#i’d let him bend me over the table and fuck my brains out

[butdaddyilovehim99]

i want to play pool with him so badly 😩 i used to play pool everyday in college

i also just want to watch his biceps while we play together, letting him check out my ass when i bend over the table 🥵

[ink-n-shadow]

Hey boo

I noticed you don’t often write for soap, so don’t take this as pressure to write for him if you don’t want!

but would you write about Soap getting back from deployment, pent up and in need of release? And his poor darling, in the middle of making dinner, keeps trying to tell him to wait, and the poor guy gets needy :(

no pressure, and keep up the good work 🫶

honestly, i need to write more soap stuff because he's really itching something in my brain— (also apologies for the shitty ending. this has been sitting in my drafts for so long and i just wanted to finish it)

PENT UP

𝜗𝜚 the one where soap gets back from deployment and just needs to be inside of you

𝜗𝜚 pairing: john "soap" mctavish x gn!reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), slight dub con? (idk if it qualifies enough for a warning but i’d rather be safe than sorry), kitchen sex, unprotected sex (pls wrap it before you tap it/get tapped), oral (reader!receiving), implied cum play, unedited

soap couldn't even remember the last time he had felt your naked skin against his—and that was the fucking problem. he had been wracking his brain ever since you guys had gotten back from the airport, desperately trying (and failing) to envision the last time he had his hands all over you as his eyes followed you flit around the kitchen.

"are you even listening to me, johnny?" soap heard you huff out softly, spinning around on your heel and crossing your arms over your aproned chest as your narrowed eyes met soap's hazy ones.

of course soap wasn't listening—he was too busy trying to decide whether to bend you over the kitchen counter and fuck his cock into you or carry you over to the already set dining table, spreading you out on your back before pushing his tongue into you. but the frustration pinching your brows together had soap trying to swallow down his pent up need, arms wrapping around your waist as he murmured his apology into the nape of your neck.

"y'just look so pretty, bunny," soap all but whined against your skin, unable to help the way he inhaled your scent deeply. "take a break from makin' dinner, yeah? lemme fill you up."

and you would be scolding soap, chastising him for being the reason why dinner was currently burning in the oven as you tried halfheartedly to squirm out from under his arms.

but soap would be haphazardly shoving your sweatpants halfway down your thighs, one hand palming your arousal through your already sticky underwear as the other worked to free his cock from his jeans.

"shhh—s'alright if dinner burns," soap breaks away from breathing filthy words down your neck long enough to let a wad of spit drip down between your bodies, watching it splatter over your twitching entrance before running his leaking tip through the mess to lube both of you up. "i'll order somethin' instead, yeah? treat you to some of that take out y’like after i fuck ya stupid.”

soap doesn’t even give you a minute to breathe out a snarky retort before stuffing his leaking cock into you, an almost animalistic growl ripping from his chest as he feels your gummy walls sucking him in deeper and deeper and deeper.

and god does it feel like taking your virginity all over again, soap's cock having to carve its way through your insides once more to nestle against the spongy spot he remembered would have your legs trembling. it's only been a few jagged strokes, and your walls are already milking soap for everything he has.

"r-relax, bunny," soap pants into the crook of your neck as his fingers grip tightly around the fat of your hips, pulling your ass flush against the front of his thighs to prevent himself from spilling his cum too quickly. "y'feel like a f-fuckin' vice—gonna make me cum already."

it probably wouldn't even be three strokes after he says those words that soap feels his high crash over him, hunching over your body as he feels ropes of his spend spilling inside of you. he would feel his softening cock twitching at the feeling of it dripping down your thighs, landing on the kitchen tile with a soft plit, plit, plit.

and soap wouldn't even give you time to breathe before he's pulling out of you, dropping to his knees carelessly to bury his face between your thighs and lick you clean until you cum. "told you i'd get you that takeout you like, right? just gotta have my meal first, m'kay?"

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

[hier--soir]

bite the bullet

joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: two idiots finally bite the bullet and admit how they feel. warnings/tags: [18+ minors DNI] fwb!joel, age gap [20 years], angst, miscommunication, a meddling Tommy Miller, soft sleepy sex, oral [f], unprotected piv, masturbation [f], rimming, sixty-nine, both of them are assholes for a minute, resolved emotional tension. word count: 9.4k [i got carried away sorry!] series masterlist | masterlist this is part four of my fwb!joel series. you can find the other parts here: one, two, three.

Everything was wet.

Your feet squelched against the ground as you moved, little flicks of water splashing up against your shins with every step. Inside waterlogged shoes your socks clung uncomfortably to your skin.

Tommy was crouched underneath your sink, inspecting the u-bend of the pipe there, his lower half damp from the water that covered the floor of your kitchen.

“It’s definitely comin’ from in here,” his muffled voice came, and you groaned, rubbing a hand over your face in exasperation. “I can stop it, but it’s gonna take some time for the place to dry out. I’d say you’d better clear out for a few days, leave a few windows open.”

You’d had a nice day. A lovely day, even. And you’d been looking forward to curling up with a whiskey and a good book before bed. But upon returning home from the greenhouse, you’d been horrified to find the entrance of your home covered in a thin layer of water. Splashing down the hall, you’d discovered that the entire place was wet; a shiny film of liquid coating anything that touched the ground. The wooden floorboards were soaked to the bone with cold water. A fucking flood. Thankfully Tommy was right, and you trusted that the August humidity would naturally dry it out with enough time.

“I can’t just stay here? I didn’t think it was too bad,” you lied. “Could lay down some towels.”

Tommy laughed under the sink. “You know you’ll get sick if you’re sleeping around all this water – towels or no towels.”

“Okay,” you acquiesced, gazing at the floor glumly. “Okay, yeah, I suppose I’ll uh… I’ll get some stuff together.”

“Joel would take you,” his said, and you snapped back to reality, staring at his back while he worked. You could practically hear the grin in his voice. When you didn’t respond, his head reappeared, and he looked at you curiously, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind his ear. “You and Joel are pals, right? Pals help each other out.”

Pals, you thought cynically. That’s one word for it.

Two weeks had slowly passed since the Peterson incident, and you’d only seen Tommy’s older brother a handful of times. There was still a tense energy between the two of you, so you’d been keeping your distance a little, allowing things to cool off. Bumping into each other here and there, dinner on the same table at the hall… but no alone time. No real time that would leave you two open to actually talking about it. That didn’t mean it didn’t play on your mind, though. Oh boy did it. In fact, most days you’d catch yourself gazing into a pot plant, thinking about that night. The way he’d taken you, made you tell him the details about Peterson, the way he’d showed you he fucking owned you. You couldn’t wrap your head around the way it had made you feel, and so you avoided it, even though your chest ached with the Joel-sized hole his absence had left in it. At least you weren’t so stubborn that you couldn’t admit to yourself how much you missed him.   

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Tommy gave a polite shrug, smirking at you. Testing you. A huff escaped your lips, and you broke eye contact, stretching out your shoulder. “Yeah, alright, I’ll ask him,” you agreed begrudgingly, brain whirring trying to come up with excuses. “It’s late though, and he might not want me there.”

“It’s not that late, but sure,” he chuckled knowingly, going back to work on the pipe. “When hell freezes over and Joel says no to you, you let me know.”  

An hour later, you were on your best friend’s porch, a bag slung over your arm, hesitating with your knuckle raised in the air. Taking a deep breath and running through what you were going to say, you finally willed yourself to rap your fist twice against the wood.

After a moment, the door swung open to reveal Joel, in a soft wrinkled t-shirt.

An easy, involuntary smile spread across your face upon seeing him. His beard was a little longer than he usually kept it, greys sparkling through the dark hair that framed his mouth so handsomely. He had clearly been settling down for the night, and he looked oh so cosy dressed in his sleep clothes.

“Hey man,” you offered up a sheepish smile.

He looked appropriately surprised to see you, considering you certainly hadn’t been knocking on his door at any point in the past fortnight. One of his eyebrows hitched upward, and he eyed the bag over your shoulder warily. “You skippin’ town or something? Who’d you piss off this time?”

You rolled your eyes and readjusted the duffel. “You gonna let me inside? This thing’s kind of heavy.”

He stepped back into the entryway with a grunt, allowing you to breeze past him and dump the bag onto the ground with a low thud. “Pipe under my sink is busted. Flooded the whole place today – Tommy said I should clear out for a day or two.”

He hummed, narrowed eyes raking over your face. “Oh yeah? So where you gonna go?” he teased, and relief rushed through your veins like warm water as you recognised the smirk threatening to take over his face.  

You gave him a small laugh and sighed, holding your arms out in mock surrender. “Come on, Miller,” you said. “Let me crash here – I’ll owe you one.”

“Owe me one, huh?” his eyes shone with mischief. “Well I like the sound of that.” An odd, twisting sensation rippled through your stomach and you sucked your lips into your mouth, nodding slowly.

“Sure,” you retorted. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.” When the words left your lips you both stilled, staring at each other warily.

He hummed, eyes darkening a fraction. “You’re playin’ with fire,” is all he said, before bending down to pick the bag up off the ground and ushering you towards the stairs.

You wondered off ahead of him, and when you reached the landing you veered right, pushing open the door to the spare room. He didn’t follow you in immediately, instead pausing in the doorway with a frown plastered across his face. You hadn’t thought about where you’d be sleeping until the second you reached the top of the stairs, but you knew this was the right decision. Sharing a bed with Joel for a few days? Probably not a good idea. Unless of course, that was going to be how you repaid your debt…Thankfully, or unfortunately, he didn’t push it, dropping the bag gently in the corner of the room.

“Hope Ellie won’t be bothered I’m here for a few days,” you thought aloud. The tone noticeably shifted, and you almost at how Joel seemed to deflate.  

He leant an arm against the doorframe and sighed. “She ain’t spendin’ much time in the house these days,” he admitted quietly. “Stays in the bungalow or goes out. I doubt you’ll even see her.”

You hesitated for a second before asking, “Have you two spoken much lately?”

He scratched his chin for a moment. “You know the kid,” he shrugged. “She’s stubborn. M’tryin’ not to push it.” 

“It’ll be okay, Joel,” you offered softly. “She’ll come around.”

He assessed you silently, eyes flitting down your body before resting on your face once again, and then he stepped back into the hall. Coughing awkwardly, he raised a hand in a sort of farewell, and said, “Well, uh, you know where everything is. I’m gonna… I was gonna head to bed, I guess.”

“Okay,” you nodded, watching as he turned to head toward his room.

“Hey, Joel, wait,” you called, and he turned, eyes glimmering with something you couldn’t quite place. I miss you, you wanted to say. I miss you, and I’m sorry things are off between us, and I wish we could forget it all and go back to normal, and I miss you, I miss you, I miss you. “Thank you,” you said instead, voice soft. “I really appreciate this.”

The look in his eyes dimmed a little but he offered up a smile. He nodded once, said, “Glad to have you here,” and then closed his bedroom door, and leaving you alone with your thoughts.

After showering and unpacking the few things you brought along, you curled up in the foreign bed. The mattress was soft enough though, and the sheets smelled like the soap Joel used. Your body ached from a long day of work, muscles tense and wired from hauling heavy pots around under the sun. Soon enough, you began to relax enough to drift off to sleep. Only a few hours into the night though, your dreams were interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps padding across the landing. A beam of soft yellow light was shone into the room, painting the inside of your eyelids orange. Cracking an eye open, you saw that the door was ajar, and a tall figure was peering in.

“Joel?” you asked groggily, dragging a knuckle over your eyes.

“Yeah, it’s just me,” his deep voice came, but he made no move to enter the room. “Sorry to wake you.”

“Are you okay?”

“Can’t sleep,” he said softly, and your heart clenched.

Pulling the blankets open on the empty side of the bed, you didn’t even think before you said, “Get in.”

Your head fell heavily into the pillows, and sleep tried to pull you back under as you listened to Joel shuffle across the room and slide into the bed beside you. For a moment, he just laid there, a sizeable gap between you on the mattress. And then his warm, firm body was pressing up against your back, his large palm sliding over your hip to rest on your stomach and guide you back against his chest. His scent overwhelmed you, hints of mint and soap and pine tickling your nose, and fuck you had missed him. it was so familiar, and yet your body tingled as if it was the first time he’d ever laid a hand on you. Through the haze that settled over your sleep addled brain, you could feel him, stiff against your thigh.

“Jesus,” you teased drowsily, throwing caution to the wind by rubbing yourself back against him. “Were you having a dream about me or something?”

His nose traced a long down the back of your neck and you fought off a shiver. “Always dream about you.” If you weren’t so tired, that probably would’ve garnered a bigger reaction from you. But as it were, you just brought a hand down to rest over his on your stomach and gripped his fingers softly. “Was thinkin’ bout you being so close, yet still so far. Just down the hall, sleepin’ in my sheets…”

You hummed, warmth flooding your abdomen as he nudged his hips forward, rutting himself against you. His hand drifted out from under yours to slide up underneath your shirt, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin just below your breast.

“Joel,” you murmured, eyelids heavy.

He hummed eagerly, planting a soft kiss underneath your ear.

“I‘m so tired,” you said regretfully. “It’s been a long day – can hardly keep m’eyes open.”

“Let me help you fall asleep,” is all he said, hand now freely roaming over your chest. His thumb lightly brushed the firm peak of your nipple and your whole body shuddered. “Just relax.”

You were vaguely aware of him pulling the covers off you and moving down the bed, dragging soft kisses down your stomach, before dragging your underwear down your legs. Slumping into the soft bed, you allowed your eyes to flutter closed.

Gentle, reverent kisses were pressed over your hip bones as he settled between your legs, pulling one of your thighs up to rest over his shoulder. His long fingers rubbed over the muscles in your leg, pressing down gently when he found knots, pulling deep sighs of contentment out of you.  

“That feels nice,” you whispered into the darkness, and you could’ve sworn you felt him grin against your hip.

When his nose dragged through the dark hair on your mound you twitched slightly, body waking up a little at the sensation. But it was gone as quickly as it came, and you relaxed again, humming lowly as his pressed a kiss against the inner most point of your thigh.

It felt like hours passed with him between your legs. At first you allowed yourself to slip in and out of near sleep, eyes closed as lax puffs of air escaped your mouth while his tongue dipped gently between your folds, giving you soft lazy strokes that warmed your insides. When the first bit of slick began to seep out of you, he groaned gratefully, licking and sucking at your entrance, exulting in your taste.  

It felt like you were dreaming. Laying pliant on the bed, you were fully at his mercy, allowing him to move your legs anyway he wanted to give himself better access. You could vaguely hear him murmuring against your skin, but couldn’t make out the words over your own sighs, smiling sleepily as his tongue lapped against you. He worked slowly, and you realised that it was as much for his enjoyment as it was for your own. You knew by that point how much Joel enjoyed going down on you. He had told you as much on multiple occasions; how he’d love to spend hours with his face trapped between your thighs. But he’d never had the chance, or the patience, to really do it.

The sounds of his enjoyment vibrated against your core, echoing through the room around you. The way he fucking moaned into your cunt never failed to drive you crazy, but in that moment you just smiled at the sound, enjoying how peaceful it was, how sweet.

Every now and then you’d lazily blink your eyes open and look down, expecting that at any moment he’d pull away, be over it. But he never did. Every time you looked his eyes were closed, hands gripping your thighs softly, thumbs stroking rhythmically against your skin as content breaths rushed out of his nose, and you’d close your eyes again, the dark image of him scorched into the inside of your eyelids, never to be forgotten.

You started to feel more awake when he finally gave his undivided attention to the achingly sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your core. Moving painfully slow, he glided his firm tongue across your clit, switching it up between swiping back and forth across it and then circling it.

“Oh,” you murmured lowly, voice hoarse from lack of use, but you couldn’t help the soft exclamation as your hips shifted upwards, suddenly searching for more. He didn’t change a thing, pace never increasing or slowing down, and it was perfect.

Your orgasm washed over you in gentle waves. Joel’s tongue swirled slow, gentle circles around your clit and your thighs tensed around his head, fingers reaching down to softly rake through his curls. He hummed happily, tongue lathing against you, enjoying every second of your release. Only pausing once your body stopped twitching and the muscles in your thighs relaxed against him, before kissing way up your stomach, your neck, under he was holding himself over you.

Eyes still closed, your hands drifted to the back of his neck and you pulled him down, his weight crushing against you but you didn’t care. Yours lips met tentatively, and for a moment that was all it was. A soft, gentle kiss. And then you felt him, straining against his briefs, pressed between your thighs, and you pushed your tongue into his mouth. It was messy and slow, tongues tangling together, teeth knocking awkwardly, and you found yourself smiling into his mouth. It should have unnerved you. Should’ve been enough to make you stop, turn your head away and make him fuck you rough so you would forget how intensely intimate the moment felt. But you didn’t.

“You should sleep,” he murmured against your lips, pulling his hips back a little so his erection wasn’t so obvious.

“You should come inside me,” you whispered back, reaching down to grip the band of his underwear and tug them down over his hips. He groaned and kissed you again before reaching down to free himself from the confines of his underwear.  

No other words were exchanged as he adjusted himself, and then he was pressing into you, his needy moans spilling out against your neck while your hand snuck underneath his shirt, fingernails gliding down his back as he filled you completely.

“God, I missed you,” he choked out, voice cracking. You whimpered softly. “You’re so wet.”

“Made me feel so good, Joel,” you preened, kissing the side of his head.

“Yeah?” he pulled his face out of your neck to look at you, and you nodded, staring at him through bleary eyes. Joel kissed you again. A long, yearning kiss that made your heart throb, and it didn’t take long until he was falling apart on top of you, shaking against your arms that wrapped around him, held him against your chest. You whispered praises in his ear as he came, hips grinding into yours, pushing himself so deep inside that it had you gasping into his mouth. It was so unlike any other time you’d ever slept with him, and alarm bells rang somewhere far in the deep recess of your brain, but you ignored them. You’d missed each other, and you’d both earned a little softness after the time apart. And so the two of you fell asleep like that; tangled in each other’s arms, with him still inside you.

You woke up to the sun streaming in through the window. The light was harsh, and you cursed yourself for going to sleep without drawing the curtains. You went to sit up in the bed but stopped suddenly, realising how hot you were. With a soft start, you glanced down and understanding jolted through you like a flash of lightning. Joel’s house, you remembered; you were at Joel’s house. But what you hadn’t expected to find was Joel still in the bed, arms coiled around you like wire while he snored quietly in your ear. For as many times the two of you had slept together, neither of you had ever slept over. It was an unspoken rule, and one that had never been difficult to follow. But he’d broken it… or you’d both broken it, maybe. Keeping your body as still as possible, you found yourself breathing deeply, trying to maintain the allusion of still being asleep to avoid rousing him from his slumber. Frustratingly, your heart pounded in your chest, brain zeroing in on every part of your body that touched his.

