#it's so low quality and it took me so long

[undyingdecay]

FARMER'S DAUGHTER; TAKE TWO

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

words: 5.0k

summary: a reckless farmer’s daughter gets sent to spend the summer with her father’s oldest friend, bucky barnes — a gruff, solitary man running a quiet farm on the edge of town. what starts as punishment slowly unravels into something heavier, tense, and dangerously complicated.

cws: eventual smut (not in this chapter), sexual tension, age gap / older man-younger woman dynamic, suggestive conversation, smoking, reader cant drive or at least not well, feelings of abandonment or being sent away as punishment, emotional vulnerability, insecurity, and self-doubt, brief references to physical labor and exhaustion

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a/n: im gonna tweak why is the image quality so bad :c all likes, comments, and reblogs are so heavily cherished and appreciated. send in an ask, message me, or comment asking to join the taglist for the series. please enjoy !!

morning came like a tidal wave.

no — like a goddamn freight train straight through your skull, loud and relentless and wholly inconsiderate to the fact that you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

you cursed the animals. cursed the rooster that had started hollering when it was still black outside. cursed the cows for their low, heavy moaning, and cursed the horses for stamping around like the world was ending. you cursed the walls for being too thin, the windows for being too drafty, and bucky for having the bright fucking idea to build the barn so close to the house.

who the hell wanted to wake up to that?

you’d barely managed to drag yourself to the table, hair a tangle, eyes heavy, limbs leaden with sleep deprivation. your head was half-planted on the cool wood surface, cheek squished to the grain, body threatening to slip right back into the thin, uneasy sleep you’d been chasing since you’d crawled into the too-small bed last night.

in truth, sleep hadn’t stood a chance.

not when you were out in the middle of nowhere, in a house you didn’t know, with a man you barely remembered meeting before yesterday. the place smelled like woodsmoke and old leather and earth, and you’d spent half the night staring at the ceiling, watching the headlights of some late-night truck sweep across the walls like ghosts.

“wake up.”

you groaned. “not asleep,” you grumbled, words sluggish and sticking together as your lips barely moved against the table.

the scent of bacon hit the air, heavy and greasy and far too early for your stomach to agree with it. a plate clattered down in front of you, the scrape of a chair dragging across the floor cutting through the stillness like a blade. you didn’t have to lift your head to know who it was.

bucky.

you let your eyes crack open, bringing a hand up to swipe at the sleep crusting in the corners. the light streaming through the window was that soft, dusty kind of morning gold, but it felt sharp as needles against your sleep-starved eyes.

he was already looking at you. one hand wrapped around a chipped mug, dark liquid steaming inside. his hair was a mess, pushed back off his forehead, scruff heavy on his jaw, eyes shadowed but sharp. he didn’t speak, didn’t smile, didn’t offer a good morning, sweetheart like the polite thing to do. just sat there, watching, like you were a goddamn curiosity.

it was quiet for a second.

then a few more.

then long enough that you started to itch beneath your skin.

“what?” you snapped, the word coming out sharper than you meant it, insecurity winding under your ribs. he took a sip of his coffee, eyes still on you over the rim. then he set it down, let out a low, easy sigh.

“gotta start makin’ your own breakfast,” he muttered, voice rough with sleep and cigarette smoke.

you made a face, grabbed your fork, and stabbed into the pile of eggs in front of you. “why?” you challenged through a mouthful, “looks like you made it just fine.”

he shook his head, lips twitching at the corner. “you be the one makin’ ‘em from now on.”

you cocked a brow, half amused despite yourself. “why?” you asked again, your tone teasing now, head tilting to one side. “’cause i’m a woman?”

you caught it — the flicker in his expression, the quick slip of the word yes almost forming on his tongue before he bit it back. his jaw twitched, and you watched his mouth press into a hard line, the way his shoulders tensed like maybe he realized just a beat too late you weren’t the kind of girl who’d let that shit slide.

and goddamn it — you laughed.

not a polite chuckle. not a forced, high-pitched giggle. a real laugh.the first one in what felt like weeks, maybe months, not like the ones you'd give those boys who only wanted to get you hot and bothered in the back of their truck. it cracked out of you sudden and sharp, your head tipping back, the tight knot in your chest loosening for the first time since you’d gotten thrown out of your daddy’s truck.

bucky grunted, a sound caught somewhere between annoyed and amused, and took another sip of his coffee. you saw the edge of his mouth twitch again, though he didn’t let the smile show.

“smartass,” he muttered. you grinned around another bite of egg, chewing slow. “’s why you like me, ain’t it?”

he didn’t answer. just reached for the coffee pot, refilled his cup, and slid it across the table toward you.

“eat up,” he said, rising from the chair with a stretch that made his shoulders crack.“you’re helpin’ me with the fence today.”

you groaned, slumping forward against the table again. “thought I was still on probation.”

“you’re on my land now,” he shot back over his shoulder, grabbing his hat from the hook by the door. “everybody works.” the screen door banged shut behind him, and you sat there for a long minute, staring at the spot he’d left, your lips twitching into another quiet, unwilling smile.

"the hell are you doin’?"

bucky’s voice cuts through the open air, rough and full of disbelief, even though you’re sure he saw you the moment you stepped out onto the porch — barefoot, bleary-eyed, and very much still in what passed as pajamas. your too-short sleep shorts had started riding up the back of your thighs the second you stepped off the porch and into the wild grass, and your tank top was more strap than actual shirt.

you don't answer right away, hand lifted lazily to shield your eyes from the heat-swollen sun spilling heavy across the property like molasses. you blink toward him, squinting as his shadow stretches long in the dirt beside his truck, one hand on his hip, the other dangling a coil of rope you’re fairly certain he plans to put to use on some fence post — or maybe around your ankles with the way he’s lookin’ at you.

his gaze drops. and lingers.

on your feet first — socked, dirt-smudged, soaked with dew and looking like they'd been chewed on by the land itself. then up your bare shins, to your thighs, where the flannel hem of your pajama shorts flutters a bit with the breeze. up, still, to the way your tank clings a little damp from the heat. and then his eyes catch yours again, sharp as the barbed wire coiled behind the barn.

“what’d you expect me to do,” you mutter, dry as the dust underfoot, “get dolled up for a stroll through cow shit?”

bucky exhales through his nose. it ain’t quite a sigh, but it ain’t far off either. “i expected you to be dressed,” he says plainly, like that’s the bare minimum.

you lift a brow, wipe at the sweat gathering at your temple. “i am dressed.”

“yeah?” his tone dips, a little lower now, a little tighter as he gestures with his chin, eyes not exactly gentlemanly. “this how your daddy lets you walk around his farm?”

you roll your eyes and lean your weight onto one hip, cocking your head in that way you know makes you look a little more brat than tired. “orchard,” you correct, voice sing-song with that practiced charm. “my dad’s orchard. there’s not much to gawk at me out there ‘cept a bunch of apples.”

he chews on that for a moment, gaze flicking back down like he’s proving a point to himself — or maybe just giving himself a little more to regret. “don’t matter,” he mutters finally, gruff and irritable. “not walkin’ ‘round like that on my land. you tryin’ to get bit by somethin’?”

“like what?” you challenge, raising a brow as you take a step closer, sock squishing wet into the grass. “snake? possum? horny milkman?”

he scoffs, dragging a hand down his face, but the corner of his mouth twitches, just a little. “what kinda girl goes trompin’ around half-naked at eight in the mornin’?”

“one that didn’t plan on being up at eight in the mornin’,” you shoot back, brushing past him just enough for your shoulder to bump his, on purpose.

he doesn’t move — doesn’t even flinch — but you feel the heat of him there in the moment your arm grazes his. his eyes are still on you, steady, unreadable, but it’s not the kind of look that sends you scampering. it’s the kind that makes your stomach flip once and settle like a dare.

you glance at him again, cheekily. “you always this fun in the morning?”

bucky huffs, tilting his head toward the barn. “put some damn shoes on and meet me out back. we’ve got work.”

you turn, starting your slow march back to the house, grass clinging to your ankles. “what kind of work?”

“the kind your daddy clearly never made you do,” he calls after you.

you don’t answer — just throw your hand up behind you in a lazy wave, smile curling at the edges of your mouth as you push through the screen door. and for a second, you swear you can feel his stare burn through yourback long after you’ve gone.

work my fucking ass.

is what you would've said — sharp and unbothered, like you always were, or at least how you wanted to be — if you weren’t in such a prime, comfortable little spot right now that even the slightest shift, even a breath heavier than it needed to be, might drag bucky’s attention back to you and land your ass back to brushing those horses. not that you’d been doing a good job of it anyway. you kept pausing, pausing and squinting out at the stalls, trying to figure out which one of those bastards had kicked up such a ruckus this morning and dragged you out of sleep you’d barely clung to in the first place.

bucky’d clocked you staring too long, muttered something about “you ain’t gonna break ‘em by starin’ at ‘em” before sending you off to “go sit your ass down if you’re not gonna be any use.”

which you did. promptly. without protest. because frankly, the only thing worse than being forced to work was being scolded by a man like him.

and now — now you sat half-slumped on an old wooden crate pushed up against the barn wall, watching as bucky knelt by one of the cows, thick fingers working the teat, milk hissing down in steady, practiced streams into the metal pail.

christ.

the henley clung to him, sleeves shoved up past his elbows, the collar stretched and loose, neck damp with sweat and dirt. his dark jeans were stained with something you didn’t care to name, stretched tight over thick thighs as he crouched. and it hit you, then — properly hit you, because you hadn’t been paying attention like this before — just how fucking big he was.

for fuck’s sake, the man looked like he fought bears for pocket change. thick, weather-beaten hands, forearms like tree trunks. even his damn neck looked like it could snap a fencepost. you hated it. hated how you felt heat stir low in your stomach, hated the jolt of interest that flared to life in your chest when the morning sun caught on the slick trail of milk that rolled down the length of his non-flesh arm, glinting silver and bright.

without really thinking, the words came out of you, too quiet for the barn but somehow still there.“how long ago did that happen?”

you regretted it the second it left your mouth.

he stilled, cow shifting lazily beneath his touch. for a long second, he didn’t move, didn’t even glance your way, just kept his eyes on the pail. then, voice low and even, “long ago.”

you scoffed, leaning back against the wall, tugging your knees up slightly, the crate creaking beneath you. “real specific.”

his lips twitched, not a smile, not really, but something close, something knowing. “weren’t much for specifics, kid.”

“‘m not a kid,” you bit out, faster than you should’ve, cursing yourself for the way your voice sounded too tight, too defensive.

he huffed a breath, still not looking at you, but you caught the edge of his grin now, lazy and crooked as he gave the cow a gentle pat.“sure you’re not.”

and god, you hated how your skin prickled at the way he said it. like it was some kind of joke only he got the punchline to. like he knew something you didn’t.

you watched him finish with the cow, standing with an easy, unhurried grace for a man built like a brick wall. wiped his hands off on a rag slung over his shoulder and finally glanced your way — those pale eyes catching on yours, dragging down your frame like he was sizing you up for something you didn’t understand.

