows you also feel strongly for him, but you were just too shy sometimes to initiate touches, accept compliments, or even with simply maintaining eye contact.

“I like having you close like this.” he announces before chasing one of your cheeks with his lips, making your face scrunch up cutely from the incoming kiss as he dots his lips just over the apple of it.

You’re overwhelmed with various emotions that leave you feeling like mush from his lovey-dovey behavior. When he pulls back, his hands rub your sides soothingly through the fabric of your shirt, making you remember how your weight sat right over him.

“Are you comfy like this? I don’t wanna sit here for too long if—”

He cuts you off with a tsk, in disbelief that you’re even asking him that when he’s the one who pulled you over him.

“Always feels good when you’re in my arms. You rarely sit over me like this. Never wanna let you go.” he speaks lowly, reassuring that you’re fine just where you’re at by wrapping his hands fully around you. He engulfs you into a hug, his chin pressing against your shoulder, making your cheeks squish together.

One of his hands inches lower to your rear, cupping the area protectively, out of fondness.

Your beautiful form and scents right in front of him was such a rush and provided solace to his senses.

You felt the same way. This warm cuddle session was so heartening that your boyfriend cared about you. This moment of togetherness was peaceful, bringing you feelings of tranquility.

It felt good to be loved explicitly. Being indulged constantly with both physical and verbal reminders that Eric cherishes you.

You decide to reciprocate that reassuring physical affection by plopping your lips over his temple, allowing your lips to linger a bit atop his skin while strands of his hair tickled your nose.

The aroma of his hair care products hits your nostrils, making you hum, comforted by his signature scents.

You pull back soon to check out your boyfriend’s face. His face is sitting pretty with a grinning gaze written over him.

Taking advantage of this proximity, you inspect his features worshipfully.

His gleaming eyes blink at you curiously, eyeing the way your own pupils scan over him.

During your gawking, your mind and eyes appreciate all the handsome features of your lover: The small mole on his left waterline. His high nose bridge. The crescent-shaped scar next to the corner of his mouth on his right side. His full bottom lip. All of his details were exquisitely crafted, leaving a face that should have a portrait in The Louvre.

As beautiful of a person he is on the inside, his outside is equally as beautiful.

There’s silence for a minute or so as he allows you to stare at him. He wanted to bask in this moment of you eyeing him up close for a bit, since it was rare that you’d allow yourself to stare openly like this without growing shy quickly.

His mouth stretches into a sly smile, finding you so charming in this moment. It’s also gratifying watching the way you look at him. Almost like you’re in awe of him, so fixated on him.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” he cocks his head slightly back, still smiling.

You know he secretly finds this amusing, making you let out a small giggle, eyes shying away for a second before returning to him. Your left hand sinks its way into his scalp, threading through his pink strands with your fingers.

“You’re just so pretty. Really handsome, ‘ric.” you voice, face vibrant as you continue eyeing him.

Your words make Eric chuckle. He rubs your body tenderly, enjoying this moment of you candidly admitting aloud to him how attractive he is.

Of course, he already knows how you feel about him. But hearing it aloud makes him feel validated— especially when you specifically called him pretty.

Pretty is traditionally associated with femininity and daintiness, and so as a man, it wasn’t common to be complimented with that word.

But he loves it. It’s so flattering, plus soft and sweet. He wallows in you giving him the highest form of compliments. Hearing his girl praise him with honeyed words left his face glowing, cheeks beginning to blush slightly. You make him feel more beautiful and better about himself.

An endeared little grin stumbles over his features. He has to hold himself back from wanting to bite your delicate cheeks out of his own cute aggression towards you. So instead, he settles for a little teasing.

“Am I now?”

He decides to squeeze one of your sides, resulting in you doing your best in not squirming due to the tingly stir your core and skin feel from his playful touch.

A small noise leaves your throat, a mix between a giggle and whimper. It’s quick though, and you let out a scoff right after, shaking your head a bit.

“As if you don’t know.” you muttered.

“Tch,” he makes that sound in turn and licks his lips, “I love it when it comes from you, though.”

“It’s so sweet to hear that my baby finds me pretty.” he purrs. You don’t miss seeing his pupils lower to leer over your lips.

Your arms clutched more tightly around his neck, afraid you would turn into jelly and tumble over as a result of his flirtatious behavior.

It’s all getting to you: Your arms around his neck, clinging onto him. The conversations shared with your breath so closed to one another. Your body seated over his, lips and faces millimeters apart. Him referring to you as ‘his baby.’ The mere sound of his voice.

Eric is practically tempting and inviting you to love up on him. You want to communicate your intense romantic feelings for him without words. Your vision darts to his mouth, then up to meet his gaze. Desire coats your orbs, and Eric takes notice of it, as it’s mirroring his own.

“Gimmie kiss.” he pleads with that velvety voice of his.

Before you know it, your lips end up meeting with a soft, gentle caress.

Your lips brush together in a slow, tender rhythm. Each other’s noses graze past jointly, engrossed in chasing the familiar taste of one another.

Suddenly you’re hooked and spaced off Eric’s mouth moving in sync with your own. Your fingers card through his hair while his own hands still reside over your hips, smoothing over your clothed torso.

Bliss washes all over you. The loving touches and brushing of lips are extremely addicting, keeping you both to continue with your movements, kisses deepening.

Just a couple tastes of his lips has you aching for more. Listening to each other’s breathing and feeling your bodies pressed tightly together is like fuel to the fire growing inside of you.

Even more so when suddenly you feel something growing and growing underneath you— that something being your boyfriend’s cock.

You withdraw your lips from his with a smacking sound and a slight moan. This prompts Eric to open his eyes, looking worked-up from the hot embrace you’ve shared.

He hunts for your lips for more, but you don’t give him a chance to kiss you again. Instead, you attend to his jawline with your mouth, running fleeting kisses along the sharp profile.

That makes him stunned, swallowing hard with his eyes shutting once again, allowing you to move your lips affectionately over his skin.

Your hormones are getting to you. You had the instinct to drag your lips over his sensitive spots, letting him be praised for his existence with your mouth.

Your kisses pepper down along his neck, causing Eric to writhe underneath you and softly groan. Especially when you hit that sweet spot of his.

You can’t restrain from smiling when he angles his neck to give you better access, and feel him start to grip at your shirt.

Kissing his neck has him raging inside. He’s going feral for you with the way you’re seated over him, kissing one of the most sensitive parts of his body.

He can’t handle being sensually loved like this for too long without him wanting to reciprocate that same energy at a greater volume.

“Baby…” he groans, making you hum against his skin, pussy pulsing at the sound of his gravelly voice.

“Look at me.” he adds when you don’t stop.

That gets your attention, so you retreat from his neck.

You flip your hair back and your heart is pumping rapidly in anticipation once you meet his eyes. They look loaded with lust, and it’s definitely a fact when he leans suddenly into your neck, mouth latching onto your skin in an instant.

A gasp leaps from you when you feel your skin pulled slightly into his lips, trapping the area.

He starts sucking intensely, and then releases every now and then to scatter kisses all over.

He’s dominating you now. His mouth travels all across your neck, even grazing his teeth over one of your earlobes and tonguing at the flesh.

Your senses are heightened, majorly aroused from being attended to.

Lost in the feeling, your hands travel to his back, finding themselves creep underneath his black tank, nails pressing into his skin due to how hooked he’s got you.

One of his hands cradles the nape of your neck, keeping you firm to his liking. When his mouth lands on the front of your throat, the slight pressure he gives your skin with his teeth gets you all tingly all the way down south. It’s impulsive for you to shift and jerk your hips down into him while he abuses your neck eagerly.

Your reactions make Eric release a breathy laugh. He always gets a kick out of worshipping his girl. Delicate moans leave your mouth. Dirty, but delicate. Hearing your noises is such a treat, sweet to his senses.

His hard cock getting butted by your cute bum cheeks is tantalizing the fuck out of him. It’s getting too hot to handle, but he wants more of it.

And it also seems like you’re seeking for more.

“Wanna hump me? Is that what you want?” he rasps out, continuing to work deliberately in painting love bites on you.

When the smutty question hits your ears, you whimper from a combination of neediness and meekness. You’re sure a pink tint colors your cheeks.

His lips remove from your neck due to your lack of words, eyes immediately searching for yours.

You start gnawing on your lower lip, trying to hold back on any more whiny noises while he kneads your thighs and hips, only teasing you more.

“Tell me what you want and i’ll give it to you, princess. Whatever you want, I want it, too.” His eyes are soft, but still radiate a provocative, thirsty look.

“I want this… wanna rub against you, just like this.” you vocalized and blinked shyly. It’s undeniable that you’ve been possessed by the horny gods. And so, you painfully needed stimulation towards your cunt— with the help of your beautiful boyfriend who is the reason why you’ve gone horny.

He gives you a broad smile, proud and pleased to hear you verbalize what you want— even if he had to encourage you to do so.

One activity that is one of your absolute favorites is dry humping. It does great service for you as it’s effective stimulation. Rubbing over and over that golden area of your sex felt euphoric and gratifying. Especially if you were rubbing yourself over your boyfriend’s body parts, expressing how turned on he got you.

The build up, tension, setting the mood, and losing yourself in the craving for more was extremely addictive sexual gratification.

For Eric personally, watching you make yourself feel good and full of eagerness to satisfy your needs is a high better than any drug out there.

Although sometimes it leaves him sore for a bit, he’d do anything to hear and see you sexually worked up. It also was like heaven for him, feeling his pretty girl wildly fuck herself over his crotch, allowing each of your bottoms to become marinated in lubrication and precum. It’s so dirty but hot.

His hands travel underneath your shirt, fingers roaming over your bare sides and middle. That causes you to suck in a breath, feeling ticklish to the direct skin contact for a second before you’re inflamed to squeeze your cunt against his bulge.

“Raise ‘em up for me, baby.” he instructs.

And you know the drill, raising your arms gleefully and allowing him to uncover your torso.

He readily removes and tosses your shirt to the ground. Your breasts sit bare now, staring directly at Eric.

His mouth is practically watering at the sight. He loves when you put on his clothes, but he also loves when you take it off to unveil your precious body. Bonus points if he’s the one taking it off you, just like right now.

“So beautiful.” he murmurs, so mesmerized.

Your pussy flutters from the flattery. You’re even more heated sexually and from your cheeks now that your upper body is naked.

Eric attempts to put his hand on one of your mounds, but you stop him with your own before he even has the chance, much to his dismay.

A confused expression is present on his face until you position his arms upwards, indicating that you wanted him to remove his top as well before you two got into it.

“Your turn.” you say cheekily, your boyfriend smirking in exchange and permits you to remove his shirt for him.

And so it’s off swiftly, upper body bare with a glimpse of his Calvin briefs, waistband visible.

“How the fuck are you so hot, Eric?” you practically moan out shamelessly, letting your hands explore his biceps and eyes to wander fervidly around his abdomen. His muscles flex as your hands and eyes roam over him, face smug.

“So vocal with praising me today.” Such a sweet girl.” his hands rub your thigh and the small of your back gingerly, tickled pink from your verbal and physical reactions to him.

He makes every inch of you tingle. You knead at his biceps intimately, touching him to show your cosmic appreciation and attraction for him.

Now that you’re both topless, he reaches towards your chest, not being stopped this time. You allow him to grab hold of your tits. His hands fondle and slightly bounce your breasts within his grapple.

“Love holding my girls.” he breathes out, relishing in how they hung and sat in his palms.

You continue to grip onto his arms as he touches your sensitive breasts, pussy pulsing from pleasure and desire.

You rut your clothed sex down into his crotch, sex aching for stimulation.

The delicious weight of you on top of his throbbing cock has him sighing wistfully. He needs more of you, and so, he encircles one of your nipples with his mouth, suckling gently, which makes you shakily breathe out and arch up into him.

You reposition your arms to wrap around his neck, keeping him close and steady.

His mouth persists in showing his full admiration to the beauty you possess with his lips and tongue, making shapes and sucking with intent.

He has you rocking your hips and dragging your core uncontrollably. You’re becoming cross-faded from his vigorous attention to your tits and off the nice feeling of his boner pressing against you.

You tug at his hair, displaying how strung-out he’s got you. It makes him growl while he’s busy stuffing his mouth with your chest.

He takes you pulling his hair as an invitation to advance back to your lips.

He rises from your breasts, searching for your mouth and locks his lips with your own fiercely.

The way he kisses you is ardent, and you don’t miss a beat in kissing him back with the same urgency.

“Mmmphh…” you whimpered as he slips his tongue in and brushes it against your own. You take every move he gives you well, reciprocating that same energy.

Your hand made a fist into his hair, fingers clutching hard and stimulating his scalp, too caught up in the way his lips stroked and engulfed yours.

He responds to your thrilling grasp with a slight-little tug on your bottom lip. You persist with your grinding as you two share wild and unrestrained kisses. The pain-mixed-pleasure from his nibbles and hard cock prodding your aching pussy has you in utter ecstasy.

Eric is equally as overwhelmed in excitement. He starts to push his hips up to meet your movements, then is greeted by your lips parting from his own, hushed gasps releasing from you as a result.

The reaction from you gets him to smirk, seeing you all stupefied just from his clothed cock knocking into your clothed pussy.

After a couple gasps, you attempt to revert back to his lips again but he dodges you, too amused in seeing how worked up you’ve become.

You try to kiss him again and he only allows each of your lips to faintly graze together before ripping himself away.

“Stop teasing me.” you whined breathlessly, still trying to plant your lips over his but he continues to give you nothing. He only allows your features to sweep lightly.

He grins mischievously, too struck on the pouted look on your face. It’s adorable seeing you get so riled up. He couldn’t help it. You were so fun to play with.

Though, it’s funny until your ruts into his manhood grow stronger. Your frustration has you increasing the downward thrust of your pelvis, making Eric groan and shut his eyes instantaneously.

You whimper pathetically while you grind and bounce into him. Eric bites his lip and his hands start to grip at your hips, swamped in how the friction applied is too divine for his cock.

While straddling him, you’re free to control the speed and intensity of your motions. You’ve got this animalistic desire to satisfy your moist, hot pussy and get you and your boyfriend off.

Something about fucking into him with clothed bottoms, no penetration, and greedy humps is beyond intimate, filthy, and desperate. It fueled you with passion, love, and lust for him.

Pants and moans exchange galore, and you’re still grinding down enthusiastically, all frenzied trying to reach climax. Though, Eric doesn’t want you going too hard in this position. Usually he’s the one being dominant, and he doesn’t want you to hurt yourself like this even if it feels good.

“Fuck, babe… Easy girl., easy.” he breathes, getting you to slow down and halt your movements.

With heavy breaths and mewls, you do stop and he finally gives you the kisses he withheld from you as a reward. You happily kiss him, clutching onto him like you never want to let go.

“Lie on your back for me, princess. I’ll make you cum, don’t worry.” he mumbles over your lips, sending sparks to your cunt.

And so you do as told, sadly separating from his lap but ready for whatever new pleasure he was about to give you. You lie back on the couch, looking at him from a new angle.

Eric then starts to tug off his joggers, now leaving you both in just your underwear.

Your eyes are heavy lidded, and your hands and legs roam promiscuously, waiting for his next move within the couple seconds he takes.

Your breath is stuck in your throat when he leans down over your body, now caged by him.

Your heart’s simultaneously beating rapidly and swimming in passion when he leans his lips towards your nose, pressing his lips against the tip of it.

His cutesy gesture is soothing and has you smiling fondly. It distracts you from this spicy position you’re in for only a tiny moment. In a flash, his manhood and hips push into you, making you moan loudly at the feeling.

Eric moans alongside you. With his pants off, you can feel his manhood better. The thinner the barrier, the stronger the sensation.

He quickly falls into a rhythm while humping into you. Eric has always had better stamina and energy than you. Straddling him and having you uber close in his lap is utterly perfect, but desperately bucking into you missionary style is also amazing.

Getting to control the pace and seeing you underneath him and vice versa felt so primal. He can’t abstain from diving into your neck to start marking you up some more. Fine bites and kisses are scattered across the skin he’s able to reach, still rocking himself into you.

It’s all so dizzying. It’s hard to think coherently when surrendering to his lusty affection. Your body feels inexplicably good like this. All you can do is weakly pant and mewl, inherently arching your back.

His hips rock and slide against yours in gushing lust. Rutting into you in this angle has his manhood roaring with ferocity. His movements provide pleasurable pressure against your clit and better direct sensations across your entire sex.

The strokes of his clothed shaft and head against your panty-covered pussy is delectable. A wet patch formed on Eric’s briefs where he strained against the material, and your panties were also past damp. Your soaked underwear mingled with his own, providing such a beautiful sensation.

Watching your boyfriend rub into you and listening to his ragged breaths is driving you crazy. Not to mention the obvious clit-centric pleasure you’re receiving.

The more he humps into you and drops kisses over your face, lips, and tits, the more tense you become.

You feel your muscles starting to contract involuntarily. You’re flushed all over and there’s a concentrated sensation in your groin.

“Eric…” you breathlessly warn, knowing you’re on the verge of cumming in your panties.

And he too knows immediately and gets the hint. He wants you to release freely and not ruin your underwear with your fluids more than already is.

So he inches down and you raise your hips, allowing him to pull down and off your saturated bottoms.

You jolt as he unexpectedly dives his face into your pussy without warning. I mean— you should’ve known he would start eating you out to finish you off. Your man was a munch.

He messily kisses your wet cunt. His hands keep your legs spread open while he starts lapping and sweeping his tongue into every inch of your pussy possible.

“Oh fuck, Eric!” you cry a high pitched moan, face contorted from his wet muscle gladly screwing your cunt.

He grunts raveningly as he slurps at your folds and wetness, not hiding from making noise to show you how prized your pussy is to him.

It’s all toe curling, and your eyes are practically watering from how good he’s making you feel.

It hits you hard when his tongue lands on your clit, licking your swollen nub and eventually sucking on it.

“Oh my god, Eric! Eric!” you cry out again, hands finding themselves in his hair and holding on for dear life. His hold on your legs tightens while he keeps toying with your nub, ready for you to cum on his face any second now.

You spout various sounds as your core snaps and it’s pulsing, clear fluid finally flowing out.

He’s still tending to your clit when you burst, his chin and mouth glistening wet with your secretions. Your legs are basically numb, body trembling and muscles still contracting.

“That’s it, baby! That’s my girl.” he heaves out a praise, pulling away from your sensitive clit to sweetly kiss one of your thighs for being so wonderful.

Within seconds though, his mouth is back on your sex, lathering his tongue with your juices.

He avariciously drinks up his honey, cleaning you up real good. Meanwhile, you’re whimpering weakly, lightheaded post-orgasm. You let him lick your fluids, eventually whining repeatedly when it becomes too much and you realize how sensitive you’ve become to where it’s torturous for him to keep messing with your cunt.

Your whines wake him up from his pussy daze and he backs off. At then he is aware again of how awfully hard his throbbing cock is, begging for relief under his briefs.

You each are trying to catch your breaths. You’re lying limp while Eric can’t seem to ignore his bulging veins and the heaviness between his legs.

“Can you help me cum, princess?” he voices desperately with pleading eyes.

You’ve grown weary now that you’ve been satisfied but you can’t ignore your poor, sweet boyfriend, who has yet to cum himself. He needed some help, and you were going to give it to him.

You pull your right arm up, gesturing that you needed help to sit up. You weakly smile as he carefully pulls you up, groaning quietly as a result of your sore and swollen bare pussy.