His soft lips brushed the back of your neck, heavy breaths puffing against your skin. A solid knee was wedged between your legs, one hand lazily gripping your breast. The insides of your thighs were sticky where his come had leaked out of you overnight, and your eyes widened at the sensation. 

What surprised you the most wasn’t that you didn’t hate waking up with him beside you. No, what surprised you most was that you did like it. In fact, you found yourself longing to relax into his arms and go back to sleep. But common sense reared its head, and you slowly slipped out of his grasp, moving slowly so as not to wake him while you dragged yourself out of the bed. Staring down at Joel, a pang of fondness rush through your chest. Messy curls were strewn across his forehead, plump lips pushed out into a pout as he breathed deeply, hand resting on the empty bed where you had just laid. His breathing hitched momentarily, and you froze, realising how odd it would be for him to wake up and catch you standing there naked, staring. Trying not to give it another thought, you quietly collected some clothes from your bag, and slipped out of the room to start your day.

Hours passed in the greenhouse. You distracted yourself with cucumber seeds and tomato plants, pushing Joel out of your mind as you worked under the sweltering sun. Underneath the glass roof of the nursery, the heat multiplied, and by the time your shift was over you were covered in sweat, shirt ticking uncomfortably tight to your back. You stopped by at the community hall for dinner and ate alone, your brain a whirlwind of thoughts of Joel, Joel, Joel. You couldn’t shake the feeling that had lingered in your bones all day; the aching desire to have stayed in bed with him, to have relaxed into his arms and cuddled him for the rest of the morning. Your best friend, for fuck’s sake.

“Christ,” you mumbled aloud through a mouthful of food, rolling your eyes at yourself.

It felt like you were going crazy, but the worst part was understanding that this must’ve been how he’d been feeling for weeks already.

I’ve never asked you for anything. Not for anything more than what we’ve been doin’, never pushed you for more.

That’s what he’d said, two weeks ago, the day he found out about Peterson. The words played in your head like a mantra. Words that you had firmly avoided bringing up, ones you’d never pushed for an explanation about. You’d chosen to sweep them under the rug, and yet, as hard as you tried, you couldn’t fucking forget them.

By the time you returned to his house you discovered him sitting on the couch downstairs, engrossed in a book. It was the picture of domesticity. The sweet scent of vanilla floated through the air towards you, and you noted the small candle burning on the table beside him.

Staying in Joel’s home, even for just one night, you’d noticed so much more about it than ever before. There was something interesting to look at everywhere you turned, and sweet-scented candles were just the tip of the iceberg. He left random objects littered across countertops, like little treasures for you to stop and inspect during your travels throughout the house. Wood that he’d whittled into interesting shapes, books that he’d read the first few pages of and then abandoned, countless mugs in odd places with dark brown coffee stains at the bottom of them. It was homey, and warm, and subconsciously you found yourself enjoying the insight into his most private space – into the things he did when he was truly alone.

Joel hadn’t noticed you come in, so you seized the opportunity to watch him from the doorway for a moment. He was wearing his comfortable clothes again, and a thin set of reading glasses were perched on the scarred bridge of his nose. A quick flash of heat tore through your stomach. You’d never seen him wear those before, and it had you stumped. The glasses, paired with the salt and pepper through his beard and hair, reminded you of his age. Twenty years older than you, and still the most handsome man you knew.

You finally broke the silence, announcing yourself by asking, “What’re you reading?”

Joel’s head snapped up, and he stared at you over the top of his glasses. Shutting the book quickly, he straightened up on the couch. “Uh, Brave New World,” he lied, flipping the book so you couldn’t see the cover.

You hummed, unconvinced, and bit down on your bottom lip to hide a smirk. Tommy had told you once before that Joel was a sucker for gothic romance novels, but you’d never truly believed him until that moment. From where you stood, you recognised the tattered copy of Wuthering Heights that had gone missing from your bedroom a few months prior.

A flush rose in his cheeks and he coughed awkwardly, picking up a mug that you hadn’t noticed on the floor by his feet. It was cute; a little beige ceramic thing, with an owl painted on it.

“You see the patrol roster for tomorrow?” he spoke into the mug, swiftly changing the subject.

“I did,” you murmured. What you didn’t acknowledge, was that you’d also seen Peterson and Davis’ names on the list for the morning patrol. “Should be nice. We haven’t gone to the ski lodge in a while.”

A vivid memory of you two fucking up there raced through your mind, and a low heat simmered across your face as you remembered Jesse and Dina almost catching you once. Shaking the thought from your mind, you looked at him again to find him gripping the mug tightly, lips pursed in thought.

“We haven’t,” he agreed lowly, and the corner of his mouth twitched a little. “You haven’t been gettin’ called outside the gates much at all these days.”

This is it, you thought hungrily. This is the moment he tells you how he can’t wait to fuck you there tomorrow while you’re supposed to be patrolling. This is the moment he tells you he can’t even wait until tomorrow, and he drags you upstairs to his bed. Warmth flooded through your thighs, and you held your breath, staring at him.

But Joel didn’t say that. Instead, you watched dejectedly from the doorway as he rose slowly from the couch and tucked the tattered book underneath his arm. “Well,” he coughed, turning towards the stairs. “I’m gonna get some shut eye. It’ll be a warm day, and I’d better get some rest before we head out.”

You watched him move towards the stairs, heart beating painfully fast against your ribs.

“I’m actually not tired,” you blurted out. Joel paused. His left hand gripped the banister, and you could’ve sworn it might break in half based on the way his knuckles went white.

“Well, I am,” he said over his shoulder, before padding up towards his room , not even turning to give you a second look.

You tossed and turned for an hour, staring at the ceiling wide awake. The linen sheets stuck to your sweaty skin, making you feel claustrophobic enough to kick them to the end of the bed. You waited for him. Every creak and groan the old house made had your ears twitching, eyes glancing eagerly toward the door, expecting it to creak open and reveal him sneaking in through the darkness.

And when it became clear that he wasn’t coming, you pushed away the uncomfortable feeling it brought, and snaked a hand past the band of your underwear. Your fingers raked over the coarse hair there, teasing yourself for a moment, before you slid a finger through your damp folds. Collecting your slick, you dragged it up to coat your throbbing nerves and sighed in relief.

Your middle finger dragged quick circles over your clit, and all you could picture was Joel above you, fucking you while wearing those stupid fucking glasses. Cursing him in your mind, you pressed a finger past your entrance, and huffed in frustration at how it paled in comparison to the thickness of his digits. You imagined the way the glasses would fall to the tip of his nose, almost falling off his face while he fucked you so hard you saw stars. In an attempt to stifle the soft moans trying to escape your mouth, you bit down on your bottom lip, fingers moving quicker against yourself. And you came like that; hand down your underwear, rubbing yourself frantically, thinking about nothing but him.

It was hot, and the skin of your thighs chafed painfully as you and Joel ambled silently through the stables, getting your horses from their stalls to saddle up. He hadn’t said much to you all morning and you were trying not to read into it, but the fraught silence had you on edge.  

You winced upon spotting Davis and Peterson standing by the gate, chatting while they loaded their rifles. Lloyd caught your eye and smiled, offering a short nod in your direction. You returned the nod before looking back down and fiddling with Japan’s saddle, hoping Joel hadn’t noticed.

“Gimme a sec,” he muttered. “Gotta go pick Jesse’s brain.”

You hummed in acknowledgement and continued tugging on the straps of the saddle, until your skin prickled, a presence looming over your shoulder.

“Should we see if we can swap partners?” that voice sounded, and you turned to see Lloyd smirking suggestively at you. “Send Davis and Miller out East together, and you and me could head to the ski lodge?”

Your palms dampened a little and your eyes darted around the stables. There was no denying that Lloyd Peterson was a handsome guy. He was young, somewhere in his early-twenties. He had bright green eyes that shone in contrast against the dark brown hue of his skin. Straight, bright white teeth almost blinded you whenever he smiled, and you’d have to be a robot not to be effected by it. Past his shoulder, you spotted Joel hovering at the mouth of the stables, gaze trained on the pair of you. Caught, he turned quickly, muttering under his breath as he stalked off toward Jesse.

You looked back to Lloyd and shook your head once. “I don’t think so,” you said. “Gonna stick with Miller today.”

Not giving him much chance to respond, you gripped Japan’s reigns and led her out of the building. Joel and Jesse were talking in hushed tones by the gate, and you walked in their direction, pausing a few metres away when you noticed how tense the conversation seemed to be. Jesse was frowning at the older man, shaking his head slowly.

“Hey,” Lloyd’s voice came again, and you turned with a sigh, raising a hand to block out the sun as you stared up at him. “Can we talk?”

“Talk,” you rushed out, glancing to the side just as Joel appeared beside you, holding out a rifle. You shouldered it quickly, noticing the way Lloyd seemed to balk at the older man’s presence. “Peterson,” you urged, eager to get it over with. “Get on with it.”

He spared another awkward glance at Joel before speaking in a lowered voice. “Did I do something wrong?” You cringed, knowing Joel could hear every word, and yet he didn’t move a muscle. It seemed he wasn’t going anywhere, eyes trained on the man, uninterested in offering the pair of you any privacy to finish your conversation. “I thought we had a good time, y’know? But you’ve been avoiding me.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you replied plainly, even as the thought of him telling Davis about fucking you flashed through your mind. Joel was deadly quiet, eyes flicking between the pair of you like he was watching a game of tennis. You sighed deeply, wishing this wasn’t happening in front of him. In a moment of almost… shame, you realised that you didn’t want Joel to get the wrong idea. Didn’t want him to think that anything else had happened, or would ever happen, between you and Peterson.

“Then why won’t yo-“

“Why don’t you back off kid,” Joel interrupted suddenly, and your shoulders tensed, skin prickling at his harsh tone. “She’s not interested.”

Lloyd flinched at the words, and he looked to you, waiting for you to say something, to refute Joel’s claim. But you were distracted by the sudden warmth in your abdomen, and when you didn’t react quick enough he scoffed quietly, spinning on his heel and walking back where Davis was waiting with their horses. When you looked at Joel, he had a pleased smirk on his face, and you felt your stomach fall somewhat, guilt spreading through you at the way Lloyd rode out of the settlement without looking back.

The ride to the ski lodge was long. For the most part of the three hour trek, you rode alongside each other in silence, until finally you couldn’t help yourself, thoughts tumbling from your mouth.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said quietly.

Joel looked at you out of the corner of his eye, and didn’t say a word.

“He was already embarrassed,” you added. His top lip curled up into a mean smirk.

“Peterson’s an ass. He should be embarrassed.”

A huff escaped your mouth and then he was turning, looking at you fully now with his eyebrows pinched together.

“What, your little boyfriend can’t handle some friendly teasin’?” he sneered, the change in mood so sudden you almost fell off your horse. And all the warmth you’d felt, every soft yearning part inside of you toward him, you pushed it to the side and focused on the confusion instead, allowing it to morph into pure anger. You were seeing red; furious with him for never being able to just see reason.

“Oh, fuck off Joel,” you scowled. “I’m not doing this with you today.” You kicked your heel against Japan’s hide and rode ahead, not listening for a reaction.

The higher the pair of you rode up the mountain, the hotter it got. By the time the horses were tied up by a trough of water and the pair of you were walking into the lodge, sweat was rolling down your skin in rivulets. A headache brewed in your temples, and frustration weighed heavily on your chest as Joel huffed and puffed around the room. Even being able to hear his breathing across the room while he scrawled in the logbook was enough to set your skin on edge. Eager to get some space from the tense atmosphere, you gruffly told him that you were taking first patrol, before shouldering your rifle and stalking back outside into the heat.

“You idiot,” you scowled to yourself, storming through the trees. Shame burned in your chest like a wildfire as you thought back to the night before. Touching yourself in his house, making yourself come thinking about him, wondering if he’d fuck you at the ski lodge. God, you felt like a teenager with a hopeless crush.

Your feet planted in the dirt, the word ringing in your head like an alarm. Eyes wide, you gazed into the trees.

“Nope,” you mumbled, starting to walk again slowly. “No, no, no.”

“Y’know they say talkin’ to yourself is the first sign of madness.”

Fuck.

“What are you doing?” you turned quickly, staring him down from through the thick trees. “I told you I’d take first patrol.”

“Yeah, I heard that. Saw you storm off too,” Joel rolled his eyes, propping his hands against his hips. “What’s your problem?”

“Jesus,” you grinned sarcastically. “I should be the one asking that question.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” he frowned, stepping forward. The tan skin of his neck glistened in the sunlight, and you hated yourself for wanting to know how it tasted. Thankfully, hatred and anger were easier emotions to tap into than whatever the fuck you had been feeling about him for the past few weeks.  

“It means,” you ground out. “That you’re a nasty old bastard.” His face darkened, lips twisted into an angry snarl, but you continued. “Peterson’s not my fucking boyfriend, so you can give it a rest okay? I had it handled.”

“Sure,” he laughed bitterly. “Don’t act like you didn’t love it, havin’ him hit on you right in front of me. You get off on the attention, from him and from me. I bet you loved havin’ me step in, tell him to fuck off.”

Your face was on fire as you glared at him, acutely aware of how the tension had spiked between the pair of you. Entire body tensed, you squared your shoulders and stared him down. “Are you fucking serious, Joel?” you asked lowly, eyebrows raising.

“Deadly,” he grit his teeth. “Don’t forget that I know you, baby, better than anyone.”

“No, you fucking don’t,” you spat desperately, turning around and walking quickly in the opposite direction.

“Oh yeah,” he called, the sound of his footsteps following closely behind you making your stomach drop. “Walk away, sunshine. Let’s just not talk about it, right? I know that’s your favourite thing to do. Walk away, and act like nothing happened.”

“Oh my god!” you shouted. “Grow up, you fucking assho-“ But as you spoke, your foot landed awkwardly on a patch of moss. You heard a low popping sound before you shrieked as your legs flew out from underneath you. You hit the ground awkwardly, ass slamming into the ground, and dirt sprayed into the air around you.

“Shit,” you hissed, moving to get up but cringing as a sharp pain shot through your ankle. The flesh around your shin was already swelling, and you cursed audibly, reaching down to rest your hand against it only to wince at the dull pain spreading through your entire foot.

“Jesus Christ,” you heard him say, and then his warm hands were on your shoulders, and he was crouching beside you. Breathing heavily, you stared as your ankle swelled to the size of a golf ball. “Come on, let’s get you back,” Joel said, gripping your elbow to lift you up.

“Get off,” you snapped, shoving him back. He stumbled a little and then stood, glaring down at you. “I can do it myself.”

“Clearly you fuckin’ can’t.”

Eager to prove a point, you dug your fingers into the dirt and pushed yourself up, and then began limping back towards the ski lodge.

You moved slowly with Joel trailing just a few steps behind, close enough that you could hear his breathing, and the way he muttered inaudibly whenever you stumbled. When you almost tripped trying to step over a tree branch, he snapped, appearing at your side in an instant and wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Joel,” you warned lowly, but he interrupted.

“Would you stop bein’ such a brat,” he snarled. “You might’ve broken your fuckin’ ankle, just let me help you god damnit.”

You grumbled under your breath but didn’t fight him again, silently grateful to lean on him and get some weight off the injury. His chest rose and fell quickly as he led you back to the lodge, and you could practically feel the anxiety radiating from him.

“It’s not broken,” you muttered. “Probably just a sprain.”

“Good,” he grunted, helping you up the steps and into the building. “Idiot.”

“Jeez, thanks, Joel,” you said bitterly. “You’re a real pal.”

His hand gripped your waist tighter, before lowering you onto the couch. “Any time, bud.”

Joel stormed into the kitchen and returned moments later with a bottle of water, tossing it at you before slamming down onto the sofa beside you. “Jesse and Dina will be here in a few hours, just keep it elevated until then.”

“You got it doc,” you rolled your eyes, eagerly gulping down the water even though it had gotten uncomfortably warm in his pack.

The pair of you sat in silence for a while, your ankle throbbing where it rested atop the coffee table.  

“I don’t fuckin’ get you,” Joel finally breathed, and you looked to him with a raised eyebrow and a snarky comment on your lips, only to find him with his head tilted back against the couch, eyes closed.

“What?” you asked dumbly.

“You heard me,” he said. “I don’t fuckin’ get you. You go two weeks avoidin’ me, I hardly see you, then you’re knocking on my door, askin’ to stay? And then today you’re cursin’ my goddamn name. Throw me a fuckin’ bone, darlin’, cause I got no idea where I stand with you.”

Your lips parted, all the breath in your lungs rushing out of you in one fell swoop. His eyebrows were furrowed, a deep frown settled across his face, and his arms crossed against his chest. He didn’t look angry, you realised. He looked confused; he looked hurt. Your stomach rolled.

“I could say the same,” you started pathetically, and then his eyes flashed open and he was staring back at you with those dark brown eyes that fucking killed you.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” he said blankly, eyes darting around your face.

Your lips felt numb as you slowly asked, “What?”

“You left,” he said quietly. “You fuckin’ left me, and I just don’t know if I can keep pretendin’ anymore. Pretend that this doesn’t… mean anything to me. Pretend that I’m fine with… this. Don’t know if I can keep doing it if you’re just gonna leave. My heart can’t take it.”

It felt like time stood still for a moment. Outside one of the open windows, you could hear the trees rustling in the hot summer wind. Your ankle ached. Joel kept staring at you.

“You know that’s the best I’ve slept in years?” he asked softly, licking his lips. “Slept so fuckin’ sound with you next to me. No nightmares – hell, I didn’t even dream. And then I woke up, and you were gone, and I almost wished it had never happened. So that I wouldn’t have to know how good it felt to have you, wouldn’t have to try and sleep without you every night after, knowing exactly what I was missing.”

“Joel,” you tried again but he shook his head, raising a hand in the air to stop you.

“Just let me,” he took a deep breath, his shoulders shaking. “Let me say this. Just once, and then I’ll let it be, okay? I won’t bring it up again, and we can go back to the way things were befo-“

“Stop,” you croaked out, tears swimming in your eyes. “Shut up for a second. I,” you paused, eyes darting over his face, searching for understanding. “I didn’t want to leave, okay? But I’m scared Joel. Jesus, I’m so scared of this.”

“Scared?”

“Of this feeling that won’t go away. Of wanting to stay. I’ve been trying to push it down, to ignore it, and it doesn’t fucking work, no matter what I do. I’m so scared that I’ve fucked up our friendship, that I’m going to lose yo-“

“Never,” he shook his head firmly, hand reaching out to squeeze your knee. “Listen, you’re not losin’ me, okay? That's never gonna happen.”

“But Joel,” you sighed shakily. “If we push things further, there’s no going back. Don’t you understand?”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” he admitted quietly. “I think it’s been too late for me for a while now.”

You stared at him with wide eyes, and when you spoke again you could hear the fear in your voice. “I don’t know if I can be what you want.”