“y’gonna just sit there all day or you wanna learn how to milk a cow?”

you made a face, nose wrinkling. “i’m good, thanks. don’t need another reason for you to call me useless.”

his mouth tugged into a grin then, a real one this time, sharp and crooked and a little too knowing. “nah, you’re doin’ fine already.”

you flipped him off, but it felt lighter than it should’ve. easier. and when he turned back to grab the next pail, you let yourself watch again. let yourself follow the line of his back, the way his jeans hung low on his hips. "come on." he calls out before you take notice he's already a third of the way across the yard.

you watch as bucky carefully places the tin buckets in the back of his truck — no, scratch that, you weren’t watching the buckets. you’d actually taken notice of the way the muscles in his back flexed beneath that old henley when he bent forward, the slight dip of his hips, the scuff of his boots against the dirt as he moved with that unbothered, working-man kind of ease. the kind you don’t see much anymore, except in old movies and men who didn’t grow up anywhere near the city.

your eyes trailed after him without permission, like your gaze was tethered to his broad shoulders, the way the morning sun caught in his hair and made it look a little less dark than usual, streaked with silver at the temples.

so yeah, no — you weren’t paying attention to the goddamn buckets.

“pay attention,” his voice cut through the lazy hum of the barn like a shot, and before you could snap back something sharp and defensive, his hand was on your face.

rough, calloused fingers pressing into your cheeks lightly, forcing you to look up at him. not enough to hurt, but enough to make your breath catch, because you hadn’t expected it — the sudden nearness of him, the smell of leather and sweat and hay clinging to him like a second skin. you met his eyes, and for a second it felt like they peeled you apart.

he didn’t smirk, didn’t grin, didn’t even look smug about catching you gawking. just steady.

then he let go, grabbed your limp hand from where it hung at your side and dropped a set of keys into it. cold metal, rough edges biting against your palm.

“six houses down the road, y’re gonna take a left. another three houses, you’ll be at amelia’s place. be respectful and call her mrs. anderson.”

you stared at the keys. then back up at him. “wait, like… drive?”

he didn’t even hesitate. “no. walk.”

“i—” you blinked, brow furrowing as you fumbled with the keys in your palm. “i don’t know how to drive.”

that got a reaction. bucky went still, stared at you for a long, silent beat, eyes narrowing just a fraction like he was waiting for the joke, waiting for you to crack a grin, to snort and say just fucking with you, old man.

but you didn’t.

and you watched it click in his head. watched the slow blink of realization wash over him like a wave, followed by something else you couldn’t quite place. disbelief, maybe. or pity. or the kind of annoyance older men got when faced with proof that kids these days really didn’t know how to do shit for themselves.

“jesus christ,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing a hand down his face before tipping his head back to look up at the ceiling of the barn like maybe if he stared hard enough, god might send him a replacement.

you shrugged, tossing the keys back to him lazily. “shame, see you when you get home.”

he caught the keys with an easy clink, but he didn’t look all that amused. instead, he shook his head slowly, then motioned toward the front seat of the truck.

“get in.”

“what?”

“you’re learnin’. now.”

your mouth dropped open. “uh, no? what if i crash?”

“then you crash into the fence and mrs. anderson won’t get her goddamn milk today,” he said, already climbing in on the passenger’s side. “get in before i make you run there.”

“you wouldn’t.”

he turned slowly in his seat, looked at you over the top of the truck with a half-smirk and a raised brow.

“try me.”

you groaned dramatically, dragging your feet around the front of the truck. when you opened the door, the smell of leather, dust, and faint cigarette smoke hit you like a wall. you slid into the seat like you were being lowered into a coffin.

his voice was already back in your ear. steady. bossy.

“foot on the brake. not the gas. jesus. i ain’t dyin’ today.”

you muttered under your breath. “that’s a shame.”

he heard that. and laughed. low and rough, like gravel.

“you better hope you don’t kill us both,” he said, tossing the keys back into your lap. “this truck’s worth more than your college tuition.”

“joke’s on you,” you mumbled, as you picked up the keys and squinted at the ignition like it was a math problem. “i didn’t get in to college.”

he paused. looked at you.

“of course you didn’t.”

“you’re an asshole.”

“and you can’t drive. let’s fix at least one of those things.”

and then—he leaned back in the seat, one arm slung casually out the window, and nodded at the wheel like it was nothing.

god. you hated how your fingers trembled on the gear shift. you hated it more that he noticed. and worse still—how a part of you didn’t want him to stop watching.

you don’t get more than a few feet before the truck gives a little lurch.

“whoa—easy,” bucky mutters, hand bracing against the dash like he just survived a car bomb, even though you’re still crawling at a snail’s pace. “it’s a truck, not a goddamn bronco. treat her like a lady.” you squint at the wheel, white-knuckling it like it's got fangs, lips pursed as the tires bump over loose gravel.

“how the hell am i supposed to ‘treat her like a lady’ if i don’t even know how to start her without nearly shitting myself?”

bucky snorts under his breath. “you didn’t even check the mirrors before you pulled out,” he mutters, like it’s the gravest insult in the book. “think you can just sweet-talk your way through life. s’why your daddy sent you to me. i’m supposed to knock some sense into that empty little head of yours.”

you glance sideways at him, his profile lit up by the summer sun pouring through the windshield. he’s got that damn smirk again, the kind that makes you want to either hit him or kiss him—or both, but that thought is dangerous, so you bury it.

“pretty sure i’ve got plenty of sense. and i’m not a kid,” you grumble, dragging the steering wheel left like he’d told you earlier.

“right. full grown,” he replies dryly. “tell me—how many parking tickets you got?”

you scowl. “none.”

“exactly. no car, no mistakes. that ain’t somethin’ to be proud of.” he kicks his boots up on the dash like this is all just background noise. like you’re not a jittering mess behind the wheel of his giant, beat-up truck that probably has more history than you.

“maybe you could stop talking if you want us both alive?” you snap, just a little, but he only laughs again.

“nothin’ like a little pressure to make a girl blossom. keep your hands steady. truck’ll do half the work if you just guide her.”

it shouldn’t be hot when he talks about driving like it’s some sacred ritual. shouldn’t make your throat tight, your stomach flutter. but it does. the way he speaks—low and sure, like he was born to have a wheel in his hand and the open road in his bones—makes something in you thrum.

the gravel road starts to curve, and you slow to take it.

“good,” he says simply. “not bad.”

you try not to grin. “not bad?”

“don’t let it go to your head, princess. we ain’t at mrs. anderson’s yet.”

you roll your eyes, but secretly—you want to impress him. not that you’d ever admit it. not with the way he talks like he’s got your whole life figured out already. like he’s already filed you away in his brain under ‘spoiled little farm brat.’

“why mrs. anderson anyway?” you ask, just to fill the silence. “she one of your church friends or somethin’?”

bucky scoffs. “hell no. i don’t go to church. i fix her fence and she bakes me peach cobbler. you’re droppin’ off milk ‘cause she slipped last week and bruised her hip. told me she felt stupid askin’ for help, so i told her she wasn’t. and now you’re her delivery girl.”

you blink. “…so basically, you volunteered me.”

“you’re welcome.”

“asshole.”

another bump in the road makes the truck jostle. you feel his gaze land on you again. not in that lazy, half-interested way he sometimes does—but really looks, like he’s checking for a crack in your armor.

you pull up in front of the white-fenced house. ivy coils around the mailbox just like he said it would. there’s something weird about it—like this whole thing’s been lived before. his truck. the road. the silence between you.

“leave it on the porch. she’ll hear the truck,” bucky says, shifting in his seat. “and tell her you’re the orchard girl. she’ll know what that means.”

“orchard girl. great. sounds like i sell jam outta my skirt pockets.”

he smirks. “could be worse. could be ‘apple tart.’”

“okay, ew. stop.”

he leans over, plucks the keys from your hand with an annoying kind of ease, and for a second—his shoulder brushes yours. just enough to make your stomach flip. you hate how fast the heat rises in your neck.

you hop out of the truck before he can say anything else. and as you walk up to the porch, milk jug in hand and socks bunched around your ankles—you hear him shout after you.

“don’t forget to smile, orchard girls are friendly!”

you flip him off behind your back.

he laughs.

the screen door creaks when you knock, old wood groaning like it knows how much you don’t want to be here. you half expect some shriveled up old lady to come tottering out with curlers in her hair and a shotgun in hand. but no one comes. not right away. just the muffled sound of a tv playing some old western inside and a ceiling fan clacking overhead like it’s on its last breath.

“mrs. anderson?” you call out. no answer. you lean in a little, “it’s… uh, the orchard girl.”

from inside, a thin voice hollers back, “leave it on the porch, sweetheart, and take a peach from the basket. they’re ripe.”

you blink. glance at the small wicker basket on the table by the door, peaches spilling out like gold coins. sun-warm and soft-skinned. you hesitate, then grab one. it fits perfect in your palm, weighty and heavy with syrupy juice you can already tell’ll be running down your chin before you’re halfway through it.

back at the truck, bucky’s grinning like he’s won a bet.

“took you long enough.”

“sorry, had to fight off a whole gang of old ladies,” you mutter, climbing back in. the truck groans a little under your weight, and bucky pulls the door shut for you when it sticks.

“told you she’d offer you a peach. woman’s predictable as sunrise.”

you bite into it. it’s perfect. warm, sweet, so ripe it drips down your wrist. you swear, if there’s one thing about this shithole town it’s the fruit. they know how to grow it right. you try not to make a sound of pleasure but bucky snorts when he sees your face.

“city girl meets real produce.”

“shut up,” you mumble through a mouthful.

“you really don’t know how to drive?”

his voice cuts through the warm hum of the old truck like a blade, rough and lined with disbelief, like it’s the most offensive thing he’s heard all day — and this is a man who watched you nearly drop a full pail of fresh milk earlier because you were too busy staring at the sweat trailing down his throat to pay attention.

by now you’ve switched seats. bucky’s shoulder leaning against the driver’s side door, one hand slung over the wheel like he owns the whole goddamn town, the other resting lazily on his thigh. you’ve taken over the passenger side, your seat cranked back, legs kicked up on the dash, bare feet leaving faint dust prints on the old faded vinyl. you don’t care. let him be mad about it.

you tilt your head, eyes squinting against the last angry stretch of daylight as you glance at him. “nope.”

he flicks his gaze toward you, then back to the road, jaw ticking like he’s trying not to laugh. or trying not to say something you’ll throw a fit over.