A hand of yours creeps over one of his thighs, patting him compassionately while he begins to caress the small of your back.

You make him suck in a breath and then grunt when you redirect your hand to start massaging his stained, damp crotch.

“I bet it hurts, doesn’t it?” you pouted teasingly, enjoying the way he’s trying to control himself under your touch.

“Let me fuck your hand— please.” he airily moans, beginning to jerk into your palm.

Always impatient, you think to yourself. You can’t blame him though. Teasing and waiting for stimulation was always excruciating. He deserved what he wanted after helping you cum like the good boyfriend he is.

Your fingers move to tug at his underwear, and he promptly adjusts his position to remove them fully. His cock immediately slaps up against his abdomen, making him sigh out from his manhood finally being free.

The sight of his rosy cock has your pussy tingling for the nth time today. You can’t even get a word out before he reaches for your dominant hand and guides it to his cock.

You both gasp in chorus when your hand wrapped around his grips at his manhood. His hand doesn’t detach. Instead, he guides your hand slowly up and down his shaft.

Your lips part as you feel the warmth of his cock radiating from all the blood rushing within it. A breathy laugh comes out of Eric, causing you to dart your gaze up to look at him. The tip of his tongue sticks out from the corner of his mouth, luxuriating in the sensation of your soft, slightly smaller hand jacking him off.

Despite you knowing how to give him a hand job well on your own, he still keeps his hand over yours. Something about holding and guiding your hand while you touched his private parts was such a turn-on. It was indeed intimate, and only connected you two more. He refused to let go of you.

“Feels so fuckin’ good, babe.” he rasps.

Hearing his low voice, seeing him all weak and vulnerable, and touching his cock has you squeezing your cunt. Aiding him in masturbating is so yummy. He was fully naked in front of you with his pink hair, pink cheeks, and pink cock. God bless Eric and his beautiful form. You are beyond lucky to be here with him, and the only person that gets to do this to him.

“So hot and pretty for me.” you worshiped, squeezing his cock just a bit more, which gets him to moan loudly, harmonic to your ears. You love that he is always so vocal.

Your strokes are gentle and hard throughout. Both of you have your mouths dumbly ajar, moaning while your fists moved up and down together.

It doesn’t take long for the pace to build up, jerking him relentlessly. He’s panting nonstop, and you decide to add more stimulation onto him by using your free hand to grab his balls.

That’s the ticket for him. He hisses and calls out your name brokenly. You cup them, rubbing them and gently massaging his weighty sac. Your other hand continues to jerk him with his hand still steering yours. Getting his cock rubbed by his girl fully naked is sending him straight to heaven; he can’t seem to calm down.

“Cum for me, Eric. Wanna make my pretty boy cum. Need it.” you egg him on with your sweet voice begging. You even start to thumb at the looser skin of his sac between the balls, playfully tugging at it.

He throws his head back and moans harshly at that, followed by whiny whimpers. “Fucking hell, Y/n!” he pants.

You continue to encourage and coo at him to let it all out. When he finally can’t take it anymore and he’s ready to blow, he removes your hand from his shaft rather madly, and then he starts jacking off by himself to begin pumping out his seed.

Since he was face-deep in your pussy when you came, you believe you should return the favor by allowing him to cum all over your face, too. Plus, you knew he loathed when his orgasms didn’t involve cumming on or in you.

You stick your tongue out gladly, your eyes seductive and inviting him to make a mess out of you.

He looks at you and you’re the definition of a real-life fantasy. He can’t believe that you’re real, presenting yourself like this behind closed doors.

The tightening, tickling, and tingling sensation that rises from his balls and through his cock, finally catches up to him. He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he rolls his eyes back, releasing and squeezing his cock head to shoot several ropes of hot cum all over your face.

A gasp jumps out of you when you at last feel his seed land on you, eyes shutting instantly. Your tongue stays out, graciously humming and accepting whatever you can catch, swallowing it proudly.

Some of his viscous substance lands on your cheeks, forehead, and even your hair. Your heart’s racing at the feeling of being splattered with cum, eyes squinting open to catch a glimpse of his post-orgasm expression.

He grunts until he gets every drop out, sighing out when he’s reached empty. As he recovers, he’s breathing heavily, eyeing your gorgeous face he made a mess out of while he regains his composure.

His fingers then come forward to collect the cum that missed your tongue to redirect it all in your mouth. You allow him to feed you his essence, sucking and licking his fingers eagerly, puppy-eyed while you stare at him, making him bite his lip with a smirk.

“You’re such a good girl for me, baby. Fucking hell.” he manages to speak after his powerful release, removing his fingers and pulling you into his lap once again for a kiss.

Your naked bodies press and rest together while you kiss one another warmly. The lovely, mellow kisses leave you each relaxed, comforting one another after smutty doings.

Once you two separate lips, he kisses all over your face a couple times, making you happy to be loved like this.

Your hands smooth over his chest, noticing it blushing red after cumming.

“You okay?” Eric asks gently, snuggling you in his arms.

You nod at his chest. “I should be asking you that. You were having the time of your life, huh?” you snickered.

“Says the one who started humping the fuck out of me. Such a horny girl.” he pinched at one of your sides playfully, getting you to yelp and squirm from the ticklish feeling.

You grasped his wrist so he can instead hold your hand. Your hands clasped together, giving his own a gentle squeeze.

“Learned it from the master himself.” you mumble, getting Eric to chuckle.

“Man, we’re both nasty.” he whistles, caressing your spine with his free hand.

You laugh and leave a kiss on his chest, then squeeze yourself into him, taking advantage of the current proximity, allowing him to hold you tight.

“Wouldn’t wanna get nasty with anyone else.”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

[bratbarzal]

you said i could send multiple requests and you wouldn’t block me

could you do roommate (or neighbour) nico with ³⁾ “i’m guessing that the fact you’re already home will tell me everything i need to know about how your date went.”

✩‧₊˚ bratbarzal's valentines event!˚₊‧✩

“i’m guessing that the fact you’re already home will tell me everything i need to know about how your date went.” with neighbour!nico!!!!! bc of course neighbour nico joins your boozy galentines, wears pink fluffy cowboy hats and sings horrific karaoke duets with you. why wouldn't he? not to toot my own horn (again) but beep beep this is a dream that I have had since lunch and I am not giving up on it now.

“I’m guessing that the fact you’re already home will tell me everything I need to know about how your date went.”

You're locking up your apartment when Nico emerges from the elevator down the hall, shoulders slumped and face downcast as he trudges over to his door.

You'd seen him when you got home from work, earlier - dressed in a dinner jacket, hair all styled, shirt tucked neat - and he had told you he had a date. On Valentines Day.

And yeah, your heart had pretty much plummeted to the very core of the earth, but at the very least, you got to see him looking so good - a vision to store in your memory bank for a rainy day, when you're thinking too hard about how close he is, just across the hall, but so far away, only being your neighbour, and all.

And that was only an hour ago. Just enough time to get ready, yourself. Hair curled all nice, makeup done - the sexiest outfit you could possibly throw together, because it's girls night, and you deserve to feel your best.

A good date doesn't last an hour. Doesn't end up with a guy slumping home, hair all mussed from running his hands through it, jacket slung over his arm and his heart crushed into pieces.

"Got stood up," he huffs, reaching into his pocket for his keys, "Said she didn't realise I was a hockey player, and didn't think I had the brain cells to hold a serious, thoughtful conversation for a few hours."

"Ouch," you frown, feeling anger more than pity - because, wow, what a bitch!

"You look nice, though," he throws out the compliment almost as an aside, but you can tell by the way his eyes linger that he means it - fixated on the spot where your skirt ends and meets bare thigh. You're probably gonna freeze, but you're going to get some great pictures for your Hinge profile, so does it really matter? "Didn't realise you had plans."

"Going out with the girls," you tell him, "Galentines, 'cause we're all single this year."

He nods, his gaze trailing back up your body until your eyes meet, torturously slow, only enhanced by the darkened colour of his irises. "Have a good night."

"You should come," you tell him without thinking better of it - hypnotised by the low, sexy tone of his voice. It goes straight through you - almost takes control of you like a puppet on a string.

"I'm not a gal," he frowns, although he makes no move to go into his apartment.

"You're single, though," you shrug, "I don't think they'll be too fussy on the criteria once we get a few drinks in."

"Are you sure your friends won't mind?" he asks, eyebrow wiggling and head tilting in the adorable way it so often does.

You press your lips together as if you're rethinking it, casting your eyes slowly down his figure - broad shoulders, big arms practically bulging through his shirt, slacks clinging to his thick thighs for dear life. Your friends will have the time of their lives with this.

"Considering a night out only won the vote for what to do by fine margins, I think they'll be okay with it." You smile, knowingly, nodding toward the elevator, "C'mon, we don't want to be late."

"I don't get what that means, what came second?"

"Magic Mike." You smirk as you walk backwards, reaching to press the button and laughing when his jaw drops. "You take your shirt off later and we'll be golden."

The poor guy has no idea what he's in for.

--

Your girlfriends don't mind when you and Nico meet them at the bar, not once you've introduced him - his name not ringing a bell until you mention he's from the apartment next door, and you see the flash of recognition wash through them almost like cascading dominoes, knocking each other over one by one.

They don't know him as Nico, he's much more fondly referred to in your group chat as sexy neighbour, after all.

You've only been telling them about him for the past 18 months you've lived across the hall - regaling them with stories of bulging muscles carrying grocery bags for you, compression shirts sticking to him when he comes back from the gym, and the one time the fire alarm went off in summer, and he hadn't thought to put a shirt on when you met out the back of the building.

Yeah, sexy neighbour is pretty much a celebrity in your friend group.

They welcome him with open arms, and the night evolves, as they so often do in your friend group, in highly chaotic fashion.

It starts with a round of shots, because of course it does. The bar is rowdy, the music loud, and those tiny little glasses of you-don't-even-want-to-know-what loosen lips all around. Nico picks up on the dynamic of your group pretty quickly, shifting the shyness he had walked into the establishment with and charming them all with that same dimpled smile he got you hooked on the day you met.

Shots turn into drinking games - chugging cocktails, taking on dares, spilling secrets, and you learn so much about Nico that you would never have known otherwise, so much that you would never have had the guts to ask.

Drinking turns to dancing, which starts in a crowd on the floor, bodies all smushed together, and ends up on tables, Nico by your side the whole time, hooking an arm around your waist so that you don't fall.

You end up bar-hopping to an extent, the second place you go being a little quieter, and you're all way too drunk to stay, so you end up at the karaoke joint further down the street.

Your friends all pick the girls night classics, Man I Feel Like A Woman, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun and there's even a full dance intermission for three of your friends to perform Single Ladies.

You all end up adorning fluffy pink cowgirl hats from god knows where, fluffy feather boas slung from your shoulders, and Nico is suddenly grabbing your hand, dragging you on stage, and handing you a mic before you're fully aware what's going on.

But by then you're too drunk to care, belting What Makes You Beautiful at the top of your lungs with him, still conscious enough to blush when he directs the lyrics towards you - as out of key and awful as they may sound.

And you don't know what happens between that and ending up at the club, bass thumping in your ears, blood pumping, skin sweating, and your back is pressed against his chest. You can still see flashes of feathers in your peripheral, your friends close by, but you can't really focus on anything else.

Anything other than the heat of Mr Sexy Neighbour, himself, flush against you, one of his hands holding yours to keep you steady, the other in the dip of your waist, and his breath warm on your bare neck. You lean into him more than you probably should - more than the sober you of tomorrow will be comfortable with, when you're bumping into him again and unable to look into those pretty eyes - and he leans in right back, nose at the junction where your jaw and ear meets, lips flush against your skin, where you hear him mutter, "I should get you home."

You nod, because what are you supposed to do, speak? With him looking at you like that?

Fat chance of that happening.

And he takes your hand in a firm, clammy grip, doing the rounds between those friends that still remain - the ones he hasn't had a chance to personally see off into a cab - telling them to text him if they need help getting home, and to text you when they eventually make it there.

He guides you practically the whole way home - helps bundle you into the back of a cab, buckling you in for safety and sitting in the middle, where you can lean on him with a heavy head, and your hand in his the whole way.

He throws an arm around you to help you stumble your way through the lobby of your apartment building, holding you up in the elevator and pressing the button for your shared floor. And then he props you up beside your front door, taking your keys from your purse and unlocking the door for you as you watch him with a tired but focused gaze.

God, you want him.

Is the world really so cruel that he would never want you back?

When he finally tries the right key and pushes the door open, he looks over at you, a heated gaze assessing if you're fit enough to send in on your own, and you imagine it's the way you blink slowly at him that tells him you're not.

You were just admiring him, really - your buzz wearing off, and the stumbles added for dramatic effect so that he wouldn't stop touching you - but he doesn't need to know that.

He makes a come here motion with grabby hands, and you practically launch yourself back into his arms, him accepting you with an amused smile as he walks you into your apartment, throwing your purse onto your counter and leaving your keys on the side.

You tug a little to steer him down the hall - in the direction of your bedroom, because if he's gonna play white knight, he may as well go the whole way.

"I had fun tonight," you tell him once he's dropped you off onto the safety of your bed, the bouncing motion only making you slightly dizzy again as you watch him stand before you, hands on his hips. "I don't want to say I'm glad you got stood up, but-,"

"I had fun, too." He tells you, dark eyes landing straight on yours as he slowly lowers, dropping to his knees in front of you and reaching for your leg. He starts unzipping your boots for you, and you watch him with what you can only assume are hearts in your eyes, a slow, dreamy sigh wracking through you.

"Wish I got to see you with your shirt off."

He laughs, in a way that makes his eyes crinkle in the corners and his shoulders shake - genuine amusement flooding through him as he looks back up at you, the angle straight up sinful and sobering.

He holds your other leg behind the knee, large hand warm against your bare skin, and slides your other boot teasingly slow - your gazes locked for the whole manoeuvre - his hand following down your leg until he discards both boots to the side.

He stays down there, kneeling in front of you, staring up at you with the prettiest eyes you've ever seen - a flush to his cheeks and a million thoughts racing through his brain.

You lean forward before you can think, and he meets you half-way in a kiss that's slow - sensual and pressured, firm and assuring - the taste of tequila on his tongue as it swipes against yours, which no doubt tastes the same.

He's the first to pull back, but it isn't all the way - just until your lips smack apart, his nose still pressed to yours as he avoids your chasing with a big grin.

"You're drunk."

"Don't care, wanna kiss you." You just about manage to catch him before he pulls back again.

"Not like this."

And then the touch of him is gone, the bump of his nose and the press of his forehead to yours disappearing in a way that makes you pout.

The way he kisses you again is quick - too quick to react, really - before he retreats again.

"You know where to knock when you're sober."

You let out a groan as you watch him leave, unashamedly watching his ass as he goes, eyes still lingering when he stops at your door and catches you with a knowing smirk.

"Happy Valentines Day, sexy neighbour."

[loganlermanstanaccount]

hear me out..what abt u and miguel in a hotub trying to hide that fact that you guys are literally screwing eachother in front of the others🤭🤭and he’s talking u through it..whispering in ur ear..telling u to be quiet while he’s literally roaming his hands all over u! 😋😋

this is a leeetle bit funny to me bc in real life, sex is the last thing i'd wanna do in a hot tub. But for Miguel..... 😍😍

Wandering Hands

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: Husband!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary: You're on a trip away with your husband, Miguel. He gets handsy. (Hot tub sex + Husband!Miguel)

warnings: 18+ , fingering, p in v, instructional, Miguel talks you through it, teeny tiny bit of f!dom, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, very very sappy. Minors DNI

a/n: this is disgustingly sappy and cheesy at some points - I kinda have to apologise in advance. I've had a rough week lmao

very big thank you to my beta reader @tianyhi <33

wc: 2.7k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wandering hands: Miguel has wandering hands. 

It's your anniversary, and that's the thought you're left with as he kneads your thigh, eyes low at a fancy resort. A resort you practically dragged him to, mind you.  He's a workhorse; absorbed in his job and everything that comes with it. Your husband; diligent and devoted, as always; he needed a break. Somewhere hot, somewhere expensive. It’s what he deserved. And whilst he would never take the initiative to book one for himself, isn't that what a wonderful SO was there for?

To his credit, he's been 'unplugged' since the moment you got here - putting away his work laptop and ignoring all the calls he'd get from overbearing clients. His sole focus for this whole week is you; and he's made that abundantly clear. The lingering looks, gentle touches: everything about him screams love and warmth. And he's all yours - a fact that still sends you spiralling, every now and then. All yours. 

"You're not paying attention, cariño." He says under his breath, swirling the wine under his nose like the man in front of him. 

You're both at a wine tasting, like sophisticated adults (...who had made fun of the idea on the way over). Miguel's wearing pressed trousers that hang on his frame just right, and a tank top underneath an open button-up. The peek of flesh makes you hot under the collar like a Victorian housewife, and you flush when you realise you're staring. Miguel pinches your cheek with a laugh, soothing it with a simple kiss. 

Huffing, you take a sip of the expensive wine without thinking. There’s a gasp from the sommelier, and the small group turns to look at you. Your face heats up when you realise what you’ve done - shirking from the pack of eyes silent with sharp critique. A man beside you taps your shoulder with a slimy smile. 

“Miss, that’s a 1978 Monfortino. It probably costs more than your rent.” 

“...I thought this was a wine tasting. So eventually, we have to… taste. The wine.” Miguel chuckles into his drink, squeezing at your waist. You make a fair point.

The man laughs, smug. “With all due respect, it’s an experience of the senses… maybe this is your first time somewhere with this kind of price tag, but it’s quite rude to-”

Miguel clears his throat, flashing a disarming smile at the man to your side. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, with a dangerous veneer you’ve seen before. The smile he gives before closing a big deal at work, calculated and shiny – when he smells blood in the water. 

“With all due respect, watch your fucking tone.” 

His face drops just as quickly, and he downs the rest of his wine, standing up - hand outstretched to take you with him. Gladly, you follow, click-clacking in your heels and little dress; hand tight around his.

“...Pinche idiota…vete a la verga…smug little-” It’s under his breath, but his intensity makes you giggle. 

In the elevator up to your room, he stews, brow creased in little furrows. A force of habit, he pulls you closer, tucking away a stray strand of hair. With a smile, you knead his temples, smoothing the creases. He visibly softens and leans into your touch.

“You’re on vacation, Miguel. Relax, baby.” 

“S’not that simple.” He grumbles, but chases your lips with his own, regardless.

Defiant, you move at the last moment, chin up in the air.

“No, I’m being serious.” He snakes a hand to your ass, dancing over the hem of your dress. 

"I could think of a few ways to decompress, if you're up for it…" Voice low and silky, want pools at the base of your stomach. 

"Miguelito, the bedroom voice doesn't work on me, anymore." You slather on the charm, batting your eyelashes in a way that makes him laugh. He rolls his eyes. 

"Let's do something. I think…I think the spa's still open? We could get a massage-" 

"I don't want a massage unless it's you, baby."

"...or go to the sauna-"

"Didn't pack the right clothes, m'afraid."

"God, don't be mean." It's your turn to roll your eyes. And you whack at his chest, admonishing him gently. "What about the hot tubs?"

He turns his head to the side as if he's deep in thought. Pondering, weighing up the options; when really, the only thought in his head was you in a tiny bikini. 