Joel chuckled humourlessly and sighed, squeezing your thigh again.

“It’s you,” he said. “That’s what I want. You don’t have to do anythin’, don’t have to change or be anythin’ else. I just want you.” His eyes shone in earnest, and you couldn’t help but surge forward, planting your lips against his. He returned the kiss with fervour, parting your lips with his tongue and gripping the sides of your face in a searing grip.

He tasted like salt and mint and your head was swimming, consumed by him. Your fingertips were numb as they raced over his body, desperate to touch him everywhere all at once. You fumbled with the buttons on his shirt until his hands joined yours, carefully undoing them all until you could pry it off him.

Pulling back from the kiss, you allowed your eyes to rake over his exposed chest, taking in the sight of his tanned, hairy chest, littered with scars and freckles and you felt the urge to kiss every single one of them. So you did. You pushed him back into the couch and straddled him, ignoring the way your ankle cried out at the movement, and attached your lips to his collarbone, licking and sucking your way across his torso. Showing reverence to every imperfection on his skin. Your tongue swiped past one of his nipples and he jolted beneath you, hands dragging under the fabric of your shirt to rest on your back. You could feel him growing hard beneath you and you smiled against his skin before rolling your hips down against his. He was murmuring your name in between sighs, scratching at your skin, revelling in the kisses you sponged across his chest.

Your eyes trailed upwards to meet his. “Want your cock in my mouth,” you whispered, and his face crumpled in on itself, eyes rolling back into his head.

“Fuck,” he sighed, gripping your hands tightly before pushing you off him. He stood up and in one quick movement he knocked the coffee table over, before he was undoing his belt and stripping his pants off. He helped you off the couch slowly, before lowering you down onto the carpet, crouching down to rest beside you. His large hands roamed across your chest, gripping the hem of your shirt and tugging it upward to expose your breasts, your aching nipples peaked and begging to be touched.

“Fuck,” he repeated, harsher this time, leaning over you to plant his mouth on your chest. His teeth scraped across your sensitive skin and you whined, gripping the nape of his neck as he took one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked gently.

“Joel,” you mewled, tugging his face back up to yours for a brief kiss. “I mean it,” you breathed into his mouth. “Need you in my mouth so bad. M’gonna make you feel so good, I swear.” Within a second, he flipped the two of you over so his back was against the ground and you were straddling his hips. You grinned triumphantly, shifting your hips back as you kissed down his chest, moving your body down until you were straddling his shins, and pulling his briefs down with you.

His cock rested proudly against his stomach, thick and swollen and begging to be touched. The head was a deep shade of red, small beads of precum weeping out of his tip as he stared at you, patiently waiting for you to make a move. You didn’t waste a second before leaning down and gliding your tongue softly over the tip, swiping up his salt and humming at the taste. A sharp inhale whistled past his teeth, and you watched his eyes clamp shut at the sensation, hand forming a fist at his side. Gently, you took his hand and raised it to your head, encouraging him to touch you. He obliged, fisting your hair in his hand, grip tightening as you parted your lips around him and let him sink into your warm mouth. A long, drawn-out moan left his mouth and your cunt pulsed in response, the warmth between your thighs suddenly impossible to ignore.

“S-so good for me,” he groaned, pulling your hair tighter. “Love your mouth, I love it. That’s it, baby, open up a little more for me, show me how much you can take.”

The sharp sting on your scalp made you moan around him, and he cursed, undoubtedly feeling the vibration. The weight of him against your tongue was intoxicating, and you bobbed your head up and down slowly, his cock gliding in and out of your mouth easily, slick with your spit. You’d missed the taste of him, missed the sensation of him filling you up to the point where it was hard to breathe, and yet you still wanted more. You pressed forward, eager to feel him fill you up, but when his cock brushed the back of your throat he was gripping your hair and pulling you off him.

“Turn around,” he ordered, and you looked up in confusion. His bottom lip was bitten raw, and his eyes were a darker brown than normal as he gazed at you. When you didn’t move, he was pulling you up and turning your body so your back was to him, and only then did you realise what he meant. He pulled your shorts down your legs, dragging your underwear with them, and then he carefully tugged one of your knees up and over his shoulder, so you were straddling his chest. Slowly, you shuffled back on your knees until your wet heat was hovering over his face, and you leaned down to let your chest rest against his.

“Baby,” Joel sighed. “So fuckin’ perfect. Such a pretty pussy. Can never get enough of you.”

You clenched around nothing, and heard him groan, signalling that he’d seen it. Without warning, his tongue dipped between your folds and you gasped, pushing your hips back to give him a better angle, before taking him back into your mouth. And it was nothing like it had been two nights before. He wasn’t gentle, or slow, or relaxed. No, Joel was relentless.

His tongue moved rhythmically against you, and you tried desperately to focus, harsh breaths leaving your nose as you moved your mouth lazily along his length. You pulled back and lathed your tongue around the head of him, tasting the salt that dripped out of him. He grunted into you and you smiled, stroking him slowly as you sucked the tip, grinding your tongue into the sensitive skin just underneath his head. Joel’s hips bucked up off the ground, and your hand left his length, gripping his waist firmly to hold him down while you took him into your mouth again. You pushed yourself as far as you could, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed as he brushed the back of your throat. His beard scratched against your inner thighs deliciously, and you decided you loved it a little longer. And then suddenly, his tongue moved away from your clit and he was licking broad strokes along the entirety of your core, and then over your entrance, and then… his tongue flicked all the way back and into new territory.

You flinched forward, his cock surging deeper into your throat and you gagged around him as you explored the new feeling. You moaned, eyes screwing shut at the foreign sensation, and you felt your legs begin to shake against his sides. His hands gripped your hips and pulled you down harder against his face, ruthlessly dragging his tongue back and forth from your clit to your hole, until you were tearing your mouth away him and sitting up, grinding yourself down desperately against his face. Arching your back, you writhed on top of him, crying out hoarsely. Every strong flick of his tongue felt like an electric shock jolting through your body, and he continued until you were panting and twitching on top of him, and then you let go. The orgasm tore through you, a shout falling from your lips as you rode his face, gripping his thighs for leverage as your entire body shuddered with the intensity. He didn’t let up; licking and sucking and kissing, his moans vibrating through your core until you were whimpering and dragging yourself off him, clit aching from the pressure.

You were still trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm when Joel pressed your back down onto the carpet, nudged your knees apart so he could fit between them, and pushed himself inside you. A sweet, low burn blazed in your abdomen with every inch he gave to you. The wet sound of you sucking him in might have embarrassed you, but the look of awe on his face as he stared down at where you were connected just made you feel powerful.

His thrusts were strong, the sweaty skin of your thighs smacking against each other noisily filling the air, mixing with your breathless moans of his name.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he was saying, but you weren’t listening, eyes rolling back in your head as he played with your nipples, pinching and rolling them between his fingers.

“Fuck, Joel,” you cried out at a particularly hard thrust, stomach tensing as the head of his cock grinded against your g-spot.

“There?” he panted, and you nodded frantically, mouth hanging open as he pressed against it over and over again, groaning at the way you tensed around him.

Urgent sounds left your lips as you felt yourself nearing the edge again, and you watched with wide eyes as his hand trailed down your chest to rest over your mound, his thumb slipping between your folds to press gently against your throbbing clit. Your back arched up from the ground and you choked out a moan as he rubbed you in slow circles, a stark contrast to the way he drilled into you with his cock.  

“Come,” Joel encouraged and you whimpered, eyes screwing shut as the overwhelming feeling soared through you. His free hand landed over your throat and your eyes flew open, looking up at him as he applied soft pressure to the sides of your neck. “C’mon baby, let me have it. I can feel you, you’re so fuckin’ close, give it to me, please, I want it.”

His words pushed you over the edge, and you gasped against his hold, bucking up into him as he fucked you roughly. You twitched and writhed on the ground, his thumb never stopping its movements against your clit as you cried out his name.

And somewhere amidst it all, his movements slowed. His hands turned soft on your body, head dropping down to drag gentle wet kisses along the skin of your neck.  

“So good,” he praised lowly. “So beautiful.” Your heart soared in your chest, and you smiled drowsily, body tingling as he continued to give you gentle thrusts.  

“Kiss me,” you said shyly, and Joel smiled, leaning down to press his lips to yours. You sighed into his mouth, gliding the tip of your tongue along his bottom lip as you draped your heavy arms around his neck, pinning his torso down against yours. “Fuck me like this,” you told him. “Want to feel you close to me.”

He nodded, starting up a slow rhythm, only ever pulling out halfway before pressing back into you. You were both slick with sweat, and you wiped his forehead gently before raking your fingers through his thick messy curls. His face was red from exertion, and you thumbed his cheekbones gently. A heavy sigh fell from your mouth. Still recovering from your previous orgasm, you knew it wouldn’t be hard for him to build you up for another one.

“Give me one more,” he begged, sponging feather light kisses over your eyelids, your cheeks, down your neck. “Want to feel you come with me, baby, please. Just one more, I know you can.”

You gripped his hair and kissed him deeply, your tongues tangling together as he moved his hips slowly, cock dragging in and out of you at a devastating pace. Joel pulled back to watch you, eyes gazing down with adoration as he moved above you. That familiar liquid heat began to burn in your stomach, curling through every fibre of your being, and you could see in his face that he was close. And there was something else there too. Something you couldn’t place; simmering in his eyes, lingering on the tip of his tongue, begging to be said. His hips began to stutter against yours, a choked gasp of your name falling from his lips as he quickened his pace until you were coming together, holding each other tightly on the ground of the ski lodge. He moaned heavily against your mouth, and you throbbed around him as his spend coated your walls, warm and slick, squeezing out around his cock as he moved.

As a low, warm silence filled the room, you worked to control your breathing, body shaking against his as he pulled out of you. You whimpered at the empty feeling, missing the weight of him already. But he didn’t go far.

Joel laid down on the carpet beside you, draping an arm around your shoulders and tugging you into his chest. Your fingers trailed over the skin of his stomach, smiling at the goosebumps that developed in your wake. Mine.

His hand caught yours and he lifted it to his mouth, kissing the back of it gently. You leaned forward to rest your face in the rook of his neck, and he sighed in contentment, trailing his fingers down your back.

“Hey Joel?” you murmured against his skin.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry I called you a nasty old bastard.”

Joel laughed and tightened his grip around your back, tugging you closer to his chest. “I forgive you.”

[bakugotrashpanda]

Off the Clock (18+)

Dabi x F!Reader Word Count: 700 !!: sex, light choking

A/N: a small expansion of what I posted yesterday

You only have a short break.

Dabi’s hands paw at your clothes the moment you walk into the backroom. It takes him seconds to have your blouse over your head and your skirt bunched around your hips. The poor excuse of a uniform barely holds up against Dabi’s rough treatment — at least one of your shirt buttons flies off into the unknown. 

“You’re not supposed to be back here,” you gasp out as his mouth latches onto your neck. Teeth graze skin and send a shiver down your spine. Your body melts against his as Dabi sucks harshly, renewing the nearly faded bruise that sits just above the collar of your shirt.

Asshole always remembers to leave a visible mark on you – claims it’s so you’ll think of him when you have to cover it up.

He ruts against you, his thigh parting yours. “Look at what you do to me.” The length of his cock rubs against your thigh. Heat pools in your lower abdomen.

You lick your lips in anticipation. “I’ll take what I can get.

With one swift movement, he lifts you onto a nearby table. Your coworkers' water bottles and whatever else left there before their shifts all pushed to the side. “I’ll give you the whole damn thing.”

He rips your panties off. Overeager eyes hone in on you bare and exposed. The shitty lighting winks off his piercings as he frees himself from his pants. There’s almost a pause as he lines himself up with your entrance. Bracing himself? One last clear-minded thought before he gives into you?

“God your cunt is so wet,” he groans as he sinks into you. The stretch is almost too much. Each piercing adds to the sensation and you mentally count each one as it slides in. 

Two… half way there.

Three… there’s no way there’s more, he’s already filling you up so much. 

Four. The last one in, you can feel his cock twitch when your walls flutter around him. 

“Please,” you whimper and try to move under his grip. The hands on your hips tighten. 

“Stop,” he growls. Punctuating the thought with a hard thrust, you gasp at the sudden movement but keep still beneath him. “You’re so fucking tight and I need to be in you for as long as possible.”

Turquoise eyes blaze with lust above you and you can see him fighting for control. He gives a couple short thrusts, testing his resolve.

“But…” your voice trails off and you clamp down around him. His pupils blow wide open and he stills inside you. Nails embed into the soft flesh of your hips and thighs. “My break is half over, and I want you to finish in me.”

“Brat,” he growls. “I’ve been watching you shake your ass in this tiny uniform. Flirting with every patron.” Each sentence is punctuated with a snap of his hips. “And all I wanted to do was bend you over a table and take you in front of everyone.”

Your legs wrap around his hips, securing you against Dabi. His hands roughly rove up your body and settle, one on your breast and another around your neck. 

“I’d let you do it,” you pant, “Fuck me. Out there. Where they can all see.” The hand around your throat loosens slightly as an exhilarated grin spreads across Dabi’s face. The pressure returns and he fucks you in earnest. Skin slapping skin fills the small room. 

Your brain, starting to feel like it’s wrapped in cotton, barely registers Dabi’s hips speeding up to the point where it’s animalistic fucking fueled by need and desire. His length fills you completely with each stroke and brings stars to your eyes. 

“Dabi,” you beg, “Need it. Need you t’ fill me!” And that’s all it takes for his hips to stutter against you. Warmth, followed by Dabi’s cock throbbing, fills your lower core. 

Murmured praises are pressed into your skin as Dabi comes down from it all. With a groan, he pulls out of you and tucks himself back into his pants. Your panties disappear into his back pocket, and he helps you up into a sitting position. 

“Next time,” he says and smooths your skirt down, but not before the tips of his fingers brush your leaking cunt.  “I will fuck you out there.”

[catsandbats13]

Scaryoke Scars

Final chapter! Sorry this one is so short lol

Chapter 4

SMUT WARNING

“Let’s getcha cleaned up, doll,” he said after locating his boxers and pulling them on haphazardly. Stan grabbed a cloth and ran it under some warm water before wringing it out a bit and bringing it over to you so he could wipe you clean of the mess you’d both made. As he ran the cloth over your skin, you were once again struck by how gentle he was being with you, it was a side of him that not everyone got to see and it seemed that you of all people brought it out of him. You’d seen that those hands were capable of incredible power and remarkable softness at the same time and it had you awestruck.

Once he was satisfied that you were clean, Stan discarded the cloth and bent down to grab something from underneath the table you were still currently perched on. You sat up to get a look at what he was picking up, and it turned out to be his white button up shirt. He held it out to you with a sappy smile, indicating he wanted you to wear it. You grinned from ear to ear, thrilled he wanted you to wear something of his. You dressed in comfortable silence, Stan forgoing his shredded jacket and the aforementioned shirt and you chose to dress simply in his button up and panties.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to sleep for a week,” the man sighed out, bending back to crack his undoubtedly sore spine before reaching over to pull you into his side, his arm a comforting weight on your shoulders.

“After surviving a zombie attack and you fucking my brains out, I think I’ll sleep for a month,” you quipped, earning a bark of laughter from Stan. You loved that you could make him laugh, it made your heart flutter every time.

“C’mon then, let’s go to bed,” he yawned out, gesturing towards the doorway with his head.

“You’re not gonna make me sleep on the cot?” You teased, poking his ribs.

“Nah you’ve earned bed privileges,” he smirked back at you, making you good naturedly roll your eyes at him.

The two of you quietly made your way to the bedroom down the hall, neither one of you letting go of the other as you walked. You were pleased that Stan was just as affectionate after sex as he was during, not that you should’ve been surprised. It was fairly obvious at this point that he had a soft spot for you.

Once in the room with the door shut, Stan took your hand and led you to the mattress, which dipped under your combined weight as you both settled in for the night. A faded blanket was draped over you as your head came to rest on the pillow. Stan instantly pulled you back into his arms after he laid down, snuggling up to you and burying his face in your hair. You instantly responded in kind and cozied up to his broad, fuzzy chest, a contented sigh leaving your lips.

You felt him exhale softly into your locks and his fingers tighten their grip around you faintly. Sensing something was wrong, you mumbled into his pecs, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. It’s just…” he trailed off, at a loss for words for once.

“It’s just?” You echoed, lifting your head so you could study his expression. He looked uncharacteristically vulnerable, eyes shining with emotion. It was rare to see him so unguarded with his feelings.

“It’s just…I could’ve lost you and the kids tonight. What if I hadn’t been fast enough? I’d never forgive myself if any of you got hurt because of me.”

You were briefly stunned into silence by his confession, the emotion in his voice was evident, he seemed genuinely frightened at the thought.

You quickly recovered and spoke in what you hoped was a reassuring tone; “Stan, honey, you can’t think about the what-ifs or you’ll drive yourself insane. What matters is that you were there for us and risked your life to save ours. We’re all alive and safe thanks to you.”

”I know, I know. I just can’t stop thinkin’. The whole time I was fighting those undead freaks, I was so scared I’d be too late to rescue you and the kids and I’d never get the chance to tell ya I’m crazy about you-“

You cut him off again before he could dissolve into more of an agitated ramble.

“I’m here now, Stan. So tell me,” you placed a comforting palm on his cheek, attempting to distract him from his anxious thoughts.

He flashed you an appreciative look, leaning into your touch.

“Y/N, I’m crazy about you. I think about ya all the time, I love watching you indulge the kids and their weirdness, and seeing you talk circles around clueless tourists never gets old. Also, I’ve been making up excuses to keep you at the shack longer and I check out your ass anytime you bend over.”

You cracked up at his admission, you’d had a suspicion he’d been lying about all those extra chores at work lately. You’d been oblivious to his ogling but you couldn’t say anything since you’d been doing much of the same.

“You’re something else,” he continued, eyes shining with adoration.

“I don’t really get what you see in an old fart like me but I’m glad you feel the same.”

“Hey!” You said in mock offense.

“You better not be judging my taste in men!”

Stan chuckled, craning his head down to give you a kiss.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.”

“Good, cause you should know I’m only attracted to handsome, brave, men of mystery,” you teased him.

“Lucky for you then,” he said with amusement.

All at once, it hit you just how exhausted you were. The adrenaline had finally faded, leaving you drowsy and spent. You could only imagine just how tired Stan was after his heroic performance and subsequent railing of you. Taking the initiative, you gave him a final peck and reached over to pull the cord of the bedside lamp, filling the room with darkness.

“Good night, Stan,” you murmured affectionately.

“Good night, Y/N,” he whispered back, keeping a tight hold on you as you both began to slip into slumber.