“not one of those boys you run around with taught you?”

there’s a bite to it — not cruel exactly, but sharp enough to make your stomach pull tight. it’s the kind of thing old men say when they know too much about the world, like it’s a foregone conclusion that you���re the sort of girl who runs around with trouble.

you feel your lip curl, head lolling back against the window as you mumble, “guess they were too busy trying to get me in the back seat to teach me how to turn the damn key.”

that makes him huff—a dry, almost amused sound, like he’s heard it all before and maybe even expected it. there’s no judgment in it, just that rough kind of knowing you find in people who’ve been around the block a few times and seen the same mistakes played out like a worn-out record. his metal fingers tap out a slow, steady rhythm against the cracked steering wheel, the sound muted beneath the hum of the engine and the whisper of the wind through the cracked window.

you let the quiet hang heavy between you, stretching long over the empty stretch of road that rolls ahead, curling through golden fields fading into dusk. the sun’s dying light spills across the dashboard, casting everything in a warm, tired amber. it’s the kind of silence that doesn’t demand to be filled—just waits for something, anything, to break it.

the air in the truck smells like earth and old leather, mixed with the faint hint of diesel and that indefinable smell of the kind of hard work that leaves you sore but satisfied. outside, the distant call of a lone owl cuts through the fading light.

bucky’s eyes stay on the road, but you catch the way his jaw flexes under the stubborn shadow of stubble, the crease between his brows just a little tighter than before. like he’s mulling over something that doesn’t quite fit—maybe the stubborn set of your mouth, or the way you hold yourself like you’re daring the world to push you over.

you clear your throat, the scrape of your voice feeling louder than it should in the quiet cab.

“you ever think maybe it’s easier not to know how?”

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he shifts, the leather groaning under his weight, and for a moment, the man who wrestles cows and fixes tractors fades, replaced by something quieter. something almost soft.

“easier don’t always mean better,” he says finally, voice low, carrying that gravelly weight like a warning and a lesson all at once.

you watch him out of the corner of your eye, caught off guard by the flicker of something almost like care hiding beneath that gruff exterior. and for once, the silence doesn’t feel like a wall—it feels like a fragile bridge, something maybe worth crossing.

you rest your head against the window, the cool glass soothing against your temple as the truck rumbles on, carrying you deeper into a world you’re not sure you want but maybe can’t run from.

[arthur-lesters-left-arm]

is this anything?

[saved-room]

SPOILERS FOR BAD BATCH FINALE ‼️

and i guess i’ll just miss her even though she isn’t even really gone

[spellbound-sphinx]

ew gay people

[enygmaniac]

Profic Party Day Four - A rarepair you like

Y'all know I had to go with KyoKoda

I tried some new shading techniques, and I think I like it ! Anyways, shy boy x also shy but not as shy girl, hell yeah

+ bonus Mina in the bg. I like to think she loves love

[classyruinsbarbarian]

x/x/x/x/x/x/x/x

Tim & Sally Botsford stimboard for @evaiskindaweird

[cowbutchranch]

Hey guys. Uh

I bought my dog a cowboy hat 🤠

[aloe-plant-yippee]

comic of the swing scene from the reigate squire

i had the mental image of john getting beat up by children and it spiralled from there

[detectivejenko]

so... around a year ago i got a pen tablet for my computer and thought it was a good idea to make these (just traced images with textured brushes) which was SO FUN but very frustrating sometimes bc i can't draw. i did learn some things in order to make the faces not look awful (i got really good at noses at some point) but then i just got really really frustrated with it bc i couldn't do anything more than just... tracing, yk? but looking back, i really appreciate the colors and the texture and i really miss doing these. i wonder if i still got it in me

[dave-miller-dsaf]

Dave. Is that true that once you were wrestling with a dog sized rat in Jack's room over a hour and you killed it with showing up an aubergine in it's butt, then throw it out in his kitchen's trash? If yes then tell the story pls :].

Are ya workin' for the FEDs, kiddo?

[simplyjelly]

AWW YEAH, ITS A BANANA BONANZA!!

Character(s) used:

Ben the Banana (IPS2)

Here are also some doodles

[moonlit-imagines]

warnings: mmm minor spoilers BUT if you’ve seen marvel’s social media accounts as of late, the posters/asterick reveal specifically, you already know. oh and drug mention and very light mental health issues

a/n: cant wait for higher quality gifs……

not requested

Bob nervously stood in the frame of your door with a hairbrush clutched between both his hands. He stared down at the ground with his long curls blocking his view of you ever so slightly, then cleared his throat just loud enough to announce his presence. “Y/N?” He shuffled his feet timidly and you looked up from your laptop, working up new logos and team names just in case Sam Wilson actually did file for copyright.

“Yeah?” You gave him a soft expression to assure him he wasn’t disturbing you, a small curl of your lips to put him at ease. His body language was…typical, but starting to ease up day by day. He was making progress. You looked him up and down and noticed what was he held in his hands.

“Could you…help me brush my hair?” Bob’s voice was low and somewhat rough. You could see his hair was a little bit messy, but no different than usual. “It’s hard sometimes. I’m tired.” He tried to explain and you patted the space next to you on your bed, welcoming to sit beside you. “Thank you.”

You took the brush from his hand, but before beginning with the tool provided, you started with your fingers. Your nails against his scalp calmed him more than any drug he’d ever gotten his hands on. You gently worked out any knots that may have otherwise got caught in the bristles of the hairbrush and hurt him. Bob’s eyes had been closed a few minutes now, his thoughts at ease, and a weight lifted from his shoulders. Once you saw fit, you took the brush and began slowly pulling it through his brown curls. Bob asking for help was a step in the right direction, and you felt content that he asked you. Made you feel like you were heading in the right direction, too.

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @sk1bidi-n1k0-e4ts-people // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[a-b-riddle]

Can’t stop thinking about poly141 who get so wrapped up in their own bullshit they begin to neglect reader. So you leave 🤷🏼‍♀️

It wasn’t a big deal at first. You understood that their jobs were intense to say the least. You own a bookshop, which in itself was exhausting, but you understood how they could get carried away with work.

You had excused the many delayed returned texts or missed FaceTime dates when they were deployed. When they came home, they almost always made it up to you. Showering you with attention and quality time.

But the past two returns home have been… different.

Usually at least one of them made a beeline to your shop or your loft if it was too late in the evening. You always held your breath when it was just one of them.

“They’re okay.” Was the usual answer. “Everyone made it back okay.” It was only then that you could melt into whoever’s hands you were in.

After one of their recent returns home you had voice to Price that you didn’t appreciate several days passing after they came back and no one had bothered to tell you. He had snapped. Arguing that a mission doesn’t finish just because they land back on soil. There was paperwork and debriefing to be done. If and when they wanted to see you they would.

He didn’t apologize until later. Crawling into your bed, using one of the keys you had given them. Blaming the stress. How they had almost lost Johnny for the reason of his outburst. What else could you do but forgive him?

So you had given them space after that one. Not holding it against them to decompress before seeing you.

The next time was the final straw. Solidifying how little they cared about you and how much power you had given them.

Johnny had come in around 7 one evening. He was dressed nicely, for civilian standards. You were reading a book on the couch when he had let himself in. You were wearing on of Simon’s sweatshirts and panties. He took you in for a moment before scooping you up.

He fucked you absolutely stupid. Adamant on having you cum on his tongue, his fingers and his cock. You were only able to bask in the afterglow of him filling you up before he started pulling his pants back on.

“What are you doing?” There were times that you would practically need a crow bar to get Johnny detached from you just long enough to relieve yourself. You had gotten many a UTI courtesy of Mr. John MacTavish.

“Dinner with my family tonight.” He explained by the time he was already buttoning his shirt. “The youngest just graduated and ma’ feels the need to go all out.” Now came the tie. Johnny was actually wearing a tie. To go to dinner. “A fancy dinner in London.” He huffed. “Meanwhile I’m out scufflin’ with bloody fuckin’ terrorists and I get a pat on the back.” He gave you a peck on the cheek before heading out the door. Promising to call you later.

You just sat in your bed. Still naked. Almost in shocked. He had fucked you and just… left. You were close to a panic attack as you called Simon.

Simon wasn’t the one to cuddle and coddle. But there was something so soothing at the sound of his voice or even how his heavy body felt perfect laying on top of you. Yes. Simon wasn’t the time to lift you up with words, but he was your own security blanket. Just having him close helped.

“Can you come over?” It wasn't unusal for Simon to be the one to come later in the evening. Insomnia was a bitch to deal with and you could sleep through the sounds of whatever he played on the tv. Most of the times you were content laying your head on his lap as he ran his hand along your head as if he were petting you. It was a bit cringe, but it knocked you out every time.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. The low timber of his voice already calming you.

“Johnny came over.” You sniffled. “He just fucked me and left.”

“Not surprised.” He scoffed. You could almost see him rolling those deep brown eyes of his. “If you wanted to cum, I’m happy to come over and help.”

For whatever reason, that only seemed to make you more upset. “You’re not listening.” You said, trying to spell it out for him. “He left. Like didn’t even stay and cuddle just left. Fucked me and left.”

“That’s why you’re calling me crying about?” He almost seemed… annoyed.

“Yes!” You said, nearly snapping. All of the tension from the last several months coming to the surface. “I’m not just a warm body to keep a bed cozy until you assholes decide you need to get one off.” Assholes. You called them assholes. “This isn’t what we agreed to.”

“Johnny is Johnny.” Simon tried to defend, not really caring to continue the conversation now knowing that you weren't in any sort of physical harm. “He wanted his dick wet and from the sound of it, that’s what he did. Don’t hold it against him because he had other things to do.”

“It’s not just Johnny leaving.” Your throat felt like it was tightening. A telltale sign you were close to crying. Whether from sadness or anger you weren't entirely sure. “The only time any of you want anything to do with me anymore is to fuck.” You missed date nights and lunches. You missed texting any and all of them about your day, about theirs. About new books. You had been trying for months to tell them over dinner one of your books got picked up. Yours was being traditionally published.

None of them had bothered to even try penciling you in.

“You got yours.” You heard the popping of a can top. Simon was settling in for the night. Once he popped a top at home there was no getting him out. He wasn't coming for you. “I don’t understand what you’re bitchin’ to me about. Yeah, in the beginning we indulged ya a bit? Dressed you up, took you out. But you should have known spreadin’ them legs of yours wouldn’t end with one of us puttin’ a ring on your finger.”

You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? These were the men that pursued you. Initially, individually, but when tensions became to much they offered a solution. All of them. Four times the attention, of the affection.

Four times the love.

But also four time the neglect. Four times the amount of heartbreak and disappointment. Loving all of them meant putting yourself in a position to let each of them hurt you in their own way and they had.

John's constant state of snapping at you as if you were one of his men.

Johnny swinging by as if you were just a fuck buddy. Not even bothering to give a peck before leaving.

Kyle essentially ignoring you for weeks now. Ghosting you for hours or having to cancel on date nights last minute or claiming that he really did forget that the two of you had planned to meet for lunch.

And now there was Simon. Telling you that all you meant to them was what was between your thighs.

Spreadin' them legs of yours wouldn't end with one of us puttin' a ring on your finger.

None of them ever intended on making this into something more. That much was clear now.

You didn't know what to say to Simon. You couldn't think of a witty retort. You couldn't find the proper insult to whirl his way. You couldn't convey just how much his words had hurt.

So you did the only thing you could.