"If you insist, cariño." 

~~~

The spa isn't too far from your hotel, a stone's throw from the beach. You walk with Miguel in the pleasant evening heat, flip-flops and cover ups light on your back. 

There at the back, open air, behind rows of beach houses and overlooking the sea. You settle into the tubs, each one sectioned by wooden slats and climbing plants - not visible from the main spa, but not completely closed off, either. You can still hear the quiet buzz of other people, although it's not too full this late in the day. 

You slip the light fabric onto the floor, and step out of the cover-up. Miguel, already in the water, watches the light ripple off of your skin. You don't catch him staring, but you feel it. His gaze is heavy as he drinks it in; you are dappled and gorgeous, and his heart is full. You slip in, shuffling up close to him in the dull thrum of the water jets. 

Eyes closed, you rest your head on his shoulder. "You're staring." 

"Yeah." It's so soft, said in the press of warm bodies, that you almost don't hear it. Playfully, he flicks your forehead - in that little triangle between your eyebrows that appears when you're resting. It's cute, he thinks. "...you got a problem with that?"

Laughing, you shake your head. "It's not too much?" 

He moves closer to you, hands on your hips and mouth pressing soft kisses into your neck. 

"The trip, I mean. It was a little last minute, and there was that thing with our passports…" You sigh, turning towards him, hand on his chest to stop him. "I just thought you needed a break. And I know this isn't usually your thing, but I want you to enjoy yourself. If you're not, let me know, and I'll book the first plane out of here, I promise." 

You're looking up at him, clearly worried, and his heart breaks. It's almost as if you've forgotten that an anniversary entails both people, together as one. The truth is, as long as he's with you, and you're having a good time… 

"Doesn't matter where we go, cariño. I'm right where I need to be if I'm with you." He says it like a statement - so matter-of-factly it makes your head spin. Because, you suppose, to him it was a ubiquitous truth: that in every universe, every iteration, the both of you belonged together. What would sound over the top or cheesy coming from someone else, is made so simple by Miguel. A fundamental truth: his home, his happiness, his heartaches and highest highs, were with you, and you alone. 

"Promise me."

"Hand on my heart, baby." He places a palm that spans the crest of his ribcage. "...I promise."

He guides you onto his lap, so your back presses to his. His kisses are so light and airy, you don't notice how his hand creeps towards your thigh and the gentle movement of his hips under yours. 

"You always take care of me," His hand snaps the band of your bikini bottoms, making you writhe on his lap. "Let me return the favour. Relax, cariño."

You nod, gently, eyes blown when you realise what exactly that means. Miguel's large palms dance over your tummy, pinching at the flesh to make you laugh; and then down to your thighs, to paw at them. He shifts, directing you over the jet by the base of the seat, and there is delicious pressure at your clit. 

He cups your pussy under the foam of the water, ripping a heady moan of which you try to subdue. You lean into it: the hand that's now migrated into your bikini, the rock of his hips, and the hickeys he sucks into skin. Coupled with the fact you were in public, he brings you to climax quicker than even he expected. You were so needy, everything about your body telling him you wanted more - needed more. He presses the pad of his finger over your clit, barely there, and you claw at his arms under the water. 

"More?" He coos, dulcet tones brushing the shell of your ear. "Pórtate bien,  okay?" 

So lost in your haze, you don't register the steady padding of a pair of people coming towards you, behind the wooden divider. A head pops over, and you still his wandering hands. 

"Oh, there y'all are!" You see the bronzed face of Jess and her husband, a couple you had met during the trip. She bounces towards you both with dizzying accuracy, donned in a bright swimsuit and sheer cover up around her waist. Her husband is quieter, opting for a nod to Miguel, behind you. 

"Can we join you? Hope we aren't interrupting anything."

Miguel meets your eyes. 

"Is it okay?" He says, a thousand words said in your exchange. We don't have to do anything, it's up to you.

"It's fine," You breathe and then louder, to Jess. "It's fine."

He kisses your forehead and squeezes you closer, shifting so you feel his growing length under his shorts. An action that would seem innocent to a passer-by but below the surface… 

He starts off slow, imperceptible movements as he strokes your clit. It makes you impatient, irritated that he had the audacity to start something he couldn't finish. Or, wouldn't, rather. You make lazy conversation with Jess and her husband; innocuous little things that barely take your mind off of Miguel behind you. 

Some time goes by, and he's somewhat conservative – hand pressed against your pussy like his fingers were made for you. You get used to the pressure, as Jess talks about her day.

"...they're having a sale, as well! We're gonna go back there tomorrow, because, God, there were these earrings that I couldn't take my eyes off of, real gold, and only-" 

"Fuck!" He slips two fingers in, without warning, sinking to the knuckle as your little hole adjusts. Jess pauses, a little confused. 

"I was just…" He scissors them ever so slightly, enjoying watching you squirm. "...t-thinking about how great that deal was. Like… fuck! Real gold!" 

Internally, you wince, hoping she buys it. Jess isn't stupid, but you don't think she knows you well enough to notice your husband fingering you in a hot tub. You hope. 

"Right." She gives you the benefit of the doubt. "Not gold-plated, real gold."

You nod, hoping the foam from the jets is hiding the way you rock into Miguels' fingers. They feel good, curling up into you at that spongy spot he knows too well. 

"There's a good food spot, by the boardwalk. I think they do…" She turns to her husband, who has an arm draped around her. 

"Pasta, baby."

"Pasta! Yes, of course. We had a gorgeous meal and they served mussels, with the dish you were on about, before."

A beat. And then another. There’s a pregnant pause, before Miguel nudges you gently. "Yeah, sorry. It was the… garlick-y… one that had, um…"

You can't concentrate, against his wide torso, his hands between your legs: your brain goes fuzzy. You catch a smile tugging at his lips; and you almost scream. It's cruel, and all he can do is laugh. 

"Miguel's more interested in that stuff, m'afraid." You give her a weak smile, and Miguel rewards you with a thumb to your clit. 

It takes you everything not to jump at the pleasure that rocks your core; and you clamp a hand to his thigh. You make eye contact and he smiles; the smug fuck; gently chattering on with Jess about your trip to a local market, the other day. He's as casual as can be, and seemingly unaffected. 

You try your hardest to nod and smile where necessary; giving simple answers that wouldn't require much thought. In the cool night air, the conversation is pleasant enough, but your husband insists on stretching out your orgasm – watching for the tell-tale signs and pulling away. It's a game of cat and mouse; and whilst you just want to get off, Miguel takes pleasure in the chase. 

"We should be heading off, I think." Jess says after a while. "Just wanted to catch up with you two."

Miguel smiles, dizzying and innocuous. "We're happy to, Jess."

They slip out with a splash, and she nods towards you. "You ok, sweetheart? You just seem a bit out of it, today."

Perhaps too hastily, you nod. "I think…I t-think it was something I ate."

"Oh." She looks a little worried, and it makes you feel guilty. "You get better then. I'll give you a call tomorrow."

"Thanks, Jess." And with that, they make their way out. 

Once out of sight, Miguel speeds up, his other hand on your thigh to wrench your legs open. The speed makes you dizzy, melting with your head back on his shoulder and desperately humping his hand for some relief. The rock and slosh of water over tiles barely registers in your fog. 

As you moan and writhe, he whispers filth into your ear. 

"Quieter, cariño. What if someone hears?" You whine and all he does is chuckle, lowly. "What if they find you, spread on my lap, fucking yourself on my fingers?" 

"You're being mean."

"Eso no es justo, amor." He titters, shaking his head. "You told me to relax, no? This is how I want to relax." 

Tears prick at your eyes, as he uses his other hand to rub circles into your clit, the warm froth washes over you both, but all you can feel is him. 

"¿Dime que quieres, hermosa?" What do you want?

"M'close, Miguel." You bite down another moan. “I’m ready.”

"Want to feel it, baby. Cum for me."

You tilt your head to the side, and he captures your lips with his own – in awe as you clamp around his fingers. Grinding down on his crotch, you ride out your orgasm. The way he makes you feel is hot, and wet and filthy. 

When your shaking legs still, you turn around to face him. He's hard, and too much of a gentleman to take his own pleasure. You slip a hand into his shorts, hand hot against his cock. It's his turn to lean into the bliss: head back and lips slightly parted with pleasure. 

You've always liked his lips, plump and kissable, a pretty pink that just fits against yours. 

"You're teasing." He hisses softly. 

You scrape your nails along his chest, and he keens, clutching your hand close to his heart. 

"...and what exactly have you been doing all night?“ You make a tight ring with your fingers, squeezing his tip and his hips jump up. 

"Vale, vale, vaaale…." He paws at you waist, a little desperate. "Fuck- I get it."

You give him a kiss, wet and needy, before slipping the gusset of your bikini to the side and sinking down on his length. He cries out and you swallow it, pressing yourself even closer to him. With your tits against his chest like that, he can't think straight. You shift against his length, finding a steady rhythm but it's too slow – and Miguel grows impatient. With a growl, he places both hands on your hips, forcing you downwards as you writhe on his length. 

"Dámelo, dámelo…" He slams his cock into you - hard and fast and just the way you like it. "Just like that, baby, just like-" 

That growing coil at the base of your stomach snaps, and you clamp around him. But he doesn't stop, just fucks you through it until he cums, hot and sticky fluids spilling into you. Panting, you capture him into a kiss. You separate, and he's got a dopey smile on his face. 

Content. Relaxed, even. 

~~~

Jess calls you the morning after, and you answer. 

"Hey, everything ok?" You yawn into the receiver, a little tired from last night's activities.

"I said I would call, didn't I?" 

You hum. "...suppose you did."

"You feeling better now Miguel's not playing with your pussy in a hot tub?" 

Shit. You almost drop the phone. "Jesus, we didn't-" 

"Save. It." She grumbles something you can't quite hear; something you suspect you're better off not hearing, anyways. 

"...Sorry. We weren't really thinking."

"Damn straight." She pauses. "I'm not mad, sweetheart. Can’t even judge you, to be honest. As I always say, it's not a real vacation until you fuck your husband somewhere you shouldn't-" 

"Gross, Jess."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did the woman who got fingered in a hot tub just say something??" 

You wince at the vulgarity of her words. 

"....Ouch." 

She laughs into the speakerphone, and you join her. Besides you, Miguel stirs, a little smile on his face. Half asleep, he thinks he’s heard an angel, voice light and airy in the space of your hotel room.

_

_

_

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns @ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @tea-earl-grey-thot

[ztrniolo]

Big cuddles - Chris Sturniolo

“warnings”?: cuddling, nicknames; baby, love, fluff, idk what else man there r no warnings 😭🙏🏻

summary: you were very tired but tried to stay awake for Chris to come back from filming a car video

My first language is NOT English so if something’s aren’t clear, I’m sorry. And I’m not the best typed so there could be some typos

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈

It’s 1am in the morning, Matt, Nick, and your boyfriend Chris were filming a car video. You stayed at home since you have been working all day and you were too tired to do anything else.

You’ve been trying to stay awake to wait for Chris but u weren’t sure if you’d last any longer with no sleep. You texted him

“Baby when are you back from filming?”

‘We’ll be back in around 20 minutes, everything okay love?”

“Yeah just tired. I’m waiting for you”

“Don’t worry I’ll be back soon, love you”

“Love you too”

When u pressed the sent button, you fell asleep, cuddled up in Chris’s pillow. since Chris wasn’t there and you don’t like sleeping alone, so you took his pillow for his smell.

20 minutes later Chris came home, you heard three voices talking to each other but you were too tired to even open your eyes or move the tiniest bit.

You hear the door of your shared room open, “baby? Are you awake?” Chris walks in saying with a soft and calm voice

“Mhm” you hum in response, closed eyes and still cuddled up with his pillow, he walks over to you and gives you a kiss on your forehead.

He takes of his clothes and changes into his pyjamas in silence, when he’s done doing everything he needed to do, he lays down next to you on the bed.

“Baby can I please have my pillow back?” He says giggle a little. “Only if u will cuddle with me” you say, your face buried into the pillow And Chris barley hearing what you’re saying.

“What’d you say” he says with a soft tone, running his hand through your hair softly. You lift up your head a little bit, “only if u will cuddle with me” you say again.

“Of course I’ll cuddle with you, I always do” Chris says softly, you give back his pillow and you burry your face in Chris’s chest.

Chris wraps his arms around you and pulling you more into him, you both let out a sigh of relief, “hard day at work today?” Chris ask quietly, he knew something was wrong, you both normally stay up till two am talking about your days.

“Yeah” you say with a cracking voice. “Hey it’s okay, I’m here now and u can sleep, okay? I love you.” Chris says trying to comfort you.

“I love you too baby” you say letting out a little yawn, making Chris giggle. Chris lifts up your face a little bit and gives u a kiss on lips before you actually fall asleep.

You kiss him back and he pulls you even more into the cuddle.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱

I knowwww this one isn’t good but idk I had to write smth bc I just hit 100 followers and I’m so grateful Ty guys sm 😭🙏🏻❤️ I’ll try and post more fics but I’m not gonna promise anything 🤘🏻

[tusk-rumours]

top button ༉‧˚. — sam winchester x gn!reader

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

word count: 0.9k

summary: that patch of chest at the top of sams flannel is just so kissable.

warnings: mentions of feet?? other than that none i don’t think

a/n: okay so this is something short bc my laptop is broken so i have to use my shitty old one and it's just a little (lot) awful :) so i haven’t really written in a while, but this is just something short i’m putting out! i’ll write about sam regardless lmao. and good news my laptops getting fixed in a few days, so prepare to be sick of me :) but anyway enjoy 🫶

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Considering all of Sam's beautiful features, you weren't sure why you had been so caught up on this one tiny detail for the past half hour. He was in one of his flannels as per usual, currently pacing the floor of the little motel room with the coroner's report in his hand. You'd been watching from where you sat with your legs stretched out on the bed, balancing the laptop on your thighs.

You guys had just recently caught on a case after reading about a few deaths in a rural town, where all the vics had several bones ripped from their bodies. What puzzled you guys was that it wasn't the same bones every time. It was like they were chosen at random.

Sam had that crease formed between his brows that he got when he was thinking, confused, or judgy, and you felt a strong desire to rub your thumb there, followed by a kiss. But right now you were more focused on that little patch of skin that was exposed at the top of his flannel. Whenever he wore button downs he always kept the top one undone, exposing a little bit of bare chest. It was so simple and normal, but you found it so lovely (and sexy).

You tried looking back at your screen, that was on some really sketchy website that you had to search the depths of the internet for, but you were just so distracted. You found this case interesting. It was really interesting. What the hell was so captivating about that tiny patch of skin? Of course you found every single thing about him hot, there was no doubt about that. But it wasn't even like it got you hot and bothered. It didn't make you wanna pounce him, it made you soft.

And so, you slide your laptop onto the bed, padding over. He's still captivated by the report.

"The only repeated bone is the humerus, which was two out of five vics. That is the most random bone eve— oh" He hadn't noticed at all that you'd come and snuck up on him, moving the paper so he can see your face.

You don't say a word, smiling sweetly before you lean up on your toes, steadying yourself with your hands gently on his waist, zeroing in on his chest and pressing a long, gentle kiss to that bit of exposed skin. Sam honestly doesn't know what to do. You've never done this before, and he can't figure out where it's come from. Obviously you’ve done many sweet things to him, but you’ve never kissed there before. Despite that, he lets you, because honestly he'd let you do anything you want with him.

You've almost argued with him about that several times before. Sam is adamant about getting your consent whenever you guys do something sexual or something new, but when it's you asking, it's always 'You don't have to ask. It's you, there's nothing I'll hate. I promise.' And you've let him know full well that that's ridiculous. He can be such a hypocrite sometimes.

He loves anything you do, and definitely likes you kissing him anywhere. There's really nowhere he wouldn't let you kiss. He'd probably get a bit uncomfortable if you wanted to kiss his feet, but if you really begged he'd let you. He'd just be pouty that he couldn't kiss you for the next few hours.

A hand comes up to gently card through your hair as you continue to press sweet butterfly kisses to the his bare chest that's peeking.

"...honey?" He questions after a few moments, his voice quiet and a little confused.

All you answer with is a hum, your gentle affection continuing.

This easily could've turned into something more, your fingers could've moved to the button below and undone it, then the next, and the next. But you didn't. The most your fingers did was trace along his waist, one hand creeping up to his shoulder, lightly grazing his collar.

The report drops to the floor with the sound of rustled paper, and his other arm wraps around your waist, his forearm pressing into your lower back.

"Honey, you wanna tell me what you're doing?" He whispers, pressing his cheek to the top of your head.

"Giving you kisses." You mumble, like an obvious fact. His skin is warm under your lips, the soft cotton of his flannel tickling your jaw.

"...Yeah, but why there?" He says slowly.

"Because," A little kiss. "You keep this button undone and I love it."

That gets a little laugh out of him, his long fingers gently scratching your scalp.

"You like that?" He says, a little amused that you find such a random, regular detail important enough to appreciate. Despite his biased (and wrong) opinion, everything about him is important enough to appreciate.

All he gets in response is another little hum, your lips continuing long kisses to his chest, your work becoming a little messy now.

"You're ridiculous, hon." He says, as if he doesn't find things like kissing your fingers when your nail polish chips a worthy excuse to kiss them.

Your lips quirk just a little as you continue with your kisses, inhaling the familiar scent of him. His flannel smells like the laundry detergent from the laundromat, and his chest smells like the cologne you bought him for his last birthday.

You both stand like that for how long, neither of you could say. Sam swears he can feel his heart coating his shoes and making a puddle around his feet from how much it's melting. You always find ways to be so sweet to him, and he doesn't quite understand how you continue to torment his heart in the best way, but you do. And he doesn’t understand how he can torment yours either, and he likely won’t ever will. But as he watches you kiss him like this, he believes it just a little.

[jobean12-blog]

Color Me Yours

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Mob!Bucky)

Word Count: 984

Summary: Whether or not he's busy with his work he always has time for you and whatever you want.

Author's Note: I had written a story about coloring with Joel and I just love the idea of doing something so simple with our fave guys and then I thought Mob!Bucky would be so fun to color with. This is just a snapshot of a soft and fun domestic moment where our usual no bullshit boss is really and truly himself with his most favorite human ever- his wife. I also mention a scene in the movie Ghost from 1990 and I referenced this scene. Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: It's fun and fluffy and sweet and silly and ends with a bit of spice bc I can't help myself, established relationship, coloring bc yay!

“There you are doll face.”

You walk into his office with a smile, your hands kept neatly hidden behind your back.

“What are you hiding?” he asks as he leans back in his leather chair, legs spread wide and smirk pulling at his lips.

“A book.”

You stop just in front of his large mahogany desk. You’re wearing nothing but a tank top and panties and your skin warms as his eyes sweep over you appreciatively.

“What are you reading now?”

“Not that kind of book.”

He raises a questioning brow.

“It’s a coloring book.”

With an easy push he swivels his chair to the side and pats his thigh invitingly.

“Come ‘ere doll. Let me see.”

You come around the desk and perch yourself on the thick muscle, watching his reaction as you reveal your coloring book and colored pencils.

He takes it from your hands and starts to flip through it, smiling the whole time.

“These are beautiful,” he says.

“Thank you.”

He carefully places your things on his desk and wraps you in his arms. You rest your head along his shoulder and slip your fingers into the open buttons of his collared shirt.

“If you’re not too busy now, will you color with me?”

Your head tilts up to meet his eyes and you find him gazing down at you softly.