You hadn’t known when the night began that this was where you’d end up, but regardless of how you got there, you were incredibly thankful and blissfully happy. Stan returned your affections and you had made love in a passionate frenzy on the kitchen table, fulfilling your wildest fantasies.

You fell asleep straight away, feeling content and sated, knowing you were safe and loved in his arms.

[chaotic-mystery]

how about 85 from the smut list... "there are PEOPLE outside this door!" and 88 or 99 (I can't recall which is which) "these walls aren't soundproof, you know?" and the last one is the same vein, something about being quiet. Still, brings to mind being fucked up against a wall or on a pool table in a tucked away room at a bar or house during a big thing or when someone is in the next room. lol. I mean, if you're open to that.

A/N: LISTEn i'm sO sorry I took a million years to answer this, work is beating a bitches ass rn :(

Joel flirted with you sometimes and most of it was lighthearted, but everything he was saying that night, he meant 100%. He couldn't keep his goddamn eyes off you, the way your hair looked so beautiful and done so well, your outfit that made you stand out from everyone else there. Every time you'd stop to talk to someone new, he'd walk behind you and touch your waist in passing like he needed to feel your body tingle in his quick touch. It rushed straight to your panties and caused your breath to hitch for a moment before your brain went foggy and you forgot what you were saying.

He finally stopped teasing and sat in the chair along the side of the room, away from clusters of people. Your dad was at the other end of the screened in porch talking someone's ear off, so this was payback for Joel teasing you the whole night while you were trying to be a good girl for once. His hands rubbed against the top of his thighs slowly as you strolled over to him. He spread his legs further apart as he slouched slightly in the chair, his head cocked while he looked you up and down for the millionth time that night.

"Whaddya' want, little girl?" he asked lowly and took a sip of the drink in his cup, his brown eyes looking dead at you the entire time. You bent down and pressed your palms flat against his thighs as you leaned in close and smirked at him. "C'mon Joel, don't pretend like you haven't been eye-fucking me the entire time I've been here. Is there something you wanna say to me?" you taunted and leaned closer, your faces inches apart. His breathing got faster and it felt like your heart was about to beat out of your chest. Thank god you got lost in the sea of people so your dad didn’t see you cornering his friend like this.

"There's many things I could say to you, sweetheart. What I wanna do to you though- well shit, that's a whole different fuckin' ballpark. You wouldn’t be able to handle it.” He was quick with his comebacks, testing to see how you’d respond. The way his lips curled into a smirk got you going even more, it was a game to him. “Lay it on me cowboy, let me see what you got.” You whispered in his ear and stood up with your hands on your hips. Joel stood on his feet quickly, grabbing your arm and strategically pulling you through the crowd to the door and around the corner into the hall. He pressed his lips against yours roughly, his hands grabbing at every part of your body he could.

You backed up into the nearest room with his lips still on yours until your ass bumped into something, your dads new pool table. “Bend over for me, darlin. I wanna see how wet that fuckin’ pussy is for daddy” Joel muttered as he backed away a little and took another look at you, to admire what he was about to destroy. You dropped your pants to the floor and spread your legs, your hand coming from between your legs to rub your cunt, showing Joel exactly what he does to you.

His hand smacks your ass as he rips your panties in half with his bare hands, dropping the fabric on the floor. “This is what you wanted to hear about princess? How I’d bend your ass over this fuckin pool table and wreck that tight hole of yours? How I’d have my way with you and make you beg me to stop even though it feels so good you don’t want it to end?” Joel had such a way with words it was hard to be witty and on your game when all you could think about was him fucking your brain loose.

A sharp gasp left your lips as he buried his cock inside you, groaning as he felt you squeeze around him. “Fuck, bunny you’re so goddamn tight. Such a naughty little girl, making me fuck you silly while everyone is on the other side of the wall.” You half giggled half moaned in excitement and Joel gave your ass a firm smack. “Don’t go moaning all loud now, there are people outside this door, you hear me?” You whimpered in agreement as he began fucking you, his cock covered in your sticky arousal. Your muffled sounds turned him on even more as he shoved your head further against the velvet table, your cheeks squished under the palm of his hand.

“You think in between songs they can hear me fucking you, princess? These walls aren’t soundproof ya know? Think they can hear you bein a nasty slut for me, bent over begging to be fucked on your dads new pool table, tits everywhere on the velvet.”

He always knew how to make your spine tingle and eyes roll back, “yeah I bet they can daddy. I bet they can hear how good you make me feel, -fuck go faster Joel, please!”

He grabbed your shoulders for support as he rams his cock balls deep inside you. He tosses his head back, through gritted teeth he growls, “who’s your fuckin daddy, baby?”

Smut prompt list

[dollivication]

Haiiiii !!!! I've been following u for awhile now nd I love ur posts but I'm a pussy so I'm interacting anonymously :3

Um anyways. Opinions on college loser! Leon or Dante? (maybe both? whoever u like more idk) obsessed with sweet teacher!user?

Laik… ur a sweetheart and feel bad for him bc you've noticed that he's alone all the time and doesn't have friends, maybe even being picked at by his classmates during/after class if u want to make him more miserable. That ofc makes u feel bad for him so u try to interact more to make him feel better!!

Being nicer to him, spending a few lil extra minutes to chat, even giving him candy sometimes and rlly just trying to be there bc he clearly needs that. Over time u see he gets happier when he sees u, like an excited puppy, and ofc why wouldn't he?? Ur the only person that treats him decently!

He seems a little too touchy now but it's okay, maybe he doesn't receive affection frequently so u can ignore that his hand is often misplaced when he insists on hugging you because he's missed you lots even though he just saw u yesterday!! Or the way he's suddenly clumsier when he's with u, 'accidentally' knocking over things that u are sweet enough to pick up yourself, bending down in the process. He's just clumsy is all! He swears it's definitely not to look at your ass!

You don't see the way he grips his jeans or table when he's in ur class lately because ur just too irresistible to look at. The way that thin uniform of yours grips u in all the right places has his mind spinning and his jeans feeling tighter. Poor boy can't catch a break when it's about u…

Dis thing been living on my mind rent free, any thots about how bad down the guy would be? I'm out of brain juice when it comes to ickiness but ur a pro when it comes to that and these guys (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

—🐭

UWAAAA OH MY GOF OH MY GOD THIS MADE ME TITTER SO MERRILY IM SO GRATEFUL 4 YU????? MWAMWA WELCOME TO THE FREAKLAND ❤️❤️❤️!!1!1!1!!

ouuuuuu I LOOOOVE yu for giving me a lil blueprint for their ickiness…. because lemme tell yu they are NASTAY…!! let’s use leon for this whirligig >:3

leon takes advantage of your pity. he’s fully aware that you don’t normally accept gifts from students, but when it comes to him?? owhh,, hes just the sweetest little thing! it’d be rude not to accept his tokens of gratitude!!

and naturally, receiving a cup of coffee from him wouldn’t be strange, if it didn’t taste so salty (◞‸◟)… of course, you force yourself to drink it, because your biggest flaw was being too generous. and leon’s breathing heavily, watching as your expression sours everytime you take a sip of not just coffee—but his cum !! he most likely convinces himself that you like it…. i’d advise not taking any treat or drink from this Freak…..

and it’s just sooososo fucking hot, seeing how oblivious you are to his perverted advances!! and nobody ever sits by leon… bless you if it’s a leveled lecture hall, because leon’s going to sit just a distance away to fuck into his fist as you teach. he’s so GROSS IM CRYIYMGGMB….!1!1!1!!!

i reckon that at some point leon would just stop.. looking and actually start touching when you’re bent over. laik if he’s fully convinced himself that you want him too, he won’t be so shy anymore!! he’ll probably cup your ass, bump his clothed cock against it with soft whines… he’s needed this for sooooww long!! don’t be mean to him and just let him fuck you, okay? you just mean so much to him!!! <3

and if you ever plan on telling anyone about him, he’s not above using his pretty face to make up lies about you!! laik he didn’t do anything, it was you who forced yourself onto him >.<!! what a dirty professor… so just keep your mouth shut, and take his virginity!

UGHSHHGHHHES SI SICK IM SK HAPPY YOURE ON THE FRIENDS LIST NAO… first ask and you COOK I LAUV YU!!!1!!1 I CANT EAIT TO HEAR MORE FROM YEW ૮꒰ ˶> ༝ <˶꒱ა ❤️❤️

[goodomensafterdark]

Writers Guild Cock Fight: Oh! My! What a situation!

Written by likeafuckingninja, find them on Reddit and AO3

CW/TW: Explicit.

Summary:

**"Aziraphale met his eye, looking directly at him. His eyes rolled backwards as pale lashes fluttered closed over them and the Angel let out a loud hum around the spoon he was mouthing. Crowley was pretty sure the gentleman two tables over was going to have some explaining to do to his lady date; who was frankly looking less than impressed that the man opposite her seemed more interested in surreptitiously staring at the stuffy middle aged man in the middle of his second pudding.

Honesty Crowley was going to have some explaining to do in a moment. "

--

Aziraphale is pulling out all the stops to show Crowley he's available Crowley is stubbornly remaining an absolute gentleman.

Aziraphale escalates.**

Excerpt:

Crowley sputtered again, “I… no… me? Looking…? Absolutely outrageous.” His brain was working overtime to both figure out when his completely subtle and unnoticeable staring had in fact been noticed, and replay the events of the last few days - and months - with this new context. “Oh my God,” he said. “Did you offer to pay me for rescuing you with sex?”

Aziraphale had the good graces to blush, but he refused to be made uncomfortable. “Yes, services rendered and all that.”

“Services rend-...the fuck Angel? I don’t need payment for rescuing you.”

“Well I didn’t need rescuing so I suppose we’re even!”

“You set up a fake rescue?” Crowley’s voice was growing shrill.

“Why on earth would I need rescuing from books, Crowley!?”

“Is this why you’ve been so weird? The bending over for the bottle and sitting too close on the sofa? The whole coming down half dressed and swanning about with your trousers around your ankles thing?” Crowley gasped, remembering, “I offered to help with your trousers!”

“Yes, I actually thought I’d succeeded at that point, but then you tried to give me a belt.”

“‘Oh no, my trousers will be staying put’!” Crowley mimicked his words earlier, collapsing into his hands on the counter. “You weren’t even trying to be subtle!”

Aziraphale patted him on the back patronisingly. “So, are you going to fuck me?”

Crowley looked up and glared at him. “Obviously.”

Aziraphale looked delighted. “Come on then.”

Continue on AO3!

Thanks to u/ckocek and u/pommedepersephone for the beta on the bits I actually had done ahead of time!

[justxrandomxlivia]

Your new Partner König

Masterlist part two - König x fem!reader - Enemies to more

Summary: After sneaking into a terrorist base, you are overwhelmed by König, a mountain of a man. Is he your enemy or indeed an ally?

Warnings: Mention of weapons, mention of wounds, overall fluff

Word count: 3502

AN: This story was originally based of the first two episodes of the König series of MINTS. Go and check it out! Also, for this story will come 100% more parts - so stay tuned. ^^

„Y/n. Stay low profile. We don’t want to draw to much attention.” – “Copy that. See you on the other side. Stay safe Farah.” After I made my call, I move further through the tunnels. According to the plan, I should reach the end soon. Slowly approaching the gate that leads to the base of the terrorists, I can hear only my own footsteps as I walk through little water puddles. I try to open the gate, but it’s locked. Alright, quick breaking through move. I clipped my gun away and reached for a crowbar. I must do this as quite as possible. Adjusting the angle, and “CRACK!”.

I’ve placed the crowbar back at my bag pack and took my gun once again. I stepped through the gate, closing it behind me and turning to the right. I should get this way to the building, collecting the information I need. Just as I turned right, someone comes from behind, I spun around firing my gun, but it got ripped out my hand in an instant, then I fell to the ground, with my face first. My arms are quickly tied up on my back. “FUCK!” I yelled and tried to lift my legs to grip the attacker. I reached to the neck, but the attacker gripped my feet with an ease, pushing them down and tying them together. I wiggled and tried to hit the person with my head. But the attacker pushed me down to the ground, now facing to the sky, I saw a man standing over me. Way taller than Ghost. My breath stuck. He has a black sniper hood hiding his face and he is huge! “Stop squirming! You will just hurt yourself.” He said casually down to me, he bends down and shut my mouth with duct tape. Then he packed me by the waist and lifted me on his shoulder, carrying me across the camp.

After roughly 5 minutes getting carried all over the entire place, I felt how my guts are in the wrong places. Everything hurt and there was too much blood in my brain, what made me feel dizzy. Mister three meters tall finally let me down. He dropped me on a chair in a big room where was one single light. It was nearly impossible to tell how big the room was, it was just too dark. He placed my hands behind the chair and tied my feet to the chair. Then he took my bag, weapons and other devices and placed them on a small table near the shadow. Not taking off the duct tape from my mouth he spoke with a calm voice. “I’ll let you rest now a little. Let’s chat later. There are many things I’d love to talk about.” With this he left the room and as it sounded, there was another person leaving as well. And to my joy, they turned off the only light. It was pitch black now.

“Shit. Ah, I’m sorry Farah, I fucked up.” I mumbled as I started to loosen my wrists from the rope. It won’t move, but I continued even though I felt the pain in my wrists already rising. After what felt like an eternity, the door swung open, and the light got turned on. Squeezing my eyes because I turned blind on an instant.

“So. How are you doing?” Slowly opening my eyes again, I see him. He is standing a little in the shadow, but enough in the light. He is so damn huge. And I don’t mean only his height. He is built like a bulldozer. There was no way I could have won against him earlier. If he would just stand there and somebody else would interrogate me, I would be terrified. But his voice is way too kind. He sounds as if he doesn’t even plan to hurt me. Also, he didn’t really hurt me outside. Why did he not just knock me out. There is something wrong with him. Maybe he is a spy? He suddenly stomped to me and grabbed me by my shoulder, pushing me back, so that the chair lifted off. “Don’t pretend that you are not scared. I will make you fear being any longer alive.” He let go of me and walked away again. There was another person in the corner again, I don’t see much, but there is clearly somebody standing. Short after my attacker walked away, he placed a chair in front of me and sat down. I can’t see his eyes, it’s too damn dark here. But I’m sure he is as scary as Ghost is. I guess all masked guys are like that.

“You know how they call me?” He asked amused. I shook my head. I can’t even speak mate. I have still duct tape on my mouth! He then leaned closer and whispered in my ear: “König.” It took me a moment to realise, Oh shit. It’s him. My blood froze. This big man with the sniper hood. Why didn’t I come to the realisation earlier. Ghost told me about him. He worked with him once. Long time ago, he told me, that this huge man was called König. King in German. And that even Ghost himself was terrified of König. And that psycho is now sitting right in front of me. I couldn’t get better, right?

“You heard of me. I see.” He moved back in his chair. “I’m sure my old friend Ghost told you a little about me. Anyway, speaking of Ghost. That’s why you are here.” He paused and moved his chair closer. He leaned over to me, with his head next to my ear, he whispered slowly: “Where is Simon Riley aka Ghost. Be a good little sweetheart and tell me. Otherwise, I don’t see an option, but using that knife in my right hand. So, what do you say? Should I take the tape off, and we have a nice little chat?” I nodded slowly. He moved away once more and ripped the tape off my mouth. “So where is Ghost?” He asked once again. I just smiled at him. Not that fast big man.

I leaned over to him and smiled devilish. “Could you do that again, but this time with your hands between my legs. You just unlocked a new kink for me, big boy.” He jumped back and before I could realise anything, he pressed the duct tape over my mouth again. Ah shit.

Ghost told me that König has severe anxiety issues. If you talk back to him or invade his personal space. He gets ‘uneasy’. It worked. A little. “If you talk garbage like that, you won’t come out here that easy. You know that.” He spoke louder. Then he was leaving the room once again, the shadow person followed him. My time to continue on those damn ropes, but this time he wasn’t gone that long. König slammed the door open. “Alright” he says, coming to me. “Your last chance. Tell me where Ghost is, and you can go. Or don’t tell me where he is, and I’ll make your life a nightmare.” He sat down in front looking me dead in the eyes. Realising that he entered the room alone this time, I nodded again. He hesitated but removed the tape once more. “I thought we were clear how things are going Farah.” He whispered at me, before I even got a chance to speak, the shadow person entered the room. König cleared his throat and spoke loud to me: “If you push your luck, I will cut you to pieces. Are we clear!”

Damn, I was confused but played along. I nodded. He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “So, where is the last location you have seen Simon Riley?” he asked once again. His voice sounds more and more annoyed. I took a deep breath, and looked at him with burning eyes: “Last location I saw him? In my bed, on top of me, sir.” I giggled; does he really think I would tell him where my team is, I never heard of any plan, but he must think I’m Farah, did she actually betray us? König sighed in disappointment. “I hoped you would make it not that hard for us. But that was your choice.” He drew a knife and started to cut my arm, not deep, not much. But it hurts even more than a real cut. I tried to push him away with my shoulder, but I was fixated to the chair, struggling was helping nothing. Realising that the shadow person left again, König stopped abruptly. He leaned to me and whispered. “What are you doing? We have orders.” He literally hissed at me like an angry cat. I was so mad, I would like to punch him in the face. Or anything. Why would Farah do that.

The door flew open, and a big man entered the room. König jumped back in his role: “Stop squirming. You can’t get out of here. You choose it, so take it like a man.” He laughed at me. “I’m a woman! Vollidiot”! (Big idiot) I yelled at him. He suddenly froze and looked at me in shock. “What? Never heard a woman speak German before?” Now it was me who was laughing. Indeed, I knew some German. I had to work with the German special forces three years ago, they taught me mainly bad words, but practical. König shook his head and wanted to say something, but the big man in the back interrupted him. “How is going. Does bitch talk?” König turned around and answered. “Yes, last location they saw Ghost was North to the old Hospital. They had a camp there.” The other man laughed. “Perfect. You, kill her. We take look there.” With this he left.

“What? I never told you anything!” I yelled at König, who was putting his knife away. He then pulled some first aid stuff out of his bag and applied a cream and a bandage to my wound. “What are you doing?! Fucking Hell! Are you dumb!” I yelled at him. He then placed his face close to mine and whispered, “You are not Farah, right? You are y/n. Ghost should have told me he changed the plan. Anyway, Scream a little louder now and when I shoot, you’ll be quite. Don’t do anything stupid. We are on the same team.” He walked away and pulled out a gun. He pointed it not at me, but to the left. I had to believe him for now, he told this man false information and want to help me. So I must trust him. Even if I don’t want to. I nodded and started screaming like hell. “No! Fuck you! I told you what you wanted to hear! Let me go!!” then he shot twice into a bag to the left. I stopped screaming and waited for him to do anything.

