#might as well tag these with his name so you enjoy as well

[yvesette]

BUZZCUT. | ── [ j.jh ]

── ⭒ staring .ᐟ ౨ৎ  jaehyun x afab!reader

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀　 　₊　˙　✃ ⋆　 † ⠀๋⠀₊ -

SUMMARY: ── in a bittersweet farewell, the night before your close childhood friend jaehyun leaves for military service you both take a walk along the han river as well as navigate your complicated feelings for each other.

GENRE: friends to lovers, SMUT (18+, mdni), angst, fluff, idol!jaehyun CW/TAGS: dom!jaehyun, sub!reader, oral (f receiving), fingering, piv sex, spanking, hair pulling, reader is refered to as a girl, praising, bigdick!jaehyun WORDS | 6.8k A/N | this is in honor of jaehyun's enlistment - enjoy !!

‪　 ゛ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ♡ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𓈒 ◌ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

── the night is cool against your skin, a gentle breeze wrapping around you as you walk down the narrow streets, winding your way toward the river. your steps are deliberate, even though your heart thunders against your chest. you’re thinking too much, and you know it, letting each thought flicker and fold over the last like waves, endless and unknowable, churning somewhere deep inside you.

it’s been a long time, you think. a long time since you first saw him, all easy smiles and casual charm. a long time since you first felt that jolt of something you didn’t yet have a name for but that, in hindsight, you recognize as love. you’ve never told him, not once—not in all these years of close calls and almosts, of lingering touches and moments that you always held on to longer than you should have.

you inhale deeply, trying to slow the pace of your thoughts, but each step closer only winds you tighter. the han river glimmers faintly in the distance, a line of silver beneath the night sky. and there, by the water’s edge, is jaehyun. he’s leaning against the railing, looking out at the river, his face partially shadowed but somehow softer, framed by the quiet of the night. the sight of him, so familiar yet distant, almost pulls you to a stop.

there’s something about him tonight—a weight you hadn’t noticed before. it’s as if he, too, is looking to hold on to everything here, everything he’s about to leave behind. and yet, he doesn’t turn to look at you until you’re almost right next to him, his gaze steady as he catches your eye.

“you made it,” he says, that soft, reassuring warmth in his voice. his smile, though, is smaller than usual, like there’s something unsaid between you both, lingering just below the surface.

“i made it,” you answer, and you try to keep your tone light, but it comes out quiet, touched by an edge you didn’t mean to reveal. you’ve imagined this moment—this last chance to see him—over and over in your head, each version of it different. and yet, standing here now, everything you thought you might say seems to slip through your fingers.

he watches you carefully, that subtle intensity in his gaze, as if he’s trying to memorize the way you look, standing there in the glow of the distant city lights.

he clears his throat, breaking the silence as you both start walking along the path that follows the river's edge. “how’ve you been?” he asks, giving you a sidelong glance. it’s a simple question, and yet the softness of his tone makes it feel like he’s asking for something more, like he’s trying to make up for all the times he’s missed out on in the last few months.

you smile, shrugging lightly. “same old, same old. work, school—nothing too exciting. but you, mr. idol, you’ve been busy.” jaehyun chuckles, the sound low and warm, as he brushes his hair back with one hand. “yeah, i guess that’s one way to put it.” he looks down at his shoes for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “we were doing concerts. that’s why i’ve been, you know… hard to reach.”

you nod, already knowing. his life has been moving at a different pace—one that has taken him across oceans, into arenas filled with fans chanting his name. it’s a reality you’ve grown used to, but still, there’s a tiny ache whenever you remember how separate his world can sometimes feel from yours. but tonight, it’s as if none of that matters. tonight, he’s here, and there’s only the two of you.

“still can’t believe that’s real,” you say, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “remember when you wouldn’t even sing in front of me?”

jaehyun laughs, shaking his head. “i was terrible back then. don’t lie to me.”

“no, i’m serious!” you grin, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “all those late nights, trying to get you to sing while we were ‘studying’ for exams. it was tragic—”

“oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad,” he interrupts, nudging you back with a smile that’s both embarrassed and pleased. “you’re making me sound hopeless.”

“hopeless? maybe a little,” you tease, watching his face light up in a way that feels achingly familiar, like something you want to freeze in time. “but i guess you’ve come a long way, huh?”

he nods, a soft hum in his voice. “feels like forever ago, though. remember the first time we stayed out all night? trying to find that coffee shop you swore was ‘just around the corner’?”

you laugh, covering your mouth at the memory. “and we got so lost! i was ready to give up, but you…” you trail off, looking at him with that same warmth, thinking of the way he had insisted on keeping on, even when you both had practically wandered into the outskirts of the city.

“i wasn’t about to let you down,” he finishes, a hint of pride in his voice.

the two of you continue walking, memories spilling out as naturally as the river flowing beside you. nights spent at convenience stores with cheap ramyeon and cola; that one time he convinced you to go to karaoke and made up for years of not singing; all the secrets you whispered between laughter and yawns, half-asleep in the early morning light.

and yet, despite the familiarity, tonight is different. the laughter dies down quicker, and each memory feels like a bittersweet treasure, something you’re both afraid to hold too tightly for fear it will slip away. you’re acutely aware of every step, every glance, every brush of his shoulder against yours. it’s all slipping through your fingers, each second a reminder that you’re both on the brink of a sort-of goodbye.

the quiet stretches out between you as you walk, and though his hand rests loosely in his pocket, jaehyun’s other hand rises to press his fingertips to his mouth, lost in thought. his gaze wanders out over the river, his usual warmth dimming, replaced by something heavier. it lingers in the air around him, that tension, that uncertainty—like the night itself is waiting to exhale.

“honestly… i don’t know what to expect.” his voice is lower now, almost a whisper that the wind could easily snatch away. “everyone says you just get through it. that it’s over before you know it. but…” he trails off, his words floating into the dark like something fragile and fleeting. “it’s strange, thinking that life just… pauses. for two years.”

you walk a few more paces, silent, each step a reminder of time slipping by too fast. you look at him out of the corner of your eye, trying to hold onto the image: the faint furrow of his brow, the set of his jaw, that expression he wears when he’s trying to seem brave but doesn’t quite manage it. and your own heart twists at the sight of him—of jaehyun, here with you, with all the things you’ve never said pressing against your chest. but you push it down, that ache, until it’s tucked somewhere deep inside you. instead, you reach out, letting your hand rest on his arm, feeling the warmth of him under your fingertips.

“you’ll be okay yuno,” you say quietly, feeling the words reverberate through you, anchoring you to this moment. “you’ve always found a way to be.”

he looks at you then, really looks at you, like he’s seeing something for the first time. there’s a hint of disbelief in his eyes, almost as if he wants to question what you’ve just said, even using his real name - to pick it apart. but he doesn’t. he just nods, a faint, grateful smile tracing his lips.

“sometimes i think you believe in me more than i do,” he murmurs. “like you’ve always known something i haven’t.”

you want to say something to that, to answer, to reach through all these walls of silence that have built up between you over the years, but you don’t. instead, you only look back at him, holding your smile steady, letting the quiet carry all the things you can’t say.

after a moment, you find a bench tucked away at the edge of the path, overlooking the river’s glimmering surface. the world around you fades into the background, and for a brief moment, it’s just the two of you, suspended in this fragile stillness. as you sit, jaehyun turns toward you, his fingers brushing against yours before he takes your hand fully, squeezing it gently.

“i don’t know what i’d do without you,” he admits, his voice steady but low, a hint of vulnerability hidden beneath the surface.

your heart races at the contact, warmth spreading through you like a soft glow. you’re on the verge of confessing everything—the weight of your feelings that you’ve kept hidden, the love that has thrived in the silence between you. but you hold back, unwilling to add any more emotional weight to a goodbye that’s already too heavy. instead, you meet his gaze, trying to capture this moment, every detail of him etched in your mind—his soft features, the way his eyes reflect the shimmering river, the gentle press of his hand against yours.

jaehyun clears his throat, breaking the quiet between you. “it’s getting cold,” he says, his voice soft, almost reluctant. “i’ll walk you home.”

you nod, and without another word, you both stand, falling into step beside each other. the silence between you now is thick, layered with the things neither of you have said, and each step you take feels heavier, like the night itself is pressing down, reminding you that this is the last time—for a good while—that you’ll have him beside you like this.

the streets are emptier now, just the distant glow of streetlights casting long shadows as you walk side by side. you can feel the tension building, each step drawing you closer to the inevitable. your hand brushes his once, and though neither of you speaks, there’s a quiet comfort in that brief, familiar contact. when you finally reach your apartment, you stop, and jaehyun does too. he stands there, looking at you with an expression you can’t quite read—something mingling with the sadness in his eyes, a softness, a question, maybe. and he hesitates, his hand hovering just beside yours as if he wants to reach for you, as if he’s searching for something in your face that he’s not sure he’ll find.

jaehyun’s gaze flickers, lingering on you as if he’s committing every detail to memory. he rubs the back of his neck, breaking eye contact for a second before looking back at you.

“so…” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper, carrying the weight of all the unspoken words between you. “guess this is it, huh?” you force a smile, nodding even though it feels like your chest is tightening. “yeah. tomorrow.”

he bites his lip, his eyes searching yours, like he’s waiting for you to say something, anything to make this moment last longer. “it’s just… i don’t know. doesn’t feel real yet.”

you swallow, the words caught in your throat. “it doesn’t,” you reply softly, your voice barely steady. “we’ll still call and text all the time…and if you want we can hang out every other weekend or something.”

jaehyun’s expression softens, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small, sad smile. “you’ve been there for everything,” he says, his voice quiet, almost as if he’s admitting a secret. “since we were kids. it’s hard to think of… going through something without you around.”

your heart races at his words, and you force yourself to hold his gaze, even though every instinct tells you to look away, to hide what you’re feeling. “i’ll still be here,” you say, and the promise feels fragile, yet unbreakable, hanging in the space between you.

he lets out a small breath, his hand lifting as if on instinct, brushing your cheek, his fingers barely grazing your skin. “i know you will.” his voice catches, and for a moment, you see something raw in his eyes—a tenderness that feels almost too much to bear.

you stand there, suspended in the silence that follows, the weight of everything unsaid filling the space between you. and before you can second-guess yourself, before you can think of all the reasons not to, you close the distance, pressing your lips to his. his hand slips around to the back of your neck, gentle but firm, as if grounding you both in this moment, and he kisses you back, slow and unhurried, like he, too, is trying to capture everything he feels in this one breath, this one touch. the kiss starts softly, a gentle brush of lips that feels almost tentative, as if you’re both testing the waters of this new territory. but as the world around you fades, that initial hesitation melts away. the warmth of his hand cradling your neck sends a shiver down your spine, igniting something deep within you that has long been simmering beneath the surface.

jaehyun's lips are sweet, tinged with the warmth of honey and a hint of smoky undertones from the cigarette he smoked earlier. his lips move against yours with increasing urgency, a mix of longing and a bittersweet awareness that time is slipping away. you lean into him, feeling the solid weight of him against you, and it’s as if every memory, every unspoken word, pours into that moment—every shared glance, every moment of laughter—colliding in time.

jaehyun deepens the kiss, tilting his head slightly, and you feel his breath against your skin, warm and inviting, igniting a fire that spreads through you. it’s a heady mix of sweetness and heat, and you find yourself responding instinctively, matching his intensity, losing yourself in the sensation of him.

your heart races as you feel his fingers slide into your hair, pulling you closer, anchoring you to him as if he fears letting go. the world around you blurs, the distant sounds of the city fading into a dull hum, leaving only the two of you, caught in this fragile moment that feels both infinite and fleeting.

breathless, you pull away just enough to rest your forehead against his, the warmth of his skin lingering. your eyes meet, and in that charged silence, a shared understanding pulses between you—fragile yet undeniable. with a shaky breath, you fumble for your keys, the metal cool against your palm as you unlock the door, hands trembling. jaehyun steps in behind you, his presence a comforting weight, solid and unwavering in the dim light.

the moment the door closes, he's there, pulling you close again. his lips find yours in the dim light of your apartment, urgent and needy. you melt into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he walks you backwards toward the couch. the familiar scent of his cologne envelops you, a heady mix of leather and lillies that makes your head spin. your legs hit the edge of the couch, and jaehyun gently lowers you onto the soft cushions. he follows, his body a comforting weight above you as he settles on top of you.

“god, i’ll miss this,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your jaw. then, without another word, he kisses down your neck, his lips trailing warmth that ignites every nerve in your body. you gasp softly, feeling the heat radiate from him, his touch igniting a fire deep within you.

“jaehyun…” you breathe, your voice a mixture of longing and urgency. “i wanna remember this.”

his kisses trail back to your lips, deepening as he pours everything he feels into the moment, as if to make sure you both carry it with you, etched into your hearts. “are you sure?” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, “that you want this.”

you nod, your eyes locked with his. "i promise," you whisper back, “i’ve thought about this for so long.”

jaehyun’s eyes soften, a blend of tenderness and desire flickering within their depths. he shifts slightly, fingers finding the hem of his shirt, and you hold your breath as he pulls it over his head, revealing the smooth contours of his chest and abs. the dim light from the street outside casts shadows that accentuate every curve, transforming him into a living, breathing sculpture.

without thinking, your hands reach out, tracing the lines of his torso as if drawn by an invisible thread. his skin is warm beneath your fingertips, a tangible warmth that makes your heart race. you marvel at the firmness of his abdomen, the subtle ridges etched from countless hours of dance practice and grueling workouts.

a soft hitch escapes jaehyun’s breath at your touch, his gaze darkening with desire as he watches you explore. hesitantly, you reach for the hem of your sweater. jaehyun's eyes follow your movements as you slowly pull it up and over your head, revealing the delicate lace of your bra underneath. the cool air of the apartment raises goosebumps on your skin.

jaehyun's gaze is reverent as he takes in the sight of you. his fingertips ghost along your collarbone, tracing a feather-light path down to the swell of your breasts. you shiver at his touch.

“is this okay?” he asks softly, his hands hovering at the clasp of your bra, the question hanging in the air like a fragile promise. you nod, unable to find your voice, the weight of his gaze anchoring you as he leans closer, a whisper of breath brushing against your skin.

with gentle fingers, jaehyun unhooks your bra, his touch reverent as he slides the straps down your shoulders. the fabric falls away, revealing your breasts to his gaze. his eyes darken with desire as he takes in the sight of you, vulnerable yet unafraid beneath him.

"so fucking pretty," he murmurs, voice husky with emotion. he lowers his head, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of your neck. his lips trail downward, leaving a path of warmth across your collarbone. when he reaches your breast, he pauses, his breath hot against your skin. then his mouth closes around your nipple, drawing a gasp from your lips.

his tongue swirls patterns as he sucks gently, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. one hand cups your other breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak. you arch into him, a gasp escaping your lips. one of his hands kneads your other breast as he lavishes attention on the first. the dual sensations make your head spin. jaehyun releases your tit with a soft pop, his eyes meeting yours as he begins to trail kisses down your body. his lips brush against your sternum, then trace a path down the center of your abdomen. each touch is feather-light yet charged, sending shivers cascading through you.

he takes his time, mapping the landscape of your skin with worshipful attention. his tongue dips into the hollow of your navel, eliciting a soft gasp. you feel the curve of his smile against your skin as he continues lower, his teeth lightly scraping your sensitive flesh.

jaehyun's fingers trace along the waistband of your skirt, his touch light as a whisper. he looks up at you, eyes dark with desire but still seeking permission. "can i take this off?" he asks softly, his voice low and loving.

you nod, breath catching in your throat as he slowly unzips your skirt. he slides it down your legs, his hands caressing your thighs as he goes. the cool air raises goosebumps on your newly exposed skin.

jaehyun's gaze travels over you reverently, taking in every curve and dip of your body. his fingers ghost along the lace edge of your panties, barely touching. "you're so beautiful," he murmurs, “let me take care of you baby.”

he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, just above your knee. then another, slightly higher. his lips trail a path of fire up your limbs and when he reaches the edge of your panties, he pauses, looking up at you with dark, desire-filled eyes. "god, you're so wet," he murmurs, his voice low and cursing. "fucking soaked, all for me.."

his fingers trace along the damp lace, barely ghosting over your most sensitive areas. even that faint touch sends sparks of pleasure coursing through you. you squirm slightly, desperate for more contact and whimper.

"such pretty noises," he purrs. "i wonder how you'll sound when i really touch you."

"please," you whimper, not even caring how needy you sound.

a slow smile spreads across jaehyun's face. "please what?" he asks, his tone commanding. "tell me what you want, baby."

"touch me," you gasp. "please, i need you to touch me."

your breath catches as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties. with agonizing slowness, he slides them down your legs, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. the fabric clings to your damp skin as he peels it away, exposing you fully to his hungry gaze.

jaehyun's eyes roam over you, drinking in every detail. his hands caress your thigh, “perfect fucking pussy, better than i ever imagined..” he praises, before his tongue finally makes contact with your folds, you gasp at the sensation. he starts with long, slow licks, savoring your taste as he explores every inch. his hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as he works.

jaehyun's tongue swirls around your clit before sucking gently, sending waves of pleasure through you. he alternates between broad strokes and focused attention, building your arousal steadily higher. you thread your fingers through his hair, guiding him where you need him most.

jaehyun holds your trembling thighs firmly apart, his strong hands steady and warm against your skin. his touch is gentle yet insistent, opening you up to his hungry gaze. jaehyun's tongue delves deeper, parting your folds and exploring every sensitive ridge and valley. he hums softly against you, the vibrations sending shivers through your core. his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, anchoring you as pleasure builds within you.

you feel the heat of his breath against your most intimate places as he works, alternating between broad strokes of his tongue and focused attention on your clit. each pass sends sparks of sensation coursing through you. your hips begin to rock involuntarily, seeking more friction.

"such a good girl," jaehyun murmurs against you, his voice low and husky. "i love how you taste."

he slides one finger inside you, curling it upwards as his tongue continues to lavish attention on your clit. the dual sensations make you gasp, your back arching off the couch and you curse.

jaehyun slides one hand up your body to cup your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. the added stimulation heightens every sensation, making you gasp and writhe beneath him. your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close as your hips begin to move of their own accord.

you arch your back, grinding against his mouth as the tension mounts. soft whimpers and gasps fall from your lips, growing more desperate as you climb higher. jaehyun redoubles his efforts, sucking your clit between his lips as he slides another finger inside you. the dual stimulation has you seeing stars. his fingers curl, finding that perfect spot inside you as his tongue lashes your clit. you cry out, your hips bucking against his face as the first waves of orgasm crash over you. jaehyun doesn’t stop, only slows his efforts as you come down from your high. after you catch your breath, he moves his head from your thighs and moves up over you to kiss you.

jaehyun's lips meet yours in a deep, sensual kiss that is almost like a thank-you from you. you taste yourself on his tongue - tangy and sweet with a hint of musk. as he presses his body closer, you feel the hard length of his cock through his sweatpants, hot and insistent against your thigh. the thin fabric does little to conceal his arousal. the heat of him sears into your skin, igniting a fresh wave of desire low in your belly. your hands roam over the planes of his back, tracing the lean muscles there. his skin is fever-warm, and you pull back from kissing him to look down at the print of him through his pants. you make eye contact, and there’s a question hanging in the air along with the heavy breathing of you both.

you break the beat of silence, “i want to,” you say, giving him the permission that he needed.

jaehyun pulls away slightly, his eyes still locked on yours, the heat of the moment lingering in the air. with a quick, decisive movement, he gets up from the couch, the dim light casting soft shadows over his form.