“I’m never too busy for you doll face. You know that.”

He sits up and pulls the chair toward the desk, caging you in with his arms around your waist and his chest pressed to your back.

“The only rule is you have to stay in my lap while we do it.”

He whispers the words against your neck, gently kissing the spot before he pushes the strap of your tank top off your shoulder and continues pressing his lips along your skin.

“One more rule…you can’t distract me until we’ve done some coloring,” you breathe out. “You’re very distracting.”

“Fine. I’ll behave doll…for now.”

You turn your head and chase his lips, sliding your hand into his hair and gently scraping your nails along his scalp.

“Tease,” he growls playfully against your mouth.

With a coy smile you peck his lips one last time then ask, “did you see any particular picture that you want to color?”

“You pick,” he answers, keeping his face nestled in your neck.

“Let’s color this one.”

You point to a page and then start sifting through your colored pencils. He waits for you to pick one then does the same, deciding on a cerulean blue.

“Almost as pretty as your eyes,” you purr.

He kisses your cheek and let’s his nose run along the column of your throat, whispering his thanks.

“This is relaxing,” he murmurs.

“I agree. I was going to try painting next...”

“I’ll build you a space for you to do your art. Any kind you want.”

“Can we get a pottery wheel?”

“Of course,” he answers.

You turn to look at him, smiling brightly when you exclaim, “then we can make something together like Molly and Sam in Ghost!”

With a squeal you go back to coloring, unaware of Bucky’s confused expression.

“Molly and Sam?” he asks.

“YOU HAVEN’T SEEN GHOST?” you nearly shout, turning in his arms again. “We are watching it tonight.”

“Is it a scary movie…about a ghost?”

His question makes you roll your eyes and you poke him with a colored pencil.

“NO Buck. It’s a love story and they totally have sex after he distracts her while she’s making her pottery…”

“What are you implying doll?”

“Oh nothing,” you sing song. “I’m sure you’ll love the movie.”

 “I’m sure I will too.”

“You better…it’s so good.”

He lightly nibbles on your neck in response, causing you to squeal again.

“Nibbles laterrrrrrrr,” you half whine half giggle.

He relents but only after more soft kisses to any part of your bare skin he can reach.

As you go to choose a new color you pause to watch him, noting how his movements are precise and he stays within the lines, coloring each part of the picture with consistency.

“You’re really good at this,” you muse. “Have you been secretly coloring without me?”

He chuckles.

“Nah doll face, but you know I love to pay attention to every little detail.”

“Oh, that’s an understatement,” you giggle.

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you say cheekily.

He nuzzles your neck, knowing his scruffy jaw tickles your skin and it makes you wiggle and squirm in his hold.

“Buckyyyyy,” you gasp.

He finally stops to let you breathe, securing you in his lap again and pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

His right hand holds the colored pencil and his left rests on your hip and as time continues to pass in comfortable silence his fingers begin to trace circles on your skin, slow and light.

“Done already?” you purr.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about doll.”

His tone is incredulous even as his hand dips lower and teases between your legs.

You try to stay focused on coloring the picture but his touch is far too distracting and you drop the pencil with a sigh and lean back.

“What about my coloring?” you whisper as your hands slide down and grip his thighs.

He pushes your legs apart and slides his finger over your silky panties.

“This is all your fault,” he murmurs. “You came in here wearing almost nothing…”

“My fault?” you breathe out. “This is why I can never get anything done…you and your hands…distracting!”

“You love it.”

“I do,” you gasp, rocking in his lap. “But you aren’t getting out of coloring…or the movie.”

He takes your earlobe between his teeth with a gentle tug, drawing soft little moans from your parted lips.

“Wouldn’t dream of it baby doll. You know I’ll do anything you want.”

@hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @goldylions @kmc1989 @littleseasiren @lizette50 @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife

[bluebeary-jay]

How easy you are to need

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Joel notices that the peaceful life in Jackson has its consequences. he is not happy about it (based on this wonderful ask!)

Tags: TONS OF ANGST, but also FLUFF, established relationship, ahh intrusive thoughts (how much i hate them), Joel is probably ooc but i don't care anymore, also he's soft and insecure and vulnerable

Warnings: body dismorphia and lots of self-loathing on Joel's side, at one (two?) points borderline on smut ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) hihihi, swearing, drinking (just mentioned), suggestive stuff bc apparently i can't help myself 😌

Word count: 8K ! (8028 specifically woah)

A/N: the next fic will definitely be shorter bc i really need to start caring less about the quality of my work, it takes way too long for my liking. buuut anyway as always 🎶i hope yall will like it🎶 this is my birthday gift for you guys 💕

Joel looked at himself in the mirror with furrowed brows.

He pulled in his stomach and tried to zip his pants. It still fit, but barely. He undid the zip, turned to the side and looked at his reflection again, just to make sure.

Yeah. This pair was definitely loose until a while ago.

He glanced at the door, but didn’t hear you coming, so he sighed and looked in the mirror again. Joel was never particularly muscular, but he could no longer see those thin lines which accentuated his torso before. There was also a bit of fat above the hem of his jeans, and his frame seemed somehow heavier…

Good thing his left ear was directed to the door, because he heard the moment the water in the shower stopped running, which meant you were coming back from the bathroom. Joel spared himself one last wary look and zipped up his pants before turning around to your shared bed where his shirt lay discarded.

He was putting his arms into the sleeves when you entered. A couple of light steps, and then Joel smiled when he felt your arms wrapping around his torso. He glanced over his shoulder at you.

“You took your sweet time in the shower,” he pointed out, and he could feel your smile when you pressed your face to his back.

“We finally have hot water, so I’m gonna use it every chance I get.”

“You left some for me?”

You huffed a laugh and went around him, moving his hands away and starting to button his shirt yourself.

“There would be, if you took a shower with me.”

“Next time, sweetheart,” he chuckled and leaned in to kiss your forehead softly, combing his fingers through your wet hair. He hummed. “Your hair smells nice.”

“It’s that shampoo Ellie didn’t want.” You shook your head with a smile. “I have no idea why, it’s fantastic.”

You buttoned up the last button and smoothed your palms over his chest and down, lastly resting them on his waist. Internally Joel furrowed his eyebrows, wondering if he could always feel this fold when you put your hands in that place.

“You look handsome,” you whispered, looking up at him with twinkling eyes and such a soft, love-struck expression on your face that Joel felt his throat constricting. Everything but the sight of you faded from his mind, and he joined his hands behind your back, pulling you closer into his chest and basking in this precious smile you blessed him with. “Especially with the bed hair.”

“It’s your doin’, you know,” he murmured in response, nudging your nose with his and reminiscing how you tugged and raked your nails through his hair the night before. “You gotta be careful with it, sweet girl. If you continue doin’ it, m’gonna go bald soon.”

You hummed noncommittally and leaned against his chest, standing on your tip-toes. “I’ll take it under consideration. No promises, though.”

Joel lifted his hand to the back of your neck and kissed you slowly, reveling in the soft sigh that left your lips. You rested your palm above his heart, leaning forward to the point that you would fall over if he wasn’t supporting your weight.

But Joel held you tight and close to his body, gladly steadying you as you deepened the kiss, once again tugging on his graying hair in that way he adored. He wanted to tease you about it, but his thoughts strayed to the image of his body again when you lowered your hand from his chest to his side.

“You remember that tonight is this party?” you asked suddenly, pulling him out of his thoughts. Joel gave up pondering about his physique and sighed heavily at your question, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Yeah, I remember. Regrettably.”

“I don’t want to go, either,” you whispered with guilt, as if someone would hear you both. “But Tommy really wanted us to come and… Just don’t make me go alone.”

“Hey, darlin’.” Joel took your face in his hands and looked deeply into your eyes. “I promised, didn’t I? M’not gonna leave you there on your own.” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, smiling against them. “And mind you, I gotta make sure no one will try to seduce and steal you away from me.”

You giggled, and you were standing so close that Joel could feel your eyelashes tickling his skin. He held you close when you tried to take a step back, and your lips collided again.

“That is the one thing you don’t need to ever worry about,” you murmured quietly into the space between you two. “How could I even look at other people when I have you all to myself?”

Joel’s reflection in the mirror flashed across his mind again and a small wave of uncertainty rippled through him, but it quickly disappeared when you opened your eyes and looked at him with this raw love radiating from them. Your every word, every affectionate gesture only confirmed his conviction that you meant every word you said.

So why did he still feel so uncertain?

*****

Life in Jackson was perfect. Considering the state of the world right now, living here was like winning a lottery.

Joel had a lot to be thankful for, he was well aware of that. No longer had he any fears or sense of guilt about going to sleep and leaving you and Ellie defenseless if something were to happen. He didn’t have to count rations anymore, worrying that the kid would be forced to march all day hungry. There was now no need to keep a watchful eye for new clothes if someone’s worn off, ripped or got soaked from walking in the rain, posing a threat of you or Ellie catching a cold.

Back in Boston it wasn’t much different, though he and you had at least a bed to sleep in, as uncomfortable as it was. But there was never enough food for all those people Fedra kept there, and the winters were cold as hell, leaving at least one of you a bit sick every year.

None of those things were keeping him awake at night anymore. The only people he had to take care of – you and Ellie – were safe and comfortable. None of you had to starve or freeze, and you all didn’t have to continue walking across the country for days and days without end, struggling to survive.

Maybe that was the problem.

Joel wasn’t stupid. He knew that those luxuries he had an access to now were at the root of his problem. Before you all settled in Jackson, you were constantly on the move, fighting for your lives in one way or another, so of course he was… leaner and more fit back then. It was never something he paid attention to, though, never something he concerned himself with.

But now you three were living here, surrounded by more people than Joel could count, and he couldn’t help but… notice things about them.

Especially about all those men and women who looked at you in a different way.

Due to the nature of the party Tommy invited them to – mainly consisting of dancing and talking in the biggest bar in Jackson – Joel had a lot of time to ponder about his situation, all while nursing his drink and looking at you from across the room with his elbows resting on the table.

You were chatting with one of your friends near the counter, laughing and smiling so beautifully. No matter where Joel’s eyes strayed, they always came back to your person, as if you were the moon against the pitch black sky, reflecting some imperceptible light.

Some guy he knew by sight – Chuck? Bart? – walked up and tapped you on the shoulder, and from what Joel could tell, he was offering you a drink. He was standing way too close, though, and you took a step closer to your friend, shaking your head. Chuck – or Bart – persisted for another half a minute, but eventually shrugged and shuffled off, his movements tense.

Joel didn’t move. He knew from experience that you’d let him know if you needed his help.

As if sensing his gaze, you turned your head and sent him a radiant smile. He mirrored it, lifting his glass slightly like he was toasting you, which made you do the same before resuming the conversation with your friend.

His smile disappeared as soon as you stopped looking at him. Joel sighed and rubbed his eyes with his fingers, feeling a headache coming from the dull lights and loud chatter all around.

It were moments like this when it hit him just how old he was compared to you.

You were a sweet, young thing. Funny, sharp, drop-dead gorgeous… No wonder some people were seeking your attention. That guy was just one of the half a dozen he saw or heard about since you moved to Jackson.

Joel knew you were a loyal sort – God, he knew that, he knew you for so long now – but every time he saw you talking to someone else, his treacherous mind started to wonder if he wasn’t somehow keeping you chained to his person.

It was probably alcohol talking, but Lord, if he wasn’t reminded of how old he was compared to you every time he saw you next to your peers. You still had so much life ahead of you, and he was pushing sixty, for fuck’s sake. Before long he’ll be old and decrepit, unable to bring something useful to the table or help you in any way, and you’d still be as pretty as ever, trapped in a relationship with an old man.

For example, that guy – Chuck, or whomever – was way closer to your age, had handsome features, and Joel knew for a fact he was working at tree felling, so he had to be muscular, too.

Joel was once, too. Once.

He subtly ran his hand across his stomach under the jacket, his brows furrowed, and leaned back on the bench to get rid of those damned fat folds.

He sighed and downed the rest of the liquor in his glass, trying very hard not to think about it, not to put himself down like that and let those cruel thoughts fester in his mind, but no matter what, he couldn’t stop comparing himself to this guy, and also… how you looked next to him.

Shit. What if he was doing you more harm than good by continuing to stay with you?

“I could pickpocket you and you wouldn’t notice.”

Joel looked up, abruptly pulled out of his thoughts. You were standing over his table with your head tilted and still that beaming smile on your face.

“What are you thinking about, handsome?”

He opened his mouth, glanced in the direction of the bar, and closed it. There was no sign of any of the people you just talked with.

“Nothin’,” he replied, maybe a little too dryly, so he quickly changed the subject. “You havin’ fun?”

“Yeah, it’s nicer than I thought.” You looked around and then spotted the empty glass on the table in front of him. “Do you want me to bring you another one?”

“No, there’s no need,” he grumbled, but you had already put your drink down and sent him a wink.

“I'll be right back, baby.”

Joel hissed your name but you just looked over your shoulder with a smirk, swinging your hips provocatively to the music and ignoring him completely. He sighed heavily, slumping in his seat.

He needed to get his shit together. Fuck his insecurities, he didn’t want to take his frustration out on you when you were nothing but a ray of sunshine in his life, always so good and affectionate.

Joel’s thoughts came to a sudden stop when he searched for you in the crowd and noticed another man, this time one he didn’t know, swinging his arm over your shoulders while you waited at the bar. He tried to read your body language from here, but you didn’t seem particularly uncomfortable with the man’s actions. Joel furrowed his brows, a pit of uncertainty forming in his stomach again... but then you threw the man’s heavy limb off your shoulders and went back to Joel’s table as soon as you got the drink.

“Thanks, darlin’,” he murmured, taking a large gulp despite telling himself earlier that he was done drinking for today. “Were you okay back there?” He pointed his chin towards the bar.

You sat down next to him and smiled innocently. “Whatever do you mean?”

Joel knew you long enough to recognize when you were teasing him, and he smirked despite the doubts swirling in his mind.

“Was that guy givin’ you any trouble?” he asked lazily, deciding to play along.

“Would you beat the shit out of him if I said yes?” you asked with your eyebrows raised, and Joel shrugged, acting nonchalant.

“Probably.”

You giggled and bumped his shoulder with yours playfully.

“Then no. Peter’s a good guy. Just a little,” you seemed to be looking for the right word, “uhm, persistent.” When Joel sent you a dubious look, you rolled your eyes and made a face. “He’s politely hitting on me, but doesn’t get that I’m not interested. He works at the same place I do.”

“If he keeps makin’ you uncomfortable, that’s not very polite.” You squinted at him and Joel lifted his hands in fake surrender. “M’not sayin’ anythin’. You can take care of yourself, I know that.”

You hummed melodically and glanced at the bar, then back at Joel. Then back at the bar again where that Peter guy stood. Joel noticed you biting the inside of your cheek, so he gently nudged your knee with his.

“What’s on your mind, sweet girl?”

“Maybe you could help me make it clear that I’m taken?” you blurted out quickly, making him crack a smile and chuckle under his breath.

It was so very easy to forget about all the problems in the world when you were there, sitting right next to him and warming his soul and body with your mere presence.

“Come ‘ere,” he breathed and tugged you gently to sit on his lap. You faltered, but he gave your hand another light tug, and finally you let him guide you, putting one arm around his shoulders and making yourself comfortable.

Joel’s hand mindlessly went to rest on your thigh and he rubbed it comfortingly. That Peter guy, as he noted with satisfaction, was staring right back at you, eyeing the way your body was pressed flush against Joel’s with a twisted face.

Once the eyes of the both men met, Joel leaned in and kissed your neck, keeping eye contact the entire time. Peter turned away, taking a large swig from his glass.

Joel felt your muscles relaxing, and you giggled adorably next to his ear at his antics, hiding your neck between your shoulders when he nibbled at your skin lightly. Then your hand covered his, the one lying on your thigh, and stroked his skin lovingly.

Maybe Joel was keeping you chained somehow. Then again, he was but a selfish creature after all. He didn’t know if he could bring himself to ever truly let you go.

*****

The next few days – which then turned into weeks – Joel spent wondering. Mostly about what to do with his predicaments.

He had a couple of them.

The first problem was the nights. They became more difficult since he noticed… details about himself that weren’t there before, and which bothered him more and more with each day.

Joel used to love the nightfall, especially since you all settled in Jackson. In those evening hours no one bothered him, he could finally relax, spend some time alone with you, and later collapse on the bed to get a good-night sleep.

Well, not anymore.

The bedtime unexpectedly became the most stressful one for him. He was so fucking mad at himself, because laying down and having a chance to hold you in his arms was something he treasured for the longest time, but now his own insecurities stood in a way of it.

You loved cuddling and being close to him in your sleep, and Joel was never bothered by it – hell, he initiated those moments more often than not. But now he started noticing more and more how this layer of fat on his stomach moved and looked like when you draped your arm around him or snuggled closer to his chest, and it became all he could think about.

It bothered Joel so much that he started wearing a t-shirt to bed, even though he hated it with all his passion. When you asked about it, he lied that he’s cold, but in reality he was always sweaty by morning. It didn’t seem to make any difference to you, though, and you didn’t shy away from pressing your body close to his, and even slipping your hands under his shirt when you were spooning him. Some days Joel was waking up with you lying on his chest or having your arm slung across his belly, and every time it caused a lump in his throat.

He knew you didn’t mean anything bad by it – for God’s sake, you probably didn’t even have any idea that he had a problem with himself – but what once was a wonderful start of the day, now became a bitter reminder of all those things he was insecure about.

Recently he built a habit of waking up before you – he did it often before, but he always stayed in bed and waited for you to open your eyes, too – and carefully disentangling himself from your embrace. It wasn’t like it didn’t feel wonderful to be enveloped by you in this way, but once he stirred awake, lying still was a herculean task. No matter how much he tried to ignore it, his skin was itching and buzzing, he was sweating from nerves and a lot of horrible, self-depriving thoughts were flooding his mind.

So once he woke up, he’d go take a shower, trying to be a little bit louder than necessary in hopes that you’d already be awake when he gets back – so that he wouldn’t feel so guilty about not laying back down next to you.

The second of his problems was that you began to watch him more closely.

He didn’t know when it started happening, but in hindsight he realized it was just a matter of time – he was acting weird, after all, and you knew him too well not to notice anything.

A couple of times in the last few days only, Joel caught you staring at him in silence. Your eyes were solemn and your forehead sad, though you were quick to smile and act like nothing was amiss as soon as he turned your way.

You must have known something was wrong, but Joel didn’t ask about it. Honestly, with all that was happening in his own head, he didn’t want to know.

But at the same time it was as if nothing odd was happening. You were your usual self, a blessing in Joel’s life, and you still sought to be close to him and spend as much time together as possible. You still told him you loved him, surprised him with unexpected gestures of affection…

Just like today – you hugged him from behind while he was dressing up, started kissing his shoulders so tenderly and murmuring sweet nothings into his skin… In those moments Joel could almost forget about everything that was nagging him. It was easy to believe that you still liked the way he looked, that he was deserving of you, when you treated him with nothing but overwhelming love.

But the itch in the back of his mind never really disappeared. Even though he wanted it to.

Those thoughts filled his mind while you were sitting on his lap, telling him some story from work in a soft voice. You two were at Tommy’s, waiting for him to get back from helping his wife with something, and the day was so beautiful that you all went out onto the patio in front of the house to enjoy the unusually warm weather for this time of the year.