He untied my feet and hands and pointed to my stuff back on a small table. “We will leave now. Hurry up.” He said as he opened the door. Quickly I packed my stuff and loaded the gun. “Ready to go” I whispered, standing behind him. Let’s stay calm and focused. If he tries to take me down, I’ll shoot him this time for good. He nods, “Stay quite.” He whispered back as we left the room and entered an even darker hallway where nobody was seen. He checks left and right, then signed me to stay close. With him leading the way, it was impossible for me to see anything, because he was just so big and blocked all view. We moved quietly and quickly. He pointed to a door, signing me to get through as he stood with his back against it, eyes on the hallway area. I wanted to open the door. “Shit, it’s locked.” I hissed. König looked down to me. “Picking takes too long. Keep your eyes on the hallway.” He said and we quickly changed places. With half an eye, I looked what he was doing. He put his gun away and took a deep breath. Then he slammed his shoulder against the door. With a loud crack, it broke open. That wasn’t even half of his force. No wonder I didn’t had a chance. Actually, I could take him out now, he is unarmed, I have the gun. I let out a sigh and shook my head at this thought. Then I got through the door, König followed me now. He pats me on the shoulder, pointing to a van in the distance, then to the left and the front, signing me, I’m supposed to scan there as he scanned right and back. I gave a thump up and made my way to the van.

Finally reaching it, König grabbed my shoulder and turned me around. He was standing right in front of me, looking down on me, as a king would do to his unworthy soldiers. He wanted to say something, but I cut him off. “Don’t even think about it. I’m driving. You make sure nobody follows.” I hissed at him, he hesitated but agreed. Driving off the terrorist camp, I pulled out my radio device: “This is Racoon. To all callsigns, does any one copy?” No response. “Team, this is Racoon. Does anyone copy?” I repeated my question. Nothing. “Racoon is your callsign?” König asked me hesitantly. I took a quick look at him, then focused back on the road. “Yes. The German special force gave me the German form of Racoon. I tried to tame a racoon family near the river where we were camping. With success, not lying.” I told him proudly, now he knows I worked with the Germans, that will come in handy, maybe.

He chuckled: “So you were called, Waschbär? What a horrible callsign.” He giggled more. “What? It’s a cool callsign. Better than König. Or ghost.” I protested. “What about Soap?” He asked. “Soap?” I looked at him again quickly. “His callsign is fitting quite well to mine, don’t you think?” I giggled at my dumb answer, and so did König. “I’m sorry I had to hurt you. It was necessary to make the terrorists believe that you talked.” He spoke with a quiet voice. “So, you said you are on my side? Why nobody mentioned you are, or why did I never meet you? Why did Farah was involved but didn’t warn me before entering the tunnels?” still a little unsure if I really should trust him, I tried to get some answers from him. But König didn’t answer. A we reached the little town I looked at him again, “Hey, Johannes? I asked a question.” He froze and faced me with big eyes. Guess I shocked him a little. I giggled loud. “Why did you call me that?” He asked with a trembling voice, I just laughed at him. “I’m going to call you from today on every possible name, until I got yours right. Sounds like fun. Don’t you think?” I parked the car near an old store. There were plenty of abandoned cars we could ‘borrow’. Sorry to the owner. “What if I don’t tell you when you got my name right?” König asked me while looking away. I giggled at him, “Then I’ll be mad.” and left the car. He followed me. We both stayed low and scanned the area, as we walked towards a black jeep. Best choice for now.

We hopped in the jeep, and what a miracle, the keys were laying on the drivers seat. Horrible what happened to the people here. I shook my head and started the car. Nobody was following us, we didn’t meet anyone as we broke out, and I don’t get any calls over radio. Knowing the parameter, I drove towards the forest. There I will get out of the car and run. When I got rid of König, I’ll make my way to a near hideout. As I drove out of the town, I knew, I can’t trust him. This was all too easy. König didn’t say anything more. And he didn’t look my way anymore either. After 15 minutes of killing silence I parked the car near the forest way and left it. König followed me. Now it’s time to act quickly. As he was taking his gun out of the car I walked over to him and dropped the keys. “Ah damn, could you be so kind?” I asked, pretending I tied my hair up, he bowed down to pick them up, as I turned on my heels and started running. No turning back, just running. I need to get away from him.

I ran as far as possible, square through the forest, sadly my lungs were about to collapse after 10 minutes already. To be fair, running was never my strength. Slowing down, I turned around and was glad to see nobody. Then I picked a big tree and started to climb it. So I could recover from running and check if König was following me. Sitting on the tree I was breathing quietly, listening to the surroundings. I heard and saw nothing. That was good news. 10 minutes passed and I got down from the tree again. I checked once more the area and then instead of running, I sneaked a little bit. Checking my location and compass, I knew I had to turn right, but then suddenly: “And why do you think you could run away from me?” A strong hand grabbed my shoulder and a deep voice spoke angry in my ear. “Fuck.” I cursed. How did he find me. And how silent can that mountain of a man sneak? I didn’t hear him anywhere nearby. As I turned around, I received a radio call “Racoon, this is Ghost. How copy?” I looked at König and he looked at me. I let out a deep and long sigh, but answered calmly. “Ghost, this is Racoon. We have an unpleasant situation.” – “Unpleasant? Your whole disappearance was fucking unpleasant. Thought your dead. Soap has run circles in the floor tiles. Get your ass to base now. And stop playing hide and seek with König. He got his damn orders.” With ghost being obviously mad, I answered protesting. “So you knew he was spying at the terrorist camp? How about inviting me into the plan as well, when you damn send me through the tunnels instead of Farah!” Ghost didn’t answer anything.

I sighed and looked back at König. “Alright, Martin. Lead the way to the road.” My hand gesturing in the forest. König only shook his head. “Not Martin.” He said walking ahead of me, giggling quietly. “You are quite chatty for someone with severe social anxiety.” I spoke, while trying to step on his heels, I got him at least three times. “Could you stop doing that?” He asked, stopped abruptly and turned around. I was so focused, I didn’t realise he stopped, so I just ended up bumping into his chest and almost lost balance, falling back. He suddenly grabbed me and pulled me closer to him. My hands against his chest, his hands holding my shoulders. I looked up at him, he looked down. Time stops moving, everything was quiet. All I saw where his eyes, focusing on my eyes. It felt like an eternity as we just stood, holding each other and saying nothing.

Then he cleared his voices. “Do-do you-“ he stuttered, looking left and right next to me. “Do you think. We…. We c-could.” I guess this is the anxiety Ghost was talking about. But he wasn’t nervous the whole time. Why now? I tilted my head a little bit and smiled at him. Maybe it helps him to calm down. “Yeah?” I asked. He still couldn’t look in my eyes. Then he spoke a little above a whisper. “Do you. Think. We. C-could. B-be-become friends?” he was clearly embarrassed. Actually, he’s cute. So big and so shy. I chuckled and leaned a little more against him. “I’d love to be friends with you, Peter.” He just rolled his eyes and pushed me away. Then he turned around and continued walking. “Not Peter.” He spoke. I laughed. “How about Nick?” – “No.” – “Erik?” – “Stop it, Waschbär-Frau.” I frowned at his comment. “Racoon woman? More like Racoon Whisperer. Mighty Racoon Whisperer.” I giggled over my new name. König chuckled too. He tried to do it quietly, but I heard him. Knowing that he is no threat, I finally could relax around him. I think we will get along. I’m sorry to say, but maybe it was meant to be that I ended up in Farahs position. I was able to meet König in a way, I wouldn’t had otherwise. A little tickle in my belly grew, I’m looking forward to what will come.

[inkyquince]

Commission: Hey, Hey Sunshine

content warning. This is a kofi commission for @angrelysimpping, who wanted a Wremussy Letter, with Wren being a bit mushy and I was allowed to go ham, so I did do a bit of a switch and bait. Not happy at all with how the actual letter looks ngl. Anyway, dirty talk, threesome mention, cow TF mention, general nasty with Wren getting all mushy.

Visual letter below the cut, with Text based letter above (Not super proud of how the letter came out, so yknow, the ole switcheroo is good)

Hey, hey, sunshine. 

Just sending a note up to tell you that your horse did go on a walk about but we got her in from the Moors. Real bitch to get her back, but y’know, I’d do anything to make sure you’re a happy little thing. Y’know the saying, happy spouse, happy house, and we like keeping the boss real happy. 

So, y’know, anything you can think of with that pretty little head of yours, I’ll haul ass to make sure you remain a pampered, pretty little thing up at the house. 

The boss, not to put anything more than words in his mouth, is real fond of ya. And you should know that I’m going to make sure to make up for it when he’s away and all busy, y’know. We can take a few horses from the school, maybe walk around the estate and check on all the cute little animals, take a picnic out to the meadows and fuck you like a whore in the grass until you cum your brains out. Not going to take you back until your cute little hole is dribbling my cum, all over those pretty thighs. 

Are you proud of me? I made it, like, two paragraphs before I started to run my… What was it you called it? My filthy, perverted mouth. 

You seemed to take those words back when I tongue fucked that little hole all nice until you came all over my face. Fuck, I can shut my eyes and still taste you. That was when… We were hiding in the hayloft, wasn’t it? With all those workers milling down below, talking about how the boss’ spouse was such a cute looker. That they could just bend you over and make you squeal, if Remy wasn’t going to flay them alive for even thinking about it. All the while you were humping my face like a bitch in heat. 

I bet they’d all love to see that. See what we do together while Remy is out riding at the school. Your cum on my cock, fingers, face, tongue, even my thighs when you let me take you for a ride and rode my fucking leg instead. 

They’d love to watch me take you over our card table in the cottage. The way I carry you into the barn, into one of the empty stalls, and milk you like one of those gormless cows you love to dote on so much. God, you’d love to join em, wouldn’t ya? 

All tucked up in the stall, nibbling on apples and grass, being mounted all day and snoozing all night. It’s the perfect life for such a cute little thing, isn’t it? But sadly, Boss loves just having you on his arm and in his bed. I could try and talk him into it, maybe let it sleep how you stained his favorite bed sheets while we were having a quickie on your marriage bed. He might like the thought of punishing his spouse like that. I don’t think he’d tug Nicki on over for a photoshoot with any of… The other actors, but might just have him record him fucking your little ass as you moo and beg for more. 

Fuck, you’re so cute, it doesn’t matter if you got those cute little cow ears either way. It’s why I can’t resist having my hands all over you. Even when you two got married, I always think back to when you greedily took my cock in the backroom before the wedding, all cute in your white outfit, that perfectly hid all the cum I spilled over the fabric. Fuck, you’re just the most perfect little thing. Bait for me losing my job, bait for me getting caught with my trousers around my ankles. You’re like something tasty that I can’t help but indulge in. Lick your skin, bite it, mark you up, but I’m not fucking allowed. I’m always so annoyed that I’m not allowed… 

But fuck, what Remy says, goes. He’s the only one allowed to suck at your neck and chest and thighs. I leave ONE and he nearly beats my ass, and worst, you’re good ole Mayor Chucklefuck in bed as you watch us. 

Fuck, what am I supposed to do? 

Doll, you make me go crazy. When I heard Remy was gonna marry some townie, I knew the boss and I were still gonna fuck. What I didn’t expect was for this… Perfect little townie to trot up in here, all nervous about their new life. When Remy messaged me to meet up with him, I felt bad. Like you didn’t deserve your future husband getting slam fucked in the ass by the bastard that lives on your land, but fuck. 

Nothing was more beautiful than the sight of you in the bed, Remy three fingers deep in your hole as you squirmed. He wasn’t going to let you be left out. Fuck, sweetheart, I don’t use the L word when it comes to how the boss feels a lot of the time, but that fucking showed how much he loves you. He’s had girlfriends and boyfriends, but Remy and I were always… Private. Private and forever, but you’re in on that now. The others never were. 

Fuck, I’m being all… Mushy now, ain’t I? Talking about how you two are my forever, while writing a poorly disguised love letter that’s supposed to be talking about your fucking horse. All the while Remy is hunting for his socks and telling me to stop smiling like an idiot at my notepad. 

I hate the fact that you couldn’t join us. We didn’t get that into it, not while you’re out on the town, just jerked each other off and Remy sucked me off, but we prefer…. Having you pinned down and fucked, in a place only we can properly have you. 

Shit. 

Alright. Let me finish this up. Remy also wants me to tell you that he’s gonna be back shortly before dinner tonight, so look pretty. Keep in mind, to us, pretty means sweatpants and no shirt. ;D

Anyway, see ya soon, sunshine. 

Masterlist

Kofi

AO3

[marvel-trash-bin]

Taking Risks.

(Not my Gif.)

Summary: Zemo gives you what he thinks you deserve. *Some TFATWS Ep. 3 Spoilers.*

Pairing: Zemo x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Smut for days baby. Dirty Talking, Possession, marking, Soft!Dom Zemo. 18+ Only.

Word Count: 4.2K

Tags: @greeneyedblondie44

A/N: Look we all know we're walking dangerous territory, simping for a war criminal. But Sugar Daddy Zemo got me feeling some type of way and also, Daniel Brüle is hot asf. Also, I don't actually know german so pls if it's off just blame google translate, I just have an insatiable language kink and I needed the pet names more than air itself. I thought about making this a chaptered fic, but I barely had the time to write this, never mind chapters of it before he likely fucks over Sam and Bucky next episode. Anyways, enjoy!

Here’s the thing.

You knew he was dangerous. You knew his past, the EKO Scorpion kill squad and everything with the Avengers, manipulating them and breaking them up from the inside. He was smart, unpredictable. You knew there was a very real potential that you could be hurt - or worse - if you went down the road.

And maybe, in a past life that would’ve been enough to stop you. But you weren’t who you used to be. You liked playing with fire now, inviting danger and chaos rather than straying from it. You had lived in - hid in, was more accurate - Madripoor for a handful of years now. You laid low, kept yourself under the radar of the Power Broker and those who worked for him. This way, no one bothered you and you could live fragments of a normal life, Trading and bartering to make a living. But living this way, like forgotten trash on a sidewalk, got old.

Maybe that’s why when you caught his attention, you didn’t shy away from it.

It had happened so fast. You were dancing, just intoxicated enough that the rubbing of strangers' bodies against yours was not just welcomed, but encouraged. So encouraged that when a new body, tall and firm behind you, took the place of another, you didn’t hesitate to back up into the warmth. His hands gripped your hips tightly, not stopping or guiding you, just resting. Turning your head slightly to see what your new dance partner looked like, you startled a little seeing the Baron.

Helmut chuckled, a low sound you felt rather than heard, and ducked his head down to speak into your ear, “You know who I am.”

You let your body relax back into his, feeling reckless enough to bless the menacing man with your flirtations, your head falling back onto his, “I’ve heard a thing or two.”

“And yet you trust me to hold you like this,” his hands flex on your hips, just hard enough to show the strength they hold, “Like a lover.”

You grab one of his hands, leading it down to your upper thigh where your knife holster sits, never once letting his hand leave your body.

“If I didn’t want you touching me, you’d know it, Baron.”

The gust of breath you felt against the side of your neck and the large hand gripping your thigh had shivers rolling pleasantly down your spine.

“You are far too beautiful to reside in these undergrounds,” he spun you around in his grasp, allowing you to get a good look at his face, “A woman like yourself should be treated with the most expensive riches, the finest wines. She should drain a man of his earnings.”

You laughed, not expecting the words that came from his mouth nor how handsome he was, even this close, “Point me to the man who’s willing.”

He smirked at you, but there was a smugness to it. A glimmer in his eye that suggested he had the riches and the desire to give you anything you wanted. You felt like you were drowning in his gaze, lost as you were under the heat of it. He looked somewhere behind you, pulling his eyes from you to nod once at whatever, or whoever, had stolen his attention from you. When they returned to you, the heat and desire were replaced with determination.

“It is with great regret that I must leave you, for now,” He captured your hand, bringing it up to his lips, the softness of them brushing lightly against your knuckles, “I can get you out of Madripoor, give you a life you deserve. If you meet me tomorrow morning, the airstrip.”

The world felt like it froze around you. The rational part of your brain was screaming at you. You couldn’t trust him. You Shouldn’t trust him. But as you stared into his eyes you saw nothing but honesty.

“And if I don’t?” You ask, just to buy yourself some time.

His hand travels up your arm, taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger securely, “I will not pressure you. I’d leave you be, but the ghost of you would haunt me, schatzi.”

And with that, he was gone. Leaving you with nothing more than your thoughts, mentally preparing how quickly you could pack your things and leaving Madripoor behind. After all, you’ve always loved taking risks.

~

The next few weeks were a blur. Zemo was laying low, but his form of laying low was still luxury to you. It was private jets and upscale accommodations, not to mention that he was a man of his word. He spoiled you. Within three days of being in his presence, you had acquired a whole new wardrobe. Your suitcases - also new - were filled to the brim with the fanciest and latest fashion. You had rare jewels on nearly every piece of jewelry you owned. Maybe spoiled was an understatement. You’ve only dreamed of owning riches like these.

He had picked something particular for you to wear tonight, both of you making an appearance at some sort of party with some higher-ups. It was all laid out on the king-sized bed, a little black dress of sorts. It was short and sheer in its long sleeves, the sparkles in the fabric ensured that you would shimmer under any lighting. With a simple clutch, matching jewelry and a cropped, white fur jacket to keep you warm until you got to your destination. You looked good. You felt good.

He looked just as good. Sporting an outfit similar to the one you had met him in, instead choosing a dark red turtleneck to create a stunning relation between both your outfits. Nothing had happened between the two of you yet. Aside from lingering glances and innocent touches, he had been a gentleman. The chemistry was there, for sure. You were able to joke and talk with the man, matching his wit and charm every step of the way. And he loved it.

“Best behaviour tonight, schatzi.” He had said, low in your ear as you walked towards the venue.

You had smiled back at him, the perfect picture of innocence, “Always, Baron.”

And at the time, you had fully meant it. But you found yourself craving him. He looked too good, it honestly wasn’t fair. The way that ridiculous fur jacket draped over his shoulders, fostering a powerful ambience. And you knew he was faring no better himself if by the way his eyes were glued to your curves was anything to go by.

So, you decided, maybe you shouldn’t be on your best behaviour tonight. It’s not like you were making a scene or anything that would call too much attention. You were simply letting the alcohol take over your body. Whether that meant a hand on his thigh as you listened to the conversations around you, your fingers playing with the short hairs at the back of his neck or dancing a little too scandalously when you knew he was watching. You felt confident. And when you felt confident, you felt dangerous.

By the end of the night, you were teasing yourself just as much as you were him. You were pushing your luck, hands trailing a little too close to the bulge in his slacks, enjoying the way his facial features changed briefly in shock before settling back into that infuriating unmovable stoic impression. The last straw was you bending in front of him, having ‘dropped’ something from your purse. You only had to bend so much before the dress, as short as it was, had ridden up just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your panties.

In an instant, he had you standing upright, thanking whoever he had been talking to for a wonderful night, tugging your dress back down to a respectable length and steering you towards the door by the back of your neck.