“condom?” he asks.

“it’s in my bedside table,” you reply, watching him as he nods and strides toward the bedroom.

as he disappears from view, the atmosphere shifts. you stare up at the ceiling, feeling the room spin slightly, an unexpected loneliness settling in without his presence. the faint sounds of the city outside filter in, but they feel distant and hollow compared to the warmth he brought just moments before.

a part of you aches for him, for that connection you’ve both been dancing around for so long. time stretches as you wait, heart pounding in your chest, your thoughts swirling with anticipation and uncertainty.

finally, he returns, the confident smile back on his lips, and in his hand is the small foil wrapper. the moment he steps into the light, the heaviness in the air dissipates, replaced by a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. you sit up as he slips down his sweatpants and boxers.

as jaehyun's sweatpants fall away, your breath catches in your throat. his cock springs free, thick and hard, jutting proudly from a nest of dark curls. your eyes widen, taking in the impressive sight before you. he's long - longer than you expected - and girthy, the shaft curved slightly upward. the head is flushed a deep pink, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. the sight of him, fully aroused and wanting you, sends a fresh wave of heat through your core.

you swallow hard, a mix of desire and nervousness fluttering in your stomach as he gives it a few pumps, wrapping his veiny hands around his length and then slipping the condom on.

you lay back against the arm of the couch, heart pounding as jaehyun moves over you. his eyes are dark with desire as he positions himself between your spread legs. you feel exposed yet safe under his gaze.

jaehyun braces one hand beside your head, using the other to guide his cock to your entrance. the latex-covered tip brushes against your sensitive folds, making you gasp. he runs it up and down your slit, coating himself in your wetness. when he reaches your clit, he circles it slowly, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through you.

jaehyun's eyes lock with yours, his gaze intense and full of longing. the air between you is charged, buzzed with anticipation. he runs the tip of his cock along your folds once more, coating himself in your slick heat.

"god, you're so wet for me," he murmurs, his voice rough. "such a good fucking girl, all ready to take my cock.”

his praise sends a shiver down your spine, arousal pooling low in your belly. your breath catches in your throat as he begins to push forward, stretching you slowly inch by delicious inch. you gasp at the fullness, your body adjusting to accommodate his impressive girth. he moves with careful control, giving you time to adjust. when he's fully sheathed inside you, he pauses, letting you adjust to his size. his breath is ragged against your neck, his body trembling slightly with the effort of holding still. his breath ghosts over your skin as he leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "that's it, baby," he praises, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "take me in. you're doing so well."

you whimper softly, rocking your hips to encourage him to move. jaehyun takes the hint, slowly withdrawing before thrusting back in. he sets a steady rhythm, each stroke long and deep.

"fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his voice low and husky in your ear. "such a perfect little pussy, taking my cock just right."

jaehyun's thrusts become faster and more urgent, his hips snapping against yours with each movement. your bodies move together in a perfect rhythm, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

"yuno," you moan, your hands gripping onto his shoulders as he pounds into you, “feels so good, oh my god.” he leans down to capture your lips in a hungry kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as he continues to move inside you.

jaehyun's thrusts grow more powerful, driving deep into your core with each movement. the couch creaks softly beneath you as he picks up the pace. you feel every inch of him sliding in and out, the delicious friction sending waves of pleasure through your body.

his hands grip your hips tightly, angling you to hit that perfect spot inside. you cry out as he brushes against it, sparks of sensation radiating outward. jaehyun groans in response, the sound low and primal.

you can feel the tension building in your lower belly, a coiling heat that threatens to consume you. jaehyun must sense it too, because he redoubles his efforts. his hips snap against yours forcefully, driving into you with renewed vigor.

just as you're teetering on the edge, jaehyun slows his movements, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in torturously slowly. you whimper at the change of pace, your body aching for more. he repeats the motion several times, drawing out each thrust until you're writhing beneath him.

"please," you gasp, "i need more."

jaehyun kisses you deeply before pulling out completely. "turn around for me, baby," he murmurs, his voice insistent. you listen, adjusting your position until you’re on your hands and knees and he’s behind you.

jaehyun's hands grip your hips firmly as he positions himself behind you. you feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing you. he runs it along your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal.

the anticipation builds as he lines himself up, the tip just barely breaching you. before you can respond, jaehyun snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. you cry out at the sudden fullness, your fingers gripping the couch cushions tightly. he gives you only a moment to adjust before pulling back and slamming in again.

jaehyun sets a punishing pace, his hips pistoning against you. the new angle allows him to hit spots deep inside that make you see stars. jaehyun's hands grip your hips tightly as he pounds into you from behind, his movements growing more frenzied. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by your breathless moans and his low grunts.

"god, you feel so fucking good," he groans, his voice rough with desire. "my perfect baby, s-so fucking tight."

his praise sends shivers down your spine, arousal pooling low in your belly. you arch your back, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. the new angle allows him to hit even deeper, brushing against that spot inside you that makes you see stars. suddenly, jaehyun's hand comes down on your ass with a sharp crack. the sting blooms across your skin, quickly followed by a wave of heat. you arch your back, changing the angle slightly, and cry out as he hits that perfect spot deep inside you. jaehyun notices your reaction and adjusts his movements to hit that same spot with each thrust.

jaehyun's hand slides up your back, fingers tangling in your hair. he grips it firmly, tugging your head back as he continues to thrust into you. the slight pain mingles with pleasure, heightening every sensation. you gasp at the new angle, feeling him even deeper inside you.

"that's it, baby," he growls, his voice low and husky. "take it all for me." his hips snap against yours with renewed vigor, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. the couch creaks beneath you, the sound barely audible over your breathless moans and the slap of skin on skin.

jaehyun's grip on your hair tightens, pulling your head back further. “gonna c-come,” you manage to get out. the arch in your spine deepens, changing the angle just enough to hit that perfect spot inside you with every stroke.

“be a good fucking girl and come for me baby,” he says, leaning against your ear. stars explode behind your eyes as waves of pleasure crash over and you scream his name. jaehyun's grunts become more urgent as he continues to thrust into you, riding out your orgasm. he can feel you clenching tightly around him, milking him for all he's worth. with a loud groan, he follows you over the edge, his hips stuttering as he empties himself inside you.

jaehyun carefully pulls out, both of you wincing slightly at the loss of contact. he sits up, running a hand through his tousled hair as he catches his breath. the dim light from the street outside casts a soft glow on his skin, highlighting the sheen of sweat on his chest.

with a quiet grunt, he stands and makes his way to the small trash can beside the couch. you watch the play of muscles in his back and legs as he moves, admiring the lean strength of his body. he removes the condom and ties it off before tossing it in the bin.

jaehyun turns back to you, a soft smile playing on his lips. his hair is a mess, sticking up in wild tufts where you ran your fingers through it. he ruffles it absently, making it even more chaotic. you run a hand through his hair and scowl playfully when you feel how sweaty he is.

"gross," you tease, wiping your hand on his shirt. "you're all sticky."

jaehyun's smile widens, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "you weren't complaining a few minutes ago," he quips, his voice low, “and say goodbye to my hair - i’m shaving it tomorrow.”

you feel a blush creep up your neck, remembering the heated moments that led to his current disheveled state, and then a sadness rushes over you - that he’s leaving tomorrow. jaehyun notices your reaction and chuckles softly, pulling you closer. his arms wrap around your waist, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body as he grabs a blanket from the other side of the couch and places it over you both.

"what's on your mind, beautiful?" he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. you hesitate, not wanting to ruin the moment with your woeful thoughts.

"it's nothing," you reply, forcing a smile. but jaehyun knows you too well. his fingers gently tilt your chin up, brown eyes searching yours.

"tell me," he insists softly.

you sigh, your defenses crumbling under his gaze. "i just… i can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow. it feels too soon."

his expression shifts, the teasing glimmer fading as he brushes a thumb across your cheek. "yeah, i get it. it’s not easy."

"but what if things change?" you murmur, your heart tightening at the thought.

jaehyun raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "change? as in me forgetting you? not a chance. you think i could forget the girl who drove me crazy for all these years?"

you roll your eyes, but there’s a flutter of anticipation in your stomach. "well, you’re going to be busy with training and everything else."

he leans closer, his breath warm against your skin. "busy? sure. but you think i’ll be able to focus when all i can think about is you? not a chance."

your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help but tease back. "is that your way of saying you’ll miss me?"

jaehyun chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "it’s my way of saying you better miss me too. because i’m about to confess something."

you lean in, curiosity piqued. "what’s that?"

jaehyun's expression shifts, becoming more serious as he searches your eyes. "i’m in love with you. like, really in love with you. i think about you all the time—when i'm practicing, when i'm on stage, even when i'm just hanging out with the guys. it’s like you're always there in the back of my mind."

your breath catches, the weight of his words settling around you. "but… why didn’t you say anything before?"

he runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you’ve come to know well. "i didn’t want to ruin what we have. i thought maybe it was better to keep it as friends. but now? i want to try things with you. i want to see where this goes."

the confession hangs in the air between you, charged with possibility. you can feel your pulse quickening, excitement mingling with uncertainty. "and what if it doesn’t work out? the timing of this is just-"

jaehyun shakes his head, his brow furrowing slightly. "i don’t care about timing. what matters is how i feel, and i can’t let that go without saying something. i want you in my life, no matter how far apart we are."

you raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. "you make it sound so easy. you do realize i’m not just some object you can claim when you feel like it, right?"

he chuckles, leaning closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "oh, i’m fully aware. that’s why i’m trying to make my move before someone else scoops you up."

you laugh lightly, shaking your head. "good luck with that. i’m pretty sure no one else would bother trying."

"yeah? you think i’m the only one?" he teases, raising an eyebrow. "you must have a whole line of admirers waiting."

"right, because i’m just so irresistible," you reply, a smirk on your lips. "but let’s be real. you’re the only one who’s actually putting in the work."

jaehyun’s smile fades just a little as he leans back, studying you. "look, i know this isn’t easy. but i don’t want to just be some random fling. i want to be in your life, no matter where we are."

you take a breath, weighing his words. "and if things get complicated? you know they will."

he shrugs, unfazed. "shit’s always complicated. but i’d rather deal with that than let this slip away. you’re worth the trouble."

you meet his gaze, feeling the sincerity behind his words. "okay, i get it. but don’t think i’m going to make this easy for you."

he smirks, the challenge evident in his eyes. "i wouldn’t want it any other way."

-

the morning light filters in through the window, casting a soft glow on the cluttered room, and you find yourself perched on a stool, an electric razor in your hand, staring at jaehyun’s reflection in the bathroom mirror. he sits in a chair, a towel draped around his shoulders, looking slightly apprehensive but oddly amused by the situation.

“are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, a teasing lilt in his voice that doesn’t quite mask the tension beneath. you grip the razor tighter, suddenly aware of how little you know about haircuts.

“i kinda have to,” jaehyun replies, a hint of seriousness creeping into his tone, “no long hair.”

you nod and take a deep breath, bringing the razor closer. with a gentle buzz, the razor hums to life, and you press it against his scalp. the sound is oddly satisfying, a gentle roar that fills the small space, and you watch as a tuft of hair falls away, landing softly on the towel draped around his shoulders.

“oh my god!” you squeal, barely able to contain your dumbfoundedness. you can’t help but laugh at the sight of jaehyun’s shocked expression, a blend of surprise and amusement. you can’t stop the laughter bubbling up as you buzz away the rest of his hair, the once dark locks falling in tufts around him. each pass of the razor reveals more of his scalp, and soon he’s left with a clean, smooth surface that glints in the morning light.

jaehyun tilts his head, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “so, how do i look? sexy?”

the question hangs in the air, and without thinking, you lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips, the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips sending a rush of warmth through you. his surprise melts into a smile, and you pull away slightly, a grin still playing on your lips as you meet his gaze.

　　 　˳ 　 　౨౿　　⁺　　༄　　　༝　 　 end.

copywrite @yvesette 2024

[notpixl]

Beauty amidst Terror

Chapter 1: The Meeting

Summary:

You get called by The Knave for an important matter.

You recall the various memories during your stay in the House of the Hearth.

Did you mess up?

Did something happen?

Did someone cause trouble?

Or could it be the possibility that…

You’re getting fired?

Only one way to find out…

—————————

Notes:

Multi-part fic since I don’t want you all to be scrolling down

And uh…

Enjoy? I guess…?

—————————

Tags: GN!Reader, I know this looks like it came from ao3, I’ll crosspost this on ao3 and wattpad once all the chapters are done trust, Arlecchino/Reader, Reader is not Traveller, Reader is a Doctor, established relationship, Navia is ur bestie, Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet are wingbuddies, NAVIA AS WINGWOMAN, the children have names, I want her to smooch and kiss me and hug and and an, no beta we die like Tingyun, gap moe probably??? I might be lying once this is finished

—————————

“For the fifth time, Romeo…”

You gently pour Betadine on the kid’s knee, earning a yelp from the latter.

“Why do you insist on running around the house?”

“What else am I supposed to for the afternoon, sleep?”

The boy crosses his arms, clearly annoyed.

A sigh escapes your lips before patting their head.

“You come here one more time you’ll be having The Knave treat your injuries, okay?”

“…”

That’s one way to shut them up.

After covering his knee with dressing you stand up from your kneeling position, dusting your coat off before leading them to their room.

“Just… play with your toys. Read a book or something.”

You close the door, leaving you with the somewhat empty hallways of the Hearth.

Granted there were the maids and employees but you didn’t want to initiate- let alone start a conversation…

But aside from Socializing there’s other things to worry about!

Such as locking up the Clinic now that your shift is ove-

“Doctor?”

You stood still for a second, unresponsive.

“…doctor?”

“If I wasn’t used to your antics I’d be dead on the floor, Lynette…”

“Mm… is that why it took you a bit to respond?”

You turn to look at her, immediately noticing the bandaid on her cheek.

“…yes.”

She points at the bandaid, her expression still the same.

“Don’t worry. I did the steps necessary. Just like you said.”

You cross your arms, an eyebrow raised.

“Disinfectant as well?”

“Mm.”

A smile escapes your lips as you ruffle her hair, earning a silent pur.

“Father told me to escort you to her Office.”

“I-Is that so…?”

You nervously retract your arm in response to that information.

You? Being called by The Knave?

S-surely you didn’t do anything bad, right?

“Mm. Follow me.”

Lynette guides you to her Father’s Office, unconsciously walking beside her since you’re already being plagued with multiple questions and thoughts.

Was it the way you treated those kids Were the playful threats too much? Could it be the medicine you used? Maybe it’s you sometimes showing up late- No that shouldn’t be it…

Maybe… a raise-

No… doubt that’d happen…

…fired, maybe?

*Knock! Knock! Knock!*

“Come in.”

Lynette steps aside, being met with The Knave facing her back towards you.

The door shuts tight.

It’s just you and her.

There’s a sofa in front of her desk which beckons you to come closer.

But you have manners.

“Sit.”

You walked rather… slow? As if you’re prepared for any news you’ll be receiving this afternoon…

At least the sofa feels comfy.

Wait why’re you even thinking about that-

“…How’s your stay?”

“Uh… n-nice, I guess…”

Great. You’re stuttering. What a way to start, you.

“How were the kids?”

You gulp.

“Some are… manageable. Some need sweets… and some need a… little visit from The Knave…”

There’s a… slight pause.

“How are you feeling?”

“…Kind of tired? But I’ll be fine.”

“Even after hundreds upon hundreds of children dashing towards your Clinic?”

“Like I said… some are manageable… some need a little treat… and some definitely need a visit from-

“Me.”

“Yes…”

“Why?”

Oh now that is… tricky.

You look at your hands resting on your lap, unsure of what to say.

Oh screw it, you’re in too deep anyway.

“Because you look frightening.”

…

“Mm.”

A long silence ensues.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes slowly look up…

To meet those menacing- no, hypnotizing eyes of hers.

Trying to look at The Knave of all people is already a difficult task.

As if you shouldn’t even think of doing that.

But remaining eye contact with her?

You’ll be dead on the spot.

*Snap!*

“Are you still awake?”

“I- w-what…?”

You repeatedly blink, gaining your senses back.

“Good.”

Should you be scared?

Aroused?

Maybe even both??

“I’ll repeat it again.”

The Knave points at herself.

“Do I look frightening…?”

You stammer.

“N-no… to me at least.”

“…?”

That look of hers tells you to go on.

Not like you had any choice anyway.

“While others might look at you with fear or dread in mind… I fortunately got to see the… Beauty amidst this…”

“Go on.”

“…amidst this terrifying face of yours.”

The last part took… practically everything just to say it.

“…Leave.”

You picked yourself up and bolted away from The Knave’s sights, making sure to close the door quietly.

The fervent beats of your heart occupied your ears as you lean on the wall, shivering.

…

Wait…

Come to think of it…

Wasn’t that a compliment…?

You just flat out said that The Knave’s face is pretty!

You know what? Forget it. You should at least focus on getting out of here and not worry about interpretation…

—————

———

—————

Chat trust me on this I have it… somewhat planned out

I just want you all to have a peak instead of waiting a month huhu

It’ll end with the most sloppiest toppiest make out sessi

💥

🪦

[unhingedangstaddict]

I'll Hold Onto You While We Run Chap 14 Sneak Peak

(Another Tommy and Lucy scene seeing as so many people enjoy their friendship in this fic!!!)

Tommy pulled open the door, inviting Lucy in. “Hey, wasn’t expecting you. Everything okay?”

“Got some info for ya on the creep from the bar.” Lucy explained as she stepped inside. “Figured you might wanna chat too.”

Tommy nodded. “Alright. You hungry?” Tommy asked as he shut the door behind Lucy.

“Starved actually.” Lucy headed into the house and sat down at the kitchen table.

“Well lucky for you we’ve got a ton of Chinese leftovers. Wasn’t expecting such large portions and Evan didn’t seem too hungry.” Tommy began pulling out containers from the fridge and making up a plate for Lucy, skipping the things she didn’t like and piling on her favourites.

“I could kiss you.” Lucy professed dramatically.

“I still don’t get how you enjoy the leftovers cold, but if it makes you happy.” Tommy shrugged.

“It does.” Lucy confirmed with a grin as she moved one knee to her chest, foot on the seat of the chair. “Lauren always acted like I was committing a crime. But I like it cold, so if I can’t have it fresh-hot I’m not going to the extra effort to reheat it.”

“How are things going on the divorce front anyway? I’d imagine you being here isn’t exactly helping.” Tommy wondered.

“It’s definitely not making things easier, that’s for sure.” Lucy sighed.

“I’m sorry things turned out so shitty in the end.” Tommy said sincerely as he set Lucy’s plate down in front of her.

“It is what it is I guess.” Lucy shrugged. After taking a bite she pulled out her phone. “So the creep from the bar isn’t anyone we should have to worry about. He does have a rap sheet with local PD for harassment, one charge of indecent exposure-”

“Typical creep things.” Tommy nodded as he sat across from her.

“Yeah, but nothing to raise any real red flags that he could be a threat to Evan’s safety. He’s been banned from the bar and if he shows up again he’ll be leaving in cuffs.” Lucy told Tommy.

“Well that’s a relief.” Tommy decided. “Evan didn’t really tell me how he felt about the whole thing, but he looked so uncomfortable when I got to the bar.” Tommy shook his head.