You hung up.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

locked out

a/n: we finally getting some dick :) i'm impatient and wanna get to the other super nasty ideas for this au, okay? i'm a whore, we already know this

summary: “you know,” Steve took a step, closing the gap between you just a tad further, “I think maybe you’re ready.”

warnings: frat!bucky barnes x innocent!reader x stepbro!steve rogers, smut, dark content, college au, polyamory, being locked out of your dorm room, only one bed, kissing, virgin!reader, loss of virginity, corruption kink, dirty talk, size kink, belly bulge, manhandling, pussy inspection, pussyjob, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, fingering, impact play, pain kink, spit kink, oral, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 4186

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

take her under your wing au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

masterlist | join my taglist 

Hey, I’m locked out of my room. Can I come sleep at yours just for tonight?

Your eyes repeatedly drifted over the text you’d sent to your stepbrother twenty minutes ago, as well as darting down to the cruelly short answer he’d replied with, only bothering to send a swift ok, a word so simple that it caused you to spiral into unnecessary doubt with every step that brought you closer to the fraternity. 

You’d come back to your dorm after a long night at the library, having your nose too buried in textbooks to keep track of the time, only to discover that you’d forgotten your key when you left that morning. Your roommate, Kate, also couldn’t be of help as she was spending the night over at her girlfriend’s, and you’d swiftly come to learn, in the short time you’d been living together, how hard it was to reach her when those two were spending quality time together, so that option wasn’t one you even bothered to explore, leaving you with only one lifeline left, one you begrudgingly tugged on. 

“My, my, my,” a voice found your ears once you’d quietly clicked the front door to the frat house shut behind you, “well, would you look who’s back!”

Twisting your neck, you caught sight of the few still down in the living room that sprouted off to the side of the entryway, “Ransom, hi,” you stepped up to lean against the archway and greeted the first of the guys inside who had perked up at your arrival, before your glance then flickered to the rest of them, “Miguel, Frank, Billy, you’re up late.” 

Slumping further back into the couch, Miguel chuckled, “what are you, our mama?”

“What are you doing here?” Billy asked, gazing at you like a cat who’d just spotted a toy to bat around. 

“I got locked out of my room,” you sighed shortly, “so, Steve’s throwing me a bone, letting me crash here,” your fingers drifted up to tug on the straps of your backpack, “you wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you?” 

“He and Curtis just got back from the gym,” Frank informed, “so he’s probably still up in the shower.” 

“Oh,” your brows floated up slightly, “does Curtis box too?” you asked, as you’d only met the gruff individual a handful of times. 

“Yeah, he does,” Miguel nodded, “he’s the one that worsened your stepbrother’s little addiction to it back when they first met. Got him going on a level that he hadn’t tried before.” 

“You’re saying that like he’s about to drop out of school to pursue it full time,” you half laughed, “I thought it was just a hobby for him to blow off steam.”

Squinting his eyes, Ransom glanced to the other guys, “does it still count as a hobby if you’re doing underground fights and stuff?” 

“He’s doing what?” you swiftly exclaimed. 

Meeting your wide eyes, Billy rushed to try and calm your nerves, “oh, it’s not–, he’s fine. He’s good.”

“Good as in, he gets beaten to a pulp on a regular basis?” you pushed. 

“No, good as in, his right hook is mean enough that he’s still undefeated,” Frank bowed his head. 

Letting out a low sigh, you let your gaze drift down to the floor. 

“So, anyhow,” Ransom exhaled in an effort to clear the air, “as fun as it is for you to stay here for a little sleepover,” his stare on you dipped a moment as he spoke, “please just promise that you won’t go wandering, okay?”

“Yeah, especially not down into the basement,” Miguel cut in as he leaned forward to grasp his drink on the coffee table. 

“Why?” your eyebrows knit together, “what’s down there?”

“Oh,” Frank let out a long breath as his glance momentarily darted, “don’t you worry about that…” 

“Yeah,” Billy couldn’t help but chuckle, “if someone like you were to stumble down there, then you’d probably think we’re all sadists or something.” 

Letting out a scoff, Miguel took a swig of his beer and said, “speak for yourself.” 

“Okay,” Billy tilted his head before correcting, “she will think that the majority of us are sadists.” 

“Uh… what?” you failed to follow their words, instead attempting to joke, “are you guys like devil worshippers? Is this just a cult?” you gestured to the frat house around you. 

“Oh, that’s cute,” Ransom let out a laugh just as genuine as the ones that promptly rippled through the rest, “no, that’s–…” he managed to hold his tongue before uttering through his chuckle, “we’ll explain later.” 

Glancing over the lot of them as they struggled to contain their amusement, you breathed, “okay…” before footsteps began to approach from behind you and a palm swiftly found your shoulder.  

“Y/n,” Steve’s deep timbre tickled your ear before you twisted around to blink up at him, “hey.” 

His short sandy hair was a few shades darker from the shower he’d just stepped out of, water droplets still sparsely clinging to his skin above the towel his left grasp clutched around his hips. 

“Oh, h-hi,” you struggled to force your gaze away from his burly and bare chest directly before you.

“Come,” he simply nodded as his arm slipped down to the small of your back to scoop you with him. 

“Okay,” you half chuckled as he began to tug you along and you only narrowly managed to twist your head to yell, “goodnight guys!” before he dragged you up the stairs. 

“Sleep tight!” you just managed to hear one of them echo in return, “if you need tucking in, my room’s just down the hall!”

Shuffling up the stairs, the late hour became hard to ignore as each step grew slower than the last. 

And as you reached the top, a yawn rippled out of your lungs and caused your eyes to water slightly, “hey, where’s the bathroom?” 

“It’s that door, right there,” Steve pointed before he caught your backpack and slipped it from your shoulders before he disappeared down the corridor towards his own room. 

However, when you finished up, you nearly crashed into the figure that then stood waiting outside the door. 

“Jesus, fuck!” you instinctively reached out to stabilise yourself against his chest, “Bucky! Put a bell on or something!” 

Though he only chuckled in return, “I figured you might be needing this,” before holding up a spare toothbrush in the sliver of space between your frames, plastic packaging still encompassing it. 

Snatching it to you, a gasp of genuine surprise slipped from your lungs, “where did you find this?”

“Honey, you’re in a frat house,” he cocked his head, “I just went through our resident fuckboy’s stash. Billy has a whole fucking basket of shit like this, so he never notices when someone steals from it.”

And once your teeth were minty and clean, Bucky kept on shadowing you as you wandered down the hall and into your stepbrother’s room, closing the door behind you both before he flopped down on the bed as if it was his own. 

“So,” you shifted slightly as you cast a glance to Steve, “where will you be sleeping tonight?” 

“Same place as I always do,” he replied as if that was obvious.  

“What?” your eyes grew wide, “I thought you’d take the couch or something.” 

“Why would I do that?” his face screwed up, “you can’t seriously be blushing about innocently sleeping in the same bed as me, are you?”

“No!” you denied defensively, “I–…” before the misunderstanding was then dropped with a sigh. Eyes screwed shut in frustration, you uttered in a forced calm tone, “do you have a t-shirt or something I could borrow? I don’t wanna sleep this,” your gaze fluttered back open as you gestured to the jeans you were wearing. 

Opening up a drawer in the dresser by the door, Steve then tossed you a grey t-shirt. 

Fidgeting with it a moment, you waited expectingly for the duo on the other side of the room to at the very least turn around to grant you some privacy. But unfortunately to your mortification, their staring only intensified after you caught the shirt. 

“Would you guys mind–” 

But your attempt was swiftly squashed as Bucky then purred from the bed, “aw, like we haven’t already seen it all before.” 

Sucking in a breath, you cursed just beneath your breath before spinning around yourself and casting your glare firmly up towards the ceiling as you began to change as quickly as your fingers could manage.

“So…” Steve uttered when you tugged the t-shirt further down, stretching the cotton to try and cover up your panties, “how’s your training going?” 

“What, my studying?” you murmured over your shoulder as you folded your clothing neatly on the chair by his desk, “yeah, it’s good, I mean, classes are tough, but it’s really–”

“I wasn’t talking about fucking school,” he laughed before elaborating, “have you been using the little gift I gave you?” and your cheeks swiftly began to heat up, “other than the time two weeks ago when I talked you through it over the phone, that is.”

“Uhm… I–…” your brain short-circuited as he reminded you of the toys he’d bought you. Three dildos, all in various sizes, though none of them matched the memory of the few real-life examples you’d experienced so far. 

“Because if you haven’t, then I think that might result in some punishment,” he went on, pursing his lips lightly, “I mean, not that the lack of you actually doing it wouldn’t be punishment enough in the end, you know I only did it to be kind to you so that it wouldn’t hurt as much when I give you the real deal. But I mean if you’d rather relish in whatever amount of pain my cock will cause when it finally gets to stretch that little pussy out, then so be it, that’s your choice,” he shrugged smugly at the thought. 

“I–…” you averted your gaze before you heard yourself admit, “…whenever my roommate slept over at her girlfriend’s…” 

“So how often is that?” Bucky crawled off the bed.

“I don’t know…” you timidly whispered, “maybe a few times a week… though I haven’t done anything since this weekend because I kinda tried to go up a size, which was probably a mistake because then I was really sore for a whole day after…” 

“Oh no, that wasn’t a mistake,” Bucky chuckled, “that’s fucking adorable. That little thing could make your pretty little pussy sore?” he asked, clearly imagining what would happen when he finally managed to cram himself into you.  

“You know,” Steve took a step, closing the gap between you just a tad further, “I think maybe you’re ready.”

“Ready? Like ready, ready?” you blinked back at him with wide eyes before you began to shake your head, “no, I don’t think so, I–” 

“Well, we could take a little look,” Bucky walked closer as well, his gaze dipping down your frame, barely covered in the borrowed shirt, “do a little inspection of how well you’ve prepared yourself.” 

“Trust us,” a dark smirk tugged at your stepbrother’s lips, “we’re far better judges of such things than you are.” 

Your head slowly shifted as your eyes fluttered from one to the other, your chest rapidly rising and falling, just in your periphery, before the throbbing between your thighs convinced you to utter, “…alright.” 

Taking the lead, Bucky then hooked an inked arm around your waist before yanking you with him as he sat down on the edge of the bed. A shrill yelp escaped you as you tumbled over his lap with your bottom sticking up and slightly angled towards where Steve then planted himself, directly next to the other frat guy. 

Though you peeked over your shoulder, you still weren’t sure whose palm collided with your pantie-clad behind first, only that you’d lost count of the stinging taps by the time that your underwear was snatched down your legs. Each of them reached out with greedy hands to spread you open for them, though they did it in a manner so fevered that their grasp on your ass caused your glistening petals to part as well, prying you open so fiercely that your little hole winked faintly as it drooled up at them. 

Sloping down closer, Steve then pressed a soft peck to your folds before he ran his ravenous tongue through them, making you dig your nails into Bucky’s thick thigh as he made out with your cunt. Though when he tilted his head to capture your clit with your lips, playfully sucking down on it like it was a hard candy, Bucky’s fingers then crept down to just above where his friend’s mouth stayed locked. At first, his touch skimmed over your puckered rosebud before it came down to circle around your entrance, drooling against his touch and daring him to slip inside for a feel. 