“That was not best behaviour,” he growled into your ear.

You giggled, despite the tight grip on your neck, “I was just having fun.”

He had done nothing but stare at you, eyes hard with a warning that had you rethinking your actions. You had forgotten, for a moment, that this man was not just someone to give you all the pretty trinkets you wore. He was a mastermind, a criminal mastermind at that. A man most deemed dangerous enough to be locked away.

“You have been bad tonight, kleine Schlampe.” He said once he had gotten you back to his car, away from the prying eyes and ears of the party guests, “You will spend the trip back thinking of ways to make it up to me.”

The words sent heat through your core, and you did exactly as he said.

~

By the time he had gotten you up to your accommodations, you had thought of thousands of different scenarios that could earn you forgiveness for your recklessness. You were uncertain if his words earlier had implied sexual favours, or if a simple, genuine apology was all he was looking for. However, once he had turned to you, the room door closing behind him and his eyebrows raised expectantly, you fell to your knees in front of him like it was second nature.

He chuckles darkly at you as he peels his gloves off, tossing them gently onto a side table nearby before letting one hand brush away the hair that had fallen in your face.

“Seems you are meine kleine schlampe indeed,” You had no idea what it meant, but fuck it sounded good coming from him. His eyes were hard and dark as he stared down at you, “If this is the path you’ve chosen to apologize, so be it. But not here, you are meine schlampe not a common whore. Get up. Go to the bedroom.”

You did as he said, quickly pulling yourself up to a standing position and walking to the designated room. The bed, so far, had only been used by you. He hadn’t wanted to push or pressure you into sharing a space with him. He understood that just because you decided to join him, didn’t mean you wanted to be with him. But tonight, you had decided, you wanted to give him your everything. You wanted to show him how grateful you were for all the gifts he’d given you so far. And if you couldn’t give him luxuries, you would give him your desire.

“So,” he began, nodding in approval at the way you resume your position on the floor in front of him, “Let’s begin with the basics.” As he talked, he rolled up his sleeves, doing so with precision, “Tell me, what exactly are you apologizing for?”

He commands every drop of your attention. There’s an aura to him that you had only previously caught a glimpse of. His eyes dark and locked onto yours, never once wavering. Waiting. Calculating.

“For teasing you.”

“And?”

You take a breath, shame flooding your core at the answer that sits on your tongue.

“For embarrassing you.”

There’s a pause. He cocks his head, gaze softening just a tad. He's quiet for several moments, analyzing your words. Your heart starts to beat a little faster at the extended silence, thinking you’ve done something wrong and you can’t keep up the eye contact. You duck your head, averting your gaze to his feet.

“Look at me, schatzi.” His voice is soft, but still with enough edge to make you listen.

Only once your eyes meet his again does he continue.

“That’s very sweet of you, to be concerned about my image. But make no mistake,” He steps closer to you, letting one hand cup your jaw, tilting it upwards. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, “You could never embarrass me,”

You dip your head, nipping softly at his thumb. He smiles softly at you, something glimmering in his eye, “I simply just don’t like to share what’s mine.”

Your breath leaves your body at his words and suddenly the need for him to claim you had you nearly vibrating in your skin. You watch, every muscle in your body clenched tightly, as he walks slowly over to the armchair in the corner, never once taking his eyes off you. He sits, legs parted, one arm draped off the side, the other rested so he could prop his head up.

“Proceed.”

Instantly, you make your way over to him. Once in front of him, you stand up on your knees, placing your hands on his knees and slowly sliding them up his thighs. They continue its upward motion, skimming lighting over the hardness in his pants and reaching to start on his belt. You make quick work of his belt and buttons, eagerly working his pants and briefs down. He chuckles above you.

“Mein Schatz, so eager to apologize.” He purrs, almost mockingly, hand coming down to brush the fallen hair away from your face.

Once you had him free, you took a second to admire him. Your legs clenched at the size of him. Not terribly big, but big enough to anticipate the stretch, the fullness. Your eyes flicked back up, looking up at his through your lashes, leaning in but stopping just before you could actually get your mouth on him. The hand that was previously fixing your hair was now clenched in it, messing it up again and forcing your head back suddenly to look at him properly.

“It would not be wise to tease me more than you have,” he warned.

A smirk spread across your features and you quickly realized how much you liked him like this.

Powerful.

Strict.

However, you knew you were on thin ice already. With that in mind, as soon as his grip loosened you licked a wide stripe up his length, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him fully into your mouth. The tension his body held melted the second your tongue touched him. His mouth dropping on a soft groan. His hand stroked your hair as you sucked, encouraging the bobs of your head, not forcing but guiding. You keep your eyes trained on his face, not wanting to miss a second of experiencing him like this.

He glows in the low lamplight of the room, the shadows playing across his features delicately. You like him like this too. Reduced to a heap of gasps and moans beneath the heat of your mouth. As you suck, your hands wander, up under the fabric of his shirt, nails dragging down his sides. He hisses at the pain, but doesn’t tell you to stop.

After a few minutes of your slow torture, he decides he’s had enough. His hand tightens in your hair, his movements becoming less gentle and more demanding.

“That’s a good girl, take it all for me.”

You do as he asks, taking a breath before taking him as deep as you can. He groans at the feeling, hips shifting a few times to test you before beginning to thrust in and out of your mouth. Your jaw aches, but his eyes are on you and his thumb is tracing your bottom lip that’s stretched wide around his cock and you think for a second that you could spend eternity like this.

It’s not much longer before he pulls you off his cock, hand wrapping around his base tightly, “Apologies, schatzi. I am out of practice, and I fear I'm not quite finished with you yet.”

You laugh softly, voice rough due to your previous activity, “That’s okay, I don’t mind.” You insist, more than happy to let him finish like this. Whatever he wants.

He stops you before you can dip down again, standing up and taking you with him. For the first time, his lips are on yours. He overwhelms all your senses. His breath loud in your ears, his hands on your waist, his scent. His tongue slides against yours as he walks you forward, shedding his lower clothing as he goes. He only parts to give you an order.

“Turn around.”

As you do, he finishes undressing and it kills you that can’t see him. Just as quickly as the thought crosses your mind, it’s gone as you feel his hands at the top of your dress. He slides the zipper down, letting the fabric fall off your shoulders. You take the liberty of helping the sleeves the rest of the way down, the fabric falling down around your heels once you’ve done so. He hums behind you.

“Such beauty,” he whispers against your shoulder. His hands begin to wander, around your waist, up underneath the fabric of your bra, down to your thighs and ass. He chuckles, dragging your panties down enough that they too fall, forgotten at your feet, “I can hardly stay mad at you, liebling.”

Your head falls back onto his shoulders as he works your bra off next. You shiver, feeling bare and exposed before him. You want him more than you can express and you let your whole body fall back into his embrace, whimpering at the feeling of him, hard against the swell of your ass.

“Helmut,” you moan, one of your hands finding purchase in his hair as the other rests on one of his forearms.

“Tell me you’re mine, Schatzi. And I’ll give you anything you want.”

“I’m yours,” you say without hesitation, breathless as his hand dips between your legs, finding your clit. He hums, pleased at the arousal he finds there, “I’m yours. Only yours.”

He growls pulling his hand away from, “Lay back on the bed. I’ll be right back.”

You do as he says, positioning yourself in the middle of the bed. While you wait, you let your mind wander, listening to his rummaging somewhere in another room while your mind runs through everything you want him to do to you. At some point, your eyes must close because when you feel the bed dip, they open to see him crawling between your legs.

He’s done messing around, wasting no time before his face is buried between your thighs, hands maneuvering your legs so that they’re thrown over his shoulders, your heels crossing sweetly behind his head, no doubt scratching at his shoulders. Your breath leaves your body at the feeling of his tongue, warm and wet and fan-fucking-tastic. He alternates between dipping it in and out of your heat and flicking it against your clit. Your hand finds his hair, gripping it between your fingers and guiding his movements ever so slightly. His eyes don’t leave yours, spare for the few times he closes them to moan against you.

One of his hands move, leaving its place at your hip to sink two fingers into you. Your head falls back on a moan, back arching up when he crooks his fingers and finds your g-spot.

“Fuck,” you gasp, one hand gripping the pillow behind your head as you feel your orgasm rush towards you, “Fuck- Wait, I-”

You can’t even feel embarrassed about how easily your body has reacted to him. Before you can warn him much more, you're falling over the edge. Your thighs tensing around his head, back arching in pleasure as you ride out your high. In this moment you belong completely to him, unable to think of anything else.

“So sweet for me, liebling.” He comments, hands rubbing up and down your calves as you come down, taking a moment to unfasten your heels, letting the shoes drop to the floor before leaning back in. His lips brush against your inner thigh.

Then a bite.

“Such pretty sounds you make for me.”

And then he’s sucking harshly at the skin there, watching the shudder that rips through your sensitive body at the sensation. He doesn’t pull away until the mark is dark and flush against your skin. He continues this on the other thigh, on your ribs, your breasts and finally your neck, marking you thoroughly.

“Mine.” He growls, hot against your ear, “Mein schatz, will you let me have you?” he asks, and it’s literally all you can think about so you don’t even bother hiding the truth, the confession tumbling from your lips breathlessly.

“I’d let you do anything to me.”

He groans, capturing your lips in a deep kiss as he does so. He pulls away to grab the condom that he had put next to him on the bed and leaning back on his haunches to roll it on. You’re so impatient, nails digging into his thighs and arms, whining as you watch his hands work.

“So needy,” He comments, swallowing your moan as he finally, finally, sinks into you.

The stretch as he enters you has your head rolling back on a moan, your legs wrapping around his waist the bring him the rest of the way in. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, growling against the skin there.

“Fuck,” he groans through gritted teeth, his resolve quickly slipping at the feeling of you around his cock. And to his credit, he really tries to wait, to be good. But not seconds later he’s adjusting his grip on your hips and he’s thrusting into you with a force that makes the whole bed shake.

It’s barely been 30 seconds, but the build-up that had occurred throughout the entirety of the night had you right back on the edge, your nails clawing at his shoulders, his back, his thighs. Any purchase you could get on him, you were begging for more. You’d take anything he gave you without so much as batting an eyelash. His grip on your hips is tight and bruising, but the pain twists into a delicious pleasure that only spurs you on.

You must be speaking, babbling something back to him about how good it feels, how much you love being fucked by him because he’s laughing through a moan against your neck. He pauses for just a second, straightening up and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder before continuing to fuck you.

“That’s it Kätzchen.” He purrs, eyes moving down your body to where he enters your body, “Taking my cock so well.”

You mewl at the praise, your body arching in response to his words. Your second orgasm takes you both by surprise, having hit you like a fucking freight train when he thrusts particularly deep, hitting one of your sweet spots. You scramble for purchase on him, mouth dropped open in a near-pornographic moan that you’ll surely be embarrassed about later. But for now, all you know is pleasure.

His hips falter, stuttering as your walls tighten around him. His head falls back on a low moan, fucking you hard and slow through your release.

“Such a sweet cunt,” he gasps, “Mein Gott..”

And then he’s tangling your hands together, holding it high above your head as he pushes your thighs back, flush against your chest. He’s the one babbling now, words from God only knows what language, whispered against your skin as he chases his own release. He gives one last hard thrust and he’s done, his teeth dragging against the skin on your shoulder, moaning against you as he rides out his orgasm.

As you both come down, you stroke the back of his neck, playing with the hairs there, trying to catch your breath. After a few moments, he pulls away just enough to kiss you. There’s a lingering heat and it’s a little messy due to your shared exhaustion but it’s good.

Once you’ve both caught your breath, he removes himself from your body, taking the necessary time to deal with the condom. You watch him lazily, unable to do much other than that. You’re so tired. But there’s that ache between your legs that you love so much and you think briefly that you could go another round, if he wanted to.

He must see something in your eyes when he returns because he laughs softly, “I feel I may have my hands full with you, schatzi.” he says as he crawls back into the bed with you, covering the both of you with a blanket, the cold now biting at your skin. You know you have to get up soon enough to sort yourself out before bed, but for a moment you stay with him.

His fingers brush over your face softly, following the slope of your nose and the angle of your cheeks. There’s no real purpose to his movements, just... touching. As if convincing himself that you’re real.

“You are special, schatzi.” he says softly, “I don’t know what your plans are, but I can only hope that you choose to continue to bless me with your presence.”

This man is such an enigma to you. He carries such confidence in every aspect of his life and yet he still doubts your loyalties. There’s anxiety and pain hidden within him, you can see it in his eyes as he continues to look at you. You wonder, how much of his past weighs on his shoulders. How long before he deems himself worthy of your affection? You lean in to kiss him softly, your lips dragging slowly against him. When you pull away you keep him close, brushing your noses together.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

[thebibliosphere]

So I'm currently unemployed because I got fired for taking too much sick leave (it was legally sketchy blah blah blah but in the end I just can't work and take care of myself and investigate my mystery health problems at the same time). So I've been spending more time writing!

I really admire your writing and loved Hunger Pangs. I'm looking forward to the poly elements developing and I'm wondering if you have any advice for writing about poly. I've made one of my projects a snarky take on "write what you know" ... Apparently what I know is southern gothic meets Pacific northwest gothic, chronic illness pandemic surrealism, and falling back-asswards into threesomes.

I know this is a very open-ended question and I don't expect an answer, I'm just curious about it if you have the energy. As a writer, trying to write honestly / realistically about polyamory/enm, I'm curious if you have any thoughts on what's different about portraying monogamy or nonmonogamy in books, romance or erotica or otherwise.

I'm trying to read examples but it's hard to find examples that fit the niche I'm looking at. Excuse me if this question is nonsense, it's the cluster headaches.

I'm sorry to hear you've been dealing with all that and solidarity on the cluster headaches. But I'm glad you're finding an outlet through writing! And I hope you're happy with an open-ended ramble in response because oh boy, there's a lot I could talk about and I could probably do a better job of answering this sort of thing with more specific questions, but let's see where we end up.

There's definitely a big difference between writing polyamory/ENM (ethical non-monogamy) and what people often expect from monogamous love stories.

Just even from a purely sales and marketing standpoint, the moment you write anything polyamorous (or even just straight up LGBTQIA+ without the ENM) you're going to get considered closer to being erotica/obscene than hetero romances. It's an unfair bias, but it's one that exists in our society. But also the Amazon algorithm and their shitty, shitty human censors. Especially the ones that work the weekends. (Talking to you, Carlos 🖕.)

So not only do you start out hyper-aware that you're writing something that is highly stigmatized or fetishized (at least I'm hyper-aware) but that you are also writing for a niche market that is starving for positive content because the content that exists is either limited, not what they want, or is problematic in some fashion i.e. highly stigmatized or fetishy. And even then, the wants, desires, and expectations of the community you're writing for are complex and wildly varied and hard to fit into an easy formula.

When writing monogamous love stories, there is a set expectation that’s really hard to fuck up once you know it. X person meets Y. Attraction happens, followed by some sort of minor conflict/resolution. Other plot may happen. A greater catalyst involving personal growth for both parties (hopefully) happens. Follow the equation to its ultimate resolution and achieve Happily Ever After. 

But writing ENM is... a lot more difficult, if only because of the pure scope of possibilities. You could try to follow the same equation and shove three (or more) people into it, but it rarely works well. Usually because if you’re doing it right, you won’t have enough room in a single character arc to allow for enough growth, and if ENM requires anything in abundance, it’s room to grow.

And this post is huge so I’m going to put the rest under a cut :)

There's also a common refrain in certain online polyam/ENM circles that triads and throuples are overrepresented in media and they may be right to some extent. Personally, I believe the issue isn't that triads and throuples are overrepresented, but that there is such minuscule positive rep of ethical non-monogamy in general, that the few tiny instances we have of triads in media make it seem like it's "everywhere" when in actuality, it's still quite rare and the media we do have often veers into Unicorn Hunter fetish porn. Which is its own problematic thing. And just to be clear, I’m not including this part to dissuade you from writing "falling back-asswards into threesomes." If anything, I need more of it and would hook it directly into my brain if I could. I'm just throwing it out there into the void in the hope that someone will take the thought and run with it, lol.

I’d love to see more polyfidelitous rep in fiction, just as much as I’d like to see more relationship anarchy too. More diversity in fiction is always good.

Another thing that differs in writing ENM romance vs conventional monogamy is the feeling like you need to justify yourself. There's a lot of pressure to be as healthy and non-problematic as possible because you are being held to a higher standard of criticism. Both from people from without the ENM communities, and from the people within. Granted, some people don't give a shit and just want to read some fantastic porn (valid) but there are those who will cheerfully read Fifty Shades of Bullshit and call it "spicy" and "romantic," then turn around and call the most tooth-rottingly-sweet-fluff about a queer platonic polycule heresy. That's just the way the world works.

(Pro-tip for author life in general: never read your own reviews; that way madness lies. I glimpsed one the other day that tagged Hunger Pangs as “ethical cheating” and just about had an aneurism.)

And while that feeling of needing to justify yourself comes from a valid place of being excluded from the table of socially accepted norms, it can also be to the detriment of both the story and the subject matter at hand. I've seen some authors bend so far over backward to avoid being problematic in their portrayal of ENM, they end up being problematic for entirely different reasons. Usually because they give such a skewed, rose-tinted perspective of how things work, it ends up coming off as well... a bit culty and obnoxious tbh.

“Look how enlightened we are, freed from the trappings of monogamy and jealousy! We’re all so honest and perfect and happy!”

Yeah, uhu, sure Jan. Except here’s the thing, not all jealousy is bad. How you act on it can be, but jealousy itself is an important tool in the junk drawer that is the range of human emotion. It can clue us in to when we’re feeling sad or neglected, which in turn means we should figure out why we’re feeling those things. Sometimes it’s because brains are just like that and anxiety is a thing. Other times it’s because our needs are actually being neglected and we are in an unhealthy situation we need to remedy. You gotta put the work in to figure it out. Which is the same as any style of relationship, whether it’s mono, polyam or whatever flavor of ENM you subscribe to* And sometimes you just gotta be messy, because that’s how humans are. Being afraid to show that mess makes it a dishonest portrayal, and it also robs you of some great cannon fodder for character development.

Which brings me in a roundabout way to my current pet peeve in how certain writers take monogamous ideals and apply them to ENM, sometimes without even realizing it. The “Find the Right Person and Settle Down” trope.

Often, in this case, ENM or polyamory is treated as a phase. Something you mature out of with age or until you meet “The One(tm).” This is, of course, an attempt to follow the mono style formula expected in most romances. And while it might appeal to many readers, it’s uh, actually quite insulting. 

To give an example, I am currently seeing this a lot in the Witcher fandom. 

Fanon Netflix!Jaskier is everyone's favorite ethical slut until he meets Geralt then woops, wouldn’t you know, he just needed to find The One(tm). Suddenly, all his other sexual and romantic exploits or attractions mean nothing to him. Let's watch as he throws away a core aspect of his personality in favor of a man. 