“I wish I’d noticed it before you got there. We were just so busy.” Lucy frowned.

“It’s not your fault. It’s the creep who was harassing Evan’s fault.” Tommy reassured her. “I can’t help but feel guilty though.”

“Why do you feel guilty?” Lucy frowned.

Tommy was silent for a moment, before speaking in a hushed tone. “When Cameron proposed the cover story I didn’t like it. I should’ve fought harder, proposed something else instead. Because if the cover story wasn’t what it is, he never would’ve had ‘bisexual’ on that name tag and he wouldn’t have been harassed and I wouldn't have kissed him.”

“Tommy, you had no way of knowing that was going to happen.” Lucy started. “And I’m not at all saying it was Evan’s fault, but he didn’t write ‘bisexual’ on his name tag because he felt like he had to. He could’ve skipped it altogether, or written ‘taken’ on it instead. He wears a wedding ring and the guy harassed him anyway. It’s in no way your fault or Evan’s.”

Tommy nodded slightly. “Still feel bad about the kiss. We haven’t done anything like that before- I mean we haven’t needed to in order to keep our cover or anything. Never even discussed it.”

“Did he say he had a problem with it?” Lucy asked.

“Well no-”

“Was he mad at you for it?”

“No, but-”

“Did he tell you that you crossed a boundary?” Lucy wondered.

“No.” Tommy admitted.

[hotchfiles]

i just paused and went frame by frame to screenshot these for no reason other than

he looks soooooo prettyyyyyyyy omgggg

[an-theduckin]

Wait shit people might actually care about me

[pickled-flowers]

It might be I have anti social personality disorder 🤨

[sysig]

If your eye causes you to [fear], pluck it out (P1 | P2 | P3 | B) (Patreon)

[look-better-in-gold]

one thing i think one piece fans forget is that for most of the characters in it having the d initial doesn’t mean anything. we don’t find out it’s anything to think about until skypiea while robin is talking to gan fall (who met roger) and he says “d.? i see. one letter of his name… that can’t just be a coincidence!!!” and laughs. we only know what we do bc luffy’s the main character. i guess you could argue kureha saying roger’s name is gol d. roger at the end of drum counts but it’s brushed off and you’re not like. encouraged to think about why it’s different. she only knows this bc she’s a REALLY old lady who was around when roger first set out. and gan fall met roger. law knows about it from cora, Who Used To Be A Celestial Dragon. nobody who knows about it is a normal citizen. the world government wants it to be a secret. they successfully wiped out 100 years of history. “the will of d.” or those “eat like a d.” jokes are NOT something everyone is making!!! GUYS. WE ONLY KNOW BECAUSE WE’RE THE VIEWERS. WE’RE WATCHING THE MOST POWERFUL PEOPLE IN THE WORLD RIGHT NOW. NOT EVERYONE WILL KNOW WHAT THEY DO!!!!

[sunnami]

❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞

summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.

pairing/s: poly!marauders + lily x reader.

tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.

note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.

“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.” 

You blink. 

“Get the fuck out of my room!” 

Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making. 

At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls. 

“If you’d just let me explain, mum—!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!” 

“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze.  Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!” 

“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly. 

You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.” 

“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.” 

You slam his head against the wall.

Definitely the wrong thing to say. 

Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies. 

“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”  

Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.” 

“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—” 

“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.” 

Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you. 

(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”) 

“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—” 

“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.” 

You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?” 

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.” 

Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.” 

ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)

“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home. 

Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)  

“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that. 

(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”) 

You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.” 

Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze. 

Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.” 

“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much. 

“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile. 

Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.” 

“I know.” Harry grins. 

“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.” 

“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally. 

You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.” 

(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D’you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)  

The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow. 

You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers. 

“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.” 

“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.” 

You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”

James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you. 

“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast. 

“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”

(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.) 

Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?” 

James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.” 

Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you. 

“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.” 

“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze. 

“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.” 

“Oi!” 

Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.” 

James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.” 

“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary. 

“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.” 

(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”) 

“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.” 

“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.” 

Harry wants to barf, actually.

After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.

“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.

“Away from you, Potter!” 

And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”

Harry chortles.

“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?” 

He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically. 

“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”

It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name. 

“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.” James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now. 

“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?” 

James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”

Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.” 

Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right? 

Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.” 

“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily. 

Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.” 

Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.” 

“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable. 

“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced. 

“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear. 

“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.” 

Harry’s eye twitches. 

IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.” 

Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly. 

Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”

You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.” 

The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?” 

Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.” 

James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.” 

“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.” 

“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading. 

“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands. 

“In your dreams!” You shrill. 

You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.” 

Harry nods. “Is it time already?” 

“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.” 

“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?” 

Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?” 

“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.” 

Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?” 

Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?” 

“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat. 

You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.” 

Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this. 

“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes. 

To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.” 

“One date, then.” 

You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?” 

Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.” 

“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.” 

“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you. 

“And I want to—” 

“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.” 

You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—” 

“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.  

“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration. 

“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases. 

“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words. 

“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.” 

“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.” 

“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.

(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.) 

“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance. 

“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.” 

“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm. 

“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.” 

“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.” 

(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.” 

“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth. 

“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”

Remus doesn’t even have to think about it. 

He falls in love.) 

FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.

“Oi.” 

The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?” 

“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.” 

Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.” 

You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.” 

Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.” 

Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.

She stiffens.

Oh.

part two

[endlessthxxghts]

Biology

“Uncle”!Joel Miller x afab!reader | w/c: 5.4k

Summary: Joel hurt his back at work, so you've been helping him around the house until he heals.

Content/Warnings: able-bodied, female sex anatomy, and inherently fem!reader. No description of reader, everything is neutral (ex. “your bottoms,” “the curve of you” — nothing is specific in the way “you” are described). Age gap (reader early 20s, Joel in 50s). EXPLICIT MATERIAL PRESENT. HEED THE WARNINGS. WEIRD boundaries are crossed…you're not blood-related to Joel, but you were raised like you were. You call him “uncle.” Pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, etc.). Pussy pronouns (she). Innocent touches until it isn't. Sexual tension galore. Slight dub-con. Icky Joel. Icky reader. Pussy grinding. Dirty talk. Slight degradation (“bitch” is used only once). Multiple orgasms. P in V unprotected. Reader is on top. Lots of teasing about the nature of yours and Joel’s relationship. If there’s anything that should be up here but I missed or I made any improper tags, please let me know!

A/N: Hi, my loves! This is slightly different than what you’re used to coming from me… All I can say is, you’ve read the warnings! Don’t bite if it is not your flavor! But for those who do like, I really hope you enjoy! And to my love @strang3lov3, thank you for prompting this and encouraging this side of my brain to finally stop hiding in the shadows. And thank you for your eyes on this and the mood board as well. I love you.🩶

masterlist | notifs blog

“Hey, hon, when you headin’ over to uncle Joel’s?”

You glance at the timer on the oven. “In about ten minutes after these cookies cool. Need something from me?”

“Can ya grab my toolbox before ya leave? Forgot it there the other day,” he replies. “Figured you could get it since you’re already goin’ there today.”

“Sure thing. It’s not the heavy one, is it? Because I don’t know if that old man’s back is ready for a heavy lift like that yet.” The timer on the oven beeps. You slide on your oven mitts to pull the tray out. “Made two batches by the way. How many you want? I’m taking some to Uncle’s, too.” 

About a week ago, Joel had a contracting accident. Some newbie wasn’t watching the older man’s back as Joel climbed up a wobbly ladder, and the next moment, Joel’s footing slipped. He landed right on his lower back, a piece of wood perched on the ground, sitting at just the right spot on the floor to render him immobile. Tommy, Joel’s younger brother, and your father, his best friend since before you were born, are the only two Joel trusts to get the job done perfectly, so Joel put them two in charge until he heals. 

Bed rest, the doctor had ordered Joel, for at least three weeks. It’s been one so far, but with you offering to be his nurse — one that forces him to stay in bed unless he needs to eat or use the restroom — he thinks he just might be back to work by next week. If you’ll let him, that is. 

“No, it’s the small one, hon, you got it,” your father reassures you. He lovingly slaps his growing belly as the trays hit the kitchen counter. “Y’know, darlin’, ever since you moved back, I’ve been gainin’ some weight. Can’t imagine what you’re doin’ t’ Joel over there.”

Your lip pulls up in a smirk. “Joel is in good hands, y’know. And technically, I don’t have to leave you any,” you say with a challenging brow, pulling the cookie trays out of his reach. 

“No, no, I’m not sayin’ that,” your father’s eyebrows raise in worry. His daily cookie is very important to him. “You can leave me like… five… or six.” 

“I’m just gonna leave you a whole batch. The six are gonna be gone before I even leave the house,” you tell your father as his hand subconsciously reaches for the cookie tray. 

He scoffs, “Ya have no faith in me.”

“So what’s in your hand already?”

“Whatever,” he mumbles, walking away with a mouthful of warm cookie dough and melted milk chocolate chips. 

“Uh huh,” you yell back. “Gonna be leaving in just a sec. I’ll see you later.”

It takes less than ten minutes to get to your uncle’s house. You unlock the door using the spare key he gave you as a teenager, and immediately, nurse mode is activated. 

“Uncle Joel!” You yell, exasperated. He turns around from his place in the kitchen, painfully slow. He’s going to make his back worse. “What do you think you’re doing?” You place the fresh cookies on his dining table along with your keys. You cross your arms angrily for good measure. 

“My coffee’s cold. I was warmin’ it up,” he huffs, annoyed.

“Bed, please.” Your hands find his waist, and you guide him back to his room. “You know I’m here around this time. You didn’t wanna call me first to see where I was?”

You ease him in a sitting position at the edge of his bed. He grunts as his ass meets the mattress. He grumbles his response. “Need to start gettin’ back to everythin’ independently, y’know that, don’tcha?”

“Is your memory going with your back, too, unc?” 

“‘Scuse me?” He looks at you incredulously. 

“Three weeks were the doctor’s orders. Not one,” you tell him, putting your foot down. 

He lays himself down with another wince at the motion, no acknowledgement to your words. God, he’s so stubborn. 

“I’ll go make you a fresh cup,” you tell him, feeling sympathetic for the man. His work is his life, and it’s not going to get any easier with age. 

Making your way back to his kitchen, you wash out the coffee pitcher, replace the grounds and the filter, and do some light cleaning as you wait for the bitter, brown liquid to brew. 

It’s only been five minutes since you returned to the kitchen, and the painful moans and groans from his bedroom have only gotten louder. You search around the place and find the heat pack you bought a few days ago and pop it in the microwave. You grab some pain meds, fill up a glass of water, and just in time, the microwave sings to you, telling you your contents are ready. 

Ignoring the coffee for a moment, you make your way back to Joel’s bedroom. His eyes are closed, but his entire body is tensed up in pain. Poor guy. You knock at his door to catch his attention before entering. “Unc?”

One eye peels open. “Yes, nurse?”

“Funny.” A sarcastic laugh leaves your throat. “Come take these.”

He makes no move to get up. 

You set the painkillers and the water on his bedside table, the heat pack wedged underneath your armpit. You start to reach for Joel to help him up, but he stops you. “I got it,” he grunts. You let him have this win. 

You hand him the glass of water first, then the pills. He swallows the painkillers in one big gulp, swallowing down the rest of the water in another. He eyes the heat pack in your arm. 

“Do you want-”

“Yes,” he says immediately, reaching for the soft warmth. 

“Lay down first, I’ll put it underneath you.”

Without another word, he positions himself. His body jerks when your soft hand slips underneath his back, pushing him to lift a little while you slide the heat underneath. “This okay?”

“Mhm,” he forces out, eyes clamped shut. It’s not okay, you think. 

“How would you feel on your stomach?” you suggest. 

“Dunno. Never tried.”

“Well, then.” You set the heat pack down, and it’s your turn to crawl, uninvited, into his bed. You walk on your knees towards the opposite, unoccupied side, adjusting the pillows in a way you think might be the most comfortable. This isn’t your first rodeo dealing with an old man’s back; you’ve got your dad. This is, however, your first rodeo dealing with an old man more stubborn than a screaming goat not getting his way. “Come on.”

“No.” 

“What do you mean no?” 

“That ain’t gonna be comfortable.”

“How do you know?”

“I jus’ do.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and take a deep breath. “I swear to God. I will flip your ass over myself if I have to.”

“You’re bossy,�� he spits.

“So you’ve said.” 

Not giving him a chance to prepare, you hook your one hand at his side and your other on his hip, and you pull him towards you. It doesn’t fully flip him over, but it does the trick in getting him to finish the rest of the action himself — albeit, with a very strained yelp from the back of his throat. 

He groans for a few minutes more as you adjust some flat pillows underneath his belly and then prop the lukewarm heating back right at the base of his spine. You’ll probably have to heat it up in ten minutes again, but it’ll do for now. You stay in your spot for a minute, and already his pained noises begin to subside. 

“Better?” You know it is. You just want him to admit it. 

And when a single huff with zero protests from the grumpy man reverberates around the room, you know you’ve won this round. 

“I’ll go get your coffee now,” you hum. 

A soft rasp of your name has you spinning back around as you reach the room’s threshold. 

“Hm?”

“Thanks,” he tells you. 

“It’s what I’m here for, unc.”

You put his fresh cup of coffee in a thermos this time. You can’t imagine how often he’ll get up being in this position, but at least the freshness will be there with every sip he does end up taking. 

“How’s it going?” You ask him as you set his coffee nearby. You feel the heat pack on his spine, and it’s as you called it to be by now: room temperature. “Want me to reheat it?” 

“‘M okay,” he replies, voice groggy. He must’ve fallen asleep. 

“Okay.” You stand there for a moment. You can tell the heat helped, but his body isn’t entirely relaxed. He’s still tense, as if a nerve or something is being pinched. 

You recall your memory from a while ago before you moved back with your dad. Your brother, who is a mixed martial arts athlete, had a sparring session that hurt his back, nearly in the same area as Joel. He had you running his massage gun over his muscles nearly every night for a month straight. “It needs to uncoil somehow,” he told you. An idea crosses your mind then. 

You saunter to Joel’s en suite bathroom in search of some type of lubricant. Sitting loud and proud on the center of the bathroom counter is a little bottle of Equate’s Personal Liquid Lubricant. Your brain falters for a second, the bottle of lube throwing you off your original plan. That is absolutely not the kind of lubricant you were looking for. Shaking away the image from your mind, you bend down to look in the cabinets underneath. Bingo, a bottle of Aveeno body lotion. This should do. 

You invite yourself onto his bed for the second time today. “Let me give you a massage.”

“What?” His head turns to you now, utterly confused. He definitely heard you wrong, he thinks. 

“Let me give you a massage,” you repeat. “It’ll help.”

A massage actually does sound nice right now. But you’ve been nothing but bossy this last week while Joel lays here helplessly. He’s bored. And he’s had enough. “It ain’t gonna help.”

“How do you know?”

“I jus’ do.”

Jesus. Haven’t you had this conversation before? You mentally slap your forehead. Again, leaving him no other options, you reach for his flannel atop his shoulders and begin to pull them down. 

“Hey, hey, wait, now what in the hell-” He tries to stifle back a laugh as he wriggles in your hold, trying to playfully push you off without hurting himself more in the process. 

You quickly release his clothes, hands up in surrender where he can see them. You’re just realizing now just how forward your action must’ve been. “How am I gonna massage you-” 

The embarrassment written all over your face has Joel tearing up as he tries to hold his wheezing laugh in. With his eyebrow quirked at you, he responds, “If you wanted me naked, kiddo-”

“Jesus, ew! Really?” An unbearable heat spreads across your cheeks. Your eyes are downcast, looking everywhere else but him. “It- it’ll be better if I can directly touch-”

Only then do you feel the bed shaking with his laughter. He’s fucking with you. And here you were, about to offer something that would relieve a whole lot of pain. “Oh, fuck you,” you scoff, pulling yourself up and making your way off of his bed. 

“No, okay, wait,” he laughs, trying to catch his breath. “Jus’ messin’ with you, who am I to deny a massage?” He raises his eyebrows once, twice. Still messing with you, seeing how far his taunting with you can go. 

“You’re disgusting,” you deadpan. 

“‘M not the one tryin’ t’ massage her uncle,” Joel says as he attempts to shrug his shoulders at you.

“I’m gonna leave now.” One foot makes it to the ground before Joel speaks again. 

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, ya can’t take a joke? I’m only messin’ around. Come back. Gonna leave me hangin’? In pain? C’mon, nurse.” His tone falls softer, sweeter. You can hear the shit-eating grin in his words. And, fuck, why is it making you heat even further, in places beyond your face? In places you shouldn’t be?

“Fine,” you relent. “Stop saying weird shit then.” You still can’t look at him. Not after the way your body decided to react in the shift of energy. An abrupt shift of energy, as far as you can tell. 

He’s your dad’s best friend. Your uncle, for crying out loud. Not by blood, but still. There’s never been a feeling beyond that. Sure, you’ve had your silly little school girl crush on him during your young teenage years, but that was your hormones being your hormones. You grew out of them. Even your own father can’t deny the conventional attractiveness of his best friend. 

Plus, suggestive commentary is bound to make anyone feel hot. It’s basic biology. Your response is nothing. It doesn’t mean anything. At least, that’s what you convince yourself of when you climb back into your uncle’s— no, into Joel’s bed, trying to ignore the way your panties stick dutifully against your throbbing core.

Joel leans onto his side as you get yourself situated, unbuttoning the bottom half of his flannel, so you can flip up the bottom to reach his lower back. After the bottom half of the buttons are undone, he lays back on his front. “Here,” he calls your name. “Jus’ lift it up from the bottom.”

You scoot closer to him, standing on your knees, and you reach over to grab the hem of his flannel, pulling it up as gently as possible, exposing just enough to be able to reach the irritated areas. You frown at what you see. Inflamed skin, purples and yellows dancing all across his lower back, forcing him away from the very thing he lives for. He may have been a stubborn bitch this entire week, but that doesn’t stop the sympathy you feel for the man. 

You put some of the lotion in your hand, rubbing it between your two palms to warm it up a little. You place your hand on the side closest to you first, moving in circular motions and adjusting your pressure ever so often. “Let me know when the pressure is good.”

So far he hasn’t said much, a slight groan here, an exhale there. You feel a knot as you move lower, so you increase your pressure. You’re met with a literal moan, and you swear you have to bite back your own vocal response. “Fuck,” he sucks in a sharp breath. “Yeah, jus’ like that, ‘s perfect, darlin’.” 

“Okay,” you squeak, your thighs clenching together to attempt any kind of relief to the heat between your legs. 

After a few more passes over the area — and a few more indulgent, harder presses of your palm to pull more angelic sounds from him — you switch to the other side. Except, at this angle, you don’t really have as good an angle as you did before. Your leg swings over his ass, bracketing him in between your thighs, before you can even register the move your body just made. A soft gasp falls from your lips as you feel the new angle you’ve just given yourself. 

“Joel?” You call sweetly. Innocently.”I- I’m not hurting you or anything, am I?”

Hurting? No. Putting him through Hell? Close enough. 

Joel has done many questionable things in his lifetime. Getting involved with taken (married or otherwise) women, couples who wanted a third… Joel has lived through it all. Mainly in his younger years, but nevertheless. He has done and seen many things. But none of these things have ever included getting a fucking hard on for a girl — a woman? — he practically had a hand in raising. You call him uncle, for crying out loud. 