Joel’s hand was on your thigh, stroking it absentmindedly, while he nodded to whatever you were saying, but for the life of him, he could not focus.

Has your physique changed as well? Joel didn’t care about those things, of course, and in his eyes you were as breathtaking as ever – maybe even more, since so many of your worries disappeared and he got to see your smile more often. And you still felt perfect under his hands when he was holding you at night, still looked like a goddess every time he got to admire your naked body.

But even though he wouldn’t have cared either way if you gained some weight or looked any different, his body still bothered him.

You rested your head on his shoulder, and Joel fixed his attention to the wind-blown tree crowns in the distance.

Maybe he should start exercising.

Joel never liked the idea of waking up early and running down the streets in a sweat-soaked t-shirt, or going to the gym where everyone seems to stare and judge you, but it was never necessary.

With how much traveling, heavy-lifting and working he had to do, he never concerned himself with the way he looked. Hell, these things are the last on your mind when you’re fighting for your life in this god-forsaken world. But here, in Jackson, it was different. Life was good, and you were happy. And as stupid as it sounded for him, Joel wanted to look good for you.

Maybe he should ask Maria to assign him to extra patrols. He already volunteered for the morning ones, but perhaps…

“You’re quiet.”

Joel didn’t realize you stopped telling your story. He pressed his lips together and his hand on your thigh stilled.

“Sorry.”

“No need for that,” you reassured him quickly. Then you cupped his cheeks and lifted his head gently. “I don’t mean ‘now’, though, I mean… lately, in general.” Your eyes were flickering across his face, like you were hoping to read the answer from his features. “Is there something you wanna talk about?”

No. Hell no. It was bad enough that Joel himself was aware of his issue, he didn’t want to make it even more noticeable by pointing it out to you.

Which reminded him – he moved his torso away from you only a few millimeters.

“No, babygirl,” he answered. He brushed some hair behind your ear, smiling softly even though inside he despised himself for lying to you. “Everythin’s fine.”

You didn’t seem convinced and still were studying his face with concern. Joel resumed petting your thigh, wanting to put you at ease. He could worry about himself, but he didn’t need to concern you with his problems, too.

“I promise,” he added. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

That look in your eyes didn’t disappear, but you hummed and dropped your hands. It didn’t take a genius to know you didn’t believe him.

“If you say so,” you answered at last, and then covered his hand on your leg with your own. “But remember you can talk to me whenever you want. About anything.”

Jesus, your kindness was only confirming his concerns if he was the right person for you. Joel shook his head with a crooked smile.

“You’re gettin’ sappy.”

“It’s because I’m worried,” you shot back without skipping a beat, swatting at his chest with the back of your hand. “And you’re not making it any easier.”

“There’s nothin’ for you to worry about,” he repeated, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. But he failed.

You pressed your lips together and then made a move to get up from his lap without a word. Joel held onto you delicately, not letting you stand up.

“Wait, darlin’,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. “Didn’t mean to say it that way. I just… feel tired. Sorry.”

Your eyes softened when you took in the regret and weariness on his face. Joel felt your fingertips on his jaw, but before you could question him further, Tommy returned from the inside of the house with a grin.

“Age is a heavy burden, eh, ol’ dog?” he teased, apparently having heard the last bit of their conversation. The younger Miller placed three bottles of beer on the table, and winked at you. “That’s just how it is for us now. Enjoy your youth while you still can, punk.”

Joel felt a sharp jab in his ribs, not unlike being stabbed. He couldn’t find it in himself to look at his brother, less alone laugh at his teasing.

Of course Tommy didn’t mean anything bad by it, but his words were just a bitter reminder of the ever-present pit of Joel’s stomach.

The weight of you on his lap suddenly felt a lot lighter, and he himself felt so, so very heavy and tired.

Old.

Joel could feel your eyes boring into his face, but a second later you turned to Tommy, taking the burden of filling the uncomfortable silence.

“It’s already started for me. Sometimes I feel like my bones want to kill me prematurely.”

“M’sure Joel won’t let that happen. He’d fight your skeleton if you said it’s botherin’ you.”

You snorted and shook your head, but your smile faltered when you turned to Joel again. He almost broke down right then and there from the guilt and tightness in his chest.

And the dark feeling inside him just grew when your eyes stayed sad and concerned for the rest of the day.

*****

It had to end.

Joel could no longer pretend everything was alright like he wasn’t dying on the inside every time you did as much as hold his hand. He felt horrible about lying, avoiding spending time together and denying you affection he knew you so loved receiving.

If he was being honest with himself, he wanted this affection, too. Undisturbed with self-doubts and guilt.

He fucking craved it.

Those last few weeks, his evenings were mostly spent away from you and the warmth of your shared home. The nights, on the other hand, when he would sneak in and quietly lay down next to you (but just a little further away), became full of intrusive thoughts and wallowing in self-loathing.

No matter what excuse he came up with, you were persistent in holding and being close to him during the night, and Joel discovered that the only way to prevent you from doing it was to come to bed after you’ve already fallen asleep.

But it was a damn torture.

The worst part was when he was coming home to the sight of you lying amongst the tangled sheets and blankets in his bed. No matter if you were drooling or a pillow has imprinted itself on your cheek, every time this sight made Joel weak in the knees. You looked like a gorgeous, priceless painting, and it pained him to disrupt your rest with his arrival.

He tried to volunteer for evening patrols, because then he’d have a real reason to come home late, but not only Maria didn’t want to pair him with anyone during those hours – she also suspended him from all patrols whatsoever. Joel was understandably furious, but the damn woman threatened to tell Tommy about it if he kept being ‘a stubborn pain in her ass’. She sent him back home, murmuring something about spending more time with you, which he tried to pretend he hadn’t heard.

Joel sighed, sitting up on the edge of the bed and hiding his face in his hand.

If Maria of all people could see that there were some problems in your and Joel’s relationship, then you had to notice, too.

Christ, he was the worst.

Joel didn’t want to push you away, of course not. He wanted to stay with you more than anything, but that desire did nothing to diminish the guilt suffocating him. For some time, he felt like the luckiest man alive, having the privilege to call you his and every day come home to you. But now with all those little things he started to notice, he felt like a fraud.

It wasn’t even about him not deserving you anymore – it was that you didn’t deserve this fucking treatment he was giving you these past few weeks.

Fuck, he had to tell you the truth. About the patrols, sneaking out, distancing himself, all of it. He couldn’t bear lying to you a day longer.

Joel stood up and pulled his sweaty t-shirt over his head. He wrinkled his nose at the smell and patted himself under his armpits and on the back, then reached for a clean one.

He’ll figure it out. He just needed some time to come up with a way to–

“Morning, handsome.”

Joel flinched and turned around quickly, not having realized you were awake, but whatever excuse he had in mind, it fell dead on his lips.

You stretched with a groan, reaching one arm high above your head and rubbing your eyes with the other hand. A sleepy smile danced on your lips when you looked back at him with sparkles in your slightly puffy eyes, and Joel didn’t have any other word to describe you than ‘ethereal’.

“What are you doing?” you asked groggily, relaxing against the pillow and looking him up and down.

“Uhmm…” he hesitated, clutching the t-shirt that was in need of washing close to his chest. His gaze was drawn to the window. “Goin’ out, actually. I’ve got some work…”

“No, you don’t,” you interrupted him and swung off the covers from his side of the bed. “Get back here.”

Joel looked at you with surprise.

“What?”

“You heard me, Miller. Get your ass back on the bed.”

He crumpled the shirt in his hands, hesitating, but his eyes softened as soon as he looked back at you and your raised eyebrows – like you were challenging him to just try and refuse you.

But how could he, when you looked so pretty lying in his bed and demanding to have him close to you? How could he ever deny you anything?

With a defeated sigh, Joel started putting the t-shirt back on, but the sound of you humming in protest stopped him. Your face was grumpy when he glanced up.

“Nah. No shirt.” You extended your hand in his direction, making a grabbing motion. “Come here.”

Joel didn’t move. “Why?”

You rolled your eyes and dramatically flopped down onto the pillows, looking up at him with an adorable pout.

“Because it’s been a long time since I got a chance to admire my handsome, sexy man,” you answered with sincerity, and then grinned. “Now come here. If you ditch your shirt, I’ll consider ditching mine.”

He still didn’t move. You were patient, but when it became clear that he wasn’t going to do anything, you sent him a small, sweet smile. “If you get cold again, I promise to do something about it, love.”

Joel physically felt his heart softening at your words and at the sight of you.

With a silent sigh – and only a split second of hesitation – he took off the t-shirt and quickly laid down on his back next to you. He felt a bile rise in his throat, though he had no idea why, and it became almost choking when you shifted closer to him, putting one hand on his chest.

“You’ve deprived me of this beautiful view for too long,” you whispered, kissing the place below his collarbone, and then going up to the base of his neck. “I missed seeing you like this.”

“There’s nothin’ to miss,” Joel muttered, not moving a single muscle. He had his hands entwined on his stomach and to look in your direction was the biggest effort anyone could demand from him now. “We sleep next to each other every night, sweetheart.”

“You know what I mean,” you breathed into his neck, leaving love bites wherever your lips strayed. “You’re going out so early these days. And you work late.”

“Patrols,” Joel grunted with gritted teeth, his muscles tense and breathing ragged as your warm palm caressed his waist. “Sorry.”

“You work too hard, love.” You sat up and swung one of your legs over his lap. Joel actually shivered when you took his hands in your own and placed them on your hips. “Let me help you relax.”

Oh, fuck.

Jesus fucking Christ, Joel was sure he was going to drop dead at any second now.

“Darlin’…” he began, but you made a noise in your throat and leaned in to kiss him deeply, pressing your body to his. Joel loved when you initiated those moments between you two, and you looked so fucking hot sitting on top of him – but for the life of him, he could not relax.

“It hits me every once in a while how lucky I am to have you,” you whispered in such a sweet, adoring voice, like you didn’t hear him. You pressed your lips against his stubble again, igniting every inch of his skin with your touch. “Let me enjoy you. I love you so much, you know that?”

“I…”

I love you, too.

Lord, he loved you so much. Why was it so hard to return your affections, then? Why did he feel like the biggest crook by letting you love him?

Joel let out a shuddering sigh he didn’t know he was holding when you pressed your lips to the edge of his jaw, before capturing his mouth in a kiss. It was sweet, but heated at the same time and, without even thinking about it, he found himself wrapping his strong arms around you, bringing you closer to his chest. You smiled against his lips and murmured something he didn’t quite catch.

A groan escaped him when you bit his lower lip lightly, your soft palm going down, from his chest, to his stomach, down…

He couldn’t do it.

Joel abruptly rose to the sitting position and grabbed your wrist, his eyes sad and painful.

“I’m sorry, baby” he said with furrowed brows, gently setting you aside and off his lap, before standing up quickly. “I’m so sorry, babygirl, I love you, I promise, but I can’t… I don’t feel good today. I’m sorry.”

“Joel…” you started, but he shook his head, putting his t-shirt back on and turning away from you not to let you see the absolute wrecked expression on his face and wetness in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he kept saying, feeling like he’s about to throw up from the nerves and the burning shame. He cursed himself internally, wanting to turn around, to take your face in his hands and kiss you deeply, but he… he... “I’m so…”

All strength left him in a blink of an eye and suddenly he slumped on the bed, hiding his face in his hands. Joel desperately tried to get a grip on himself, but his chest felt so tight, and all the worry, all the guilt and fear, and self-loathing came crashing down on him all at once.

“M’sorry, darlin’,” he whispered hoarsely, his lips trembling and that damn muscle in his cheek pulsing when he felt the mattress dipping and your tentative touch on his face.

“No, no, baby, it’s alright,” you started saying quietly, trying to take his cheeks in your hands, but he didn’t let you. “Oh, Joel… Come here.”

You gently pulled him into your arms, guiding his head to rest in the crook of your neck. Joel hid his face in your skin, realizing with dread that his own shoulders were shaking.

For God’s sake, he needed to stop, he needed to put himself together and not show any weakness–

But it was you. It was your warm embrace and your loving hands brushing his hair, and your quiet whispers while you held him. It was your kindness and understanding, and stubbornness coming from love. You weren’t someone he had to hide from.

So he let you in. He let you hold him.

“Joel, please. Talk to me,” you spoke up after some time, and though your tone was soft, it somehow sounded too loud in the silence of the room. “I need to know what’s going on with you, you’re worrying me.”

“Nothin’ is goin’ on,” he answered out of habit, not even moving a muscle. “I just… fuck, sorry.”

“Stop apologizing and talk to me.” Joel pursed his lips, while you massaged his back gently. “Whatever it is, we’re gonna get through it together, okay? It’s gonna be okay, love, I promise.”

He planned on telling you. He wanted to tell you and get it off his chest, but… he wasn’t ready. Not now. Not when he broke down in front of you, for fuck’s sake.

But you deserved to know. If not to help him, then at least to make you aware of what you’ve gotten yourself into. It wasn’t fair to keep you in the dark and at arm’s length because of his absurd fears.

He wetted his lips and inhaled softly, but no words came out.

You gently lifted his head and Joel immediately squeezed his eyes shut, knowing there was no way he’d be able to say anything if he looked at you.

“You can tell me, baby,” you whispered sadly, touching the side of his face. “Anything. I promise everything will be alright.”

Joel was silent for a couple of moments, before he swallowed and took a deep breath, trying to calm down his pounding heart.

“I don’t have any extra work,” he started very quietly, so his voice wouldn’t break. “I was lyin’ to you, and I… I’m so sorry about that. I don’t get sent on any patrols now, actually…”

He shook his head and sighed heavily, faltering. He knew that wasn’t the problem, and although lying to you was one of the things he was guilty of, it wasn’t what started all of it. And you must’ve known it, too, because you kept looking at him, not saying anything.

“The thin’ is, I… God dammit,” he murmured, turning his head away from you and hiding his face in his hands, still keeping his eyes closed. “I can’t… I don’t– I have a problem with myself,” he finally blurted out, not even caring now if you understood his muffled words. “I keep…”

Fuck, man, just say it.

“I’m… I’m not as fit as I used to be,” he murmured, not moving an inch in fear that you’ll spot the wetness on his eyelashes. “I don’t want to do you harm, darlin’, keepin’ you from… Jesus, I don’t know. From livin’ your life, happily and to the fullest.”

“Joel…” You whispered with pain in your voice. “Is this what it is about?”

Joel shook his head, letting out a shuddering breath, still as quietly as he could.

“I’m old,” he said with tiredness he didn’t know he had in himself. “And you… You’re so pretty and young, I…” He lowered his forehead onto his hand, rubbing his temple. “I would like nothin’ more than to spend the rest of my life with you, darlin’. But I’m afraid I’m not… not good for you. You could do so much better–”

“Hey. Hey, none of that.” You forced his hands away from his face by cradling it in your own palms. “There’s no one else I’d rather share my days with.”

Joel just shut his eyes tighter, trying to contain the tears that started to gather in them.

“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered. “But in a couple of years I’ll be… God, I’ll be fuckin’ sixty, and you–”

“Do you really think I care about that?” you asked softly, brushing your thumbs under his eyes, but he shook his head, like you didn’t understand. “Joel, I love you more than anything in this world. And I know you love me.” He heard the faintest smile in your voice, and it made him feel so, so terrible with himself – that you were trying to make him feel better when you shouldn’t have, he shouldn’t have been another one of your worries… “So where’s the problem? I want to be with you. Only you.”

Joel pressed his lips together and before he could stop himself, he draped his arms over his lap, like he was trying to hide the evidence of his insecurities from you, even though his torso was already covered by the t-shirt.

“You’re young and beautiful,” he repeated, still unable to find strength in himself to look you in the eye. “And I’m anythin’ but. I just don’t wanna…”

Joel didn’t know what else to say.

He didn’t want you to leave. He didn’t want to spend another night apart from you. He didn’t want to push you away.

“Just don’t want you to be unhappy,” he finally murmured.

You let out something between a short chuckle and a stifled sob, and your fingers found Joel’s, still wrapped around his stomach.

“Do I look unhappy to you?” you asked, almost in disbelief. Joel finally willed himself to glance at you, if only to see for himself – which turned out to be a mistake. Your eyes were sad and teary, but not full of hurt or distaste like he feared, and you still had this faint smile on your face. He quickly turned his head away and you must’ve realized how you looked because your hold on his fingers tightened slightly. “Not right now. In general, did I ever do something to make you think I’m not happy with you?”

“No,” he answered quietly, not even having to think about it. “But it doesn’t…”

“I told you before, how can I even look at anyone else when I have you?” you spoke up when he faltered. “You’re beautiful to me, Joel, even if you don’t believe me right now. You’re amazing and kind, you’re fucking hot, and yeah, maybe you’re stubborn at times, but I love you so much, and every day I find another reason to fall for you all over again.”

Joel met your eyes again, looking for any hesitation or deceit – but he didn’t find any. As always, you were sincere in everything you said.

He realized, with another wave of tears threatening to roll down his cheeks, how much he missed your affection that he alone deprived himself from. How much he longed for this intimacy that once came so easily to him.

“M’sorry,” he muttered at last, lifting his hand to your face and trying to ignore those damn tears spilling from behind his eyelids. “Never doubted you, babygirl, but I just didn’t know how… how to tell you.”

“It’s okay, Joel,” you nuzzled your cheek into his palm, planting a kiss on the inside of his hand. “It’s alright, c’mon here.”

Not letting go of his hand, you tugged him gently and leaned back on the pillows. With great effort he refrained from fighting you, and instead let you pull him down, laying his head on your chest.

And in an instant, everything was alright again. The moment Joel heard your heartbeat under his ear and felt your gentle hands on the nape of his neck and his back… it was like coming home. This feeling of warmth spreading across his limbs made him feel safe for the first time in weeks.

It was so long since he fully let you hold him.

Maybe that’s what he’s been missing.

“I adore you, Joel Miller,” you whispered into the top of his head, holding him close to your heart. “All of you, and just the way you are.”

Joel couldn’t help it – a small smile crept onto his lips.

“Called it,” he murmured. “You’re gettin’ sappy.”

You snorted and kissed his hairline. “I think you need it, handsome.”

“Maybe I do,” he conceded, not moving his head from your chest, and sighed tiredly. “Dammit, missed holdin’ you like this, babygirl. M’so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you countered, but he continued.

“I just didn’t know how to talk about it… How to tell you that I feel bad. About… the way I look.”

Joel felt your hands on his cheeks, and although he really didn’t want to move from the position he was in, he let you lift his head.

“I love the way you look,” you said quietly, in a tone that made Joel’s old heart flutter. “And our bodies change, there’s nothing wrong with that. If anything, I’m really happy that both of us can enjoy this kind of life.” You leaned in and nudged Joel’s nose with yours, closing your eyes. “Every change of our bodies is a sign that we’re finally safe after all we’ve been through. 

“But you look gorgeous as ever, sweet girl.”

“M’glad to hear it, Mr Miller,” you teased, but then your smile turned wistful. “But you know, I was insecure about my looks, too, not sure if you noticed. My stomach and thighs, and,” you rolled your eyes, “well, my butt.”

Normally Joel would throw a playful remark, or try to make you giggle, but this time he stayed silent. He just listened to your soft voice, drinking in your features.

“It worried me for some time. But you still put your hand on my leg when I was sitting with you, and you never shied away from telling and showing me,” you stressed this word, a teasing note in your tone, “how much you like my body.”