Yeah... that sure showed those societal norms... 

If I were being generous, I’d say it’s a poor attempt at showing New Relationship Euphoria and how wrapped up people can become in new relationships. But honestly, it’s monogamous bias eking its way in to validate how special and unique the relationship is. Because sometimes people really can’t think of any other way to show how important and valid a relationship is without defining it in terms of exclusivity. Which is a fundamental misunderstanding of how ENM works for a lot of people and invalidates a lot of loving, serious and long-term relationships.

This is not to say that some polyam/poly-leaning people can't be happy in monogamous relationships! I am! (I consider myself ambiamorous. I'm happy with either monogamy or polyamory, it really just depends on the relationship(s) I’m in.) But I also don't regard my relationship with a mono partner as "settling down" or "growing up." It's just a choice I made to be with a person I love, and it's a valid one. Just like choosing to never close yourself off to multiple relationships is valid. And I wish more people realized that, or rather, I wish the people writing these things knew that :P

Anyway, I think I’ve rambled enough. I hope this collection of incoherent thoughts actually makes some sense and might be useful. 

----

*A good resource book that doesn't pull any punches in this regard is Polysecure by Jessica Fern. It's a wonderfully insightful read that explores the messier side of consensual non-monogamy, especially with how it can be affected by trauma or inter-relationship conflicts. But it also shows how to take better steps toward healthy, ethical non-monogamy (a far better job than More Than Two**) and conflict resolution, making it a valuable resource both for someone who is a part of this relationship style***, but also for writers on the outside looking in who might have a very simple or misguided idea of what conflict within polyam/ENM relationships might look like, vs traditional monogamous ones.

** The author of More Than Two has been accused of multiple accounts of abuse within the polyamorous community, with many of his coauthors having spoken out about the gaslighting and emotional and psychological damage they experienced while in a relationship with him. A lot of their stories are documented here: https://www.itrippedonthepolystair.com/ (warning: it is not light material and deals with issues of abuse, gaslighting, and a whole other plethora of Yikes.) While some people still find More Than Two helpful reading, there are now, thankfully, much, much better resources out there.

*** Some people consider polyam/ENM to be part of their identity or orientation, while others view it as a relationship style.It largely depends on the individual. 

[marvelous-harry]

okay so i have a prompt where y/n is harry's assistant + his submissive and one day she fucks something up and harry is super mad. he punishes her and is mean dom after. bonus if y/n cries and begs🙈🙈🙈🙈

Email Fuck Ups Harry/Fem!Reader Words: 1.2k Warning: Dom!Harry, Sub!Reader, Derogatory nicknames, face slapping, spanking, face fucking. Summary: After a spelling mistake causes delays Harry is very unhappy and punishes you in his set trailer.

“I need a word, excuse us,” Harry said sharply as he clamped his fingers around my arm tightly and dragged me along. I smiled apologetically at the other PA I’d been talking to and figured she off all people would understand.

“I’ve just been asked by Jeff if I’d forgotten to record an acceptance video for the Juno Awards cause they just reached out to him asking for it. It was supposed to be sent in days ago, did you forget to send it in?” Harry hissed as he walked us over to his trailer and unlocked it before pushing me inside.

“What? No, I sent it in, I swear!” I told him quickly as I put my bag down and reached for my laptop. “I sent it, I know I did,” I whispered as I begged my computer to work faster and that they had to be mistaken cause I definitely had sent it in. I glanced at Harry. His whole body was tensed up and the 50’s shirt he was wearing looked like it was going to break from Harry tightened his muscles so much. He was pissed, that much was obvious.

Opening my work email, I clicked on sent messages and was delighted to see that the email was there. “See?! I sent it! Five days ago, one day before it was supposed to be in for clearing!” I bragged as I clicked on the email, turning the laptop so Harry could see.

Harry grabbed it and scanned the page quickly. I saw him take a deep breath before he turned the laptop back to me before pointing at the email address. “Does that look right to you?” he asked in a way too calm voice.

Looking over the email address it didn’t take long to see that the last part clearly had a spelling mistake in it. I whimpered. “I’m sorry, Sir. I’ll fix it and apologize for the delay. I can call them right now,”

“Just create a new email, get it ready to send, and let me look it over since you can’t be trusted to do your actual job right,” Harry crossed his arms over his chest and looked at me expectantly.

“Yes, Sir,” I replied quietly as I quickly drafted up an apology and included the video file. After triple-checking the email, I turned the screen towards Harry again and let him look it over as I quickly dried my eyes.

Harry clicked send on the email and waited a few seconds to make sure it sent before closing the laptop shut. “Bend over the table,”

Getting up from my seat, I bent over the table and grasped the edges of it as I rested my cheek down on the cold wood surface. “I’m really sorry I messed up, Sir,” I told him as Harry yanked my jeans and underwear down.

“Not as sorry you’re going to be in a bit,” Harry said as he put one hand on my lower back. “Don’t scream,” he warned me before bringing his hand down hard.

Whimpering, I clenched my mouth shut as I struggled to keep quiet. I was certain that the sound of Harry hitting my bum so hard with his large hands was echoing through the whole set and everyone would know what was going on. Shuddering at the thought, I hated that it made my pussy wet.

“Are you getting fucking turned on right now? You that much of a whore that me beating your ass red and blue gets you going?” Harry spat out as he landed an extra hard smack on my bum.

Gasping as he moved his hand between my legs and embarrassingly easily slid two fingers into me, I closed my eyes and moaned. “Sir!”

“Fucking slut. Get down on your knees,” Harry ordered as he yanked his fingers out, gave me another hard smack before stepping back.

Licking my lips, I kept my eyes down as I, as gracefully as I could, got down on my knees in front of him.

“Should just keep you on your knees all day, you’re a lot better at being a toy I can use than you are an assistant. All you’re good for isn’t it?” Harry said as he opened his trousers and got his cock out. “Open your mouth,”

Opening my mouth wide, I moved towards his cock eagerly as I wanted to taste the little drop of precum that was resting on the slit of his cock. Whining as Harry gripped onto my hair and forced my head back, I looked up at him pleadingly.

“Did I say you could take me in your mouth?” He asked, tightening his hold on my hair.

“No, Sir,” I whimpered, tensing as he raised his hand and stroked my cheek.

“I know it must be hard for a dumb little slut like you to control yourself around cock, but at least try,” Harry said before pulling his hand off my cheek a few centimeters before slapping me.

Gasping as the pain and the pleasure from the slap made me shudder once more, I barely had a second to prepare as Harry shoved his cock into my mouth. Moaning, I tried to relax my throat as Harry gripped my head tightly with both hands and started fucking my mouth.

“Fucking made for this I swear,” Harry groaned as he pulled me down on his cock. Gagging as he hit the back of my throat, I dug my fingernails into my skin as I struggled to pull back. Heaving for my breath as Harry pulled back, I looked up at him as strings of saliva hung from my lips to his cock.

“More?” I asked as I wiped the tears off my cheek and looked at his cock eagerly.

Harry just smirked as he shoved his cock back in and started thrusting fast in and out.

The trailer got filled with the most obscene sounds as Harry fucked my throat. Glugging, sucking, gagging sounds mixed with both our moans creating a symphony of porn noises. I was so fucking wet but I didn’t dare move my hand anywhere near my throbbing pussy knowing that Harry would very much not approve.

As my nose was roughly pressed up against his pubes again, my eyes watered and my throat closed around his cock making me gag even more but he wasn’t letting me go. Harry did a few short but forceful thrusts as I heard him groan loudly as he cummed down my throat.

Feeling faint as he pulled out and let me go, I looked at him as he cleaned off his cock and put it back in his pants. Whimpering as he grasped my cheeks hard, I looked up at him wondering what was next.

“Clean yourself up, you look filthy. When I come back to get you, you better be dressed, packed up to go, and have prepped your ass for me cause I’m going to fuck you as soon as we get home no matter if you’re ready or not. Does your little whore brain understand the words I’m saying to you?” Harry asked.

I tried to nod in his firm grip. “Yes, Sir,” I managed to mumble out. “Good whore,” Harry replied as he patted my cheek patronizingly and let me go before checking himself in the mirror before leaving the trailer.

Crawling over to the mirror, I looked myself over and loved how wrecked and used I looked. Stroking my hand over my bum cheeks, I moaned at the pain and how warm they felt. “Fuck,” I whispered as I tore my hands away before deciding to find the buttplug I was made to carry around, already looking forward to Harry finishing work.

[missussimonriley]

Hi! Just discovered your blog and saw you’re having a sleepover. So could I ask for something with the fifth prompt from list 2 + the number 2 from list 5 please? ☺️

Hello and welcome! I love that your Icon is a sim. This blog used to be a simblr. I still play when I’m not on here!

I saw you sent in another message stating it’s for Bucky and when I saw what prompts you picked I about died. So hot so let get into it.

The prompt dialog will be in bold.

Minors DNI

Warnings: smut ( unprotected sex, daddy kink, p in v sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), breeding kink, degradation, brief mention of pregnancy, and masturbation) I think that’s it is porn without a plot.

It had been two weeks since Bucky had gone on a mission with Steve. Leaving you in your apartment at the compound alone awaiting his return. To say you were needy was an understatement. He made you promise not to touch yourself till he got back and even then he was supposed to take care of you. So why you decided to read a filthy book while he was away just to torture yourself nobody knows. But you did and now you lay in your bed craving his touch. Anticipating his return which should be any minute. You think to yourself that maybe reliving some pressure won’t hurt how would he know anyways as long as you stopped before he got here. You decide to reach down and just rub your swollen nub just a bit just to make it so you're not squirming. A gasp leaves your lips at the touch. It had been so long since it had attention.

You close your eyes and imagine it’s Bucky’s fingers there slowly massaging in circles. You are so engrossed in your fantasy you don’t hear the bedroom door open. You only realize someone is there when you feel the bed dip under someone’s weight. Your eyes fly open and your hand retreats from your clit. Bucky is looking at your pupils wide only leaving a thin line of blue around them. “Oh, Doll didn’t I say not to touch yourself till I get back?” He growls in your ear. You look at him and pout. “Yes, Bucky but-“ you whimper. He cuts you off. “ ah ah ah no buts, and you don’t call me Bucky remember.” He says running his thumb across your bottom lip. “ I’m sorry daddy.” You say and then take his thumb in your mouth and suck on it. Eliciting a moan from Bucky. “I should punish you. But, I know your small dumb bunny brain had a hard time resisting especially when I see that dirty book on the coffee table in the living room” he whispers in your ear. Taking his thumb out of your mouth with a “pop” and rubbing the moistened digit on your hard nipples pulling a sweet moan from you. “That’s is Bunny, did you miss my touch? Where you imagining me doing all those dirty things to you while reading that book? He coos while moving his metal hand down your body. The cool against your hot skin causing goosebumps and your nipples to harden even more than they already were. “Yes daddy, please daddy.” You plea squirming under him. “Please what Bunny?” He asks massaging your mound and getting awfully close to your nub but not actually touching it.

He can see your slick on your lips and thighs making his mouth water. It’s been too long without his bunny’s sweet pussy on his tongue. His cock is hardening under his tactical pants making it uncomfortable. He bites down on his lips knowing it will be taken care of soon. But first, he wants to coax a few orgasms out of you before burying his cock deep in those velvet walls. “Please I need your touch daddy, it’s been so long. I didn’t finish” you mewl looking right at him. Your big die eyes begging for release is all he needs to dive into you. Kissing you on your lips. Seeing his tongue begging for entrance. You deepen the kiss and your tongues fight for dominance. You’ve both been craving each other, hating these long spans of time away without each other's touch. He tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth causing you to moan in his mouth. He could never get used to those sweet sounds that leave you. Music to his ears. He climbed on top placing your legs on his hips allowing access for him to press his hardened bulge against your glistening pussy. Both of you growling “fuck” and the contact. He continues kissing down your body leaving small bites and nibbles on your neck and breast. Making you whimper only turning him on even more. Finally, he gets down to your pussy.

Leaving a small kiss on your swollen nub before sliding his fingers up and down your slit before entering. The sensation almost bringing you to orgasm. He pumps his flesh hand in and out of you finding that spongy spot easily while the metal hand works on your clit. “My god bunny your so tight and dripping for me already” he moans into your thigh kissing it giving it a soft bite. The act sending electricity up your body and the bundle tightening in your stomach finally snapping and a wave of ecstasy washes over you. " Fuck daddy, I'm cumming." you practically scream. Eyes rolling back in your head. Not giving you a break Buck lifts up your legs bending you in half and spreading your thighs wide as he dives in and eats you like a starved man. Ripping another orgasm from you minutes after the first. Gushing all over Bucky's face. Your juices dripping down his face he leans up and gives you a quick kiss before stripping himself of his pants that had painfully been holding back his hard cock. You watch as he strips though have dazed eyes watching his hard cock bounce against his stomach as it's finally released. Head swollen and dripping with precum. He walks back over to you. Climbing on the bed and hovering over your body slotting himself between your thighs.

He kisses and bites your neck had he glides his tip up and down your soaking slit causing you to shudder. Both of you moan deep from your chest. " I've been waiting for the day I come back and stuff your tight pussy with my cock." he growls into your ear and he bottoms out in your cunt in one swift movement. Both of you throw your head back and groan. He starts off painfully slow dragging his cock against your velvet walls. The friction causing that bundle to build up inside you once again. " Fuck Bunny you are gripping my cock like a vice" he grumbles through a clenched jaw. All you can do is mewl and moan. " aww is my Bunny too cock drunk you speak? IS my dick making you dumb baby?" He teases thrusting into you harder. All you do is nod while looking at him straight into his eyes. His eyelids heaving with lust. You angle your hips up making him go deeper and his head massaging your cervix. Causing you to gasp. " Fuck that feels good, a little too good actually... you trying to make me a daddy?" he moans. The thought of filling you up with his cum and having you swell with his child unlocks something feral inside of him. " Yes, daddy please cum in me. Give me a baby" you mewl. Hearing those words sends him over the edge. His pace was quickening. You tighten around him send you both to your highs. You gush around him as he coats the inside of your cunt in his cum. He thrust becoming sloppy. Finally pully out of you and crashing next to you. Kissing you like he has never kissed you before. He places his head on your breast and moves his flesh hand to your stomach. "You would be absolutely stunning swollen with my child, Bunny." he whispers. You look down at him and smile. " I'd love to be growing our little bean." you say. Bucky's eyes sparkle at the thought. Little did you both know that's exactly what would result from this night.

Join the sleepover here

[sableseb]

Dirty Disco

Harry Styles x f!reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: smut, rough & quick, choking, grinding, slight name calling, use of drugs, slight peer pressure

tags: @meetmeatyourworst​ @greeneyedblondie44​

a/n: This is a request that wanted a story based off the photo below! To the person who wanted this, I hope you love it as much as I loved writing it.x

The club is in full swing. Hot, sweaty bodies pressed against one another, music vibrating the dance floor, and couples occupying each darkened corner. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else than right here. You craved a night out. And what better place to go than one of the most elite nightclubs in New York? 

You squeeze your way into the mass of people to join in on the sleazy dance floor behavior. You let the music take over your movements. Hips winding against a man’s, chest pressed against a woman’s and completely lost in the feeling of the erotic nature of being between two people in such a compromising way.

Suddenly, you couldn’t feel anyone against you. Until, two hands pull you in close from behind to rub himself to the beat against you. You had it in mind to turn around and tell this asshole he couldn’t just touch you as he pleased and maybe even smack him for good measure. But, all those thoughts left as soon as they entered when you meet a pair of eyes that are the prettiest shade of green you’ve seen, complemented by the mop of brown hair.

You find yourself wanting to be smacked by him. He chuckles at the way your mouth is slightly agape, obviously expecting to see an ugly weirdo with grimy hands. Instead, you got the most handsome weirdo with grimy hands. And that made all the difference. You get your mind straight and turn back around letting him guide you against him.

You grind against one another to the music shaking the walls. The smooth material of his pants feels good against your heated skin. He’s taking his time with you, moving your ass against his hard on he got when he first laid his eyes on you in that mini skirt and shirt that’s barely keeping your chest concealed. 

Grasping the hem of your skirt, you lift it up a bit and bend over to give him a glance of your perfectly plump ass straining against the black mesh. You gasp as his hands move from your hips to palm the firm flesh. You wanted to feel those rings everywhere. The cool metal excites you even more.

After letting him have his fun for a moment, you straighten back up to lace your fingers through his thick hair and pull him against your neck, backside still moving along with his front. You feel the hot puffs of air he’s emitting and it sends shivers down your spine, straight to your aching heat. His hands wander up your torso to rub and grab at your chest causing you to arch forward in his grasp.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here?” 

His voice catches you off guard for a moment. His accent is thick, annunciations as slow as honey dripping from the comb. 

“Looking for an escape is all.” you reply next to his mouth, trying to catch a taste of him.

He spins you forward and leans in close to your ear, lips grazing the shell of yours as he says, “I can help with that if you're interested.”

If he didn’t catch your attention before, he surely has it now. He’s tall and lean, clad in a tight vest that showcases his firm chest with a cross resting upon it. Tattoos splattered all along his tan skin. This man is trouble. Lucky for you, trouble is exactly what you’re looking for.

“How can you help?��� you question with a glint in your eyes.

He smirks and takes your hand to lead you away from the dance floor. The music is but a low vibration in the back room you find yourself in with a man who’s name you don’t know. You don’t want to know it, you’re not here for formalities and neither is he.

It’s dark with hues of red from the low lighting. The leather couch looks expensive...and so does the glass table with bags of illegal substances littered across it. Now you’re nervous. You’ve never done any sort of drug. But, the man pulling you along and whispering lowly in your ear, “It’ll be fun. I got you.” is very persuasive. Especially, when he looks so appealing. 

He places you next to him on the couch, the leather sticking uncomfortably to your heated thighs. You watch as those long fingers reach for a bag with little white squares in them. He digs one out and places it upon his tongue, he leans in to you, waiting for you to get the hint and take the tab from his mouth.

You’re hesitant, but that mouth is calling to you. You tangle your tongue with his, slowly kissing him in the process. He grabs the back of your head, deepening the kiss. His taste is addicting. Alcohol mixed with something sweet, you almost forgot you took the acid...almost. You pull away with worry etched in your features.

He takes notice and chuckles. “Such a good girl for me, you know that?” He takes another tab for himself and downs it. It’s always exciting to share this experience with another. It’s really exciting though, when his companion is a figure from a wet dream.

You can feel your body loosen and mind clear, your present and not all there at the same time. The man to your left closes in on you. His smell hits you harder than before, dark and musky with a hint of something floral. You pull him against you, leaning back so he can cage your body with his.