His physical response means nothing. It’s basic biology. The tender yet skilled touch of your warm hands directly against his even hotter skin, lighting every single nerve ending on fire, forcing the blood to course through his veins, to make its way down south— 

“Christ-” he snarls as you practically sit on him. His mouth shuts instantly as his eyes shoot open. He didn’t mean for that to come out. “Y-yeah,” he corrects. “‘M alright.” 

“Just- just let me know,” you tell him. He can hear the shake in your voice. He can tell biology is doing a number on you, too, based on your tone alone, if the heat engulfing his rear as you try your best not to make contact with it isn’t enough to go by. 

He focuses on his breathing as best he can as your hands push slightly past his jeans, getting underneath the seam of his boxers, and then immediately softening your touch as you run your fingers up his spine, awaking a chill he never knew was possible until now. You rub beyond the exposed area of his lower back, reaching his shoulder blades and entirely up to his shoulders, forcing the flannel to rise with your hands. He’s so broad and warm, and you would absolutely be drooling all over him by now if you weren’t so shocked at how tight his muscles really feel. How has this man not gotten any injuries sooner? How was he still doing all this heavy lifting? You dig the pads of your finger tips further into the thousands of tiny knots you feel, and his body jerks in actual pain this time. 

“God damn, girl,” he snaps. “What are you doin’?” 

“How the fuck do you even function?” You sound genuinely horrified. 

“What-”

“Your shoulders and neck are fucking covered in knots how do you even-” you cut yourself off with a disappointed click of your tongue. “You need to flip over.” 

Fuck. 

“Why?” He asks defensively. 

“I’m gonna break these knots. I need to start from the front.” 

“Ya ain’t gettin’ anywhere near my neck, I swear to God-”

“Quit being stubborn. What did I say earlier? I’m gonna flip you myself if you don’t-”

“Alright, fine, gimme a sec,” he bites. Joel takes a deep breath, at war with himself for how he’s going to handle his next course of action. 

Whatever happens next, there is no avoiding the fact that you will be made aware of the bulging erection between his legs. You can know about it, that’s fine, but the second you make contact, he doesn’t know if he’ll have the strength to control himself. Which is why he rips off the band aid quick. Flipping himself over with you still hovering over him, he tries his best not to touch you. Though, the second he’s comfortable, his focus is on your waist, grabbing you immediately and missing the way your eyes widen at the tenting fabric of his jeans. He pulls you higher up to sit on his lower tummy. 

You squeak out a little gasp as he adjusts you, and fuck it makes the pulsing between his legs even worse. He releases you, bringing his hands back to his sides. 

“Comfortable?” you whisper. You try so hard not to use your voice, worried that it’ll reveal just how turned on you are by this situation you’ve put yourself in. He gives you a single nod, and with that, you lean to grab more lotion. 

The angle you are at forces you to lean the front of your body onto Joel to be able to reach his shoulders. You can feel his body tense underneath you; you can hear his labored breathing as your hands further push away his flannel, working away at each knot. 

You lean forward further, giving yourself the ability to reach just below Joel’s neck. With this action, your hips shift, pressing down against Joel’s belly in a way that sends a sudden jolt of butterflies through your core. Your hands freeze in their movement, breath and fingertips stuttering as your entire face and neck heat up. You sneak a quick glance to Joel, and his eyes are still relaxed. He didn’t notice. 

It takes you a moment to start your movements back up again, but when you do, you can’t help the way you repeat exactly what you did before — allowing yourself another experimental roll of your hips against his soft abdomen. Only this time, you’re way less sly, for the whimper of pleasure you thought you could hide slips right out, right for his sharp ears to take note of. Shit. 

“Y’ alright there?” His eyes are trained on you now; he knows what you just did. Joel sports a quirked eyebrow as he waits for your response. 

“Mhm,” you rush out, ignoring his piercing gaze. 

It takes every ounce of willpower for you to run over the knots in his shoulder again without driving your hips into him, but even the push and pull of your arms is a full body movement, and you feel it. You feel the growing wetness in your core, the growing heartbeat that his bare tummy no doubt can feel now. 

Your body is splayed across him, the warmth of you leaking through your bottoms and onto his hot skin as you pathetically try to play off the fact that you aren’t grinding your wet cunt across him right now. With a rasp of your name, he takes a sharp breath in. “What are ya doin’?” He grunts, pained. Conflicted. 

This is so wrong. But it feels so good. Your arousal — how utterly desperate you are for the older man underneath you — is shone all over your face, brighter than any other feeling of disgust or wrongness you’re trying to convince yourself of. But the internal battle is still there, though, and it forces your hips to come to a full stop. It forces cries of apologies from your lips. It forces regret. 

“I- I’m sorry,” you choke back a sob. “Please, I- this is so wrong, I’m so stupid, uncle, I-” 

God damn it. Joel is too damn hard to deal with this shit now. “Oh, Jesus Christ, will you cut the fuckin’ uncle bullshit?” He finally snaps. His hands spring to life, finding their way up your thighs, tightening once they reach your hips. He forces you to move again. “Ya think I wanna hear that fuckin’ word while you fuckin’ soak me? Huh? While ya rub on me like a fuckin’ bitch in heat?”

“Shit,” you moan, the strength of his hand making the assault against your mound all the more intense. “Joel, please,” you cry, your fingers shaking as you hold onto his chest. 

Your thighs begin to tremble as he maintains a rough pace to your movements, his bed creaking with every shove of your hips against him. His grip on you is one of steel, the pads of his fingers digging into your flesh, no doubt leaving tiny bruises as a reminder of today’s actions. 

He is fucking covered in you — the slick of your desire pooling through your bottoms and into his skin, making each grind smoother. He licks his lips at this, his eyes dark as he drinks you in from above; your own eyes glossy and a sheen of sweat along your skin. “Look at ya, darlin’,” he murmurs, voice low enough to send a fresh wave of arousal pouring from your hole. “Fuckin’ soakin’ me, baby. Needed me that bad, did ya? Was tryin’ t’ tell ya earlier,” he grunts, “Y’know ya just had to ask.” A lazy smirk pulls across his lip. 

You let out a whimper at his words, your hips finally rolling alongside his own guidance, instinctively searching for more friction. “Atta girl,” he groans, “That’s it, fuck- makin’ a fuckin’ mess a’ me, darlin’.” 

You’re panting now, the rhythm and pressure mixed with the filth of his Southern drawl ignites every single nerve ending throughout your body. He watches you with a dark intensity, the brown of his eyes replaced with pure black lust, his eyes unable to stray away from the pleasurable desperation filling your features. 

“Gonna come like this, sweetheart?” He taunts, driving you into him even harder. 

“Mmm- my God, yeah- yes,” you cry out, eyes rolling back as the coil in your belly finally tightens, your breathing ragged as needy moans escape your lips. 

With a final roll of your hips and the utterance of a that’s my girl, the coil finally snaps, pleasure crashing over you, coursing through your veins as you come all over him, your slick unable to stay within the limits of your clothes, leaking and dripping down the sides of him and onto the mattress below. Your thighs convulse around his waist, his hold on you continuing your thrusts, dragging out your orgasm until your own hands find his and rip him away from you.

“Ya ain’t done yet, sugar,” Joel gruffs, grabbing the globes of your ass cheeks and dragging you down, letting you feel his ignored and now raging erection. 

“Never said I was,” you purr, a soft moan blessing his ears at the feel of his bulge against your ass. He can feel your smirk against his chest. 

Body still trembling, Joel lifts your ass in the air, sliding your bottoms down over the curve of your body. The stickiness of your panties pulls off with a wet squelch, the cool air of the room mingling with the wet warmth of your bare pussy, the stark contrast forcing chills to run through your veins. 

“God,” he murmurs as you give a little wiggle of your ass in the air. “Pretty as a peach, huh, darlin’?” He guides you lower, pushing you down onto his bulge. The hardness of him beneath you immediately sends a fiery need to your core. Your hands move on their own as you pull your body up, reaching for the buttons and zipper of his jeans, undoing them with ease despite the eager shake of your hand. You pull the jeans down just enough to let his cock spring free, thick and angry and leaking. 

“Oh, fuck,” you swallow your gasp. “God, I need you so bad,” you whine, already lifting up to line the tip of him to your swollen cunt. 

You sink down with a breathless moan, your head flying back as your hands grip onto his tummy to keep you from buckling. 

Joel’s breathing stutters, his moans filling the air as you practically choke his cock. “Shit- so fuckin- fuckin’ tight.” His hands find their home on the meat of your ass, holding you tight, grounding himself from coming like a damn teenager.

You move slowly at first, savoring the way he feels inside of you, how big he is. God, you don’t think you’ve ever taken anything quite as long and as thick as him. Your heart skips a beat at that, knowing that he’s ruined you for anyone else. 

It isn’t long before the raw need takes over, and you move faster, hips rolling back and forth as you ride him, the wet sound of skin against skin as you alternate to a bounce ever so often. 

Despite the risk of hurting his back even more, he can’t stop himself from gripping you tighter, his nails digging into your flesh as his hips buck up into you, starting their own rhythm, meeting every one of your thrusts. The sensation is overwhelming with the size of him; it’s a perfect mix of pleasure and pain, mixing sweet whines of ecstasy with whines of overstimulation, and it’s the best music to have ever graced his ears. 

“Look at ya,” he grunts. “Fuckin’ made for this, weren’t ya? Fuckin’ made for takin’ this cock, huh, sweetheart?” 

You nod weakly at his words. They send a flutter down your belly to your pussy, and his mouth is all it takes to send you to your second brink of collapse — your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you move, as he drives himself into you without abandon. 

Every thrust pushes you further to the edge, the sting of the stretch, the sensation of being so full — it’s almost too much to bear. He can hear it in the way your cries change. It’s becoming too much. 

“Y’ can take it, sweetheart, almost there,” he grunts. His hands take over in guiding your movements, urging you faster, harder, bringing you both to the cliff’s edge. 

“C’mon, baby, can feel her squeezin’ me, know she wanna come, baby. Breathe, doll, jus’ let go,” he rasps, his words coming in staggered.

The wet tightness of your walls, both the feel and the sound, causes Joel to fall first — a low, guttural groan filling the room as he fills you with his hot, thick spend.

The sensation of him pulsing inside you, unloading everything he’s worth, sends you over your edge, your pussy clenching around his cock as you come, the sensation rippling through you, shredding your vocal cords as you scream out in pleasure. 

Everything goes dark for you, nothing but the fuzzy sound of Joel’s sweet praises at the top of your head as he guides you through your come down. 

“Did so fuckin’ good f’ me, darlin’,” he murmurs. “Sweet girl.”

For an asshole, who knew he could be so sweet? 

You roll off of Joel as soon as your heart steadies, your entire body on fire from all the exertion. You can feel Joel’s body stiffen as you use him for support. His back is killing him right now.

A few moments pass as your eyes slowly start to close, but the deep gruff of your name stops you from dozing. 

You turn your head to the man beside you. “Yes?” 

For the first time today, it’s Joel who can’t make eye contact with you. “Can you, uh… can you-” he clears his throat, trying to rid himself of his awkwardness. “Can you warm up the heat pack again?” 

Your smirk lifts your cheek before you can even try to stop it. “Come again?” 

He lets out a frustrated huff. And he can’t turn away from you. His back is killing him right now. “My back-”

“Yeah, what about your back?” 

“You fuckin’ little shit-”

You giggle as you flip onto your side, your hand holding your head up to get a better look at him. “Your back is hurting, baby? Need me to get the heat pack for you, hm?” 

He doesn’t respond. He just has the deepest, most grumpiest scowl known to man on display. 

“Oh, come on. You need my help, is that it? Need to hear you say it, unc.” You emphasize the last syllable of your sentence, a belly laugh threatening to escape you. 

Oh, two can play at that game. “Yeah, baby, I need your help. I need the help from my beautiful, beautiful niece, hm? My beautiful, needy niece whose pussy gets all soaked jus’ thinkin’ ‘bout me, huh? Gets all wet and needy thinkin’ ‘bout her uncle-”

Your resolve finally snaps, your eyes clamping shut as you cover your ears, loud la la la’s coming from your mouth as you ungraciously roll yourself off of his bed. “Enough, fine! Fine! Fuckin’ nasty,” you groan as you make your way to the kitchen. 

“‘M not the one who started it, sweetheart,” Joel says, a triumphant smile plastered across his cocky face. 

“I made you cookies by the way,” you yell after a beat. “Want one?” 

Joel’s hand reaches for his belly. He doesn’t need one, that’s for sure. “Yeah,” he responds not a second later. 

You come back to his bedroom, heat pack in one hand, no cookie in the other. You hand him the heat pack. You make him adjust it himself. 

“Where’s the cookie?” He asks, a tinge of impatience on his tongue. 

“Oh, I thought you were gonna come down and get it.” 

He looks at you incredulously. 

“I just figured you wanted to start being more independent and all. Given how strenuous you were being a few moments ago,” you offer with a faux innocence.  

“I swear to fuckin’ God, when I get my hands on you-”

“Your hands on me? Yeah? When?” You start making your way out of his bedroom. “Come get me if you wanna show me a lesson. Know you been dying to all week.” 

If he can fuck you the way he did, maybe full-time bed rest isn’t what Joel needs. He needs to stretch and move around; he needs to activate his muscles, especially being on the older side. It really is basic biology.

I would absolutely love to hear what you guys thought of this! Any and all your love and commentary truly keeps me going and motivated even when the writer’s block is at its strongest. Wouldn’t be here without you all. I have so much love in my heart for you! Talk to y’all soon🩶

I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links in my navigation + bio to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.

Leaf divider by @saradika-graphics

[i2sunric]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘 (l.hs)

PAIRING: heeseung x reader (f)

SUMMARY: due to a storm, his parents are stuck in a motel for the night while you are stuck at his house. with wi-fi not working, heeseung can’t think of anything better than recreating the scenes of your smutty books.

WARNINGS: established relationship, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), fingering, standing sex (?), missionary, pussy eating, masturbation, dirty talking, blowjob, oral (m and f receiving), rough sex, chocking, i lied about the doggy style, pet names (angel, baby), lmk if more, NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 13th August 2024

WC: 3.7k

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey (oneshot) @trizdoniki @love4hee @strayy-kidz @baribaaari @shirizula @astratlantis @jaeyungxrl @heestarry @heeseungismymanz @mitmit01 @rayofsunshineeee @heesexual74 @deezbin @jakeswifez @nikiswifiee @hqqj @diorfmu @isa942572 @yjwluvs @norihoyeon @starggukies @shiningnono @sunpov @iamliacamila @strawberrhypen @gnvi-eve @wildflowermooon @kaykay11sworld @erenswifesposts @star-hoon @aubaee @lvnglysunoo @heebear @enhypenlovre BOLDS COULD NOT BE TAGGED.

a/n: honestly the intro sucks and so does the outro but i swear the smut is GOOD. literally 3k words of filthy porn ngl. enjoy lol. please LIKE & REBLOG to spread and let me knows your thoughts 💗

What was supposed to be a cozy Thursday night ended up in you being forced to stay at Heeseung’s house for the night.

Forced? Not really, you enjoyed the excuse of spending more time with your boyfriend. Because of a flooding caused by the storm outside, you weren’t able to go back home.

But neither were his parents, who were supposed to have a nice date and ended up being blocked by the horrible weather.

The sound of the raindrops tapping against the window filled the room as Heeseung turned off the shower.

You were laying on his bed with your back to the wall as you peacefully read your book, thankful that your sixth sense made you bring it.

Heeseung entered the room with only a towel wrapped around his waist while he used another to dry his damp hair.

“Reading still?” He asked, nudging the book with toe. “Ew.” You stated, pushing his foot away “And yes.”

Heeseung just chuckled and moved to get his clothes from the drawer “Heard from your parents?”

He hummed “I called them before showering, they said they’ll stay at a motel,” He put his boxers on “But before they could say more, the line cut off.”

You threw a glance at the window “This storm is going to destroy a lot of things.”

Heeseung struggled to put on shorts and then rounded the bed, the mattress lowering where his weight was.

“I bet they’re having some wild sex right now.” You joked, flipping another page of your book.

Heeseung pinched your side “Ew? I don’t really want to think about my parents going at it.” He laughed, laying down beside you.

“Careful, you might have a brother soon.” You joked again, earning another gentle pinch.

A couple of minutes passed by and Heeseung groaned “Wi-fi doesn’t work.” He threw his phone at the end of the bed. “I can’t play games.”

“Poor you.” You cooed, caressing the hand he had placed on your hip, his chest pressed against your back.

“Can’t you put your book down and give me attention?” You could hear the pout in his voice “No boy, I’m at an important point.”

“Evil.” Heeseung murmured as he settled into a more comfortable position, strangely not going anywhere to do something else.

You felt his hand on your side, relaxed as well as his breath even. ‘He must’ve fallen asleep’, You thought, as you flipped another page of your book, unable to stop your eyes from reading the scene unfolding before you.

If Heeseung was to casually open his eyes and read even one line of the chapter, he would certainly make fun of you.

Who even reads smut in their boyfriend’s bed?

You felt his hand flex on your stomach but you didn't really mind, he would always move uncontrollably when asleep— sometimes, even kicking you.

As your mind proceeded the words written down on paper, your body reacted to it, almost unconsciously.

You could feel your core pulse in need, your body temperature raising and at the same time goosebumps appeared on your skin.

It always happened, you couldn’t help the way your imagination wandered with the characters of the book, the tension and the way they cared for each other. It was all too tempting, you could feel your stomach fill with butterflies.

But your boyfriend was sleeping and you didn’t want to disturb him, knowing he already had troubles falling asleep — the reason why he always stayed up late to play games —, so you kept quiet.

You felt Heeseung shift behind you, the hand on your stomach circling your waist until he was able to pull you against his chest, his breath hot against your ear.

You held your breath as he changed position, not making any sudden movement while he used you like you were a teddy bear.

Gulping down, you waited a few beats before focusing your attention back on the chapter.

It’s not like you and Heeseung had never gone further than third base, but it was always so… vanilla.

You longed for someone to use you for your own pleasure, to talk you through your multiple orgasms, to mark you up and manhandle you like a doll.

But you would never have the courage to confess that to Heeseung.

Yes, you two had been together for almost a year and half though you weren’t ready to open up to your contorted fantasies. Afraid that he may run away, you loved him too much for that.

So, you hid in your imagination, burying your nose in books that filled the void inside of you.

Letting out a quiet sigh, you tried to calm the fire igniting your bones, but your hips shifted uncomfortably, the ache between your legs too strong to be ignored.

Suddenly, Heeseung spoke to your ear, voice low and husky “You want to show me too?” You jolted and closed the book, catching your finger in middle, hissing at the pain.

You turned your face around and caught his gaze, something different inside it. Something primal.

“I-I thought you were sleeping.” You said, blinking faintly and Heeseung smirked, “I was reading with you.”

He reached the book from your hand and like a fool, you let him take it. He opened the page where you had left your finger in and cleared his throat “He looked at her with a strange urge, his attention gliding to her face,” He started reading.

“His voice was low when he said ‘Show me, show me how you touch yourself when you’re alone in the middle of the night’.”

The heat that was once in your stomach moved to your cheeks, embarrassment coating your expression.