“‘Course I do,” he murmured quietly, lifting himself on his elbows and leaning over you despite your huffs and efforts to keep him in place.

“So I thought that maybe you didn’t care about this extra weight, or even didn’t–”

The rest of your words were swallowed by Joel’s lips when he kissed you deeply and hungrily. So many strong emotions were swirling inside his chest, he didn’t know anymore what to do with himself. At first you tried to continue your train of thought, but soon gave up, erupting into giggles when Joel latched his lips onto your neck and wrapped his arms around you in an attempt to bring you in even closer.

“I didn’t care,” he was whispering into your skin, leaving a trail of wet kisses in his wake. “I don’t.”

“Then you see– Joel, stop it!” You squealed when he carried on with his assault, not giving you a second to gather your thoughts.

“M’so lucky to have you,” he whispered while peppering your face in soft kisses. “Thank you, babygirl.”

You finally managed to free your arms, and you cupped his face in your hands with a huge grin that Joel decided he wanted to see every day. Another adorable giggle escaped you when he snuggled his scratchy cheek into your palm.

“I know it will take time,” you said gently, but firmly, looking deep into his eyes. “But no matter how long it’ll take, I will make you understand how incredibly attracted I am to you.” Joel hung his head low to hide a bashful snigger, and your smile grew. “Understand?”

“Yeah, yeah. Understood, ma’am.”

“Good.” You pulled him closer to plant a slow kiss on his lips, and asked seductively: “I can start right now, if you’d want to. I don’t want my handsome man to feel insecure about any part of him.”

God, he loved you so much.

Joel hid his face in the crook of your neck again, his heart squeezing with adoration and disbelief at how it came that he’d been blessed with someone like you.

“Y’know what, sweetheart? I think it’d do me good.”

[saleeba]

payback ; jude bellingham

summary ♡ you're not happy with the little amount of attention your boyfriend is giving you so you decide to take matters into your own hands. jude shows you the consequences.

pairing ♡ jude bellingham x fem!reader 

content ♡ 18+, smut, bratty!reader, hard-dom!jude, blowjob, exhibitionism (???), some praise, light degradation (another rough bj sceneeeee i’m never beating the slag allegations 😓) 

a/n ♡ requested by this lovely anon ; i am SO glad i’ve finally got it out omg only took me 9 bloody months 😩😩 this is one of my lazier works only bc i needed to get smth out asapp before i start a new term at uni but i hope you all enjoy <33 (not proofread so pls forgive all the mistakes! 🫶🏽)

there’d been hubbub coming from jude’s office ever since you got home in haste with your work bag burdening your arms and a tingle between your legs, mind made up on getting jude into bed as quickly as you like and riding him beyond the sunrise. the noise had become increasingly common recently as you found him spending more and more of his free time in that same office, the calling of his name from your lips being replied to with rapid click-clacks of the game controller and bantering shouts down the headset instead of his signature yes, baby? nobody could blame you for being upset that he was essentially more interested in those damn games than he was in you, his girlfriend of multiple years. 

the throbbing between your legs is growing to be overbearing now, and you need your boyfriend badly — need his fingers to stop pressing those stupid buttons and press against the puffiness of your clit instead. desperation pulls you towards the office’s half-open door and then inside, where jude is sitting, his eyes laser-focused on the blaring screens before shouting a displeased fuck off! to no one in particular as the monitor displays a message of GAME OVER, headset thrown down to the desk in exasperated resignation.

“juuuude,” you step into the role of needy girlfriend as fast as he dons the headset again. “are you finished now?” you’re hoping he turns around to see your oscar-worthy performance of painting on a pout and bambi eyes but his eyes are still drawn into the graphics of guns and warzones in front of him and he doesn’t even spare a glance your way.

“juuuuude!”

“one minute, babe, just need to get this high score then i’m done.” he’s still not looking at you and you can tell you guys are barely in the same reality, his every sense preoccupied with this stupid game. there’s no way he’s going to be getting that done in one minute nor is he ending it there — you’d be lucky to see him exit the room after three hours, probably having played through 5 more rounds and hopped onto another game. he was being so annoying and unfortunately, it was doing nothing to douse the flames in your core. 

and so you decide to kick your plans up a notch. if he won’t listen to you, fine. but he would never ignore the feeling of your skin on his, would he?   

jude’s busy chatting about tactics and skins and what-not with the friends he’s playing with and you occupy yourself by letting your hands run over his ears from behind — removing those pesky headphones — then his shoulders then down to the toned expanse of his jumper-clad chest, keeping your touch tender and unassuming to start with, lips finding their way to the shell of his ear — right before they leave a teasing kiss that barely ghosts over his skin.

“i need you, jude,” you whine, an inspired streak of the ‘damsel in distress’ in your performance now. “please, baby.” your hands are running down more shamelessly, fiddling with the zip of his trousers whilst his fingers falter at the controls. 

“y/n…” he tentatively warns and the way he says your name tells you that messing with him right now will have dire consequences. whatever gets me cumming tonight, you think to yourself; the urgent necessity to have him between your legs is far more dire. jude dares to simply slip his headset back on and focus on the game in hand. 

stepping up your own game and feeling that little bit more daring, you push his gaming chair back, letting the wheels do their job as you tuck yourself in under the desk, a look of disapproval on jude’s face for you as the muffled sounds of voices come from under his ears give the glint of a cruel idea forming in your eyes.

“and what do you think you’re doing?!” jude hisses out as your fingers find a route back to that zip on his trousers, pulling it down and taking his cock out of his boxers faster than he can say anything else. 

“stop me if you want.” you smile cheekily, eyes still doe-ish and feigning concern, before tapping the dark tip of his dick on the slickness of your tongue, savouring the almost-instant way he hardens in your hands. the grip he has on the controller seems harder, veins nearly ready to burst when you dip his head into the gaping of your mouth. 

you take the absence of him arguing against this as an incentive to carry on, to wrap your lips further down his length and really drive the message home with a tightening of your cheeks once the tip reaches the access to your throat. 

“fuck, baby…” jude tries his hardest to let only whispers escape his lips but he forgets the fortune he spent on getting this high-quality, high-sensitivity headset as he’s met with worried questions from his mates, all asking if he’s okay and about what’s going on. his spluttering reply of “u-uh, oh, nothing, i’m fine” has you catching on to the fact if you were really feeling brave, his friends would be able to hear every sound that the both of you make. 

you distract him with the tiniest of kitten licks on his tip, small enough to keep him focused on his game but rapid and desperate enough for you to not hand over victory before your gameplan is finalised with its last stage…

you’d normally struggle to take him in all at once, his girth being almost always too much to handle, but there’s a fire lit inside you tonight and you feel like you could take on anything to cool yourself down, including having a go at deepthroating jude in one go — all of the sake of fucking with him in the presence of his friends. 

it’s difficult, you’re not surprised because you don’t think you’ll ever get used to his size, but you do make it in one sweep of your mouth, the muscles of your throat immediately constricting around the intrusion of his thickness, and jude nearly jumps out of his seat. the loudest groan you’ve ever heard him make escapes his lungs and he lets his fingers slip off the controller before that menacing GAME OVER lettering covers the screen. you can hear the jeering and taunting from his mates as he hastily takes off his headphones, the microphone attachment laying just centimetres above where you’re smirking up at your boyfriend, chest heaving and mouth gracelessly wet from the amount of spit it had to create to be able to form its attack on jude.

inquiries are coming from the headphones over jude and his whereabouts, the occasional “jude, you alright, bro?” filling the stand-off-ish atmosphere you’ve found yourself in as the man in question looms over you, now stood up before his hands clasp onto your head.

oh, you’re in for it now. 

“open. now.” he orders, not waiting for an answer as his tip slides past your lips the millisecond they part and you feel yourself instantly choking around his shaft when he pushes it all the damn way to the column of your throat. “this is what you wanted, right?” you hawk and splutter over the concrete-harshness of his cock as he begins his counterattack on you.

the twisted part is that you want to say yes, you have been wanting this. you’ve been thinking about the heftiness of his dick inside you — any which way, in any hole — since the morning, on your way to work, throughout work, on the way back. this is secretly your self-gifted reward for being so patient. 

“had to act up like a needy slut, didn’t ya? couldn’t even wait, could ya? always so fucking greedy, baby.” you’re whining your fake protests around the spearing movement of his cock, nails scratching at his thighs in an attempt to find some grounding, some sense of reality around you, trying so hard to not cum from the pussy-drenching harshness of jude’s words. 

“you wanted my mates to hear everything, didn’t you, sweetheart?” you weren’t exactly being quiet then so neither is he now; you wouldn't be shocked if his friends couldn’t look you both in the eyes next time you meet. “wanted them to hear how good you suck me off, how good you take me — wanna get them all jealous, huh?” 

you’re teary-eyed now, nose doing all the work in keeping oxygen flowing around your body, for you would’ve passed out from the constant ramming of thick, heavy cock inside your mouth and that combined with the white-hot words from jude’s lips? you fear it’s too much, legs spreading in their kneeled form, fingers reaching to soothe the pulsing of your clit. 

“don’t you fucking dare.” jude shuts that idea down quicker than it can come to life. “you don’t get to be a greedy girl and still have it your way, angel.” 

you don’t want to deal with the fact that you may be out of your depth right now, having unlocked a little bit of a darker side to jude. is it bad that you want it to invite it in and have it show itself to you in its full glory? 

jude slips himself out of the warmth of your spent mouth, your jaw doing its best to relax itself before he pats your cheek quite heavy-handedly. 

“c’mon, baby, remind me again of how you can be a good girl and maybe you can have it your way.”

[illusioninfnty]

party hard ↠ day 20 ; cock worship

↠ rafe cameron x reader

fandom: outer banks word count: 1.5k warnings: nsfw 18+, lots of dirty talk, mean!rafe, degradation, intoxicated sex, blowjob, possessiveness, maybe ooc rafe bc i have not actually seen the show

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

It was no secret to your closest friends that whenever you drank at parties, you got really horny. Go figure that out of all of your insanely wild friends, you would be the one who gets utterly humiliated by grinding up on random people. It was why you always volunteered to be the designated driver. Yet you couldn’t help but admit that the payoff was sometimes worth it.

But of course, one can never say no to Rafe Cameron. Your boyfriend had yet to see what you were like when you were drunk, and that only happened once he convinced one of your friends to steal your keys and give you more than a single drink.

“You taste so good, baby,” you whisper in Rafe’s ear, craning your neck to reach. The party at Topper’s house was probably at its peak, people from all over the island swarming the house in droves. But you don’t care about anyone else right now. You press sloppy kisses on your boyfriend’s neck, sucking hickeys in certain spots. Your hands run down his sides, stopping at his ass to give it a squeeze.

It was clear that your boyfriend also had quite a bit to drink, his cheeks were flushed and his always tense body had relaxed ever so slightly.

As your kisses get more heated and you begin to grind on him, Rafe raises an eyebrow and looks down at you, removing your wandering hands from his bottom and placing them higher on his waist. 

“What’s gotten into you?”

Your hands turn their focus to his chest, caressing it, and you look up at him with slow blinks as a sly smirk crosses your face.

“Hopefully you, later.”

Rafe’s eyes narrow at your comment, and he lets out a faint laugh. He pushes against you until your body is up against a kitchen cabinet away from most of the other party guests.

“You're acting like a little slut today, aren’t you?” He grasps you by the chin, forcing your gaze onto him. With his other hand he presses into your hip bone, forcing them to still. You whine at the loss of contact.

Perceptive as ever, Rafe notices your problem and sighs mockingly. “Guess I’m gonna have to treat you like one too.”

He pulls you out of the kitchen and up the staircase, ignoring the hoots and hollers of those who notice you two leaving.

He tugs you into the first room you come across—a bedroom, no surprise. It’s definitely not Topper's; the setup and color scheme is a simple pale beige, much too classy for a guy like him.

Rafe shuts the door behind you as you go to grab his neck and pull him down for a kiss. He stops you, grasping the back of your head to restrain you. 

“Baby,” you draw out as you lock your fingers behind his neck. “Let me make you feel good.” He shakes his head at your failed attempt to appease him.

“If you really want to make me feel good, then get on your knees.”

You eagerly comply.

Now eye level with his crotch, you can see the tent that was straining against his shorts. Without being prompted to, you push him down onto the bed as you begin to undo the button and zip on his cargo shorts and tear down his boxers. His hard cock bounces from its confines and you grasp it, practically drooling at the sight. Precum is already beading at the head, and you press a finger to it, pulling away to see it follow you in a long strand. Rafe moves his hand to the back of your head, guiding your motions.

“I’ve missed your cock,” you moan out. You trail kisses up and down the length, mimicking what you were doing to your boyfriend’s neck just minutes ago. Rafe hisses above you with the sudden contact, and you squeeze him ever so slightly. Your other hand trails to his balls, fondling them. “I’ve been missing these, too.”

Rafe’s hips jerk involuntarily. “Fuck baby, you’re always so good to me. You love my cock, don’t you?” As you glance up at him, you see that his eyes are already on you. They darken as they meet your own, and you could feel your cheeks heating up with the intensity of his stare. The sight of your boyfriend’s enjoyment makes you only want to pleasure him harder.

“I do,” you coo, giving the head of his cock a single, long lick, flattening your tongue on the surface. He groans and the grip he has on your hair tightens.

The sensation has your heart racing, and you moan loudly against Rafe’s cock, catching his attention. He sneers at you from above.

“I bet you’re fucking soaked down there, huh? Am I gonna feel your pussy all wet if I stick my fingers in it?”

Your pussy throbs at his demeaning words, begging for attention. But all that matters to you right now is Rafe, so you hum in agreement at his words and focus on his length.

“Don’t care about that right now.” Your words begin to slur, practically cock drunk as you nuzzle into him. “Only care about you.”

That sends him into a spiral. His nostrils flare and he slaps his cock against your cheek, keeping your head in place. 

You chase his warmth, hands touching whatever they can with your limited sight. His balls feel heavy in your hand, and you so desperately wished that Rafe would let you do more than just touch.

He pulls you away from his cock and tilts your head up. He’s panting as much as you are, the red in his cheeks harsher than before. His arousal practically mirrors your own, and the thought of how much he wanted you in that moment makes your body ache all over.

“Get to sucking, slut.”

Your wish is finally granted and you enthusiastically swallow his cock, gagging on the long shaft in the process. Your throat burns and your eyes water, but all you can think about is the heaviness of it on your tongue, the salty precum coating the inside of your mouth. Your vision goes blurry from the tears that leave your eyes yet you can only moan at the feeling of it.

“Feel so good, babe.” Rafe’s praise is surprising and it causes you to suck him harder, taking him deeper into your throat. He hisses at the sensation. “This mouth was made for me. It’s all mine, right?”

You release him with a pop to answer him. “Only yours, Rafe.” 

His eyes narrow and a dark chuckle leaves his lips. “Say it again.”

Your heart is racing in your chest and your pussy aches with need. You thrust in the air against nothing, silently begging for some sort of release. Rafe’s words stir up carnal need within you.

“Only yours!”

“Better fucking be.”

He jerks his hips back up and you take him in your mouth again. You bob up and down his shaft furiously, desperate to give him some pleasure. The remaining length that doesn’t fit in your mouth is taken into your hands, fondled and stroked as your full attention remains on his cock.

There isn’t a single part of Rafe that isn’t being worshiped by you. Drool leaves your mouth as you hum against his cock, refusing to let it go. It feels hot in your mouth and you try to take it even deeper, your gag reflex mildly suppressed by the amount of times you’ve already tried this with him.

“Fuck yeah,” he jeered. “My little cock whore has to get her whole fill, ain’t that right?”

You whimper instinctually, the possessive growl in his voice practically making a puddle form beneath you. Rafe’s words egg you on and you take him all the way to the base, nose hitting his pubic hair. You can feel him twitching, nearing his end and that only makes you work harder. You move your head even faster, swirling your tongue all along his length.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Rafe pulls you off of his cock as his cum releases all over you, the sticky liquid splashing onto your face and dripping down your chest. You sweep a finger across some that landed on your cheek and put it in your mouth, swirling it around. The taste is so familiar, so him. You moan at it, smiling up at him. You relish in the sensation of him all over you.

Rafe leans back panting with a matching grin. His pupils are dilated and his cheeks are flushed; if he looks like that, you don’t even want to imagine the shape that you’re in right now. He caresses the back of your head and you nuzzle into his thigh, mumbling an I love you that you’re not quite sure he hears.

Rafe’s eyes gleam as he smirks down at you.

“God damn, babe. You gotta start drinking more at parties.”

[urhoneycombwitch]

shrine of your lights

Eddie Munson x fwb!Reader edibles and a church wedding to attend. what could go wrong with Eddie as your plus one? 

foreword: I listened to Say You Love Me by Fleetwood Mac for this. LOL. kind of AU bc it’s a few years after ssn 4 and everyone is alive and just fine (lovesick but oh well can’t b helped) based on this anon thank u for inspiring me!!!!

cw: a smidge of Catholic blasphemy, weed usage, friends w/ benefits Eddie, R is a bit of a love (and relationship) skeptic and Eddie is lovesick, R+E are in their 20’s, pining, public sex (no one but them observes tho), R has hair long enough to tuck behind ears, R gets a hickey but skin tone/color is not described, R has breasts and a V, softdom Eddie, marking kink (?)

wc: 4.8k

___

The stained glass window in front of you looms tall, afternoon light streaming through and casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the polished wood flooring. You stretch out a hand into the warm beam of sun, admiring the way the colors catch and bounce off your dainty star-chain bracelet.

When Eddie had suggested you two eat some weed brownies as a precursor to your (very distant, very Catholic) cousin’s wedding, you hadn’t quite expected to get as stoned as you are now. Since Eddie hasn’t attended any major life functions sober since 1981, and seeing as how you refuse to step foot inside a church space without some sort of social lubricant, the weed wasn’t a hard sell at all. 

To be fair, Eddie had warned you of their potency, and you had snuck another quarter of a brownie when his back was turned: but christ, your tolerance must be crazy low or something, ‘cuz a window has no right to be this mesmerizing. 

You’ve been staring at it for the past five minutes, in your own little world while a steady stream of wedding guests file in through the big oak doors and mill about before the ceremony. The warm, still air of the church is heady with the smell of fresh florals and incense, and a line of votive candles flicker and wink against the windowsill.

Casting a glance over your shoulder, you see Eddie’s still speaking in gentle tones with an elderly woman (whom you’re likely related to, hard to say) near the foyer, all charming smile and sincere hand pressed to the slip of bare chest his button-down displays. You’ve got to hand it to the guy, he’s really great at endearing himself to total strangers; he’s been a natural shoe-in for any plus-one you’ve needed over the past few years.

While Eddie is perfectly in his element, holding what looks to be an engaging conversation while stoned to all hell, your focus is drawn back to the window. You should probably be on the arm of your guest, seeing as how it’s your family wedding after all, but the swirling lights and colors are too alluring to pull yourself away from.

“Beautiful piece of art, isn’t it?”

The voice behind you is unfamiliar, and proper social graces here would call for an introduction, perhaps a firm handshake, but your limbs and tongue feel so loose and the reply is out of your mouth before you can think twice- “God, yeah. S’fucking gorgeous. I want one for my house.”

There’s a light cough, and when you turn on your low-heeled Mary Janes it’s under the amused eye of a priest- in full priest-garb. Green velvet robes and little hat and everything.