He had to plant a forearm over the small of your back to keep you steady once he’d worked two of his fingers inside your pussy, pumping you till it sang in a sloshy song around his thick digits. 

“Oh yeah,” Bucky smirked when he finally withdrew his fingers, purposefully brushing up against your g-spot on his way out, “she’s definitely ready.”

“You sure?” you peeked back at them, still not convinced by their expertise, as Steve let go of your puffy pearl with a pop.

As he straightened back up, your stepbrother briefly sank two fingers inside of you as well, making you gasp sharply as he hummed, “yeah, I don’t think I can wait any longer.” 

The next thing you knew, you were flipped into a different position as Bucky whirled you back around and manhandled you with him as he sat further back on the bed, pressing your spine against his broad chest. However, just as you felt him press a kiss to your hot cheek, Steve rose up to his feet before he grabbed your legs and yanked you closer to where he stood tall and towering, till your ass was nearly hanging off the corner of the mattress. 

The jostled journey had pushed the borrowed t-shirt up your torso, though the man, whose lap your head was now resting on, didn’t let the fabric stay long like that, crumbled and gathered around your ribs, but instead reached down to tug it the rest of the way up to expose your soft tits.

As Bucky’s frame bent down to capture your lips in a kiss, you felt Steve fold your legs up on either side of your frame. 

Dropping the towel around his waist, Steve then let a dollop of saliva drop from his lips and land on your cunt before you tilted away from Bucky’s peck when you felt the weight of your stepbrother’s cock tap against your buzzing clit. 

“O-oh,” you whimpered as you peeked down at the way he nudged the bulbous tip of him against your puffy pearl, smearing his spit into your nectar that already shined across your glossy petals. 

The corners of his lips twisted up into a smirk as he peered down at your core and swept his girth through your folds, repeatedly parting them for him before he tilted down to brush against your weepy entrance. Though each time he cruelly flicked his tip against your innocent opening and you thought the moment had arrived, he instead strayed back up towards your clit and grinned down at the frustrated expression that seeped through your pleasure, as you weren’t sure if you were more relived or disappointed by the repeated delay, as the only true result his bullying had was to make you that much more nervous as his teasing wound you up even further till you felt as if you might explode. 

When he finally stopped psyching you out, Bucky’s hand swiftly snaked down to rub your clit as a pinching stretch rocked your body. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as a strangled cry rippled out of your lungs and mingled with the breathy moan that slipped from Steve as he gradually pressed the very tip inside.

“Fuck,” he nearly hissed, “you’re so tight,” as the way your poor pussy struggled to make room for his fat cock rendered his pace to become a lot slowly than he’d intended, even when he put all of his might into it, your body just wouldn’t let him move freely yet. 

And even though he was barely moving at all, as Bucky kept on rolling your puffy pearl beneath the rough pads of his fingers in an effort to get you to relax further, the staggering sensation became too much for you to bare as you swiftly came around the bulbous head of your stepbrother’s cock. 

And as your orgasm caused your velvety walls to cling around Steve that much further and nearly force him back out, a groan vibrated in his throat at the feeling as he then threw all caution to the wind and instead let himself sink in and bury his cock deeper. 

“Can you take it?” he grunted as he ignored your shrill whines in overstimulation, seizing the sensation for himself as he revelled in your high, sliding his cock in your pussy so slowly that you could feel every millimetre, every vein and every detail, split your sensitivity apart and make room for him. 

“I-I don’t know,” you panted as Bucky slid his slick fingers up to capture your nipples in a pinch. 

“You can take it,” he uttered with a nod before his palms then pressed down against the back of your bent legs, denting your thighs as he buried himself even deeper and squished you down further into the mattress, keeping your trembling legs apart and out of his way from his perfect view of how he gradually sank inside of you. As he continued to stare down at where your bodies fused, practically hypnotised, a hoarse and desperate growl then rippled from his lungs as a dark look glazed over his primal gaze, “fucking take it.”

Peeking down as his friend frantically worked on the home stretch, you heard Bucky click his tongue against his teeth, “damn… there goes my fifty bucks…” 

Only offering the other man a brief glance, Steve murmured, “wait, you got in on the bet?” 

“Well yeah,” Bucky shrugged in return, “and I bet on that she’d bleed, so that means I just lost fifty fucking dollars,” he let out a sigh before casting a dreamy gaze down towards your cunt, “would have been hot though…” 

Only a chuckle reverberated in Steve as a reaction before his primal grip on the back of your thighs flexed as he then snapped his hips and shoved the rest of his length into your warmth, effectively shoving all of the air from your lungs as he filled you up completely. 

“Fuck…” Steve moaned as he greedily rutted impossibly deep, the very tip of him kissing a part of you that you didn’t even know existed, “pick up her head, Buck. I want her to watch me fuck her,” he groaned before you felt your dizzy head get scooped up and tilted forward so that your hazy eyes could catch sight of the staggering feat as well, “look at that, baby,” you let out a strangled cry as you saw him withdraw till only the fat head remained, “watch that dick go into you,” he groaned as jammed his himself back inside and a desperate rhythm was swiftly sparked, “watch yourself take it,” you felt his heavy sack tap against your skin, slick from your cream that was leaking out of you as he continuously made you lose your breath from just how deep he repeatedly buried himself, “watch that little pussy finally get fucked…” 

You weren’t sure if his efforts truly were that harsh or if it was just your body that registered it as such, as it would probably still think it not gentle enough if he simply froze up entirely, as his mere girth, motionless and stretching you out, would also be too much for your inexperience to handle.  

“Oh, we should let the others come up and watch,” Bucky suggested as his hands then travelled down to grasp your hips, “just look at how well you’re doing,” his hold on you then began to push you back against Steve’s efforts, before your stepbrother’s body locked up and he let his friend fuck you back onto his cock, shoving your hips so harshly that you feared they might bruise, “being so fucking good for us.” 

The dull outline of Steve’s length bulged in your belly each time Bucky rammed you down against him, fucking you on his friend’s dick in a manner that you would when you one day finally learned to do it yourself and meet his thrusts halfway, though for now, all you could manage to do was lay there and take it, though even that turned out to be a much more daunting task than you’d imagined. 

And when Steve finally reached his peak and began to pump you full of his cum, so did your body unravel like a tightly stretched rubber band snapping back into place. Your pussy began to squirt as it strangled Steve’s cock so fiercely that the throbbing girth slipped out entirely, though one of Bucky’s hands swiftly soared down to messily rub against your cunt and make you keep gushing till all of your stepbrother’s load had leaked out as well. 

Weakly, your frame shook violently when Bucky finally ceased his touch with one final tap against your aching clit, expelling one last trickle before you felt him slip out from behind you. 

“No, wait,” you hazily managed to squeak as you watched him trade places with the other frat guy, swiftly freeing his own length before he caught one of your trembling legs to scoot you even closer, “I can’t–, I’m not ready for you yet, I could barely take Steve, it’s–, u-uh!” your plea swiftly crumbled and your face screwed up as Bucky then began to nudge his staggering size against your still achingly fluttering opening.  

You might have had better luck fitting your own small fist inside of you than already taking the monstrous cock that Bucky was cursed with. 

“Just relax–, fuck,” he grumbled as all of his attempts continuously failed, forcefully pressing the large tip against your entrance without as much as a centimetre sinking inside of your warmth, “goddamn it…” 

“She’ll get there one day, Buck,” Steve clapped his palm against his friend’s broad shoulder, “I’ll make sure of it,” he promised before suggesting through his still ragged intakes of air, “how about for now you just teach her how to take it down her throat?”

Meeting the other man’s eye, he then tilted his head and exhaled, “well, I guess that’s not the worst constellation prize…” before they flipped your exhausted frame around till your head was hanging off the edge of the bed and only supported by Bucky’s fingers, tangled in your hair.

Hazily, you blinked up at the thick girth bobbing just above your face, and you felt the mattress briefly dip as Steve crawled over you till his strong thighs stood rooted on either side of your hips. 

“Open up,” Bucky tapped the hefty weight of himself against your closed mouth. 

“What–,” you tried to ask before your voice was muffled as he seized the opportunity as soon as you parted your lips to feed you the fat tip of his cock. 

“There you go…” he exhaled as your lips stretched around the girth of him, the corners burning from just how thick he was, “watch those teeth, baby,” and your whimpers vibrated against his hardness as your silky tongue retroactively fluttered against him, “that’s it, just relax for me…”

You couldn’t think, scarcely even breathe, as he then began to fuck your face, gradually working himself deeper into your mouth till the tip of him was bruising your throat as you gurgled around him. 

With spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth as you gagged around his big dick, you felt one of Steve’s hands migrate away from the softness of your tits to instead brush a thumb against the imprint of his friend’s colossal size in your throat. 

And once Bucky had coaxed you into swallowing his load, gently caressing your cheek till you complied, he kneeled down and pressed his lips against your own, still messy and shiny from how he had made you drool. But when the kiss eventually ended and you lifted your spinning head slightly to blink over at Steve, still weighing your body down as he straddled your lap, a shaky whimper tumbled from your lips as your eyes swiftly fluttered down from his own and landed on his cock, once again throbbing and hard as a rock in his fist. 

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[toxicanonymity]

zebra print (one shot), 18+

PAIRING: Joel x fem reader x Tommy

LENGTH: 5.7k words

SAME AU AS: Leopard Print | Cheetah Print

MASTERLISTS: Joel | Tommy | Both Together

SUMMARY: You run into the Miller Brothers in public, and after joel feels you up at a beachside bar, they consensually kidnap you.

CONTENT: 18+ exhibitionism, drugs, cockwarming, PIV, dirty talk, degradation, breeding kink, MFM, double penetration (double vaginal, and two-hole), possessive/brotherly bickering while inside you, cum inflation, magical lactation.

You were walking along the ocean in front of a beachside bar when someone catcalled. "Hey sweetheart,” Tommy lifted his chin with a smile. His hair was pulled back.

Joel turned around toward the beach and lowered his sunglasses. “Speak of the devil… Get the fuck over here.”

When you approached, Tommy checked you out  “Look at you, lookin’ all snatched.”

“Lookin' empty,” Joel corrected him with a chuckle. “Nah, you always look perfect, baby. C'mere.” He tapped his thigh for you to sit in his lap.

“We're just takin' a load of here for a minute…. Gonna go home and grill up our catch,” Joel said. "And you're comin’ with us.”

“Oh, I drove, I have my car here,” you said. 

“We'll bring ya back to get your car.”

"Okay," You agreed, hormones surging. 

“Good girl.” Joel's big hands wandered as soon as you were on his lap, caressing your thigh, then squeezing it... feeling your breasts as they talked. 

They had gone fishing, and they regaled you with tales of everything they caught, most of which they released, some of which was on ice in the back of their truck.

Joel slid his hand under your bathing suit top, shamelessly feeling you up the bar. He fed you a sweet potato fry, then wiped his hand on your thigh before stuffing his hand down your bottoms. “Mmm, there she is. C'mere.” He used his hand cupping your cunt to pull you against his hardening package.