“It’s just a chapter, I was skipping it.” You tried to reach back for your book but he held it up, sitting “Ah, lying is bad, Y/N.”

Heeseung’s smirk was cocky “You seemed pretty into it.” You scoffed, “Give it back.”

Your boyfriend was clearly enjoying it, the way you blushed and the flustered look on your face. He licked his bottom lip and eyed you up and down.

Only when you lowered your gaze, unable to meet his, did you notice the hard-on he was sporting. Was he enjoying it the same way you were?

“There’s no wi-fi.” He stated, “And my parents aren’t home, don’t you think we should occupy our time?”

This side of him was something you had never seen, perhaps, had he the same hidden likings as yours? Looked like you were about to find out.

“How?” You asked, your voice hoarse, barely yours. Heeseung glanced back at the page and said “Take off your shorts.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, “W-What?” And he just chuckled darkly “Do you think I didn’t notice your body language, mh? Do you think I didn’t see how you were craving… this?” He raised the book.

“Now, take off your shorts or I’ll have to do it myself.” Normally, you would comply, but you were feeling bold, adrenaline shooting in your veins, so you said instead, “Make me.”

His eyes darkened, his brow raised. He placed the book on the bed and crawled towards you as you backed away until your back hit the headboard.

He kept eye contact while his fingers hooked around your shorts, and instead of his usual slow pace, he yanked them off.

You gasped at the sudden force, soon enough your shorts were laying on the floor “Isn’t this what you want?” He questioned.

“You want someone to dominate you, uh? To show you what’s your place?” Your whole body shivered from his words as you mindlessly nodded.

“All this time I’ve been gentle, afraid to make you uncomfortable,” He gripped your panties “But all you wanted was to be fucked, hard, isn’t it?” He ripped them off you, the sound of fabric stretching making you gasp again.

He smirked and threw the messy fabric on the floor, with your shorts “So, I’ll follow what you like.” He pointed at the book resting on the duvet “Play with yourself.”

You widened your eyes. Heeseung’s behaviour was different from his usual one, though you couldn’t say you didn’t like it. Lord, you were drenched just from his words and he could see it, the way your juices coated your pussy, spread in front of him.

You gulped and slowly moved your hand down, reaching your clit which you started circling.

A soft hum escaped your lips at the sweet feeling and you watched him, his gaze so primal and full of lust as he took in the sight of you touching yourself.

Just a few beats passed before he asked “You know what she does now, right?” And you nodded, lifting your hand up to his lips. He hummed and took them inside his mouth, his warm tongue twirling around your digits.

The taste of you, even if it was just brief, was enough to make his head spin, so delicious and intoxicating.

You removed them “Let me watch while you fuck yourself.” He said and was suddenly aware of your position. Of how open you were in front of him, your folds clenching around nothing.

Heeseung raised an impatient brow and you hurried to coat your fingers in your juices, rubbing them against your entrance before thrusting one inside.

You moaned, your fingers brushing against your g-spot right away, given all the times you’d done this.

Heeseung licked his bottom lip, the taste of you still lingering in his mouth, on his tongue. He could feel his shorts grow tighter by the minute, his desire for you overtaking any rational thought.

“One more baby, I know you can take it.” He urged and you complied, adding a second digit to your ministration.

Heeseung let out a groan, his eyes locked on you as you brought pleasure to yourself. He quickly took the book back in his hands and flicked the page, a wicked smile on his lips.

“Yeah, bet you’ll like this.” He said as he pushed himself down the bed and took you by the back of your thighs, tilting your body until it was pending at the edge of the bed.

You stopped your movements and pulled your fingers out with a ‘POP’ sound, resting on your elbows to look down at him “Hee?”

“Don’t worry, angel.” He pried your legs open, his breath fanning on your cunt, making you squeeze your eyes “Just need to taste your sweet pussy.”

And then you felt it, the swipe of his tongue across your folds, your mind clouding from the pleasure as soft gasps escaped your lips.

Heeseung ate you like a starved man, alternating sucking on your clit and fucking you with his tongue, his strong grip prevented you from squirming around.

You rocked your hips against his mouth, needing to chase the pleasure building inside your lower belly.

You reached a hand and placed it on his head, your fingers tangling in his locks, “Mh, that’s it, angel.” He murmured, “Fuck my tongue.”

And so you followed his orders, moving with deep and slow thrusts, just enough to send jolts of pleasure through your jody as Heeseung stuck his warm tongue inside of you.

Soon, your movements grew sloppier and faster, your lips parted “I’m— I’m gonna—“ And before you could even finish your sentence, your orgasm hit you, making your back arch off the bed, your legs shaking.

“This was so hot, baby.” Heeseung pressed a few more kitten licks on your clit before raising himself, caressing your thighs with his thumbs.

You looked up at him, your breath still uneven from the great amount of pleasure he had put you in.

He gave you a small smirk before reaching behind you and taking your forgotten book back. He flipped the pages “Spoiler, she gives him a BJ.” He said.

You chuckled, your body now recovered as you sat up “And you don’t want it?” You batted your eyelashes.

Heeseung took a steady breath. “Don’t tempt me.” He quickly searched further one the book, scanning lines and as he found something he liked, he pointed at it, a small laugh escaping his lips.

“As much as I love feeling your mouth around me, I want to feel you whole.” He murmured.

You sat up, crawling towards him to the edge of the bed “Maybe I want to.”

His breath caught in his throat, your vicinity and your words going straight to his cock “The way she does.”

Heeseung went back to the chapter where it all started, scanning the lines until he read “After making her see stars, he quickly unbuttoned his jeans, his gaze dangerous. ‘Your moans were so sweet, darling.’ He murmured, lowering his jeans and boxers, his cock sprung free.” He paused to gulp.

“He took the back of her head and moved her ‘till her neck bent in an awkward position, his red tip brushing against her lips.” He lowered the book.

“Is this how you want it? Rough?” Heeseung questioned and you nodded “Might as well follow the script.” You shrugged.

A low groan built in his throat, you tugged the hem of his shirt “This off?” Your eyes glistened with fake innocence.

Heeseung swiftly worked his shirt off, throwing it on the floor. It’s not like you had never seen him without a shirt on, you were used to him during beach dates or pool parties, but it was always so breathtaking.

Heeseung smirked, noticing the way your hungry stare was studying his chest. In the blink of an eye his shorts joined his shirt, his cock hard and angry, some pre-cum smeared over the tip.

“Be a good girl and open up for me,” He murmured as he climbed on the bed, his hand clutching the headboard to keep himself steady.

You quickly laid down, his hips hovering on your face. You looked up at him, doe-eyes looking ever so pure… And then you took him all in your mouth.

Heeseung threw his head back at the feeling of your tongue swirling around his cock, your head bobbing back and forth.

“Fuck,” He breathed out, his eyes meeting yours “So good, always so good.”

He caressed your cheek, his thumb grazing gently your skin as his hips bucked, meeting your pace.

He then pulled out, making you frown which was soon transformed when his lips met yours.

You could feel his cock twitching between your breasts, one of his hands squeezing it as his lips claimed yours.

The kiss was sloppy and messy, both of your tongues moving together, his spit down your throat.

He was delaying his orgasm, you noted, because he would’ve cum just from a few licks of yours.

And then he pulled his lips away from yours to thrust his throbbing length inside your mouth again “Mh… Yes— Shit. You’re so good, angel. Mouth made just for me.” He praised as he moved.

You hummed, sending waves of pleasure all through his body.

You gripped his thighs, bobbing your head faster, desperate to bring him the pleasure he deserved.

Heeseung understood and gripped the headboard with both of his hands, his hips thrusting inside of your warm and wet mouth. He hit the back of your throat, making you gag “I’m so close.” He breathed out.

At his words, you ignored the burning sensation building in your throat and hollowed your cheeks, with a few more thrusts he was emptying himself with a groan.

When he pulled out, you licked any drop of cum that spilled out your mouth and hummed happily.

Heeseung chuckled, leaning down again to capture your lips in a messy but loving kiss.

You playfully bit his bottom lip and he pulled away, yelping “Brat.”

You smiled at him and sat up, your voice just briefly hoarse “What happens next?”

Heeseung’s gaze darkened but his words were serious “You sure you want to continue?” He sighed softly, “Baby, I don’t want to hurt you.”

You smiled reassuringly and beckoned to the book “Time to change chapter.”

Heeseung let out a quiet groan, his cock visibly twitching “He fucks her against the wall.” He narrated what he had read “Hard, hand around her throat… is that what you want?”

Just the idea of doing it that way had you drenched down there, a shiver ran along your spine “Yes, Hee.” You breathed out, and to emphasise you add “I need it.”

“My nasty girl.” He practically growled as he got up from the bed, taking you with him and slammed you against the wall of his bedroom.

You yelped when your back hit the cold surface, the tapping of the raindrops on the window your background music.

Heeseung claimed your lips again as one of his hands snuck to squeeze your backside, his fingers kneading it.

You could again feel his hard cock pressing against your stomach, its warmth infecting your core.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck you,” He whispered on you throat “To have you milk my cock as I take you so hard you can’t say a coherent word.”

You rocked your hips against his, a clear effect of his words, your arms wrapped around his neck.

As if you weighed nothing, he raised you and you wrapped your legs around his sculpted waist.

Without any warning except for the aligning of his cock, he slammed deep inside of you, making you moan out.

Heeseung wasn’t the biggest cock you’ve seen, but he surely was the longest. You could feel him so deep, he could probably even reach your stomach if he tried hard enough.

You gripped the back of his neck like your life depended on it as he moved without any mercy, pulling all the way out until the tip just to slam back in, knocking the air out of your lungs.

He snuck one hand between your breasts and reached your throat, wrapping it around it. He gripped, not enough to choke you but good enough to make you light-headed.

His cock pounded hard into you, driving your brain into nothing but a puddle of his name, the one you screamed and moaned.

Your nails dug into his shoulders and he grunted, rewarding you with a deeper thrust, one you can almost feel in your centre, where the familiar knot was tightening.

Your eyes rolled back, just moans and whimpers escaping your lips.

Heeseung removed the hand from your throat and gripped your neck instead, letting your lungs that were screaming in protest fill with air up to their capacity.

He moved so your forehead pressed against his, both of you panting in each other’s mouth, your pussy clenching around him.

He groaned, he put one of his hands on the wall to steady himself as his hips kept bucking fast on yours, the sound of skin slapping mixing up with the rain’s.

“Is this what you like, baby?” Heeseung asked, moving his face to gently nip on your neck.

Your whole body felt sensitive from the attention he was giving it, from his small hickeys to the way he kept hitting your sweet spot “Y-yes.” You croaked out “Feels s’good, fuck.”

Heeseung grinned and stilled, twitching inside of you with a groan.

Before you could even comprehend it, he had you with your back on the mattress, never pulling out of you.

Your legs spread open, eager to feel him in you, to let him claim him.

“Fuck,” He grunted out, his pace never once faltering as he gripped your thighs to help himself, surely there would be marks the next day “Feels like heaven inside of you.”

You answered with a muffled whimper, not sure if your brain could even form out a word anymore.

He leaned on you, chest pressed against chest as he hid his face in the crook of his neck, his hot breath hitting your skin.

You rolled your eyes back, the pleasure building inside of you almost unbearable “Hee..” You breathed out, gripping his forearm to warn him where words couldn’t reach.

“I know,” He murmured, “Me too, baby…”

You cried out as you tried to delay your orgasm the same way he could do, but the pleasure was too much and before you could even try to resist more, you saw white.

Your back arched off the bed and squirmed around, your walls clenching tight around Heeseung who, despite your state, never stopped thrusting.

“Shit— Where do you want it?” He asked, because it was in some ways a first timer. First time going rough, first time going raw.

You couldn’t find your voice, your eyes watery from the impact of your orgasm, so you wrapped your legs around his waist, trapping him.

He frowned “Are you— Fuck.” You felt his cum filling you up to the brim, the sensation so sweet a gasp left your lips as he rocked slowly, adrenaline lowering.

After a couple of minutes where neither of you had the energy to move, Heeseung raised himself and offered you a warm smile “How was it?” He questioned as he stood up.

The sight of you, sprawled on his bed with both your seeds running down your thighs was enough to make him pop another boner, which earned him a side eye from you.

“Don’t worry, baby.” Heeseung chuckled, opening one of the drawers to retrieve one of his shirts and helping you in it. He then carefully cleaned you up, dried the sweat running down your forehead and after putting back on his shorts and underwear, he laid beside you.

One of his arms snuck around your shoulder, he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead “You’ll have to go commando, since I ripped your panties.” You giggled, hugging him tighter.

“I really enjoyed… this.” Heeseung smirked, “I bet.” He glanced at the book, now resting on the bedside table “Come to me when you start another book, yeah?”

Heeseung absentmindedly squeezed your breast through the shirt “I’ll make sure to recreate it all… even may steal some of the lines.”

Content that he wasn’t going to judge you for your strange likings, rather supporting them, you let yourself be held as the storm outside slowly died, the breeze hitting your skin as you fell asleep, safe in his arms.

[aquaticmercy]

In Another Life

Summary : Bucky is certain you only see him as a friend. It only took him travelling to a different reality to realise otherwise.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x Reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : slight cursing, very slight suggestion of sex, Yelena being a third wheel, and multiversal travel!!!

Requested by : anon

Word count : 3.9k

Note : This was really fun to write. And yes, I slipped Yelena into this because I can. Enjoy!

Requests are open!

○ buy me a ko-fi ○

“I’ll miss you,” you mumbled as Bucky handed you a knife to sharpen. As he sat there in your living room, the evening light reflected on your curtains, casting a soft shadow across his face. You sat next to him, shoulder to shoulder, so close yet not quite close enough. He had asked if he could come over the day before his mission, claiming he needed help sharpening his knives. He has said ‘no one sharpens knives as good as you’. To some degree, you both knew it wasn’t the only reason he was here.

“Weren’t we supposed to see that new World War II exhibit at the museum tomorrow?” you asked, your voice riddled with a tinge of disappointment.

“We were,” Bucky admitted, his gaze dropping to the floor. If there was one thing he hated, it was letting you down, especially over a mission he couldn’t refuse.

“Who does Strange think he is anyway— that lunatic wizard?” you quipped, with a little gossipy tone. “Showing up at your doorstep and just… demanding you drop everything last minute?”

A small smile tugged at Bucky’s lips, enjoying this sassy part of you. “It's a bit annoying, but I can’t exactly turn him down.” 

You sighed, leaning back against the couch as you worked. “What’s so important that he needs you and Yelena for, anyway? This isn't one of those ‘end of the world’ things, is it?”

Strange had basically asked him to commit theft, and not just any theft— he wanted Bucky to steal something from a multiversal variant of himself in another reality.

Still, Strange had made it sound urgent. It would be most obvious to partner him with you, since you were proven to work well together, but you had just returned from another mission in Antarctica. Both Bucky and Strange knew you needed time to recover.

That left Yelena and Sam. Sam, with his unmovable sense of duty, would’ve questioned every detail and repercussion. He was growing more and more into his Captain America mantle, and that wasn’t a bad thing— it was just inconvenient sometimes. Yelena, on the other hand, would do what needed to be done and ask fewer questions, which was why Strange approached her instead.

If the mission worked out, Bucky would have earned himself a favour owed by one of the most powerful sorcerers in the world. That was a card he couldn’t afford to pass up.

Bucky hesitated, feeling the familiar weight of secrets settle on his shoulders. “It’s classified,” he finally said, which was technically true. He didn’t want to trigger your anxieties with the details, especially when he didn’t fully understand the whole multiverse mess himself. 

You gave a small nod. You’d been around the hero-type for so long to know there were things you weren’t always allowed to know. Even though you were laser-focused on sharpening another knife, you could tell something was off.

“Are you okay?” you asked, watching his fingers dance along one of the blades, tension flowing through his body like a wave he cannot tame. 

He didn’t answer immediately, but you could see the conflicting spark in his eyes. He didn’t mind the danger. But the multiverse, something that was so unknown to him? That was a different kind of fear. 

He didn’t want to leave things unsaid with you. Not when there was a chance he might not come back.

He called your name softly. “Can I talk to you?”

There was something in the way your name left his lips that made your chest tighten. Bucky wasn’t the nervous type—not with you, anyway. Your hands stilled on the sharpening stone. “Of course,” you said, setting the tools aside.

He took a deep breath, glancing down at his hands, gathering the courage to speak. “You mean a lot to me,” he started, his voice low but steady. 

Your heart skipped a beat. Bucky’s hands reached out to gently clasp yours, the cool metal was a sharp contrast to the warmth of his human hand. It was such a Bucky thing to do, to find a simple, human way to connect, even as he struggled with the mechanical parts of him.

“I need to tell you—” 

A loud, insistent knock thundered the door, startling both of you. Bucky’s fingers slipped from yours as you turned towards the sound.

“Yelena!” you exclaimed, standing up. 

“Yelena?” Bucky echoed, blinking in confusion. 

“Did I not tell you?” you asked, biting your lip. “When you asked if you could come over, I asked if she needed her knives sharpened too. She did, so I invited her. I hope that’s okay?”

Bucky’s heart sank, but he forced himself an unreadable expression. Of course, You’d invited someone else. Maybe it wasn’t the right time to say what he wanted to say, if it ever was. In fact, maybe this was a sign to never tell you. 

You invited Yelena, your friend. Which probably meant he was also a friend—just a friend. It probably meant you would never see him as something more.

Before he could respond, you were already at the door, revealing the deadly assassin packed into a 5 '4 vessel of human fury. She gave you a sisterly smile in greeting before her eyes landed on Bucky.

“Hello, Bucky,” she said, her russian accent a little too cheerful as she dropped a heavy duffel bag on the wooden floor with an echoing thud. 

“Yelena,” Bucky replied, somewhat coldly. He didn’t dislike Yelena. He knew better than to make an enemy of her. Besides, they had saved each other’s life before. But at that moment, he resented her. 

He resented that she had unknowingly interrupted something he might never get the chance to finish. 

“Drink?” you offered, already heading towards the kitchen. 

“Just water,” Yelena shrugged, flopping down into the armchair with the casual confidence of someone who could kill you with both hands behind her back. As you left the room, Yelena turned her mischievous gaze to Bucky, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. 

“I’m not third-wheeling today, am I?” she teased, pulling out a couple of dull knives and placing them on the table in front of her. 

Bucky’s ears burned red. “Shut up.”

Yelena chuckled, twirling a knife like a baby would play with their dummy. “I can see the way you look at her, you know. If you put half as much effort into flirting as you do into those knives, you might actually get somewhere.”

He clenched his jaw, the frustration building. He hated the insinuation that he wasn't trying. But now? He might stop. He might just give up because clearly, he was a friend to you, the way Yelena was a friend. “It’s none of your business.”

“Oh, it is when I’m sitting here watching you blow your chance, Barnes.” Yelena’s tone softened, just a touch, before she glanced in the direction of the kitchen. “She’s oblivious, but she cares.”

Bucky stared down at the knife in his hands, knowing he had to deal with this teasing all day tomorrow. A constant reminder that he will always be too afraid to tell you. “It’s not that simple.”

Before Yelena could respond, you returned with glasses of water in hand, completely unaware of the exchange between the widow and the soldier in your absence. You handed Yelena the glass with a smile and settled back down beside Bucky, completely oblivious to his racing heart.

—

The multiverse… wasn’t as confusing as Bucky had expected it to be.