You realize your error- swearing and taking the Lord’s name in vain- but the brief stint in Catholic school from when you were 6 is unfortunately not recalled in time to stop the scramble of swears mixed with apologies that come tumbling out. 

“Oh shit- I mean- fuck. Oh god. Sorry, Father, I didn’t mean-”

The priest- old as hell but thankfully with sense of humor still intact- smiles kindly at you and takes your hand in both of his, patting graciously. “No apologies are necessary, my dear. The beauty of God can be overwhelming and awe-inducing.”

You nod jerkily, grabbing on to his excuse- “Yes, yep. That’s exactly what happened. Struck down by the awe.”

The priest nods to you, and then to Eddie (who’s appeared at your side like a guard dog that sensed trouble), then wanders off down a row of pews to greet other guests.

You’re nearly doubled over with the effort it takes to conceal your laughter, Eddie stroking a calming hand down your back and chuckling with you under his breath. 

“Struck down by the awe, huh?” he echoes as you straighten back up and dab at the tears gathering against your lashline. “You really are somethin’.”

“That was so embarrassing but guess what-” here you lean in, voice a conspiratorial whisper as Eddie raises his eyebrows to look down his nose at you- “I don’t give a fuck ‘cuz I’m hi-igh.”

This last word is sung with a two-note lilt, and you turn back to the comfort of the sunny window as Eddie steps in beside you, shaking his head. “I told you to start with a lower dose, ya goose. Did you take more when I wasn’t looking?”

You shrug a shoulder, the soft linen of your cardigan brushing up against the hard leather of Eddie’s jacket. “Maybe. Couldn’t say. You gonna steal this window for me or what?”

He blows out a breath, pretending to appraise the size and heft, rapping his ringed knuckles against the sill- “Well normally I’d say ‘anything for my girl’, but we’d need a shrink ray for this type’a heist.”

“Maybe Dustin has one we can borrow.”

He sucks his front teeth, playing along, shaking his head in faux-disappointment. “Nah, little shit’s only got a ham radio. Useless when it comes to religious robbery.”

Eddie looks overly pleased when you giggle, but some of the humor in his face falls to concern as he reaches out to squeeze your upper arms. “Hey. You doin’ okay? If you’re too stoned to sit through the ceremony, I can find us a little spot to hole up in. I’m good at finding those.”

“I know you are,” you reply, waving away his worry. “I’m fine, honest. Do I look high?”

He holds you at arm’s length, giving you a contemplative once-over. “Nope. You look beautiful.”

You roll your eyes, affectionately, then smooth your palms over the front of your black slip dress and pull the scalloped sleeves of your cardigan into place. “Well, of that I am aware.”

Eddie winks, and you really wish you were sober enough that the warmth of his hands and the smell of his cologne would have less of an effect but high as you are, you want nothing more than to burrow into his neck and taste the salt of his skin. 

“Do I look high?” he asks, pulling away to do a little spin so you can appraise his appearance. 

Eddie Munson, as it turns out, cleans up very well for family functions: smart black boots, maroon button-down tucked into a pair of flare-legged trousers, worn but well-kept leather jacket to top the outfit off. And in signature Eddie fashion, little glints of silver highlight the ensemble- his usual chunky rings, stacked layers of thin chain necklaces, metal buckles on his coat and at his waist, even a set of tiny hoops (courtesy of your jewelry drawer) in his ears. 

The dryness in your mouth has nothing to do with your intoxication as you blink back to the present and give Eddie a once-over. “Uhm. Nope. You look sober. And very hot.”

He grins at you, wolfish, but then a bright chord of organ music signals the start of the ceremony. With a steady hand on your back, he leads you to a pew near the last row; when you’re both seated, his hand runs smoothly down to rest on your thigh, drumming a lazy beat with his thumb against you as the processional starts. 

Your cousin Marion looks lovely swathed in white tulle, contrasted with her groom in a black tux. Her mother, your aunt- Karen? Karina? can’t recall- dabs at her tears with a delicate lace handkerchief in the front pew as the couple exchanges vows, promising eternal and ineffable love until their ultimate demise, etcetera. 

You’re not someone who’s ever fallen prone to the gushy emotions that love seems to create in so many of your peers. While Nancy and Robin will dole out tissues to each other during some cheesy romcom, you’ll get ribbed for being so stoic. None of your breakups have ever ended in giant blowouts or dramatics from your side- hard to fight for something when you hadn’t really cared about it in the first place. 

That’s why you consider yourself so lucky, when it comes to Eddie. After the two of you ended your high school fling due to graduation, you’d come back to Hawkins after a few years of college and found yourself sneaking out like a teenager again to hang out with Eddie Munson. 

He told you he doesn’t want anything serious, either, and that he’s just fine being friends who sleep around and go to all of each other’s parties.

You almost believe him. 

He’s been to every one of your nephew’s hockey games this past season, and you’ve spent two cozy Christmases so far at the trailer with him and Wayne; every party in between has ended with Eddie driving you home, or (more frequently) back to his place. Your collective relatives and friends haven’t asked about your relationship status in years, and it’s all thanks to Eddie’s presence in your life: if the two of you aren’t technically dating, it’s really no one’s business. 

The old priest from earlier is droning on about some bible verse; uncomfortable on the hard bench and feeling restless, you shift your hips, and Eddie digs his fingers into the meat of your thigh.

“Quit. Squirming,” he murmurs, lips at your ear. When you shiver and still, he pats your leg and straightens again, eyes fixed to the front altar.

You and Eddie make it through the ceremony with minimal damage, only getting one dirty look from an older man in the pew ahead when you’d snickered at a dirty joke (courtesy of your benchmate). Marion and her new husband greet their guests one by one as everyone filters outside, and you coast easily through the interaction, kissing your cousin on both cheeks and fawning over her dress and giving just the right amount of congrats before Eddie plucks at your elbow to subtly redirect your attention. 

“Let’s get some food in you,” he says, linking your arms together as you follow the receiving line outdoors.

The reception is held just next to the church building in a surprisingly lovely courtyard. Sunlight filters through the willow trees at the edge of a grass yard, where a picnic basket awaits on each spread quilt. People are kicking off their dress shoes, unwinding with the lure of nature, kids chasing each other through the paths between blankets as adults wiggle their toes into the grass and dig into the luncheon.

Possibly, you’re high and over-romanticizing, but you can tell by the look on Eddie’s face he’s there with you, taking it all in from your blanket in a quiet corner of the yard. 

There are finger sandwiches in the basket, along with some fresh fruit and plastic utensils and plates to eat off of; Eddie fixes you a plate and you dig in happily, sock feet tucked under yourself, yours and Eddie’s shoes in a jumble nearby. 

“Could eat anything when I’m high,” you muse, then bite into a sandwich that has the perfect cream-cheese-to-cucumber ratio with a contented sigh. “Food is so good.”

Eddie snaps a baby carrot with his back teeth, then snorts at you before reaching out to tuck one side of your hair behind your ear before it gets eaten along with your food. “I know you can eat anything when you’re high. I once saw you scooping up apple pie with potato chips.”

You give him a sidelong frown, mouth full of bread and veg as you defend yourself- “Yeah, and it was great. Dee-licious. Would do it again if-”

Your name is being called, and you swivel to see a young man about your age weaving along the spaces between blankets towards yours and Eddie’s spot.

“Tony!” In a neat bit of multitasking, you manage to swallow your food and rise to your feet (albeit unsteadily, with Eddie’s hand snapping out to support your efforts), then hold your arms out to envelop the boy in a hug. “Oh my god, it’s been ages.”

Anthony Townsend has grown up in the time you’ve spent away- the last recollection you have of your former childhood neighbor is his mop of red hair bouncing with the trampoline his parents bought him in 6th grade. He grew into his looks, for sure- the awkwardness of pre-teen ears and too-big front teeth have settled into a very kind and handsome face.

He looks genuinely pleased to see you, returning your hug with a squeeze, pulling back to hold both your hands and ask about where you’ve been. You breeze through a highlighted version of the last few years, leaving out all the interdimensional monster bullshit and focusing the questions back on him.

Tony’s telling you about his father’s veterinary practice that’s still running smoothly when you feel Eddie at your back, and Tony falters, dropping your hands.

Social cues come a tad slow to you, under the influence, and you think Tony’s stumbling because you haven’t introduced him yet (how were you supposed to know Eddie’s been glaring daggers at the poor kid ever since you’d hugged him?), and you attempt to remedy your mistake with a casual remark- “You know, Eddie here has been feeding the stray cats at our place every night, a whole colony of them- there’s gotta be, what, ten of ‘em now?”

You turn to Eddie for confirmation, reeling a little at the dark scowl he’s still sporting as he nods. “Yup. Somethin’ like.”

Tony scratches at the back of his neck, freckled cheeks pink as he begins to back away- “Um, yeah. Cool. Well it was great to see you! I gotta…”

With a vague gesture, he turns and tails it back to his blanket on the other side of the yard. You whirl on Eddie, his face smoothing back into relaxed indifference, even as you hiss, “What the hell was that?”

Eddie shrugs. “Don’t know what you mean, princess.”

“That,” you repeat, waving an arm in the air for emphasis. “I know I’m not sober but you were being weird, even by my standards.” 

There’s this look that Eddie gets, sometimes, when one of you bumps against the walls of your loosely-defined relationship- a brief flash of pain and sadness before it gets hidden away behind his comfortable mask of bravado.

He’s got it now- a small pinch in his eyebrows, doey eyes swimming with emotion, and you put a hand on his leather-clad arm as the pieces fall into place. “Were you… are you jealous?”

In the span of a blink, the mask is back up, and with a dry laugh that’s so unlike him, Eddie shakes his head. “Nah. What do I have to be jealous of, huh? ‘S not like we belong to each other.”

Maybe on a different day, with half the weed in your system, you’d be able to let this comment slide. But there’s something deeply hurtful about it, sinking and twisting in your stomach like a stone. Your grip tightens on Eddie’s arm, tears stinging hot at your eyes, voice a watery, desperate thing- “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”

Eddie is quick to comfort you, once he realizes you’re close to crying- “Shit, sweetheart. Okay. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to think…” Your voice is still shaky with emotion as Eddie lets you hold on to him, gently shushing you even though there’s no one near enough to hear. “You’re important to me, Eddie. I never wanna make you mad, or upset, or-”

“I’m not.” Eddie cuts smoothly into your rambling, placing his hands on either side of your neck as you cling to him, cool rings kissing into your skin. “I’m not mad, promise. I was just being an asshole for no reason, okay? Could never be mad at you.”

His thumb strokes at the column of your throat, your breath and heart rate lulled to normal under his touch, his expression returning to the gentle fondness you’re used to seeing.

“Let’s finish up lunch, hm?” Eddie says, and with a final soft squeeze he pulls away from you, taking with him the warmth of his palms.  

It’s always like this, with him, at least in front of your respective families- any PDA is kept to a strict minimum, nothing too intimate or drawn out so as not to attract attention. You’d implemented this rule from the beginning, and Eddie has been nothing but respectful of it, your peace of mind over not wanting a label pacified.

But right now? The lack of Eddie’s arms around you or his lips on yours was starting to make you ache. 

You both settle into the blanket again, conversation flowing around mouthfuls of food as you catch Eddie up with the latest family gossip, laughing when he bats your pointer finger out of the air (as if anyone is really paying attention to you two giggling loons). 

Someone’s brought a radio and has it dialed to a soft rock station; you gasp and shove at Eddie (sprawled out like a house cat after a full meal in the sun), exclaiming “It’s Fleetwood Mac and you love Fleetwood Mac!”

“I so don’t,” he grumbles, but rises easily when you tug at him to stand sock-to-sock feet with you in the grass. 

You both fall into a smooth rhythm, Eddie’s hands staying (respectably) on your hips, yours looped around his neck, doing a slow little rotation. He gazes at you as you sway back and forth in each other’s arms, the scrutiny making you titter and fidget.

“What?”

“Thought I told you to quit squirmin’,' ' comes his answer, hands tightening into the meat of your waist. “Let me look at you a minute.”

So you let him look. 

While his chocolate eyes roam your face, you trail a hand up to curl a lock of his hair around your finger. Eddie leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut, giving you room to do some staring of your own at those long, dark lashes. 

After another slow circle, Eddie inhales and draws himself back, clearing his throat. “Not that I’m not enjoying this, sweetheart, but we’re gonna start getting looks if you don’t quit using me as your personal stress toy.”

You snort. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“All good,” he replies, dimples springing into his cheeks, teasing again- “When we get home later you can pet me like a dog, if you want. Just gotta tone you down ‘cuz you get touchy when you’re high.”

Eddie’s being a perfect gentleman. He’s sticking to your rules and looking out for you.

So why is it making you so sad?

You realize, with a stunning clarity, that you don’t want to wait until you’re back at the trailer to touch Eddie. That you’re starting to crave him when he leaves, whether it’s for a day or an hour or just out of bed to get a snack. 

Fuck it, you think, and bend to scoop up your shoes. 

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you tell Eddie, slipping on your shoes then starting towards the building. When you realize he’s not following, you pause, giving him a look over your shoulder- “Aren’t you coming?”

Eddie blinks, wondering if you’re insinuating what he thinks you’re insinuating or if he’s just really, really high. “Um. Uh…”

You don’t leave room for the shock to sink in, turning on your heel and smirking when you hear him swear under his breath and scramble to catch up. 

In a narrow hallway lined with portraits of long-dead saints, you push Eddie against the wall, mouth sealing over his and hands roaming hungrily over his body.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, in between kisses, your fingers tugging at the root of his hair, near the nape of his neck where it stings the best- “what’s got you so worked up, princess?”

“You.” The answer is an honest one. You slip your tongue between Eddie’s teeth and the boy moans, melting into you.

Peppering kisses down Eddie’s face, your lips settle into the hollow just under his jaw, then part to give room to your teeth. Eddie stiffens as you bite down, sensitive skin pierced by your mouth; it’s his turn to be the squirmy one as you suck a bruise into that soft spot. 

His cock is filling out, as proved by the steadily-growing bulge behind his zipper. You give a mean little wiggle of your hips and Eddie jolts so hard you lose your spot on his neck, popping off him with a wet smack.

“Angel, you have to stop.” Eddie sounds absolutely wrecked as he tries to maintain some distance, head tipped back to stare at the popcorn ceiling. “M’not gonna last if you keep doing that. Let me take you home, we can-”

“Shhh.” You quiet him with a pointer finger smooshed against his lips, your other hand tilted to your ear. “You hear that?”

Eddie strains to hear distant cheers and hip hip hoorays from the festivities a few corridors away; when he nods, you whisper, “That’s the cake cutting. We have a good ten minutes before anyone thinks to come back here.”

At first, Eddie thinks he’s off the hook when you release him completely, walking swiftly towards the main sanctuary. But then, because you’re a temptress, you beckon him with an impatient wave.

And because he’s so easy for you, he follows.

It’s like that window has a magnetic pull- you’re back under the prismatic glow of the stained glass, brushing a hand across the wide sill to dust it before hopping up to perch there. You fit neatly between the split row of votive candles (all snuffed out by now), enough room for your knees to part and for Eddie to fill the space. 

You cross your arms around his neck, drawing him in with another deep kiss as his hands find your waist.

“Want you to mark me up,” you murmur, and when Eddie draws back, wary, you let your chin tip up. The crown of your head knocks into the window, exposing your throat. “Show them I’m yours, Eds.”

Only have to tell him twice, apparently, ‘cuz his teeth sink into your stretch of soft skin without further qualms. The feeling of his tongue soothing over the sore spot makes you jump, hips bucking forward into his hand that you didn’t even notice had trailed up the inside of your dress.

His long fingers pet at the wet patch that’s seeping through your underwear, catching at your clit on an upstroke, your gasp a harsh noise in the otherwise silent sanctuary.

Eddie begins to rub at you through the fabric in earnest now, tight circles with his thumb even as he pulls his mouth from your neck to assess his handiwork. “Yeah, fuck, sweetheart, that’s gonna leave a mark. You want everyone to know who you belong to, huh?”

Your bundle of nerves throbs under Eddie’s touch and you curse, hands weaving tight into his hair again. “Shit, Eddie, yeah- just like that…”

He dips back into the well of your neck with his teeth, keeps just the right amount of pressure on your clit, and that tension coiling in your lower stomach is just about to snap before you stop him with a hand around his wrist.

“Sorry,” you pant through the apology, forehead crushed to Eddie’s collarbone as you try and catch your breath. “Was about to come and I want you inside of me for that.”

“Jesus fucking christ.”

Eddie fumbles with his belt buckles as you giggle, chastising- “Hush and mind your manners, Munson. That’s blaspheming and we’re about to fuck in a church.”

“I’ll show you manners.” Eddie has his pants and briefs shoved to mid-thigh before you can draw breath to tell him off; one hand smears precum down the shaft of his ruddy cock as the other pushes your dress up and hooks your panties to the side. 

You’re wet and worked up enough that he slides into the heat of you with ease, breath punching out with the way his cock completely fills you. When Eddie pulls out and sinks back in, you let out a keening whine and scrabble for purchase on his leather jacket. 

“That’s it, sweetheart, that’s it-” his voice is a dark rumble, each word punctuated with a snap of his hips, the squelch of your slick walls responding. “So wet for me. That’s my good girl. You like gettin’ off to being mine, huh, angel?”

You nod, head lolling against the window, and Eddie grins wicked even though you can’t see it. “Come on. Show me whose pussy this is.”

When his hand snakes between your bodies to press against your clit with his thumb, you come with a long, strained whimper, ankles crossing at the small of Eddie’s back to draw him closer while the velvet walls of your cunt spasm. 

Eddie’s free hand shoots out to the supporting wood arch of the window for stability as he angles his hips up, longing for that glossy honey-eyed look you get sometimes: and there it is, your eyes half-lidded and brow pinched in pleasure as his cock hits against that gummy spot, the tremble of your thighs locked around his waist as your orgasm peaks. 

Once he’s fucked you through the height of it, Eddie dips to bite at the taut muscle where your neck and shoulder meet, clamping down on the words threatening to flood out as his hips stutter. He comes hard, deep groan muffled into your neck, curses and praises spilling out in mindless babbling: “Fuck fuck, angel, that’s it, honey, shit, you’re so wet. All for me, huh, baby? Doin’ so good…”

He sags into your arms, pinning you to the window, chests heaving in tandem as you both catch your breath. You stroke a hand down his back, towards his ass, and then to the edge of his pants.

When he realizes that you’re trying to tuck him back into his clothes he whines at you, but you’re quick to shush him. “We’re cuttin’ it close with timing already, Eds. Help me out?”

Reluctantly, Eddie pulls away from the wet warmth of you to re-dress. Once his belt is in place he attends to you, helping shift the hem of your dress back down, rubbing his finger lightly under the skin of your eye where some mascara had smudged.

“I’ll double back for the keys and we’ll go home, ‘kay?” Eddie says, nose nudging into your cheek. “Wait here. You got some wicked marks and everyone will know we just fucked.”

“Pfft. No they won’t. Who would actually fuck in a church?” You push Eddie back playfully, hopping down from the sill with a wink. “You’ve gotta be sick to do that. Good thing my family believes you to be a perfect goody-two-shoes.”

Eddie stares as you make for the doors back to the courtyard, shrugging off his incredulity- “Eddie. It’s fine. So they’ll think we made out a bit. Who cares? Not me. And plus…” here you trail off and point, mischievous, Eddie’s eye’s following the line to his sock feet- “...you kinda have a no-shoes situation goin’ on. Gotta fix that.”