Tommy went to close out their tab, and you were drenching your swimsuit bottoms with Joel's big hand cupping your heat and tickling your dripping hole. The waiter tried not to look. Joel's touch and praise had you woozy with hormones as memories came rushing back to your body. 

“You're okay, c'mere,” Joel said and pulled you back again. Your head leaned against his, and he sucked at your neck. “Don't worry, Tommy's gonna drive. I gotta spend some quality time in my girl.”

Walking to their truck with Joel’s arm around you felt like having a royal escort. He told you how much he missed you and squeezed the thick silhouette of his cock. “Fuck, if i dont get in that soon, I’m gonna lose it.” His pace quickened until he was opening the passenger door for himself. 

And before he sat, he tugged his swim trunks down to pull out his cock.

He spat on his tip and pumped it a couple of times, then held it with his left hand for you and extended his right hand for balance to help you step into the truck.

“How do you want me?” You asked, and he let out a low whistle.

“Lady's choice, as long as I'm balls deep in that pussy.” 

You faced the windshield.

“Chair position, I like it,” Joel said and gave your ass a little smack. He pulled down your swim trunks, and you braced your hands on the glovebox. While you were bent over, he fingered you from the back and teased your hole, making a wet sound as he smacked his finger against your entrance. 

“Oh yeah, she knows daddy's here,” he said. “Daddy's comin’, sugar.” He used both thumbs to spread your cheeks and your lips.

“Gimme a minute,” he said, and positioned you so he could bury his face in your ass. He tongued and lapped at your cunt, slid his tongue up, and teased your other hole.

When Tommy put the truck in reverse, Joel took his face out of your ass. “All right, sweetheart,” he held his cock and put an arm around you, with his free hand on your mound. He rubbed tip of his fat cock through the slick of your cunt and his saliva, then pushed it into you. He held your hips as you sank onto it with a moan. 

“Yeah, there she is,” Joel greeted your cunt. “Hell yeah…..She miss me?” 

“Yeah,” you replied with a soft chuckle, insides softly rearranging themselves around his girth. 

“Well, shit. You got my number. You shoulda said somethin’,” Joel said. 

Tommy chuckled. “That ain't her job, brother. You better take care of her without her havin’ to ask. Ain't that right, sweetheart?” 

“Mind your own business,” Joel said.

Tommy retorted, “Hey, that asshole is my business. I want to be allllll up in that business tonight.” 

“Yeah, we'll see about that,” Joel said, “keep runnin’ your mouth.”

Joel held his arm around you like a seatbelt, fondling your breasts, kissing the nape of your neck. 

“Fuck, you feel good,” he said. “Now that we know what that pussy can do, I think about it all the damn time.”

Stuffed with Joel's cock on his lap: it was everything you'd been wanting. Everything you needed. So many times you'd thought about them… about how nasty and degrading they were…. about them stuffing you full….about fucking Joel in the parking lot…. and on the beach…. and both their cocks crammed in your poor little hole….. you thought about the way you blew up last time. For days, you probably could have passed as pregnant. And each time a little bit of their cum seeped out, part of you was a little sad.

After a few days, you had gotten in the habit of having your hand on your belly so often that you found your hand going there and felt surprised to find nothing. 

God, you want him to cum and fill you up again, stretch your limits....

For the time being, you were content to sit on his cock in the car. He loosened your bathing suit top so that it was floating futilely above his hands as he played with your tits. 

“Fuck, you're so damn hot, baby….. hottest chick on the beach, swear to god….”

“Sure is,” Tommy added.

“You take a pregnancy test?” Joel asked. 

“No, but i got my period,” you told him.

“Oh, we got work to do….” Joel said. “One of these days, it'll take…. one of these days, and then i'll bring you home with us. And you don't gotta worry about nothin’ but carryin’my baby.

God damn, I want that bad.” He slid his hand down into your swimsuit bottoms and fondled your clit.

His hips rocked, slow and gentle. “Ain't gonna blow my load,” he said. “Wanna see how big it can be if I wait…..Tryin’ to figure out if ya get more from a few loads or one big one.”

Tommy piped in, “He hadn't come in a few days. He was moanin’ and groanin’ about the mornin’ wood…. Wouldn't touch it, though. Said he was savin’ it for you.”

Your heart swelled.  

“That's why I ain't fuckin’ ya right now,” Joel said. “Just need ya to sit pretty on me as long as we can….. But I figure it ain't cheatin’if I make *you* come, right? I think that's allowed, ain't it?”

“Course it is,” Tommy said. “Just try not to blow your load when she does.”

“Yeah,” Joel agreed. “Just give me a little squeeze, darlin’, when ya come. Just let that pussy hug me, gimme little massage…. That's all I need. Let her hug him with that tight little pussy before we stretch it out again.”

Joel was playing with your clit, and nuzzling your neck, and with his cock secure in your cunt; you began to succumb to the tension swelling in your gut. 

“God, it's hard, Joel,” you marveled at his cock.  

“Oh, baby I know…. Just wanna fill you the fuck up, much as you can take,” he says, “fuck, I want you so bad, baby….. want everyone to see what we do together…. want everyone to see you swole up with my cum, swole up with my baby.”

Tommy took this literally and rolled down the window, making your face tingle at the exposure. 

You were pretty sure this wasn't legal, but you didn't say anything. What was the worst that could happen? 

“We're good,” Tommy said. “I was in the Rangers with the police chief. Saved his life.”

“Nice work,” you replied, bringing a glint of pride to his eyes. He didn't always feel good about his Army days, but right now, it was paying off. 

“How's it feelin’, sugar?” Tommy asked. 

“Uggg, so good,” you answered. “This cock is so big and hard. Packs me just right.”

“Yeah, that's right,” Joel said, breathing a little heavier, rubbing your clit. “That's what ya need, baby. Packed tight, full of cock, full of cum… That's how it should be.”

At a red light, they rolled to a stop, and a truck next to you inched forward. A man was staring. He was old enough to be the Miller brothers’ father. A thought that made your tits feel like they were floating with pleasure. 

Joel removed his right hand from between your legs and used your slippery arousal to massage your nipple right in clear view of the passenger window. You moaned with your head back and Joel said, “Fuck yeah,” meanwhile sliding his left hand between your legs - he knew how bad you needed it. Never wanted to leave you unattended. 

The man in the next truck, the man you imagined as Grandpa Miller, undid his belt and his hand began to move on his lap. He kept rhythm with the way you moved with Joel's touch….

Your spine arched as Joel touched you, and his lips grazed your ear, and his hips just barely moved under you. “Oh, fuck,” Joel moaned, rubbing your clit and circling your nipple. You're gonna come for me, baby. “Gonna give this big cock a little hug. Come on.”

“Yeah,” you agreed.

“Come on, sugar… come for daddy… you know you wanna…”

You closed your eyes and let go, marveling at the power of the pleasure. Your legs trembled while your walls convulsed on his cock. Your thigh muscles gave out under the pleasure and the dead weight sank you a smidgen further down, over-filling you with his length

“Oh, FUCK,” you gasped.

“Attagirl, yeah,” Joel said, “Oh, goddammit,” he pulled you hard against his chest, one hand grasping your breast.

You regained enough control to adjust your hips and relieve the pressure of his tip against the door to your womb.

Joel sucked in air through his teeth, and took a long, controlled breath. 

“You good, Man?” Tommy asked with a smile in his voice, and lifted his hips out of the seat, drawing your eyes to Tommy's bulging swim trunks as he fetched something out of his pocket. 

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Joel cursed. Ain't gonna do it,” he said. He took a deep breath and held it.

Tommy quickly lit a joint and handed it to Joel. Joel took a puff. His dick twitched faintly, but didn't unleash the typical blast of warmth.  A slight dribble was felt in your depths, but he'd managed not to full-on explode. 

He relaxed back against the seat and caressed your cheek, then released the smoke from his mouth in a long sigh. Indirectly, you breathed some of it in. 

“Woo!” Joel exclaimed. “Still in business….. Ohhhh, that was good, sugar…. Fuck, you feel good… really feel like heaven, baby. MMM,”

He slapped the center arm rest for emphasis. “Fuck!” He took a deep breath and let it out with another sigh. “Never felt a pussy like it…. Tight and soft…”

“Hungry too,” Tommy added. “Mmm…. Hey sugar, you like that last time? Like havin’ two cocks stuffed up in ya?”

“That was wild,” you replied. "Nothing like it."

Tommy asked, “Which ya like better? One in the back or both in that hungry pussy?” 

“I don't know,” you laughed and asked, “What are you into, Tommy?” 

“Well, I gotta say, the ass has an edge ‘cause I don't gotta worry ‘bout comin’ inside and havin’ Joel lose his shit,” he playfully hit Joel's shoulder with the back of his hand, then took the joint from him. “But it felt really fuckin’ good bein’ crammed in that pussy together.” Tommy took a hit, then looked at the joint. 

“Drive,” Joel commanded, and Tommy muttered, “Oh, shit,” letting the smoke out of his mouth as he noticed the green light. ‘Grandpa Miller’ had already driven away with one hand out his window, wiping something on the side of his car.  

Tommy rolled your window up halfway. Then Joel took the joint back from him and brought it to your lips. You took a tiny puff. 

"Aww," Tommy cooed.

Joel pinched out the joint and handed it back. Tommy tucked it behind his ear.

“Hey baby?” Joel said, "What if we were parked just like this, and some guy came up and asked if he could feel your tits, just for a second?”

“What would I do?” You asked. 

“Yeah.”

“Guess I'd say I'm busy,” you answered. I'd say he's gotta get in line.”

The three of you laughed, and you added, “oh my gosh,” with a chuckle. 

“And what if it was alright with me?” Joel asked. “Hmm?” He squeezed both your breasts and at a hornier pitch, asked, “What if it turned me on?” 

“Just for some guy to feel my tits? That's it?”You asked. 

“Yeah,” Joel confirmed, “Just to cop a feel.” 

“Fine, I guess,” you agreed. 

Joel groaned into your hair then kissed behind your ear and whispered, “That's my girl.” He kept the fantasy going: “Fuck yeah. He can….he can do it while you’re sittin’ right on this dick… and I'll feel how much ya like it or not.”

“What does this guy look like?” You teasingly asked. 

“Hot,” Tommy answered. “Hot, with a big cock….So you'd do it?”  

“Sure,” you answered. “Hot with a big cock? No brainer.”

“That's what I'm talkin’ ‘bout,” Joel’s cock twitched inside you. “Hell yeah, baby…. Oh, God.”

He was about to bite his knuckle but bit your shoulder instead. 

----

When you arrived at their residence, it was a lot nicer than you expected. It was gated, sprawling, with a pool. And that was exactly where you were headed. A pool with a couple of cabanas, cushions, pillows, nice grills. 

“Is this like….. a country club?” you asked. 

“Nah, this is *our* house, baby. The Miller Den…”

“Oh, wow… your business must be doing great.”

“What’d I tell ya, pumpkin? Don't gotta worry ‘bout nothin’.”