Sure, he didn’t understand how it functioned or what the exact mechanics were—something about a teenager named America Chavez punching a star-shaped hole through space-time. Or something like that.

But what really threw him off was how familiar this reality felt, how similar it was to his own. The streets, the neighbourhood, the people, the world around him—it was all the same, yet different in subtle, uncanny ways he couldn't quite point out.

America had opened the portal in an alley near Bucky's apartment in this different reality. After he and Yelena stepped through, America warned them: "I will open a portal again in two hours. Don’t miss the window." America was still so young, but she had a grim seriousness in her voice. Bucky wondered what her story was.

Now, Bucky and Yelena sat perched on a fire escape across from his own apartment—or, at least, a version of it. It was the same address as his was in his reality. The mission was simple: retrieve an artefact that belonged to this variant of Bucky—a blue stone embedded in a gold ring—from his apartment in this reality. Strange had briefed them on it: the ring was a powerful protection charm, and he needed it.

He just had to wait until his variant went out for his daily run, slip inside, find the ring, and get out. Yelena would be backup, keeping watch in case things went south. Maybe in case the variant of him decided to return early.

“I can’t imagine your girlfriend approves of this dangerous multiverse stuff,” Yelena quipped, resting her sniper rifle on the edge of the fire escape. “She’s very protective of you.”

Bucky’s cheeks turned bright red. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he muttered, though the title felt strange on his lips. 

“Whatever,” Yelena grinned, clearly unconvinced.

Only thirty minutes later, variant Bucky stepped out of the apartment for his run.

“Radio silence unless it’s an emergency,” Bucky instructed before slipping his earpiece in, turning it on. He didn’t want distractions. Not today.

Sliding off the fire escape, Bucky quickly made his way to the apartment. To his surprise, his keys worked just fine. No need for breaking in. As he stepped inside, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being somewhere both familiar and alien.

Everything was almost identical— just almost. The couch was a lighter shade of blue, the TV a different brand, though it looked the same. It was like staring into an uncanny mirror of his own life. 

Focus. He needed to find the ring.

He began searching the usual spots—safes, drawers, anywhere he’d hide something important in his own apartment. But no luck. Think, Barnes, he thought to himself, where would you put a protection charm?

Then, something caught his eye— a framed photo on the mantle of his fireplace that wasn’t supposed to be there. A photo of him and… you.

His breath hitched. It wasn’t just any photo. You were kissing his cheek, a lake in the background. The warmth in your smile, the easy comfort between you both... It was a picture he'd never seen in his reality. 

Were you together in this one?

Suddenly, everything clicked. The extra clothes in the closet, the toiletries. In his reality, you had a drawer in his apartment, since you stayed over sometimes, as a friend. But this? This was different. Here, you shared a life.

He spotted a camera, instantly recognizing it as the same model you had back in his reality. He knew he should stay focused on finding the charm, but curiosity got the best of him. Before he could stop himself, he turned it on, eyes shifting through the photos. Image after image appeared—of him and you together. Holidays, long walks, intimate dinners. Kisses and comfortable hugs. 

His chest tightened with a hollow ache of jealousy. Was this what he could have? What he might be missing?

Before he could process the feeling, a buzz in his earpiece snapped him back to reality.

Yelena’s voice came through, saying your name urgently. 

“What?” Bucky asked. Why would Yelena say your name like that?

“She’s here. She’s entering the building.”

Panic surged through him like a thunderbolt. “Don’t shoot her,” he ordered.

“Yeah, didn’t plan to,” Yelena answered, annoyed that he thought she was thinking of it, “but what are you gonna do? She has keys.”

Of course she does, Bucky thought, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. Frozen in his place, his mind raced. What now?

Suddenly, the door opened, and there you were, a version of yourself he had never met before.

“Buck?” the variant of you said, startled, eyes widening. “I thought you’d still be on your run. And why are you wearing your tactical suit?”

You closed the door behind, placing your bag on the couch.

“I—” he stammered, completely unprepared for this, unable to move. His heart pounded in his chest, the sound tangled in his throat. He glanced at your hand. There, on your finger, was the ring. The protection charm.

Of course. He should have known. He’d do anything to protect you.

His mind spun with conflicting emotions— jealousy of his own variant, longing for you back home, and guilt that he was even here.

You took a step closer, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Not that I’m complaining about the tactical suit... You know I like it when you wear it to bed.” You flirted with a tender laugh, that soft sound that always made his heart stutter filling the air around him.

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat as you leaned in. It would be so easy to give in, to just pretend for a moment that this was his life, that this variant of you was his. To feel your lips on his. 

His hand twitched at his side, wanting to grip your waist, to pull you closer. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t let this continue.

He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, stopping you. “I can’t,” he whispered, voice strained. “There’s nothing I want more. But I can’t.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. The variant of you pulled back, studying him more closely now, noticing the subtle changes. There was a subtle scar on his neck that wasn’t there before. “You’re not my Bucky, are you?” 

Yelena’s voice crackled in his earpiece again. She had been able to hear everything. “Bucky, I know she’s your weakness, but we need that ring. Do not tell her—”

Bucky switched the earpiece off, ignoring Yelena’s warning. He’d deal with that later. You deserved better than half-truths.

“This is Strange’s doing, isn’t it?” you asked, taking the revelation surprisingly well. “I thought he was done with all this multiverse shit.”

He nodded, guilt twisting in his chest. “Yeah. But… not your Strange. Mine.”

Silence hung in the air, thick with unspoken words. The variant of you looked at him carefully, as if searching for a trace of the Bucky you knew.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I didn’t mean for you to get involved.”

“What does Strange want?” you asked, frowning. “And why is he sending my fiancé to do his dirty work?”

Bucky blinked. Fiancé? His heart stuttered. That ring wasn’t just a charm. It was your engagement ring.

You noticed his shock. “We are engaged in your reality, right?”

He swallowed hard. “No. I—I haven’t even told you, uh, her… how I feel.”

A soft chuckle escaped you. “So, all the Buckys are like this then? Huh.”

Bucky’s heart raced, his mind still reeling from the idea that you— at least this version of you—were engaged to him in this reality. It was everything he wanted but didn’t have. 

“I know I shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, guilt laced in his whimpering voice.

You tilted your head like you were trying to piece the puzzle pieces together and came to a conclusion that you were safe. As if you convinced yourself that no variant of Bucky would ever hurt any version of you.

“It’s okay,” you said softly. “You’re still him. In some way.”

He wasn’t your Bucky, and yet, you spoke to him like he was. You spoke to him with the same compassion, the same love. His eyes flickered to your hand again—the ring. 

Focus on the mission, he reminded himself. But how could he? Your eyes followed his stare, and it landed on the gold band around your finger. You let out a small but heavy sigh.

“Strange wants the ring, doesn't he?” you asked. Bucky nodded, feeling his heart twist in his ribs. He didn't want to take anything away from you.

“He said it’s a powerful protection charm.” 

The variant of you stood still for a moment, “I know.” You gently slid the ring off your finger, holding it in your palm. 

You stepped closer. “If Strange wants it, I know it has to be important. I trust that lunatic wizard— and I trust you.”

You were trusting him— this version of him who wasn’t even yours— with something so personal, something tied to your bond with his variant. “But, it's your engagement ring,” he said. He knew he got what he wanted, but he can't help but wonder why you gave it away so willingly. “I—Your Bucky gave this to you to protect you.”

The variant of you smiled, taking a necklace chain from under your shirt. There it was, the same stone that was on the ring also sat on your chest.

“My Bucky asked this reality’s Strange to split the gemstone,” the variant of you said, “He knows I have this tendency of misplacing my jewellery.”

Bucky can't help but chuckle. His version of you had that quirk, too.

“I’ll explain everything to my Bucky when he gets back. I know he’ll understand.” You hesitated giving him the ring for a second. “On one condition.”

His brow furrowed. 

You gave him a knowing smile, one that was all too familiar. One that made his heart swarm. “Go back to your reality, and tell me—her how you feel.”

His heart twisted. He does not make promises he can't keep, especially not to you— any version of you. “I can’t—"

“You can,” you interjected with that stubbornness he knew and loved. “If she means anything to you, you will.”

He stared at you, and no words came out. All this time, he had kept his feelings hidden, afraid of losing you if he told the truth. But here, another version of you telling him to just suck it up.

Bucky’s voice wavered above a whisper. “What if she doesn’t feel the same?”

A soft laugh escaped your lungs, and you shook your head, knowing something he doesn’t. “Trust me, she does.”

He could tell that this variant of you knew him so well, even if you were from another universe. Slowly, he took the ring from your hand. It felt heavier than it should’ve, weighted with more than just its magic.

“I will tell her,” he whispered a promise, “thank you.” 

You nodded, giving him a small, encouraging smile.

Bucky clenched his jaw, putting his earpiece back on.

“There you are,” Yelena’s voice crackled back into life. “Our window’s closing. We’ve got about ten minutes before the portal opens again. Move it.”

A shaky breath left his lungs. “Ring secured. On my way.”

He gave you one last look, his heart full of a thousand swirling emotions he couldn’t even begin to put a name to. “I hope your Bucky knows how lucky he is.”

The variant of you smiled. “I think he does.”

Without another word, Bucky slipped out of the apartment, the ring safely in his pocket. 

—

Bucky had knocked on your door after the day of his mission. When he saw you, your name escaped his lips like a prayer as he hugged you. 

Now, this was you. Not another version of you.

“Are you okay, Buck?” you chuckled.

Bucky held you a little tighter, his chest rising and falling against yours as he tried to ground himself in the present— this present reality. He pulled back slightly, eyes scanning your face like it was the first time he’d seen you in years. The both of you slipped into your apartment, closing the door.

“I missed you,” he admitted softly, though it had only been two days. The words now  carried more weight than they ever had before. His mind was still reeling from the alternate reality, from the life he could have had with you, and from what the variant of you had told him. He found some comfort and confidence, knowing that there was a version of him out there who had done what he was too scared to do—tell you how he felt. It was his turn now.

You smiled, but concern flickered in your eyes as you noticed something different in his touch. “You’re acting weird. Did something happen on the mission?”

Bucky hesitated, but he knew he couldn’t let this opportunity pass him by again.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Bucky said, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but you stayed silent, giving him the space to continue. You’d known him long enough to recognize when he was on the edge of an emotional breakthrough.

He took a deep breath to steady himself and stepped closer, his fingers brushing the side of your arm. “I’ve been afraid of losing you if I told you…”

Your heart skipped a beat as you realised where this was going. You stayed quiet, letting him speak.

“I care about you more than anything,” he continued, his stormy blue eyes locking with yours, vulnerable and frail. “I’m in love with you, and I’ve been too scared to say it.”

Your breath caught itself before it left your lungs. You could feel the truth of his words in the way his voice wavered, in the intensity of his gaze, in the flutter of his touch.

“I’m sorry if this is too much, too fast,” Bucky added quickly, misreading your silence for rejection. He cursed at himself, wondering if the variant of you had been wrong. “If you don’t feel the same, I—”

You didn’t let him finish. Instead, you closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. It was soft and tentative at first, but as soon as your lips met his,the hesitations, the doubts, the fears all fell away. 

Bucky’s metal hand settled at the small of your back, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. His soft lips moving against yours with a mix of relief and urgency, taking each other in for the first time as if it was your last. The warmth of your body against his, the way you fit perfectly in his arms— it was everything he could ever ask for.

You finally pulled back breathless, your foreheads rested against each other as you let the adrenaline settle.

“I love you too, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I was just waiting for you to see it.”

Bucky chuckled softly. 

You playfully shook your head. “I owe Yelena ten bucks.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. 

“She was here yesterday night, after your mission,” you said, “She bet me that we’d be together by the end of the week. I took the bet because I didn't think you’d feel the same.”

Bucky let out a low laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing as a grin spread across his face. She had been pestering him after the mission yesterday, insisting on knowing what the variant of you had told him. But he had not volunteered any information to her.  “Yelena knew before I even said anything? I’m losing my edge.” he teased himself, shaking his head.

“Please, Buck. She’s like a human lie detector,” you quipped, rolling your eyes fondly. 

“Well, ten bucks is worth it, right?” he smiled.

You kissed him once more, short, sweet, and fleeting this time. It drew a giggle out of you, “Definitely.”

Maybe one day, he’d tell you about the mission, about the variant of you. 

But for now, he only wanted to enjoy the moment.

-end

[elflutter]

— i'll love you forever (a momma, you'll be)

kinktober 03 → ruts & breeding kink

in a rut!logan x f!reader

synopsis

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t been waiting for this day: Logan at his most fertile; you at yours. Even though you’ve talked about it, stopped your birth control for it, an an unspoken question still lingers in his gaze. You’re sure about this? You really want a baby with an old man like me?

wordcount: 2.7k

tags/warnings below the cut!

tags/warnings: explicit (18+ mdni), worst wolverine, light a/b/o dynamics (ruts), breeding kink, daddy kink, light dom/sub, age gap (reader is 25+), logan calls himself old man, pet names (incl. sweetheart, baby, momma), unprotected p i v, creampie, fingering, mention of a safeword (not used), reader is ovulating, mentions of pregnancy, pussy pronouns (she/her), logan can pick up reader (but he can lift up to 800 lbs so), logan calls reader's pussy his, no use of y/n. i'm sure i've forgotten something, please let me know if i have!

a/n: idk what came over me with this one omfg. some of this filth was definitely influenced by some other amazing fics i've read this kinktober. the way you want to by @eupheme and baby fever by @silverskyeline come to mind specifically! please go give them some love if you enjoy this one, hehe. and thank you @sceletaflores for hyping up all my depraved ideas, ily

Your boyfriend’s mutation provides certain… perks to your relationship. Firstly, he’s strong enough to pick you up like you weigh less than nothing. And with the healing factor, his refractory period is practically non-existent. But, you think your favorite part of his mutation might be the one on display right now.

Logan’s pupils are blown wide the moment he walks through the door to your shared apartment. The front of his flannel is dark with sweat, a common sight after another long day at the construction job Wade helped secure for him a couple years back. But, from the bulge is already visible through worn jeans, you think all that sweat might be from something else, too. Something that sends electricity shooting down your spine, because you’ve been waiting for this.

Logan clicks the door shut, twisting the lock behind him without looking away from you, his stare heavy and heated. He pulls off his work boots like he cant rid himself of them fast enough, and you’re surprised the well broken-in leather doesn’t rip under his ironclad grip. The thought of that grip on your body, those fingers pressed into the plush of your thighs, has warmth pooling in your core— thick and sweet, like honey in your veins. Heavy and intoxicating, like the whiskey on his breath when you first met.

His biceps bulge beneath rolled-up sleeves as he reaches down to adjust his hard-on, and he prowls to where you sit on the couch, body twisted so you can keep your eyes on him. When Logan finally reaches you in the living room, you’re certain you’ve soaked through the lace of your panties. You straighten out your torso to face forward as he kneels in front of you, spreading your legs to accommodate his broad form.

His voice is as rough and dark as the denim of his work jeans when he finally speaks. His grip hard on your ass, just how you like it. Fingers dig into the thin fabric of your leggings as he pulls your body to the edge of the couch.

“Rut’s here, sugar.” He buries his nose against your hair, breathing in deep— the warm vanilla of your shampoo mixing with the heady scent of your arousal. He speaks into your hair, like he wants to bury himself there. “And I could fuckin’ smell you from the hallway. Drippin’ for me, huh?” He nuzzles in even deeper then, indulging.

You wait for his nose to pick it up— that you’re fertile. You should be, if you’re tracking correctly. You pray that you are. You think you must be ovulating, from the throbbing ache you’ve felt all day. Aching for Logan, for his thick girth to split you open, to be full of him. For that moment, as he empties within you, of soul-deep connection.

When Logan groans against you, the sound a broken thing, your racing heart kicks up a beat. He’s scented it; you’re certain. Logan pulls back, his large hands moving to cradle your face with a gentleness that sends a pang through your chest.

“Baby, are you—” He searches your eyes for an answer, as if he can peer into them and see your desires.

Even during these ruts, when his body burns with an ache only for you, to fuck and to fill, to claim, you call the shots. You tell him to stop, that it’s too much, and he will. He’s still Logan, always in control of himself. It’s not unlike how your sex drive changes, during your own cycle. And, shit, you’re weak for it. Always have been.

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t been waiting for this day: Logan at his most fertile; you at yours. Even though you’ve talked about it, stopped your birth control for it, an an unspoken question still lingers in his gaze.

You’re sure about this? You really want a baby with an old man like me?

You nod; the sting in your chest drowning out the ache in your core for a moment. One day, you hope, he’ll see that you want everything he could possibly give you.

“Yeah, baby. It’s time, I’m ovulating.” Leaning forward, you press your forehead against his, fingers moving to rub gentle circles in his hair. “Please, Lo. Want your baby.”

His lips crash into yours, then, before he’s scooping you up. You hook your feet behind his back as he carries you to the bed, peppering you with kisses and breathy murmurs in your ear.

“Alright, sweetheart, want me to fuck a baby into that sweet little cunt?” His teeth are on your earlobe, hot breath grazing each of his love-bites. You’ve melted into putty in his hands when he finally sets you down on the plush surface of the bed, mind a haze of lust and longing. “Gonna look so good with my baby in you, my little momma.”

Your cheeks grow hot, his words nestling through your mind and finding a home in the dull throbbing between your legs. His name escapes your lips in a needy whine. Before you can say anything else, he flips you onto your stomach. His grip finds your hips, pulling up until your ass is in the air right at the edge of the bed; face buried in the covers.

Logan’s hands move to cup the swell of your bottom as he stands behind you, humming in satisfaction.

“Such a pretty little present, comin’ home to her every day.” Your face heats as you realize he’s not talking to you, but your pussy. “She’s fucking drippin’ for me, isn’t that right?”

All you can manage is a nod and a pathetic whimper, words lost somewhere in the haze of desire.

His palms brush up your back, until he reaches out to grab one of your breasts, his other hand supporting his upper body as he leans over you until you feel his hot breath against your ear.

“Already cock drunk, Momma? Haven’t even touched you yet.”

“L- Logan, please—” you keen. You don’t even have the presence of mind to be embarrassed about your desperation. You feel so achingly empty— just need his cock in your pussy; his come deep and warm inside your womb. The pet-name plays in your mind on repeat. Momma. Momma. Momma.

The image of walking around in a few months, full with his child, and everyone will know who you belong to. Who did this to you. He’ll make you face the mirror above the dresser while he stuffs you full of his come, night after night, whispering how good you look now that he put a baby in you.

He doesn’t move his lips from where they brush against your ear. “Gonna unwrap my present now. Wanna see that pretty pussy. Know she needs some attention, doesn’t she?”

You nod desperately. Suddenly, he stands up straight again, and before you can even protest at the loss of his body heat pressed up against yours, you hear his claws unsheathe with a snikt.

The claws— another favorite aspect of your boyfriend’s mutation in bed. You never knew ruined clothes would get you so damn wet. But it triggers a primal satisfaction deep within you whenever Logan rips through your leggings, your panties, anything keeping the two of you apart. You’ve invested in owning several pairs of the same cheap leggings at any given time, so Logan doesn’t have to worry about replacing the garments he destroys.

He tugs his claws through your leggings and underwear until they lie in pieces beneath you on the bed, and you whine as the cold air of the room grazes where you throb for him. Logan would usually tease you until you were a sobbing mess beneath him, making you drip through the gusset of ruined panties, grinding against your clothed slit. Then, he would make you fall apart on his mouth, then on his fingers, then make you beg, before he’d finally sheathe himself within you.