He looks at you thoroughly this time. The way your eyes have already dilated, the way your chest is begging to be released from that ridiculously tight shirt, and especially the way you lick your lips, almost like you’re tempting him to ruin you. And you were doing just that, tempting.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, genuinely curious. He would hate to have to rush you to the hospital.

You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him flush against you. He lets out a groan from the abrupt contact of your center against his front. Pulling his head down to meet yours, you whisper against his lips, “I’d feel better if you were inside me.”

He’s caught off guard for a moment, not expecting you to be that brazen. Drugs can work wonders on a person’s mind. Who is he to deny your request? He couldn’t even if he tried, not when you have him pressed so firmly against you and you start rocking against him.

The moan he lets past his lips is a sound that makes you wetter. The need for this stranger is so great that you don’t even care about the foreplay. You need him inside you now. He picks up on your urgency and makes quick work of his tailored pants. He releases himself from the confines of his underwear as you kick yours off your heeled feet.

He pushes the tight fabric of your skirt up past your hips. His eyes feast on how wet you are for him. Your arousal is already pooling against the leather of the couch. 

“Please.” you beg. “Just fuck me.” 

He pushes his dick against you, using your wetness to cover his shaft for an easy in. The sensation of him finally pushing in has you seeing colors. You aren’t sure if it’s the drugs or how good he fills you up. But whatever it is, you want more.

Seeing you whimper and writhe underneath him unlocks the primal urge to have you brain dead for his cock. He picks up his pace, your chest bouncing with each snap of his hips. He can’t stand not seeing your bare flesh moving freely, so he rips your shirt down the middle. 

You gasp at his roughness. Before you could let out a whiny, “Hey,” he latches onto your breast. Licking and biting while his hand preoccupies the other. Grabbing and pinching till you didn’t know what to focus on, him pounding into you with no abandon or the way his wet, hot mouth and calloused hands are working wonders on your sensitive nipples.

“So responsive.” he groans between the valley of your breasts. “What? Nobody ever fuck you this good?”

The blood rushes to your face. His words egging on your inevitable climax. You’re speechless as he keeps hitting that spot inside you that has your abdomen flexing and toes curling. The only sounds coming from you are the high pitched moans he’s pulling from you.

He doesn’t like how loud you’ve gotten. His hand flies up to your throat. The rings feel nice against your heated pulse. Until he starts squeezing. Your eyes go wide and your sounds seize, but your cunt latches down on him harder than before.

“My pretty girl likes being choked? That’s right. Take it you fucking slut.” he says through clenched teeth. 

And take it you do. His pelvis keeps kissing your bundle of nerves as you buck up towards him. His other hand that’s not restricting your breathing finds your clit, giving you even more pleasure than before. The warm feeling creeping up your neck, the way your ears ring, you know you’re cumming as your legs tremble around the man between them.

He let’s go of your throat in time for you to let a scream of pleasure escape. Your orgasm triggers his own and he’s fucking you deep into the couch to get as close as possible to you. He has to prop himself up on his hands so he doesn’t crush you as his high washes over him.

You both lay in silence for a few moments, just enjoying the euphoria from the sex and drugs. He pulls out of you and helps you into your panties. As you stand, you can feel his spent pool in the fabric. Making you horny all over again. 

“Round two at my place?” the words leave your mouth before you even process them. You just want this man in every position possible. A grin makes its way upon his features. He places his hand in yours to help you through the club and out into the cool night air.

[somebodycall911onabc]

Spoon me, you idiot

Post ep4x13 Buddie because my brain is just that episode on loop. Hands up if you're not ready for the season 4 finale, folks. Have some cuddling and love confessions in the meantime.

Buck helps Eddie over the threshold with one hand at Eddie’s elbow and the other pressed against his hip. Eddie’s fine, he’s fine, he’s alive, but he’s exhausted. Pain and shock weigh down his shoulders, make him unsteady on his feet.

Carla breathes in sharply at the sight of him. Then she’s stepping forward, folding Eddie into a soft embrace, pulling his head down cheek to cheek with hers. Buck drags his eyes away from his living, breathing, living friend to find Chris, who’s lying on the couch with his glasses askew, mouth open in sleep. Buck’s heart clenches like a fist. He’s going to remember Chris’s haunted, horrified expression for the rest of his life, the light dying in Chris’s eyes as Buck had to tell him… had to tell him that his dad wasn’t coming home that night.

Buck walks over to Chris and kneels down beside him. He’s pretty sure it’s the first time Chris has slept since he heard about it. The first time in more than 48 hours that the kid’s closed his eyes. Buck brushes the curls back from Chris’s forehead, trying to be gentle, not wanting to wake him.

Eddie gets down next to Buck, their knees pressing together. Buck feels the shudder that runs down Eddie’s spine, feels it echoed in his soul. Buck isn’t the religious type, but he feels like this is another miracle. Years after his first brush with death, Eddie coming home once again to his son.

With a hand on Chris’s shoulder, Eddie murmurs, “hey, my little Superman. Chris, I’m here.”

Chris’s eyes open slowly, reluctantly, until he sees his dad’s face and wakes up all at once.

“Dad!” Chris shouts, hands flying up to attach themselves to Eddie’s face. “Dad!”

Eddie’s smiling, huffing out laughter in pure, unadulterated joy at seeing his son’s delighted expression. Chris is grinning and whooping, falling forward to curl himself into his dad’s chest. Eddie lifts one arm to hold Chris close and buries his face in Chris’s hair.

Buck blinks back tears, feeling relief crash over him. He rubs his eyes and starts to get to his feet, wanting to give the Diaz boys some space, until he feels a tug on his shirt. Eddie’s hand twists in the fabric. He’s not even looking at Buck, head tucked against the curve of Chris’s skull. Buck sinks back down and tentatively puts his arms around the both of them, Chris’s knobbly spine and Eddie’s strong back, his cheek brushing Eddie’s forehead. Buck lets out a breath that trembles like an earthquake.

It feels like home. It feels impossible. It’s what he’s always wanted. It feels like something Buck isn’t allowed to have.

When they finally let go of each other, what could be a minute or a year later, Buck notices Carla standing at the end of the couch. She’s smiling fondly at all of them, and Buck realizes abruptly that this is the first time he’s seen her since the pandemic started. He gets up—although it’d be more fair to say he tears himself away—and moves toward her, and there’s always been something magic about Carla because she takes one look at him and she knows.

“I missed you,” Buck says, his nose smashed into her chin. She’s hugging him like she’s trying to pack Buck down tight and snug him into a little box where she can keep him safe. Or maybe that’s just Buck’s wishful thinking. He’s so goddamn tired.

“I missed you too, Buckaroo,” Carla says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Buck swallows the lump in his throat her tenderness causes.

She pulls away and very gently pats his cheek, looking Buck in the eye. “He needs you, you hear?” She whispers, holding that eye contact like she’s bet money on a staring competition. “Take care of each other.”

Buck can only nod.

She lets go of him and Buck shakes himself into standing straight, even though he’d much rather crumple to the floor. But he needs to get Eddie and Chris to bed, he needs to figure out what’s still edible in the kitchen and take out the trash, he needs to call the pharmacy for Eddie’s meds and the station for Eddie’s med leave, he needs to—

“Alright boys, get some rest.” Buck blinks and Carla comes back into focus. She’s addressing all of them, voice firm. “I’ll be here bright and early tomorrow to help out.”

“Thank you, Carla,” Eddie says.

“No need for that.” She bends down to give Eddie a quick hug, and Buck hears her tell him, “just try not to get on the bad side of any more sniper-rifle-wielding nut jobs, alright?”

Eddie’s reply is somewhere between a laugh and a choked-back sob.

Buck walks Carla to the door. Before she leaves, she looks at him, sharp-eyed and commanding again. “You call me if you need anything. Anything. You look just as bad as he does.”

“I’ll be fine. Thanks, Carla.”

She narrows her eyes at him, but this is what Buck has always been best at. He wades through the hurt and the pain and just keeps going. He gives her a tight smile, reminds himself that he wasn’t the one shot (no, just the one sprayed with Eddie’s blood, he can still feel it on his skin, still taste it on his lips), and closes the door behind her.

Getting Chris and Eddie to bed is easy. Buck lifts Chris up, carries him to Eddie’s room, and pulls the covers over both the Diaz boys. Eddie tries to catch Buck’s eye while Buck leaves the room, but if Buck stops moving then he’s not sure when or if he’ll start again. Buck pulls the bedroom door most of the way closed, leaving a tiny crack in case Eddie or Chris need him in the night.

In the kitchen, the clock on the stove informs him that it’s just past 9 pm. It’s jarringly early. It feels like time doesn’t really exist, that he’s been moving in a place defined by the hours since Eddie dropped, the hours since Eddie went into surgery, the hours since Eddie woke up.

Buck opens the fridge and looks into it without seeing anything, like when you’re reading only to realize that three pages have gone by without you remembering a single word. He closes the fridge door and opens it again, and oh, there’s the carton of milk and bottle of ketchup on the top shelf, the egg carton down to its last egg, a container of left-over fried rice from… was it yesterday? Buck folds back the top flap and sniffs it, decides it will be fine for one of the boys to eat when they get up.

He closes the fridge and investigates the pantry next. Two boxes of spaghetti, a can of beans, three cans of chicken noodle soup, an unopened bag of quinoa that is probably the result of Ana because Buck’s not sure Eddie has ever heard of quinoa—like he’s taking inventory of the truck. Thermal blankets, C-spine collar kit, 3L of sterile water, 3L sodium chloride, hug-a-bear. The 118 has a blue elephant courtesy of Athena. Buck could honestly really use it right now.

Buck runs a hand through his hair and pulls out his phone, planning to make a grocery list. He sees two missed calls from Bobby and eight from Maddie. One from Chim. Hen texted him at 4pm: How you holding up?

Buck very slowly puts the phone down.

He takes a step back and grips the edge of the kitchen counter. Breathe, Buck, he thinks. Just breathe.

His vision is spotty when he opens his eyes, like he’d shut them too tight. He doesn’t remember shutting them. It doesn’t matter. Buck finds a scrap of paper in the recycling bin and a pen from the junk drawer and writes a list. It’s late, so he’ll go to the grocery store in the morning, early, make sure breakfast is on the table for when Eddie and Chris get up. Oh fuck, does he have a shift tomorrow? What day is it?

Buck puts down the pen and presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. He can’t do this. He can’t stand here and pretend like he can take care of Eddie because he can’t stop seeing Eddie die. It’s in the back of his head every moment, it’s what he sees every time he closes his eyes, it’s the memory rewritten by his cells as they multiply and decay, it’s in his fucking genome now or whatever they call it—

it’s in the air he breathes, the reminder that for a moment that lasted an eternity, Eddie’s heart had stopped beating.

It’s a loud silence. Deafening.

Buck thinks, take a breath before you pass out, idiot.

Buck thinks, get a glass of water and pull yourself together.

Buck thinks, your best friend just got shot, you don’t have time for this bullshit.

Buck peels his hands away from the counter slowly, carefully, like if he makes one wrong move he’ll come away with flayed palms. He pours himself a glass of water and makes himself drink the whole thing. He picks up the list he wrote and reads it over and over and over. He thinks: what do I know is true? I’m standing in Eddie’s kitchen. I’m alive. Eddie is alive. And: I should get carrots.

Buck hiccups. Carrots—fucking—

No. Get it together. DAMN IT, Buck!

Buck bites the inside of his cheek until it bleeds and does not add carrots to the grocery list. Because apparently they cause emotional breakdowns, and Buck can’t afford one.

He puts himself to work. He ties the trash bag and then he wipes down the counters, and then he unties the trash bag to throw some paper towels in. He transfers the dishes from the sink to the dishwasher, quiet as he can, and locates a broom at the back of Eddie’s hall closet to sweep the floor.

When he’s emptying the dust pan into the trash (he’d tied and untied the bag again, but nobody’s counting, so what does it matter), Eddie says: “Are you OK?”

Buck jumps at least three feet in the air. He’s got the quads for it.

“Hey!” Buck whisper-shouts, turning to face Eddie. “What are you doing up?”

“Was wondering where you were.”

“Uh,” Buck looks around at the spotless kitchen and the broom in his hand. “Just, you know. Thought I’d be of service.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows at him. “Buck, the last thing I’m worried about is the state of my kitchen.”

“Right. That’s why I’m taking care of it. You know, so you don’t uh. You don’t have to.”

“OK.” Eddie squints at him like maybe a closer look will explain why Buck is sweeping his kitchen at 9:45pm three days after he got shot in the street in broad daylight. Buck sincerely hopes he doesn’t figure it out. He leans the broom against the counter and clips the dust pan to it in a rare display of tidiness. The pan slides down the broom handle until it hits the floor.

“When’s the last time you slept?”

Buck shrugs.

“Answer, please.”

God, what a dad.

(Not that Buck would know.)

“Uh… I think I got a few hours while you were in surgery.”

“That was two days ago, Buck,” Eddie says, frowning at him. “You look like a stiff breeze could knock you over.”

“Well, we’re inside.”

“Why are you being so stubborn? You need to sleep.”

“I’m just not really feeling it,” Buck says, folding his arms and resting his hip against the counter.

“Not giving you a choice,” Eddie says, looking extra grumpy because he can’t fold his arms. Unless you count the one in a sling as folded.

“I’m fine, Eddie. Don’t worry about me. You should be with Christopher.”

Eddie lifts his hand to his face and rubs his temples.

“Buck,” he says, “the only thing I need you to do right now is come to bed.”

“But I—“

“Come to bed, Buck.”

And it’s the repetition. It’s the look in Eddie’s eyes like a slow, early flame: the promise of a fire.

Buck’s throat is very, very dry.

“I… yeah. OK.”

Eddie gives him a small smile. Buck’s reeling. Because here’s the thing—they’ve shared a bed before. They’ve shared a too-small bunk at the station and a backseat and even a beanbag once (courtesy of a very poor decision on Buck’s part, but at least Chris likes it). But it’s always been “just bros.” It’s always been necessity. It’s been about efficiency and familiarity. Which maybe Buck is reading this all wrong and snuggling up with your best friend and his son after a near-death experience is totally no homo but… come to bed. Come to bed. Like it’s their bed. Like Buck belongs there.

Buck’s ears are ringing while he follows Eddie down the hallway to his bedroom. Their bedroom? He’s losing it.

The hallway light illuminates a strip of the room as they step inside. Buck can see Chris tucked in the sheets, curled into the rumpled spot where Eddie slid out to fetch Buck. This has to mean something, right? They’ve been dancing around and on the edge of something for so long, Buck doesn’t know how to interpret anything anymore. He loves Eddie, though. And probably the only way he’ll sleep right now is if Eddie’s in arm’s reach. So it doesn’t really matter what this is, because Buck will take any scrap of Eddie he can get, not just tonight, but always.

Eddie slips into the bed and scoots forward, leaving a space behind for Buck. Chris makes a heavy, sleepy sound and turns his head into his dad’s shoulder. Carefully, so, so carefully, Buck lowers himself onto the bed and fills the space Eddie made for him.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asks, exasperated.

Buck blinks at the ceiling. “What?”

“Idiot,” Eddie mutters. “Spoon me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Buck, this bed is small enough as it is with one person. I know you’re hanging half off it right now.”

“You’re not even looking at me.”

“Call it intuition,” Eddie says, dry as the desert.

Buck gingerly turns on his side, his chest just a breath away from Eddie’s back. “I…” He swallows. “Where should I put my arm?”

“Buck, you must have done this before.”

“That’s your bad arm, Eds.”

Eddie shifts a little, his calf coming into contact with Buck’s shin. Buck breaks into a cold sweat.

“Shit, well… under the sling, then. Around my waist?”

Dry, dry, his throat is so dry.

Buck lifts his arm up and drapes it over Eddie’s waist. He shuffles in closer, pressing them together from head to toe. His nose is in Eddie’s hair, his dick is nestled in the curve of Eddie’s ass, his ankles are knocking into Eddie’s. Buck feels like he might reverberate out of his skin.

“You sure you wouldn’t rather have Ana here?” Buck whispers. His mouth is like, one inch from Eddie’s ear.

Eddie turns his head a little, so his ear actually brushes Buck’s lip. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Eddie says, “There’s no one in this world I want here more than you.”

Buck stutters on his next breath.

“I wish it’d been me,” he says, suddenly. Eddie has to know. Eddie probably already knows. Buck’s grateful, so goddamn grateful, that Eddie survived. And sure, part of it is that self-deprecating shit he’s been working through with this therapist: Eddie has more to live for, Eddie has a kid, Eddie is a better man than I’ll ever be. But mostly, it’s far simpler than that.

If Eddie had died, the sniper may as well have shot Buck too. Because Buck doesn’t know how to live without Eddie. He’d found that out ages ago, when he lost Eddie under fifty feet of mud and water.

Eddie’s next words are nearly a growl. “The only good thing to come out of all this,” he says, “is that you didn’t get hurt.”

“What are you—“

“After it happened, when I was… when I was lying there, I—I looked at you. I looked at you, Buck, and I was terrified. Not because I might die, but because if I did, who was going to protect you? Who was going to keep a sniper off your self-sacrificing, heroic ass, and make sure someone came home to Chris? Who was—“ Eddie cut himself off with a sigh. “I was worried about you.”

Buck feels like… like an unbroken, empty tundra. Like a fried electric socket. Like someone dropped him to the very bottom of a very deep well.

“Eddie, Eddie I—“

“Shh,” Eddie murmurs, as Buck shakes apart. As he bends his head to hide his tears in the nape of Eddie’s neck. As he bites his tongue to stay quiet and not wake Chris up. Eddie presses backward into Buck’s hold. “I know, I know.”

“I can’t lose you,” Buck grits out between several halting breaths.

“You won’t,” Eddie says.

“I almost did.”

“You had my back.” Buck’s throat makes an awful, wheezing sound as he fights a losing battle against crying. “You got me out of there. You saved me.”

“I love you,” Buck says, losing the fight against that too.

“Buck… I…” Eddie sounds like someone knocked the wind out of him.

“Sorry,” Buck hurries to say, chest icing over with panic. “Sorry I just—“

“I love you,” Eddie interrupts. “I do. I know it took me a long time to realize, but… I’ve been in love with you, Buck.”

“Oh my god,” Buck says. I mean, what else do you say to that? No wonder Eddie froze up. Buck is in shock. “Is this real?”

“I hope so,” Eddie says. “And if it isn’t, then I’ll just have to tell you when we wake up.”

Buck feels fit to burst with more emotions than he can name. Relief, joy, fear, disbelief, pin-prickly. It feels like another miracle.

“Deal,” Buck says. And places a kiss to the fatal, devastating spot behind Eddie’s ear.

Eddie is the first thing Buck sees when he wakes up. “Good morning” are the first words he hears.

And then:

“Just so you know, I love you.”