Tommy parked the truck and cracked the windows. Joel fumbled with the door handle and Tommy said “I got it,” then jogged around to the passenger door and opened it.  

“C’mere, sugar,” Tommy murmured and held your hand. Joel angled his hips toward the door and lifted, giving you a boost. Then his cock slid out of you as Tommy eased you into his own big arms. 

“Mm,” Tommy hummed into your hair as he helped you out of the truck, facing him. He set you on your own two feet, but kept his strong arms around you until he knew you were okay to stand. “You good?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” you sighed.

Joel made you your favorite drink at their outdoor bar and you enjoyed it in the pool while Tommy unloaded the truck and cleaned the fish. 

After dinner and dessert, Joel laid back under the cabana and gave his massive erection a squeeze through his shorts before pulling them off and letting his cock stand proud and free. You pulled your bottoms off, too. “Alright, c’mere,” he beckoned you into straddling him. You held his shaft near the base to run his tip through your slick, then fit him for entry and sank down. His hands on your hips helped you slide right onto his cock. “Ohh God,” he sighed, watching his length swallowed to the hilt. “Tommy, I dunno how much longer I can go like this,” he admitted. 

“You got this, Joel. You got this,” Tommy encouraged him.

“Alright,” Joel agreed, “maybe if we, uh, talk or somethin’.” 

“Yeah,” Tommy said. “Hey, the surf's supposed to be great next week…” 

They talked about the weather, movies, shows, places they’d like to visit–they included you in that part. Tommy sat back on a neighboring mattress under the same cabana, facing the same direction as Joel with a front row seat of you speared on his brother’s big dick. The three of you talked casually, and Tommy was looking around, not totally fixed on the beautiful sight before him. He adjusted himself a couple of times. He muttered “damn,” when you stretched and yawned. But as time went on, his eyes had trouble pulling away from your body, and his hands had trouble pulling away from his crotch. And you had trouble not watching him be driven crazy with arousal. The flow of conversation began to falter with the distraction. 

Tommy asked, “How ‘bout about a little DP, darlin’? Whatcha think, Joel?” 

“Fuck,” Joel said, “That’ll do me in… that what ya want, baby?”

You replied, “Just want your cum.” 

“Oh, you’re gonna get it, sugar…”

You yawned and said, “good,” with your eyes half closed. 

Joel asked, “Think ya can fall asleep like this, baby?”

“Yeah, I'm already about to.”

“How ‘bout we take a little nap…give my balls a little more time to load up. Hm?”

You yawned again, “yeah,” and tucked your head into his neck. 

“Good girl,” Joel said, then asked Tommy to get him another beer. 

You fell asleep on Joel's cock with not a care in the world. He caressed your head and your back, and got Tommy to drape your dark zebra print sarong over the two of you as a light, soft blanket. You hummed in contentment, and soon you were both asleep. 

As the two of you dozed and the sun finished setting, Tommy went in to retrieve some lube, and he carefully positioned a chair facing the cabana about 10 meters away. He pulled down his swim trunks, spread his thighs, and jacked off as quietly as he could. When he imagined you packed with both their cocks, goosebumps prickled his forearms. “Fuck,” he whispered. You were so perfect. He dared to imagine himself balls deep in your cunt, unleashing a massive load, and, “oh, shit–ohh,” the split-second forbidden fantasy made him bust sooner than he meant to.

When you woke up, your hips were already moving, and so were Joel's. You were grinding against him, about to come, and in sync with your rhythm, he was thrusting up into you, grunting and moaning. 

“Ohh, fuck,” he cursed, half awake. “Oh, god,” his voice was weak. 

He shuddered and slammed his hips upward, then his dick twitched, his fingers dug into your ass, and he pulled you down. Grinding upward with his cock seated deep inside, he gave you his mega load, one massive throb at a time.

Your orgasm overtook you, and your convulsions mixed with his, milking his cock even better. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel panted, “Oh, fuck yeah…. Goddamn, baby.”

Thick ropes of silk shot into your womb, one after another.

Each one seemed to last two seconds, with not even a second in between. Nearly a continuous fountain. 

“Jesus,” you cursed. “Ugh–Mmm.” 

“Yeah,” he breathed, still not empty. “Fill you up real good…mm. Sit up for me, darlin’.”

You sat up and held your breasts. His face was wrecked and pink. His neck vein bulged. The chain around his neck pooled between his collarbone and throat. His mouth hung half open as he watched your lower abdomen. You were fuller and fuller. 

“Oh, goddammit,” he grumbled, once his ropes lost volume. By then they were closer to typical volume for a man whose orgasm just started.  

You put a hand on your belly, looked down, and moaned at the swelling. 

“Oh yeah,” he said. “Fuck, you're goddamn perfect.” His hips slowed once he was finally drained. 

You were left bloated with his titan load, both hands on your tummy, pressing your fingers slightly into your skin, watching your belly move just slightly with the pressure. It felt wild, familiar, and remarkably arousing.

“God damn, you're hot,” he said with you still seated on his cock. He caressed your belly and said, “We got more work to do, but fuck, you look good, baby.” He admired you with his own skin glowing and reminded you, “You’re here all night.”

“More work to dol?” Tommy asked. 

“Ain't as much cum this time, but look at this pretty girl….” 

“It's still a big fuckin’ load, man,” Tommy said.

Joel got his phone and said, “yeah, but…” as he pulled up the picture of you from last time after the beach tent. He looked back and forth between you and his phone. “Look how much bigger she is here,” he showed Tommy.

Tommy speculated, “Maybe it's ‘cause she had both of us.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Joel acknowledged.

“You wanna find out?” Tommy asked, rubbing his cock over his swim trunks. 

Joel asked you, “Whatcha think, baby?” 

“Sure, If it turns you on.” Your reply was cool, but Tommy clocked the look in your eye and nodded, “Yeah, she wants it.” 

Tommy dropped his shorts, and Joel teased, “just like that.” 

“Oh yeah,” Tommy chuckled as he slathered his erection with lube. 

Tommy got behind you, straddling Joel's knees on the cabana mattress. He placed both hands on your ass cheeks and kissed your asshole, then murmured, “There she is. There’s my sweet little hole…. Nice and tight. Could never fit two dicks in here,” he chuckled. “Sure am glad your pussy can take it. Didn't hurt ya, did we?” 

“No,” you answered. 

Tommy asked, “What’s your cock think, Joel? She recovered from last time?”

“Oh yeah,” Joel said. 

Tommy pressed his hard, wet cock against your ass and asked, “Wanna try that again before I take your ass?” 

The question made you spasm on Joel's cock. 

“Pussy says yes,” Joel chuckled. “C'mere, baby.” 

You leaned forward to give Tommy access.

Tommy slathered his fingers in lube and wedged them in above Joel's cock. “Shit, man. You're still that hard?” 

“I am now,” Joel said. “Mm.” 

Tommy added a little more lube, pumped his cock, and said, “Alright now.” He used his finger and thumb to help squeeze his tip into your pussy, right on top of Joel's cock.

The familiar stretch burned in a way you could never replicate on your own. 

“Woo,” Tommy said, “Look at her take. Shit, you were born to take two cocks, baby…” 

He pushed in bit by bit, and fuck, it was such a good burn. It faded faster than you wanted it to, then came back as Tommy pushed further. He coaxed you, “Yeah, nice and open, come on….. Relax, honey…. Breathe for me… know you can take a little more of this dick… You can take us, sweetheart.”

Joel was breathing heavily, holding your thighs. 

You took a deep breath, then when you exhaled, Tommy shoved his cock in. 

“Oh, god damn,” he cursed, and Joel moaned under him.” Fuck, fuck,” Tommy said. 

“When's the last time you came?” Joel asked him. “You jack off this mornin’?” 

“No,” Tommy said. “The more you talked about holdin’ off….”

“God damn it, Tommy,” Joel said. “I swear to God, if you come.” 

“I know,” Tommy said and took a deep breath then let it out with a sigh. “I won't. I got my own hole to fill up…. and I'm gonna do it good.” Tommy rocked his hips, massaging your walls and Joel's cock with each little thrust. “Good girl,” he praised you.

“Yeah, atta girl,” Joel said.

Tommy marveled “What a woman. God damn, Joel,” then moaned, “Oh, God.” 

Joel observed, “You got that look on your face, man…”

“Fuck, alright,” Tommy said, then squirted lube on his thumb to work your ass open. He took a deep, calming breath, and pulled his dick out of your packed cunt, or else the way your ass clenched around his digit might have made him cum. 

His broad tip pushed into your asshole, then the rest of his cock slid in. “Yeah,” Tommy breathed. “Good lord.” 

“Doin’ good, baby?” Joel asked, and it felt like you might overheat. 

“H-Hot,” you answered with a little shudder. Your nipples poked into Tommy's palms, making him moan and squeeze your tits. 

Joel grabbed his cold beer and sat up to lift the bottle to your lips. He poured you a sip and you swallowed, with some of it dribbling down your face.

Tommy asked Joel, “How many ropes ya think I got?” then, with his hands on your bloated middle, “Shit, how many ropes is this?”  

“Fuck, I forgot to count,” Joel replied. “I reckon nine or ten.”

“Big ones,” you added. 

“Oh, she likes the big ones,” Tommy chuckled, then pulled his hips back. After pushing his shaft fully I'm again, he said, “Damn, she can really take it in the ass. Joel, you ever fuck her ass yet?”

“Nah,” Joel answered. "Got my hole right here."

“Yeah,” Tommy agreed. “Too busy tryin’ to get her pregnant, huh?”

“Yeah, I ain't wastin’ a drop,” Joel said, then asked, “How's it feel? Nice an’ tight?”  

“Fuck yeah,” Tommy said. “Tight but easy. She’s a sweet little hole, don't fight back.” 

You pushed your rear back against Tommy and he marveled, “Fuck, she swallowed it right up. Good girl.”

“Yeah, she's a good girl,” Joel agreed. 

Their cocks were separated only by your thin, stretched wall. Joel's hips rolled under you, and Tommy fucked you nice and slow. “ooh-wee.” 

Stuffed in both holes–something you’d imagined every day since that time on the beach, never really able to conjure the feeling, even using your biggest dildo while wearing your biggest butt plug. You'd made yourself cum that way, but it was nothing like being between these brothers. Their hands all over you. Their grunts and moans, praise and encouragement. Their sturdy bodies. Their warm, throbbing cocks, rigid and massive. Their spongy, pliant heads, engorged by their desire for *you*. 

“God damn, I could get used to this,” Tommy gave your ass a little slap. 

“Are you holdin’ out?”Joel asked after a minute, eager to see you full of more cum. 

“Chill, man,” Tommy answered. “Gimme a minute. Just enjoy it, man.” Tommy squeezed your hips and murmured, “He just wants to see ya all swollen….

But I'm in it for this…” He brought his face closer and whispered, “Love the way ya feel, baby.” 

“Watch it,” Joel cautioned him with a thrust to remind him you whose girl you were. 

“Mmm” you locked your eyes with Joel's and let your tits down to graze his chest. 