You thank whatever higher power exists in the multiverse— you think you remember Wade mention someone called Marvel Jesus?— that Logan could only taunt you with one or two lewd comments before he is ripping at your clothes and stepping out of his jeans, shirt tossed aside, to line himself up at your weeping entrance.

Logan is still standing on the floor behind the bed while your ass is swaying in the air where he’s positioned you at the edge, begging for attention. When the fat head of his cock brushes against your puffy folds, heat blooms beneath each place he teases. You can’t help how your neglected cunt clenches around nothing; desperate for something— anything to ease the throbbing ache. Logan grinds his hardness against you— the tip rubbing at your clit has you keening before he slips two fingers into your slick heat.

Every sense is overwhelmed as you feel him enveloping you in his body— his cock teasing at your clit. His breath hot in your ear. One arm between your bodies, fingers curling deep inside. The other, resting on the bed beside your head. All you can feel is Logan, Logan, Logan, all over.

“Gotta get my pussy ready,” his words brush against the shell of your ear. “Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

Your eyes scrunch shut, the image of how you’d look with Logan’s cock buried within you playing in the darkness of your vision— hips slamming into your ass. Balls making soft plap plap plaps as they slap against your swollen nub. Thinking of Logan, his body on fire with his need to claim you— to breed you. Filling you with his come until your womb is flooded with it. Imagining how you’ll grow plump with his child. You can’t be blamed for the lewd response slips out of you in response to his question.

“Yes, Daddy—” the last word is whined out before you can stop yourself. Cheeks heat, as you realize what you’ve called him. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of it before. His fingers speed within you, curling against the little textured spot inside that Logan knows so well it’s like he owns it.

“Fuck, baby,” Logan pants, his hips grinding to match the pace of his hand. “You’re gonna make me a daddy. You want that, baby?”

His words are rough against your ear— letting out a little hum as you sink even deeper in the haze of pleasure, tension winding tight in your gut.

“Say it.”

The command in his voice sends a shiver down your spine.

Your own voice wobbles, sounding small and pathetic, as you eek out a response that is little more than a whine, “W-wanna make you a daddy!”

“Attagirl.”

A feral smile against your ear, as his possessive praise alights sparks within you. Somehow, Logan plunges his fingers even deeper, then. His hips never slow where they grind against your folds, cockhead notching against your clit just right, and suddenly that coiling tension releases with a snap.

Your climax hits you, legs quaking as warmth spreads out from your core, until you can feel it wash through your limbs. The fingers in your cunt work you through the pleasure, slowing as you pant against the bedsheets.

Standing tall behind you again, you don’t have time to mourn the loss of Logan’s fingers before he positions himself at your slit.

His voice, gentle, when he speaks before slipping inside. “Remember your word, darlin’?”

Your cheeks heat. He always asks that, when he’s about to fuck you into the mattress until you can’t remember your own name. He’s especially careful to remind you of it when he’s in a rut. You nod, telling him the word you can always say if it gets too much. Apple, and he’ll stop.

His palms cup your ass possessively, splaying his fingers wide to hold as much as he can. “You ready to be a momma?”

You nod your assent.

Logan clicks his tongue, and you can hear the smug smile in his voice. “Use your words for Daddy.”

His words are firm, smug, and for a moment you think he might be making fun of you. But you can tell he’s desperate in the way he pushes the tip of his cock inside you before you can respond. You never thought you’d hear Logan call himself daddy, and it turns you on way more than it should.

“Ready to be a momma, Lo, fuck,” you swear as his weeping head pushes past your puffy folds and into your swollen cunt.

It seems that your words snapped the last of his restraint, finally allowing his base urges to take over. For him to claim you how you’ve both ached for since he crossed the threshold into your shared apartment.

He pushes the rest of the way into you, hissing through his teeth as his hips finally meet the plush of your ass. When he starts thrusting, it’s a rough, feral thing. His fingers dig into your hips, pulling you back to meet him with every thrust. You’re a rag doll in his arms, ass up and on display, face buried as you moan into the sheets.

Logan looks down at you from where he stands, watching his thick length disappear into your tight little hole. When he speaks, his voice comes out in a growl. He can’t help it, with the image of you— fucked out and ruined beneath him. He plans to keep you in this bed, putting his sweet little pussy to use until he can be certain it took.

“Look so fuckin’ good like this, sugar. Lettin’ your old man fill your tight little hole. Gonna keep you full all night, gonna feel my come leakin’ out for days.”

All you can do is whine into the sheets, growing damp with drool as his hips pound against you in hungry thrusts.

“Y’want that, sweetpea? Want daddy’s come?”

Your answer is torn from your throat in a desperate sob.

“Yes!”

Logan’s grip shifts until he’s got one fist full of your tits and one palm flattened against your belly, pulling your body upright against his while he drives his cock up into your weeping cunt. He palms at your breasts, fingers ghosting across your nipples until both are hard and stinging. His grip pinches and soothes, and soon the palm against your stomach moves downward. Then he’s circling your clit, his cock finding that perfect spot inside your walls before plunging deeper until you can feel it brush against your cervix.

Each sensation washes over you, waves lapping against your toes at first. But the water rises higher, higher, higher until you’re drowning in pleasure, your orgasm pulling you under as you come on his cock. You can feel Logan’s words brush against your ear, as you come undone.

“Good fuckin’ girl, coming on your old man’s cock. Lettin’ me do what I need t’ya.” His words are a low snarl when he continues, thrusting harder and harder. “Daddy’s gonna fill you up real good now, gonna put a baby in this tight little pussy.”

You feel your lips form the word yes, over and over, and you think you must be chanting it like a prayer, as his hips snap into you. Logan’s pace grows frenzied as your walls flutter around him in the aftershock of your climax. Reckless, as he pounds into your puffy cunt, your slick leaking down his shaft onto his balls until he finally falls over the edge with a growl. You feel his cock pulse, impossibly deep, filling you with thick ropes of spend. His thrusts slow, but don’t stop, as he fucks his seed further into you.

Logan gingerly lowers the both of you to the bed. You sigh contentedly, finally laying flat on your stomach. Logan cants himself on his elbows above you, still plugged full of his cock.

You can’t help but giggle— he might be into the whole daddy thing even more than you. And that is saying a lot, because you are super into it.

“Lo, that was so fucking hot.”

He chuckles darkly, pulling out before he gathers up the come leaking out of your used cunt and pushes it back inside with his fingers.

“Hope ya don’t think I’m done with you for the night.” Your cheeks heat as you realize he’s growing hard again, his length resting against your ass cheek. “Not even close, bub.”

thank you so much for reading this! id you liked it, please leave a comment or an rb! i would love to hear what you thought!

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

[pedrospatch]

run

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

*moodboard is for aesthetic purposes only. no mention of reader’s race or skin tone.

summary: When you’re given the chance to run from your captor, you don’t take it.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. MENTIONS PREVIOUS NONCON. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). reader is described washing her hair (the exact length is not specified) and she wears a dress. she is also shorter than Joel. violence, kidnapping, reader has major stockholm syndrome, Joel is fairly soft for her but HE IS STILL NOT A GOOD MAN, brief mention of Tess and Joel being involved with each other, Tess seems like the villain but she might actually be the only one of these three who is not totally fucked up in the head. SMUT. daddy kink. size difference (no description of reader’s body type, Joel is just a big guy with a big dick, enjoy it). oral sex (female receiving), super risky unprotected p in v sex (mention of reader ovulating, Joel pulls out, don’t be be like these two, practice safe sex), creampie (yeah he doesn’t give a fuck the second time around). many, many pet names (baby, baby girl, honey, angel, sweetheart, little girl). um i think that’s it. oh, and they fuck in the dirt.

PLEASE HEED ALL WARNINGS.

word count: 8.6k

a/n: one thing about me is i WILL soften up EVERY version of Joel Miller to my little heart’s content. HUGE HUGE thank you to @endlessthxxghts and @joelsdagger for lending me their eyes and beta-ing this fic for me last night. <33 i love and appreciate you guys SO MUCH. i loved seeing you both in the doc at the same exact time lmao. this can be read as a standalone, but it is considered part of the captive universe.

Everyone in the group has a job. Except for you.

Or at least, that’s what you hear them say.

That bitch doesn’t do shit.

She never has to lift a fucking finger.

She should work for her meal—just like the rest of us.

Bitterness laces their tones when they talk about you.

Insults grow a little bolder when he’s not around.

Useless.

Freeloader.

Leech.

You might not be out there with a rifle in hand hunting game or invading camps and spilling blood for supplies—but you do in fact have a job, and that job is to make Joel Miller happy. It is your responsibility, your duty, to please him, and to keep him satisfied. Because keeping him satisfied keeps him in a good mood, and one thing you’ve come to learn about your captor is, where there is a good mood, often there is mercy.

Hell, you’re doing them a favor by keeping their violent, fearsome leader in a good mood. Because you’ve seen what he does to them when he’s not. He can be just as brutal towards his own people as he is to strangers.

It doesn’t make a difference, though. They still see you as nothing more than his coddled little whore.

“Fuck, that’s it.”

He groans, his thick, callused fingers digging harshly into the softness of your flesh as he holds you firmly in place underneath him. “Oh fuck, baby girl,” Joel curses through gritted teeth, his hands gripping your hips as he uses his own weight against you, pressing you down into the old mattress until you feel every uncomfortable lump, each creaking spring.

While he isn’t fucking you as roughly as he has on other occasions, he’s hardly being gentle. It’s hard, fast.

Loud.

Joel couldn’t care less about the rest of the group, the men and women on the other side of the wall, forced to listen to the sounds coming from the single bedroom of the cabin he decided they would hunker down in for the remainder of the summer season. Strings of curses and brutish grunts that came rumbling from deep within his chest, pleading gasps and whimpers that fell from your swollen, bitten lips. If anything, knowing they were listening only spurred him on—it didn’t hurt to remind them, especially the men with wandering eyes, that you were his special girl.

His good girl.

You certainly did your job, and you did it so, so well.

“Christ, sweetheart. M’so fuckin’ close—” Joel picks up speed, his hips snapping even harder, faster, the front of his thighs slapping against the backs of yours. Each thrust causes the bed’s rusted, iron headboard to slam violently against the wood panel wall.

You clutch fistfuls of the single, stale, yellowing sheet beneath you, each stroke he delivers knocking the wind out of your lungs, making it harder to breathe. He is so heavy on top of you, this big, broad, bulk of a man who makes you feel swallowed, smothered, and small. Joel takes up so much room inside of you, and it’s a wonder how you could possibly have any space left to spare.

It’s a fullness you can’t seem to get enough of.

It’s a craving, a need.

Worst of all, it’s slowly becoming a want.

“Daddy,” you choke out, fisting the sheet tighter, your skin stretching taut over your knuckles. Can the others also hear the squelch of your drenched cunt around his cock as it begs him for more?

“Fuck. You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me, baby,” Joel croons his praise. His hands abandon your hips and he hunches over you, his thrusts momentarily ceasing. He crushes his chest against your sweaty, quivering back and leans forward even further, bracing his large hands on either side of you. Then, his lips move to the shell of your ear and he speaks, his breath blazing hot on your skin. “Y’take me so well, honey. Y’take Daddy’s cock so fuckin’ well. This pretty little pussy was fuckin’ made for me. She was made jus’ for me—ain’t that right, angel?”

He’s right.

Oh, how you fucking hated that he was right.

It was made for him. Your cunt. Your body. You.

Every part of you was made for him, and only for him.

All you can do is nod dumbly in agreement.

“Say it,” Joel whispers his firm command. “Wanna hear you say it. Be a good girl and use your words. Say it, say this pussy is made for me.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you moan obediently, prompting him to grin against your ear. “My pussy is made for you, just—just for you. No one—no one else. Only you.” Could this really be the same voice that would break, grow hoarse from screaming for him to stop? The same voice that would beg and plead for him to set you free?

Jutting his hips forward, Joel buries himself to the hilt, eliciting a noise from you, something caught between a pained whimper and a contented sigh. His balls, heavy and full for you, rest on your clit, which is still sensitive to the touch after he’d spent a majority of the morning with his head buried in between your legs. Desiring yet another release, you try wriggling around beneath him in a silent plea for more. More, more, more.

Please, Daddy. More.

Joel’s grin widens. He places one of his hands on your soft lower belly, fingers dragging down the slope of it until he finds the slick swell of your seam between your legs where his girth splits you open. “Ready, baby?”

Nodding, you open your mouth to answer him, but the sound of your own groan cuts you off when his fingers firmly circle around your throbbing, swollen bud. “Oh,” you breathe, instantly sinking right into his touch. Your eyes screw shut tightly in pleasure, and you throw your head back onto his shoulder. The scruff of his beard is rough on your cheek, and it burns, the same way it had burned the tender flesh of your inner thighs.

His hips find their rhythm as you rub against his hand—you’re almost there. He knows this, you can tell by the chuckle that thunders in his chest and against your back. But you’re too busy chasing your pleasure to be embarrassed.

He’s made you a needy, greedy girl.

“Daddy,” you mewl, trying your hardest to move under him, to work your cunt up and down on his cock. “I’m gonna come—” You gasp, back arching as Joel strokes in and out, his fingers rubbing your clit with urgency.

Joel plants a sloppy, wet kiss on your cheek. “Give it to me, baby,” he grunts. “C’mon. Lemme feel her squeeze me.”

Feeling how close he is too, you try to hold on for just a little bit longer, at least long enough to finish with him, but Joel’s relentless, and you’re forced off of the ledge you’re both standing on first.

Crying out, your walls spasm around him, asking to be filled until he’s made a complete mess out of you, until white leaks, and it slowly dribbles down the insides of your trembling thighs.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel rasps. He lifts himself off you and he pulls out, taking his throbbing cock in his hand. His chest heaves as he fists himself, the wet sound of your slick in his palm filling the room. “Down,” he grits, and you obey him, lowering down yourself on the mattress until you’re lying almost completely flat before him. He gives himself one final stroke just as you look over your shoulder at him, the gentle flutter of your eyelashes the last push he needs. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck—” Joel spills his load, shooting thick ropes of warm cum along the soft curve of your spine.

You rest your cheek on your folded arms, biting back a small sigh.

He’s left behind an ache—you feel painfully empty.

But it was Tess, who had been given the task of helping you track your menstrual cycle, that had given him the warning earlier that morning. “She’s ovulating. Don’t be a fucking idiot, Joel. Last thing we need is for her to—”

“Relax,” he’d gruffed in response. “I fuckin’ know.”

Spent, Joel hunches over you once more and he lightly kisses the top of your head before burying his nose into your hair. “Good girl,” he murmurs. Affection that once was unwelcome and unwanted, that once made you feel sick to your fucking stomach, now makes you feel something else entirely. You’re not quite sure what it is, only that it’s warm. Comforting. “Y’did so well for me, sweetheart. Always do.”

Your lips curl into a faint, tired smile he doesn’t see.

A while later, you find yourself perched on the bed with the sheet wrapped around you, quietly watching as he gets dressed. “Daddy?” you say tentatively as he drops into a nearby chair to pull on his boots.

“What is it, baby girl?”

“Do you—do you think we can go to the creek today?”

Joel finishes lacing his boots and looks up at you.

“I’d really like to wash up,” you admit, softly. That, and you would like to see the light of day. He’d boarded up the windows with slabs of wood—sometimes, if you’re lucky, you get some decent light seeping through the teeny gaps.

“Not today, honey. I’ve got some things to take care of. Supplies are low, we gotta do a run. Don’t have the time to take you.” He stands and picks up his rifle, slinging the strap of it over his shoulder. Noticing the crestfallen expression on your face, Joel’s eyes soften. He walks over and gingerly cups the side of your face in his palm. His thumb strokes your cheek. “Promise I’ll take you to the creek tomorrow, sweetheart. First thing. Alright?”

Nodding, your eyes fall to your hands in your lap.

“Okay.”

Joel kisses your forehead, then leaves the room.

He makes sure to lock the door from the outside, and you can’t help but wonder if he knows locking you in is no longer necessary.

“I can take her.”

Joel’s dark eyes remain focused on the state map laid out on the table in front of him. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about, Tess?” He sees her in his periphery, but is too busy figuring out the group’s best route to look her way.

“I heard her asking you to take her to the creek so she can bathe,” she tells him. “I can take her.”

Finally, his head snaps up and he turns to her. “What?”

Tess leans her hip against the table, crossing her arms over her chest. “You and Tommy can take the group, go and take care of what you have to take care of. I’ll stay behind and take her down to the creek,” she suggests casually, as if she’s not asking him to trust her with his most prized possession—the only damn thing on what was left of this fucking earth Joel Miller actually gives a shit about. “Once she’s washed up, I’ll bring her back to the cabin and put her back into the room. Easy.”

Joel stares at her, bewildered. “What makes you think I’d fuckin’ allow somethin’ like that?”

“Oh, come on.” She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Anytime I bitch about having to do something for that girl, you’re on my fucking case about it, and now that I’m offering to do something for her, you don’t wanna let me?”

He shakes his head and lowers his voice. “You’re talkin’ about takin’ her outside, Tess. Without me.”

“The creek’s just a mile away,” Tess reminds him. “I’m pretty sure I can handle getting her there and back with no trouble, Joel.” When he says nothing, she cocks her head to the side and scoffs. “What? You don’t trust me enough to take her under my wing for a couple hours?”

Joel’s lips pull into a tight line. 

Of course he does. Tess was his right hand woman, his second in command.

He trusted her more than his own fucking brother. She had never given him any reason not to, had never given him a reason to doubt her loyalty to him. No, his lack of trust has nothing to do with Tess—but everything to do with you. He doesn’t trust you. He will never trust you.

“What if she tries to—?” He can’t even say it.

“Tries to what?” She pauses. “Run?”

His throat goes dry and he gives her a subtle nod.

Joel Miller was a bad man who did bad things, but you were his good. You’ve brought back some meaning into this wretched life of his, gave him something that felt a lot like a sense of purpose. You were something for him to take care of, to keep safe and protect.

Tess raises an eyebrow at him. “You think I’d even give her the chance? Besides, the girl’s not that stupid, Joel. She knows better than to try anything. She knows she wouldn’t get very fucking far.”

“Tess—”

“I’m just trying to do something nice for her. Besides, I think it might do her some good to be in the company of someone else for once—the company of a woman.”

Joel peers at her, taking a minute to think it over in his mind before asking, “You’ll have her back in the room before I get back to the cabin?”

“Long before then,” she swears. “All in one piece.”

He hesitates. He’s still not sure.

It’s then that he remembers that disappointed look on your sweet, pretty little face. “Alright,” he relents with a deep sigh. “I trust you, Tess.”

It always feels a bit strange to be outside.

But being outside without Joel?

It feels even stranger.

When he’d walked back into the room and told you Tess was willing to take you to the creek, the news had taken you by complete surprise. When he said he was willing to let her take you, that you almost couldn’t believe. It hadn’t even sunk in until the three of you stood outside the cabin and he was kissing your forehead sweetly in a temporary goodbye before turning to Tess.

“Never take your eyes off her,” he’d instructed her.

“She’ll behave.” She had smiled at you as she pulled her pistol from the waistband of her jeans, the gleam of the silver barrel catching your eye. “Isn’t that right?”