When you disappear through the doors, Eddie slams a palm to his chest, in awe- then feels the outline of the lighter in his inner pocket. With a practiced twist, he has it out and lit in a second, holding the flame to the wick of a votive candle.

“I don’t know how these candles work, exactly, or if atheists are allowed to…” Eddie clears his throat, glances over his shoulder to confirm you’re still out of earshot, then whispers above the flickering light: “Please let this be real life and not just some high-fueled fantasy because this is kind of huge for me. Okay thanks. Amen, or whatever.”

Eddie blows out the candle like it’s a birthday wish then hurries to catch up with you, sock feet silent against the wood floor as he calls out your name- “Slow down and have a heart, babe, I’ve got no grip!”

[perseephoneee]

sugar & spice [ficmas day 13] [bucky barnes x afab!reader]

↳ masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ ficmas 2024

author's note: this is super late bc i drove home for the holidays today!! also i was watching SNL and got distracted

playlist:

christmas in hollis -- run dmc

thats christmas to me -- pentatonix

if we make it through december -- phoebe bridgers

Living next to the Winter Soldier was usually peaceful but sometimes awful. 

He had moved recently to St. Bernard Parish only a few months ago. You remember seeing all the drama with John Walker on the news, and Sam Wilson, aka “The Falcon,” stepping into the role of Captain America. You knew Sam was from the area, but you never expected his best friend to move in so close by. Let alone next to you. 

Most times, you don’t see him at all. Bucky tends to hide or only go out on errands. You’ll exchange a nod, maybe an awkward smile. You think to yourself that he’s incredibly handsome, even amidst the awkwardness. Maybe you would invite him out if you had more confidence. 

The first time you had a real conversation with him was in the apartment complex’s laundry room. Your cat had knocked over a glass of red wine all over your comforter, and you were sitting down there with spot remover cursing to yourself, trying to remove it. Additionally, the washer and dryer were ancient and didn’t want to accommodate something of your comforter size. You had attempted to smush it down to as small as possible, but the stupid machine wouldn’t turn on, and you were afraid of it exploding if you tried to put more detergent in. 

Bucky had come into the space at that moment. 

You never really knew what to do around him. He was this badass, sexy super soldier, and you were a nursing student who liked $6 wine. You guys did not operate in the same circuit. 

“Everything alright?” he asked. His voice was slightly raspy in a way you liked. 

“Washer,” you pointed to the offending object. He nodded like he understood. He probably did. He lived in the building. Bucky walked over and looked at the machine, shaking it a little like it would dislodge its problems. He tried pushing a bunch of buttons, but all it did was make the machine gurgle. You were too late to tell him to stop pressing things when your fear of bubbles exploding out of the machine was made a reality. 

Soapy water leaked out of the machine, covering you both in bubbles. By the time you found a way to shut off the machine, you were both wet and squeaky. Bucky looked mortified.

“I-I don’t know much about technology,” he apologized, red tinging his cheeks. You couldn’t help but burst out in laughter, which just made him confused. 

“This is ridiculous,” you laughed. Bucky chuckled until both of you stood there, trying to hold in laughter while covered in bubbles. The building manager came in a moment later and yelled at you both. 

Now, you had a tentative friendship with the Winter Soldier. Sometimes, you guys would go on morning runs or grab a coffee. One time, Bucky had you over to watch a sports game. You didn’t care much for sports but recognized it was him trying to be friendly, so you said yes. You guys made nachos for the big event. 

With Christmas around the corner, you were still trying to think of what you could get Bucky. He didn’t share much information about himself. Plus, you had a budget to work with. You were debating knitting him something but worried he would hate it. A knock on the door disturbed your thoughts. 

Bucky greeted you with a card in hand. 

“Hey, Barnes,” you smiled, leaning against the door frame. 

“Sam invited us to Delacroix for a Christmas gathering,” Bucky shrugged, handing you the invitation. You smiled at the family photo. 

“Sounds fun.”

“I’m not good with people.”

“Sure you are, I’ve heard stories of the infamous Uncle Bucky,” you chuckled. Sam had once shown you photos of his nephews hanging off Bucky’s arm. 

“That was a one-time experience,” Bucky said matter-of-factly. He had a hint of a smile on his lips, though. He shifted on his feet. “Are you busy today?”

“Not really.”

“I need to go holiday shopping…. I want to get something for the Wilsons,” Bucky sighed. He sounded stressed, and you got the sense that it had been a while since he’d had to think of gifts. You thought it was cute. 

“I’ll go shopping with you, Buck,” you grinned. “Let me grab a jacket.”

Bucky had seen in the paper an ad for a Christmas market in New Orleans, which is where you guys decided to head. You had a car and were able to drive you both into the city after relentlessly teasing him for still using the paper to find events. 

You didn’t live in the French Quarter for a myriad of reasons, and it being too expensive is one of them. But it was very pretty during this time of year. The market was covered in fake snow and twinkling lights, the smell of evergreen permeating the air. You ordered some mulled wine for the both of you, burning your tongue in your eagerness to sip the drink. You helped Bucky buy some things for Sam and his nephews. At some point, you snapped a picture of him comparing two different stuffed animals; his look of determination was absolutely adorable. You grabbed some things for your family, and while thinking of your Mom, you ended up at one of the jewelry booths. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it? Fresh pearl, right off in Olympia, Washington,” the seller crooned, pointing to a delicate necklace you were looking at. There was a delicate gemstone in the center. It seemed to be twinkling at you. 

It was a pretty penny, but you wanted to do something for your Mom, who singlehandedly helped you through nursing school. You fished out the money from your wallet and opted to get it wrapped, too. 

“That’s pretty,” Bucky said from behind you. He had a bag from the hot sauce stand and was just now seeing what you were getting. 

“It’s for my Mom, as a thank you,” you shrugged. You said thank you as you took the necklace from the seller. You paused, sniffing the air. “Do you smell schnitzel?”

You dragged Bucky to the German food booth and excitedly ordered both pork schnitzel plates with a side of potatoes. You didn’t realize how starving you were. Bucky looked concerned as you inhaled everything. 

“You eat like the men I served with.”

“I eat with an aura of awesomeness?” you retorted, shoveling more potatoes. He laughed. 

“Sure.”

“I feel you don’t have faith in my superior abilities, Barnes.”

“I rarely do.”

You were about to respond, something well thought out and clever like always, when someone jostled you walking by. You turned to call out to them to watch where they were going when you saw a familiar bag in their hands. You stood up immediately, Bucky following your line of sight. 

“They took my bag! That has my Mom’s gift in it!” you cried out. People looked at you in bewilderment, your assailant sprinting in the crowd and knocking people out of the way. 

“Y/N, wait!” Bucky yelled as you took off after him. You weren’t an athlete, but you could pick up speed when necessary. You felt like you were in a game of Temple Run as you dodged people and objects while moving after him. Bucky caught up to you easily, not even breaking a sweat. He surpassed you quickly, grabbing the guy from the back of his jacket and throwing him down. You gasped at how quickly he moved. Bucky held him down while he checked for your bag. He looked up to you in alarm. “He doesn’t have it.”

“I saw him take it,” you gasped. 

“He must’ve passed it off to someone in the crowd,” Bucky cursed. The guy was crying underneath him, and he let him go. He basically kicked him to the side. You scanned the crowd, noticing a similar get-up from a guy to your left. You nudged Bucky’s arms, pointing him out. He nodded at you before stalking his way towards him. Even in his movements, he seemed completely still. You weren’t surprised to know that he was one of the scariest assassins. 

You both followed the guy onto a quieter street from the market. Unfortunately, that’s when the rest of his accomplices came out to greet you. While you were confident that Bucky could get out of this situation, you were unsure about your own abilities. 

You didn’t even have a chance to fight back when someone grabbed you from behind, pressing a sweet-smelling cloth to your nose, lulling you into unconsciousness. 

You were awoken by a bright spotlight. 

Akin to a bad interrogation scene, you sat up and groaned. You were tied to a chair. Bucky was next to you, looking bored. Or at least feigning boredom. The gang of guys were standing around you, looking smug. 

“Well, well, well, look at what the cat dragged in,” one of them said, sounding smug. 

“Aren’t you the cat?” you groaned. One of the other guys slapped you, Bucky growling at the motion. 

“Keep your mouth shut, this isn’t about you.”

“Then why kidnap me?”

“Y/N, shut up,” Bucky hissed. 

“I become annoying when I’m nervous,” you shrugged, the sting from your cheek starting to fade. The guy had a fairly weak slap. You spied your bag out of the corner of your eye, in the back near the door. You kissed your teeth. 

“What do you want?” Bucky asked. You wondered why he hadn’t broken out yet. 

“We want your privileged ass off our turf,” one of the guys called out. “Avengers aren’t welcome here. Not after the Blip.”

You thought that was a dumb reason but neglected to comment. 

“We were just about to leave; we were just doing holiday shopping,” Bucky said, tone even. 

“Oh, yes, sugar and spice. I’d love to have some of that sugar if you get my drift,” the main guy said, leering at you. You considered spitting on him, but Bucky’s hard expression was enough to cause a few of them to back off. He glanced at you, nodding at the door. You thought he was talking about your bags, and you nodded back. 

“You guys are barely passable villains, and I have better things to do,” Bucky sighed, snapping out of his restraints immediately and standing up. The other guys jumped into action, and that's how you got to see the Winter Soldier in true form. Even still, you knew he was holding back. He didn’t need full strength for these goons. 

You shuffled in your chair, trying to tip forward slightly. You had seen this once in a movie and thought of trying it now (everything is accurate in movies). You pushed back, landing with a hard crack on the back of the chair. The back part cracked, allowing you to wiggle out of your ties with ease. You got up off the ground, making a sprint towards the exit. Bucky caught up with you a second later. The guns started firing a moment after that. 

“Go!” Bucky yelled, basically dragging you behind him as you guys sprinted out of wherever you were. You followed behind him uselessly until he felt you were far enough away to catch your breath. You sat on the curb of the sidewalk, panting. Bucky put your bags on the ground next to you. 

“You remembered,” you sighed happily. Bucky sat down next to you. 

“Least I could do.”

“I’m sorry I got you caught up in that for a stupid present.”

“Those guys were idiots; it made my week to beat them up,” Bucky smiled. You knew he was trying to make you feel better, but you couldn’t help but think there was a shred of truth. 

“I still feel bad.”

“Don’t,” Bucky leaned against his knee. “Nothing with you is bad.”

You felt your cheeks heat, and you hoped Bucky didn’t notice. Adrenaline still coursed through you, your brain going a hundred directions a minute. You leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, making him go still. 

“Thanks for saving my life.”

Bucky smiled. 

“I think you saved your own.”

You both went home after that, Bucky hesitantly leaving you by yourself. Like he was afraid, something would happen. You didn’t realize until you were behind closed doors how scared you had actually been. You broke down sobbing a second later. You were glad Bucky wasn’t there to see it. 

Sam's party was at the end of the week. You were putting on some simple pearl studs when Bucky knocked on your door. You ran out to greet him, swinging open the door. 

You had never seen Bucky dressed up. He was always dressed in his “civilian attire” and in varying shades of dark. Today, he wore a dark blue button-up with his leather jacket over it. He had put on some nicer boots instead of his worn ones. He looked devilishly handsome and very much like someone who would break your heart. You were pleasantly surprised to find him appreciating your appearance as well. 

“You…,” he trailed off. You had put on a nicer maroon dress for the party but no heels. It wasn’t that fancy. It seemed to be enough for him. 

“I know–”

“You look beautiful,” Bucky coughed out. He was never good at talking or expressing anything, really. You didn’t know how much willpower it took for him to admit this. You beamed. 

“So do you,” you replied, shuffling your feet. Bucky offered you his arm, and you wondered how many girls he would do this to back in the 40s. You took it with glee anyway. 

Neither of you lived far from Delacroix, and didn’t have to wait that long to get to the Wilson’s. You could hear the music from down the block. Bucky parked, running to your door to quickly let you out. He was being a gentleman and it was giving you heartache. 

Sarah Wilson was dressed in a beautiful crushed velvet gown and greeted you with a hug when she saw you. You had met the Wilson sister twice, and both times she greeted you warmly. She quirked a brow when she saw Bucky, and he gave her an awkward salute and shuffled away. 

“You look wonderful,” you said to Sarah. 

“So do you, and he seems to notice,” Sarah nudged you, nodding towards Bucky. He had found Sam and the kids, who were already swarming him. 

“We’re just friends,” you bit your lip. Sarah chuckled. 

“And I’m a virgin. We all have our crosses to bear.”

You didn’t have a good retort to Sarah’s comments and decided to just follow her to the bar instead. You were going to need wine to get through this party if she was going to make suggestive comments. 

Two glasses of wine later, you were starting to feel calmer. The kids practiced patience when opening their presents, and the adults enjoyed the buffet-style food. One of Sam’s family members put on a Marvin Gaye record, and with the liquor free-flowing, dancing was bound to occur. Bucky was hiding on the edge of the dance floor, nibbling on a cookie. You joined him. 

“Did you dance in the 40s?” you asked. Bucky finished his cookie. 

“Yeah, it’s how I got all the girls,” he smiled. The wine flowed through your head, and you offered him your hand. He looked down at your hand and then back at you. 

“C’mon, get the girl Barnes. Take me dancing,” you grinned, even as your heart was thundering. Bucky took your hand, following you onto the ‘dance floor’ (carpet). He gave you a quick spin until you fell into his chest. 

“Falling for me already?” Bucky smirked. You understood why he was a stud back in the day. 

“Shut it,” you smiled. The music was upbeat enough that you weren’t left in the uncomfortable holding pattern of a slow dance. Bucky knew what he was doing, though, even if you didn’t. You let him spin you and pull you close, your breath catching every time. By the end of the third song, you’re out of breath and need another drink. Bucky follows you to the bar, a few steps behind. “You’re a good dancer,” you commented. 

“You’re a good partner,” Bucky offers you a wine glass, topping it off. You smile in thanks, taking a sip. You want to dissolve under his gaze. 

“You’re unbelievable,” you murmured. 

“Why?”

“You know why,” you quirked a brow. Bucky just chuckled, looking down. He was cute when he was bashful, and you hated him for it. When he looked up at you, you were caught by how blue his eyes were. 

Coughing interrupted you. 

Both you and Bucky turned to see Sam. His arms were crossed. 

“I need you two to hook up already,” Sam exclaimed. Bucky rolled his eyes, but you just glared at Sam. Your glare was enough to send him away. You turned back to Bucky with burning cheeks. Bucky rolled his shoulder with the metal arm like he was preparing for something. 

“Buck–”

He cut you off with a kiss. It stole your breath, and if it weren’t for his hand on your waist, you would’ve collapsed to the ground. When he pulled away, you looked at him with shock and adoration.

“I was tired of waiting,” he murmured. “And Sam was right.”

“Does it pain you to admit Sam was right?”

“Every time,” Bucky grinned. 

You kissed Bucky again and again until Sarah’s sons were making fake kissing noises in the living room, Sam was cheering, and you and Bucky were wondering how you ended up spending Christmas at the Wilsons. 

[eph3merall]

https://www.tumblr.com/eph3merall/757482194719621120/toxicchris

Please make a part 2 😭😭😭😭😭😭

didnt know how to make a pt 2 to this tho bc i had like NO ideas so hopefully this can suffice 🙁

. . . ( pt 1 )

maybe chris was going just slightly crazy. the second you walked out that door he felt part of his heart get dragged along with you, he just didn't realize it. because you were just another girl, right? there wasn't anything particularly special about you.

maybe he chose to actively ignore the way you were always so thoughtful and sweet and patient. god, patience definitely did not run thin with you, how you always kept waiting and waiting with hope that chris would like you back. that he would magically just admit how much you meant to him, even after shaking his head with a chuckle and teling you the same things over and over again. 'y'aren't anything special, sorry babe. don't go gettin' upset since i don't like you back, okay? remember, 'cus— 'cus i told you you're jus' another girl.'

it was hard to just forget you. how could he, with the lego set you guys built together sitting proudly on his shelf? how could he just forget, with some of your things still littering his room even after he tried cleaning just so he didn't find any of your hair ties or tubes of lip gloss.

chris' heart felt heavy in his chest. he couldn't just linger on the thought of you forever though, which is why he found himself at a party. another party, which means another girl that would probably end up in his bed for the night, and another girl who would probably end up crying over the fact chris wanted nothing serious.

the pretty blonde that perches on his thigh currently is running manicured nails up his chest, purring in his ear and pressing glossy lips to his jawline that was littered with a light stubble. despite the grin adorning his face and the way his cock twitched in his jeans at the sight of the girl, she wasn't you.

no one compared to you. he still had the beaded bracelet you gifted him sitting heavy on his right wrist, the current hand fisting the blonde's hair to arch her back. chris forced himself to focus on the moment, to stop thinking about you and to focus on how nice the girl's pussy gripped his dick.

the night ended with chris showering and laying on his bed with a joint in his hand. he used to share a smoke with you at times, when things got a little too rough and the high was a nice escape from reality. his chest felt heavy, and he wasn't even sure why. was it so hard to admit that he missed you? there was nothing particularly special about you at all, you were just another girl that happened to get caught in chris' web.

in the middle of blowing out a ring of smoke, his phone chimed on his nightstand. for a second his heart jumped, maybe you reached out to him. maybe you apologized and would finally realize that he wasn't the bad guy here. that you were already on your way over. unlocking his phone proved to be a disappointment however, the notification coming from a random girl's number he didn't even remember adding.

chris hasn't blocked your number yet. he isn't sure if you deleted his, but he could assume you probably did with how upset you were when you left. that didn't stop him from sending you a text. his thumb was hitting the 'send' button before realizing what he was doing.

you didn't expect to get a text tonight. cuddled up in bed with a bunch of blankets and some snacks, laptop flipped open to netflix to binge a show you were currently interested in. when you reached for your phone, your face twisted into one of confusion, surprise, and then annoyance at the contact name you renamed 'don't answer'.

"i told you we're over, chris. i don't get why you want to talk things out— no, no you made it clear i was just another girl, right? you didn't give a fuck about that promise—" an argument sparked up and you were yelling into the speaker of your phone not long after, tears burning your eyes out of anger.

and even then chris was asking matt for a quick ride, holding his phone away from him as he told his brother that he'd make things right. he really just wanted to get rid of that stupid feeling in his chest though, which is why chris finds himself standing outside your front door.

he's hanging up and knocking, knowing you're pissed off and might slam the door in his face the second you catch a glimpse of his hair or face. and you do almost shut him out, obviously annoyed and shaken up with how fucking foolish he was—but chris is shoving inside and forcing your body into a tight hug.

because he missed you. he isn't admitting it, not now and not ever, but he ignores your screaming and just asks you to listen for a second. he isn't sure what he craves to achieve right now, but all he knows is that he has a little chance to make things better right now.

"i know, i know i was stupid baby. 'm sorry, okay? okay? i— i'm sorry, and i'll make things right, y'hear? if i can jus' stay the night we can go through my phone together n' delete all those girls' numbers, i promise."

and then he's holding his pinkie out to you, vulnerability and a bit of amusement written across his face as the reality of what he's doing finally set in.

was this good.. i like had no idea how to continue w this but anon i hope u enjoyed 😞 not proofread !!! is it js me who cant STAND to reread something youve written over again?? like i will for fics but like. idk.

—

©eph3merall 2024