“C'mere,” Joel whispered and pulled your face to his. He kissed you deep and his cock thickened in your cunt. 

Tommy sighed and gripped your hips with his big hands.

Joel was at full mast and began to rock his hips with more power. His lips broke from yours with a moan. 

“Goddamn,” Tommy muttered, barely able to contain himself. 

“Feel good?” Joel asked. 

“Yeah,” you answered.

“What's it feel like?”

“Like I'm just two holes.” Your pussy quivered at your own words.

“Oh, fuck,” Joel said.

“Yeah, like I'm just two holes, stuffed full... like, you're just gonna keep packing and packing me.”

“God damn right,” Joel agreed.

“Yeah, that's right,” Tommy chimed in. 

“Feels like I can't fit anything else in my body…. like if I drank more than a sip, I'd get heartburn.”

“How your tits feel, baby?” Joel asked. 

“Tender, swollen.” 

“God damn,” Joel said. “Perfect, ain't it? This whole thing we got goin’ on….” He moved his hips more gently, and his breath was becoming more labored with pleasure. “This time…. I want ya to send a selfie every day. You got that? One a day, at least, so I can see how you're doin’.” 

“Okay,” you agreed.

“And I wanna see too,” Tommy added. 

“You wanna see too?” Joel asked. “I don't think so, man.”

“I ain't even blown my load yet,” Tommy reminded Joel. “If ya want me to stuff her with it, you better let me see too.”

“You serious?” Joel asked, nostrils flaring as he glared behind you at his brother.

“What's the big deal?” Tommy asked. 

“She's mine is the big deal,” Joel said. “And that oughta mean somethin’.”

“You're the only one who gets to cum in her cunt,” Tommy reminded him. 

“Watch your step or both holes are mine,” Joel warned. It was becoming heated between them. 

“Yeah…. maybe, maybe you're right,” Tommy said, “She's your girl, I shouldn't be filling her with my cum… Sorry, sugar.” He began to withdraw his cock, and just as the crown of his tip hitched on your tight ring of muscle, Joel protested, “Don't let her down.” 

Tommy repeated, “Sorry, sweetheart. You heard him… you're his.”

“Goddamn right, she's mine,” Joel said.

Tommy argued, “What's a goddamn picture gotta do with bein’ yours, huh? If it's my cum, too, I wanna see how she carries it…. I ain't trying to steal your girl, man.”

Tommy was just sitting there with the tip of his cock in your ass, not moving his hips as he argued with Joel. You were moving a little with the motion of Joel's hips under you, and your ass was slightly lifting Tommy's cock in a joystick motion each time. 

“Alright, how's this,” Joel offered. “We can FaceTime her when we're together.”

“Yeah, okay,” Tommy agreed, then asked you, “Whatcha think about that, sugar?” 

“Sure,” you agreed. 

“But I want the pictures too,” Joel said.

“okay, okay,” you agreed and slightly pushed back on Tommy, moving Joel's cock.

“Ooh-wee,” Tommy smiled. “Fuck, she hungry.” He slid all the way into you with a moan.

“God, I love the way it looks on you,” Joel gushed. “The way what looks?” You asked.

“Bein’ stuffed with our cocks and cum….. love the way your face looks, the way your body looks. God damn perfect.” Joel's hips began to roll with more power, fucking you softly from the bottom as Tommy filled your ass with his cock.

“Alright,” Tommy said, “I'll give ya what ya want, but you gotta tell me what ya want, sugar.” 

“Fill me up,” you pleaded, “Come in me. Come in my ass.”

“Oh fuck,” Tommy moaned, and with a few sharp thrusts, his balls began to unload. His cock twitched in your ass. He held your hips and groaned, turning into a delirious chuckle. “Oh yeah,” he said. 

Joel counted. “Four. Five.”

“Ugh,” Tommy moaned. 

“Six.”

“Oh yeah,” Tommy's hips came to a rest flush against your ass as he dumped the rest of his load. “Seven,” he moaned. 

Your lower body tightened and you began to come, lightheaded from pleasure.

“Yeah, let go,” Joel said. “So perfect,” he encouraged you. “God, I love that face. Fuck.”

You grinded into Joel's pubic bone as your climax throbbed through your clit, radiated through your core and ass, making pleasure possess your whole body.

“Oh God,” you moaned, feeling the pressure of your belly against Joel's lower abdomen. Joel raised his hands to rest on your sides, with the heels of his palms feeling your belly.

“Hell yeah.” And then, with an upward punch of his hips, he began to come again. His cock twitched, and he groaned. He emptied his seed so deep inside you.

“God Almighty,” Tommy said, overstimulated by your trembling cunt and Joel's throbbing cock through your thin membrane.

Joel thrust low and smooth and slid his hands to feel your belly more. The pressure increased in your gut with each rope, and it stretched your skin. Heavy and swollen, you had to imagine it was what pregnancy felt like. 

The pressure became too much, and you had to start sitting up more.

Joel's eyes poured over you in delight. “Perfect,” he repeated. “Gorgeous.” And with his eyes on your tits, you looked down to see how swollen they were. Tommy reached around and held your heavy breasts as Joel finished coming. Tommy massaged your breasts, and the slightest bit of warm milk squirted right at Joel and hit his hairline. 

“Oh, fuck,” Joel sat more upright, drooling for a taste. Your belly pushed into his stomach as Tommy fed him your swollen tit. Joel latched on and sucked what milk he could out out of you. His cock twitched again. 

His lips broke away to marvel, “Jesus… I don't wanna suck ya dry… Wanna enjoy the view for a few hours.” 

But for the sake of balance, he took a few seconds to suckle at your other breast. When he let your sensitive nipple out of his mouth, some drops dribbled down onto the curve of your belly. 

“God, I'm wrecked,” he admitted. “Shit… feel like I'm gonna leave my whole cock in your cunt,” he laughed. “I know that's what she wants, huh?”

“How are we gonna do this,” Tommy asked. 

“Uhh,” Joel thought, “Go ahead and pull out, lay her down, put her feet up for a while. Yeah, get some pillows”

Tommy pulled out and got a pillow from the neighboring mattress, then went to gather more from another cabana. 

You were seated on Joel's cock, and he had his arms around you when he leaned forward and said, “Alright baby, I'm gonna lay ya down.” He gently lowered you into lying on your back, then put you in a mating press. “Good girl, perfect angel.”

When he was satisfied with the amount of pillows Tommy brought back, Joel eased himself out of you and stacked pillows under your knees. 

“How much was it leakin’ last time?” Joel asked. 

“A little,” you said.

“But when I saw you at the store later, you were still pumped full,” Joel recalled.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Didn't really shrink for a day or two.”

“Alright. Good….. I’m so proud of you,” Joel said. “You did real good, sugar,” Tommy added.

“Such a good girl,” Joel brushed hair out of your face. “Yeah, that's my good girl.”

Leopard Print fam: @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @iamasaddie @flawssy-227 @tateypots @selfproclaimed-moviecritic @archive-of-ink @mysterialee @professionalpromqueen @greensabereyesforcevictim @umnitsa @fandomunite2107

Thank you for reading 🖤🖤🖤 if you enjoyed it plz let me know!

[solxamber]

Receiving Gifts on White Day with: Savanaclaw

go here for other dorms

Leona Kingscholar

Leona is leaning against your doorframe like he’s been there for hours—which, knowing him, means he probably showed up ten minutes ago and decided waiting was too much effort. He’s got a small, hastily wrapped box in one hand and the absolute laziest expression on his face.

“Tch. You’re finally awake,” he drawls, tilting his head as if he wasn’t the one who decided to show up at an ungodly hour. “Took you long enough.”

You rub the sleep from your eyes, glancing at the box. “You’re one to talk. Did you just roll out of bed and come straight here?”

Leona smirks, tossing the box at you with a careless flick of his wrist. “What do you think?”

You barely catch it in time, noting the messily tied ribbon and the clear signs of last-minute effort. “Wow. Such romance. Did you bite this?”

He huffs, crossing his arms. “I don’t see you complaining.”

Curious, you open the box—and immediately pause. Inside is an assortment of high-quality chocolates, but tucked beneath them is… his scarf. The one he wears all the time. The one that still smells exactly like him.

Your heart stutters. “Leona, is this—?”

“Just take it,” he grumbles, looking off to the side. “If you’re gonna get all sentimental, at least do it quietly.”

Oh, he’s so embarrassed. You grin, stepping closer and very deliberately wrapping his scarf around your neck. “Guess I’ll have to wear this all the time now.”

His ears twitch. His tail flicks. And then—before you can react—he yanks you forward by the scarf, leaning in until his lips are just by your ear.

“You better,” he murmurs, voice low and dangerously smooth.

….You’re not surviving this day.

Ruggie Bucchi

The moment you open the door, Ruggie is already eating one of the chocolates meant for you.

“‘Morning, sweetpea,” he greets around a mouthful, grinning like he hasn’t just committed high treason.

You stare at him. Stare at the half-empty box in his hands. Stare harder.

“Ruggie.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you eating my White Day chocolates?”

He gasps—actually gasps—like you just falsely accused him of a crime. “Hey, c’mon. Ours. These are ours.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re literally eating them right now.”

Ruggie snickers, popping another one into his mouth before handing over what’s left of the box. “I was just making sure they weren’t poisoned! ‘Cause I love you and all.”

You take the box, scanning the tragic remains of what was probably very expensive chocolate. “I swear, I’m putting a lock on my snacks.”

“Pfft, like that’s gonna stop me.” Then—before you can react—he leans in and nuzzles his nose against your cheek, grinning against your skin. “Besides, don’t I deserve a little boyfriend tax for all my hard work?”

“What hard work?”

“Being this charming.”

You stare at him. Contemplate throwing a chocolate at his face. Instead, you pop one into your mouth and deliberately hum in satisfaction.

Ruggie immediately pouts. “Oiii, c’mon, don’t be mean—”

“Partner tax,” you say smugly.

His ears flick back. Then, with a very exaggerated sigh, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in.

“…Guess I’ll just have to earn some extra payment, huh?”

….You walked right into that one.

Jack Howl

Jack stands at your door, gripping a small box like it’s a life-or-death mission. His ears twitch, tail swishing slightly, as he very seriously presents his offering.

“Here,” he says gruffly, shoving it forward with concerning force.

You take it before he accidentally crushes it. “Jack, relax. It’s just White Day.”

He immediately stiffens. “I am relaxed.”

You squint. “You look like you’re about to fight someone.”

Jack sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… wanted to get it right.”

Oh.

You open the box and find neatly arranged chocolates—clearly homemade, slightly uneven but very carefully decorated. Your chest tightens. You pop one into your mouth, savoring the rich, slightly bitter flavor.

“They’re perfect,” you say honestly, watching as Jack’s tail wags before he can stop it.

“…Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.” Then, on impulse, you grab his collar and pull him close, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

Immediate system shutdown.

Jack freezes. His cheek turn scarlet. His tail spasms like a broken antenna.

“I—You—”

You grin. “Happy White Day, Jack.”

He covers his face with both hands. He's never gonna recover from this.

You win.

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