Swallowing dryly, you had answered with a strained, “Of course.”

She’s the last fucking person you wanted to cross. She was almost as terrifying as Joel, if not more.

“Tess? W-Where are we going?” you ask as you trudge along behind her, hoping you don’t sound as winded as you feel. Although you had no way to keep track of the time, it felt like you’d been trekking for at least an hour. Your feet are starting to hurt in your shoes—old, worn, yellow canvas sneakers that certainly weren’t made for hiking. “I don’t remember the creek being this far from the cabin.”

Tess snorts. “Don’t tell me you’re tired already.”

“It’s just—we’ve been walking for a really long time.”

She glances over her shoulder at you. “Here I thought you would be a little fucking grateful to be out getting some fresh air,” she chuckles, shaking her head before turning her attention back to the path ahead.

“I am,” you squeak, stumbling over a fallen branch.

Silence falls over the both of you.

“We’re not going to the creek,” Tess finally speaks after a minute. “I’m taking you somewhere else. Somewhere even better. Just trust me, kid. Now hurry up.”

It takes another hour before you reach your destination, and you hear it before you can even see it, a humming sound that turns into buzzing the closer you get. Then, you feel it, a vibration in the rocks beneath your feet. “Is that a—?” Stepping around her, your mouth falls open in absolute awe at the sight before you.

The waterfall is nestled right in between the trees and surges over the rocky mountain, throwing up bubbles of spray as it plunges into the lake at the bottom, and from there, it foams into a thick, white lather at the base. On the bank, where you stand, you spot different types of vegetation you couldn’t identify even if you tried—all you know is that it’s green, and it’s beautiful.

“This is incredible,” you gasp.

“Way better than some little creek, huh?” Tess tucks her pistol into the waistband of her jeans and shrugs off her pack. She digs around in the front pocket and pulls out something wrapped in a piece of crumpled brown tissue paper. She hands it to you. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“Well, if you’d fucking open it, you would know,” Tess rolls her eyes. “It’s my last piece of soap. It’s all yours.”

Her kind generosity comes as a surprise—usually, Tess wanted nothing to do with you. But you don’t question it, and you certainly don’t turn the rare luxury down.

“Thanks,” you say, shooting her a grateful look.

Tess nods towards the body of water. “Alright, then. Go on and get to it.”

You take the piece of soap out the tissue. The scent of lavender is faint, but still very much there. Joel will like the smell of it on your skin tonight, you think.

As you start to pull the strap of your cotton blue dress down your shoulder, you feel her gaze fixed intently on you. Heat rushes to your cheeks. “Uh, aren’t you going to turn around?”

“For fuck’s sake,” she scoffs. “I’ve got what you’ve got. Now hurry up, we don’t have all fucking day.”

Nodding, you peel off your dress and underwear, your face on fire as the older woman’s eyes slowly drag over your naked body. Carefully, you step off the bank and wade into the water. It’s so clear that you can count the pebbles underneath your feet.

Leaning against a nearby tree, Tess calls out, “You have ten minutes! And stay out of the waterfall! Last thing I need is for you to fucking drown.”

As she lights a cigarette, you can’t help but stare at her. Her features, though worn down after the hell she had been through trying to survive the post outbreak world, are beautiful. Big, dark green eyes, a perfect nose, and full, pouty lips. There’s never been a doubt in your mind that she and Joel have been involved with one another, and lately, the mere thought of anything between them made you uncomfortable.

It’s an odd sensation deep in your gut—jealousy?

But what were you jealous of? Her having had him first?

It shouldn’t matter to you, but it does. Insecurities you have never in your life felt before seep into your bones.

“Anyone ever tell you it’s fucking rude to stare?” Tess quips, raising an eyebrow at you. She shoves her lighter into the back pocket of her jeans.

Nervously, you sink lower into the water, nibbling the inside of your cheek. “Tess? Can I ask you something?”

“What could you possibly fucking want to ask me?”

You hesitate.

“How—how long have you known each other?”

“Who?” Tess plucks the cigarette from between her lips and flicks the ashes. “Me and Joel?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

She shrugs. “Don’t know. Six, seven years?”

“How did you two meet?”

“Long story that’s none of your fucking business.”

You ask your next question before you lose your nerve. “Have you two ever—?” Unsure of how to phrase it, you stop and clamp your mouth shut in instant regret.

“Have we ever what?” Tess studies your face, and she quickly realizes what you’re trying to ask her. “You’re seriously asking me if me and Joel have ever fucked?”

Biting your bottom lip, you glance down into the water at your feet. You honestly don’t expect her to answer, so when she does, you look back up at her in surprise.

“Yeah.” She takes a long drag from her cigarette, then adds, “Few times.”

Something unpleasant claws at your insides. “You two were together? Like a couple?”

“Something like that,” Tess mutters, flicking her ashes once more.

“What happened?”

She looks at you, pausing before answering, “You.”

Oh.

Before you can utter another word, Tess snaps, “Quit asking so many goddamn fucking questions and finish up washing. You’ve got eight minutes left.”

Not wanting to push your luck further than you already have, you do as she tells you in complete silence.

You lather up the soap in your hands, washing your hair first, and then your face and body, using your hands to scrub yourself as best as you can. Between the calming scent of the soap, the soothing sound of the waterfall, and the warm afternoon sun, you find yourself relaxing. You try to clear your mind, live in this peaceful moment which you very well may never get again, but your mind begins to wander.

And it wanders straight to Joel.

Closing your eyes, you can’t help but picture him here, standing behind you in the lake. You can almost feel his hands on you, long, thick fingers lathered with lavender soap, sliding down your body. His lips at your neck, he cups your breasts in his hands, rolling his thumbs over your hardened nipples until your head lulls, falling back onto his shoulder. Joel drags his hands further down, over your stomach, going lower and lower towards the place where you need them the most. “Yeah, baby?” he murmurs into your neck, dipping one of them between your legs until you are, quite literally, in the palm of his hand. “This where y’need me?”

Breathless, you respond, “It’s where I want you.”

Suddenly, your eyes snap open.

There is a wetness between your thighs, one that has nothing to do with the fact that you’re standing waist-deep in the middle of a lake. You shake those thoughts away and finish washing yourself.

“Time’s up,” Tess calls. She meets you on the bank with a dry rag. “Here.”

The rag doesn’t exactly cover much surface area, but you dry yourself off as best you can before tugging on your underwear and slipping on your dress. Just as you crouch down to slip your shoes on, she tosses her pack and it lands in front of you with a soft thud.

Confused, you glance up at her.

“There’s about a week’s worth of jerky in there. Longer, if you know how to ration,” Tess explains, calmly. “And a canteen for water. I also packed you a flashlight and a pocket knife. It’s not much, but—”

Frowning, you rise to your feet. “What are you talking about, Tess? What’s going on? Why are you giving me your pack?”

“Because I’m giving you a chance, kid.”

A feeling of dread pools in the pit of your stomach.

“A chance to what?”

“Run.”

Your heart stutters a beat. “Run?”

“He’ll come looking for you. You need to get as far away from here as possible. Run away, as far as you can, and don’t fucking look back.”

All you can do is stare at her in shocked silence.

“I can help you get a head start,” Tess offers, quietly. “I can show you which direction to go in and put you on a path leading to the closest state highway—”

“But what if I don’t want to run?”

Tess places her hands on her hips, and she exhales an incredulous laugh. “Jesus,” she breathes, shaking her head in pity. “He’s really got you fucking brainwashed, doesn’t he?”

You glare at her. “I am not brainwashed, Tess.”

“You’ve gotta be if you’re telling me you wanna go back to him.”

“Tess—”

She cuts you off. “He gave the order to raid your camp and kill your people,” she reminds you. “He fucking slit your father’s throat right in front of you, then took you as his prisoner. He made you his fucking sex slave.”

“He takes care of me! He feeds me, makes sure I have a bed to sleep in no matter where we are. He keeps me safe. He—he cares about me.” You will your voice not to tremble as you stand your ground. “No. I’m not running away, Tess. I want to go back.”

Tess sighs. “You’re really not gonna make this easy, are you?”

“Take me back,” you all but demand, your hands curled into the least menacing little fists she had ever seen in her life at your sides. “Take me back to the cabin—take me back to him, Tess. I mean it.”

Amused, she huffs through her nose. “Or else what?”

“You can’t make me run away, Tess.” As you take a step towards her, she reaches behind her and swiftly whips out her pistol from the waistband of her jeans. You halt, freezing in fear when she aims the barrel of the gun at your chest.

“Actually, I can,” she says, her finger hovering over the trigger. “So here’s how this is gonna go. I’m gonna walk away now. And if you even think about following me, or trying to find your way back to the group, you will die.” She tosses you a tiny, wry smile. “Believe it or not, I’m doing you a real big favor, kid. Problem is, he’s got you so fucked in the head that you can’t see it.”

“Tess, please,” you plead. “Don’t do this to me!”

She begins to back away. “Remember when you’d say that to him? How you’d beg him not to do those things to you every night? Beg him to let you go?”

“Please, just take me back to him!”

You start to follow her.

“You take one more fucking step and I’ll shoot you,” she threatens, her eyes darkening. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Tess keeps her pistol pointed at you until she slips into the trees and disappears, abandoning you in the middle of the forest.

He’s furious. Livid.

Joel paces back and forth on the porch.

“Where the fuck are they?”

The old, rotting wood that wraps all the way around the cabin creaks, and certain softer spots bend and buckle, threatening to give way beneath his heavy boots. Joel’s younger brother leans against the railing, which is just as fragile, an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

“Christ, Joel. Can you fuckin’ relax?” Tommy grumbles, fishing around in his back pocket for his lighter. “You’re gonna bring the whole damn cabin down if ya don’t cut that shit out.” He sparks a flame and lights the filtered end of the cigarette. He takes a long drag, and exhales the smoke through his nose. “You’re gettin’ worked up over nothin’, brother.”

“S’almost sundown, and they’re still not fuckin’ back.” Joel shakes his head. “Fuckin’ knew I shouldn’t have let Tess take her. Somethin’ happened, Tommy. I just know it.” He lifts his shirt and reaches for his pistol, pulling it from the waistband of his jeans. “M’gonna head to the creek myself to find ‘em. Ain’t gonna sit around on my goddamn hands and wait for it to get fuckin’ dark.”

“She’s with Tess. M’sure the girl’s fine—” Tommy stops, his eyes widening slightly. “Well, hell.”

“What?”

Tommy jerks his chin over Joel’s shoulder before taking another slow, casual drag of his cigarette. He savors the last few seconds of peace before shit inevitably hits the fan and his brother unleashes his wrath on anything, or anyone, in his path.

Joel whips around and his stomach sinks, his blood ice in his veins when he sees Tess approaching the cabin. Alone.

Both his mind and body go numb. It’s a jarring shock to his nervous system, and it takes him a minute or two to fully process the fact that you’re not with her.

“Joel,” Tess says his name carefully as he descends the porch steps and walks towards her. “I need you to take a breath, alright?”

“Where—where is she?” His voice breaks, his weakness momentarily slipping through the cracks.

Not that Tess didn’t already know you were Joel Miller’s weakness, his soft white underbelly, the only vulnerable part of his hardened self that could be penetrated—you would have been his downfall. As much as she’d like to say she did what she did solely for your own good, she also did it for his, and for the sake of the group as a whole.

It needed to be done.

He stands in front of her, a ticking time bomb about to go off.

Prepared to face whatever consequences of the choice she had made, Tess tucks her gun away and sighs. “You need to take a breath—”

Joel snatches her arm, his fingers digging into the flesh above her elbow. His emotions hit him all at once.

Fear, worry, anger. It’s the third that takes precedence, and before Tess can utter another word, Joel yanks her forward. She crashes against his chest so hard that it knocks the wind out of her. “Where the fuck is she?” He leans down, his nostrils flaring as he brings their faces the closest they have been in almost a year.

“Joel, take a fucking breath—”

“Where. Is. She.” His grip on her arm tightens with each word he bites out through his teeth. He’s vaguely aware the others have piled out of the cabin, gathering on the porch to watch the altercation.

“She ran,” Tess explains, calmly. She doesn’t falter, not even as his fingers sink deeper into her skin, promising her painful bruises which will take days to fade away. If he decided to let her live. “She ran away, Joel. I turned my back for one fucking second and she was gone. She even took my fucking pack. I tried going after her, but it was no use. She was too fast.”

Behind him, Tommy snorts. “She outran you?”

Her eyes momentarily flicker to him. “Her knees are a lot younger than mine,” she replies, flatly.

“Which direction did she go in?” Joel demands. When Tess doesn’t immediately respond, he shouts, “Which fucking direction!”

Tess manages to snatch her arm out of his grasp. She glowers at him, hissing, “What the hell does it matter which direction she went? You won’t fucking find her.”

His eyes meet hers, and he sees it. Feels it.

She’s lying to him.

“Tess.” Joel’s voice drops dangerously low. He studies her face, his brows creasing with suspicion. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do shit, Joel. She fucking ran away.”

Without warning, Joel takes her by her throat. His other hand brings his pistol to her head, shoving the barrel of it against her temple. His nose touches hers. “Now, tell me why I have the feelin’ you’re not tellin’ me the whole truth?”

Tess lifts her chin. She searches his eyes, a sharp ache shooting through her. After everything, all the hell they had been through together—he would end her life, put a bullet in her because of you? Did she mean that little to him?

Or maybe she’d never meant anything to him at all?

She’s not sure which stings more.

“Because you’ve fucking deluded yourself into thinking that she willingly wants anything to do with you,” Tess finally answers. “That’s why.”

He ignores the burn of her scorching words.

“Where the fuck is she, Tess?”

“If she’s smart, she’s far away from here by now,” she hisses. “I did everyone a fucking favor, Joel. That girl is just another fucking mouth to feed. And what if you get her pregnant? That’ll be another one. Not to mention, a crying baby could draw unwanted attention and get us all killed. Ever thought about that? She’s not an asset to the group, she’s a fucking liability. Besides, I think I can speak for everyone when I say we’re all fucking tired of hearing you ra—”

Joel digs the barrel harder into her temple, his finger hovering over the trigger. “Listen to me. You’ve got ten seconds to tell me where she is, y’understand me?”

“Or what? You’ll blow my brains out?” Foolishly, Tess chooses to call his bluff despite not knowing for certain whether or not he’ll actually pull the trigger. “Go ahead, then. Kill me, Joel.”

His finger twitches over the trigger, but he doesn’t pull it. He can’t fucking pull it. Not on her. Not on Tess.

Still in his hands, she sags slightly in relief.

Swallowing harshly, Joel Miller lowers his gun and does something she’s never seen him do before. He begs.

“Tess, tell me where she is,” he whispers. His pleading is subtle, and only she can hear it. “Please—just fuckin’ tell me where my girl is.”

Tess stands her ground and says nothing.

Releasing her, Joel shoves her aside and with nothing but his gun in his hand, he sets off to find you.

“Ow, fuck!”

You gasp, quickly lifting your bare foot off the ground.

You’d stepped on something sharp—a stick, or maybe a rock?

In a desperate attempt to try and keep up with Tess’ tracks, you had stupidly left behind your shoes back at the waterfall. But the mere seconds you had spared by not stopping to put your shoes on hadn’t given you the advantage you thought it would. She had moved much too fast, and within minutes, you’d become helplessly, hopelessly lost. Every tree and every bush, they all look exactly the same, and for all you know, you’ve probably been going around in fucking circles for the past couple of hours in your search for her footprints in the dirt.

Sagging against the trunk of a nearby tree, you take a minute to try and catch your breath, to give your poor little feet a break from hiking over fallen branches and jagged stones.

Your head falls back, eyes gazing through the canopy of trees. Dusk has settled in, and nightfall is on its heels. It was foolish of you to leave behind your shoes, but even more so to leave behind the pack she had given you—in the pack were all the things meant to help you survive. Knife, flashlight, food.

Sure, you can survive a night out here in the wilderness without any of those things—but then what? Come dawn, what do you do? Where do you go? Do you just stumble around in the woods and hope for the best? Pray you’ll make it onto a highway with signs that will point you to a quarantine zone?

Hell, maybe you’re overestimating yourself. Maybe you wouldn’t survive long enough to worry about your next move. Howls in the distance remind you there’s wildlife out here, dangerous predators that come out after dark in search of their next meal. Or what about infected? It wasn’t unheard of for them to veer off the highway and lose themselves in the trees.

You recall your first few weeks in Joel Miller’s hands.

Escaping them was all you could ever think about, even though the chances of you surviving alone were slim to none, just like they are now. Never having been on your own, death would have been inevitable—but back then, in your darkest moments in captivity, you wished for it. You’d welcomed the idea of starving, freezing, or being torn apart limb from limb by an entire hoard of clickers. At least then, you’d die with your freedom.

Almost a year later, that wish has been granted.

You’re free.

You may very well die, but you would die free.

Closing your eyes, you think about Joel. His arms, that once held you down—held you still—as he did all those things to you without your consent, are arms your heart yearns to have wrapped around you, holding you close.

“Jesus,” you grit, a tear rolling down your cheek.

Maybe Tess had been right. Maybe he really does have you fucked in the head.

Joel was a monster. He had taken everything from you, including your innocence. He’d defiled you in ways you hadn’t known were possible. He was a terrible, terrible man.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you fed.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you warm.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you safe.

Another tear slides down the side of your face. What is fucking wrong with you?

You don’t know. But what you do know is, the thought of never seeing Joel again is somehow more terrifying to you than the thought of dying even the most brutal of deaths.

A loud rustling sound brings your train of thought to an immediate, sudden halt, and your eyes wrench open.

It’s darker now, but you manage to catch a movement in the shrubs, only mere feet in front of you. Panic flares in your chest, it rattles you to your very core, and even though every nerve in your body is urging you to move, you freeze, your back flush against the tree trunk. Your fingernails dig painfully into the bark as you watch the shrubs part down the middle, and a tall, hulking figure emerges with a heavy grunt.

At first, you think it’s just a figment of your imagination showing you what you wanted to see—a hallucination. Blinking furiously, you lightly shake your head, and then take another look at him. Your breath hitches when you realize it’s Joel.

He stares at you in the same manner, as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re real, or if his mind is playing a cruel, cruel trick on him. Feet cemented to the forest floor, he watches you take a small, tentative step towards him.

Once adamant that you’d never look him in the eye, you find your gaze locking directly with his as you carefully take another step closer. Then another, and another.

“Joel?” It’s the first time you’ve ever uttered his name.

He seems as taken aback hearing it as you are saying it.

“Joel.” It rolls off your tongue smoother, and with more ease the second time around.

It sparks a flame somewhere deep, deep inside of him, a fire that burns differently than those ignited by carnal desires.

No, this is something else entirely, and you feel it too.

“Baby?” he whispers hoarsely. “S’that really you?”

“Joel!” you cry, hurling yourself into his arms.

Joel’s gun falls from his hand and he curls them around you. Burying his nose into your hair, he inhales deeply. The scent of you, the feel of you—you’re fucking real.

Shuddering with sobs of relief, your arms wrap around his waist, and you cling to him as if you’re clinging onto dear, precious life itself.

“Hush now, s’alright,” Joel soothes, cradling the back of your head in one hand, while the rubs soft, calming circles into your back. “I’ve got you, honey. M’here.”

“I swear I didn’t want to run away,” you explain through your tears. “I begged her to take me back to you, Joel, I really did! But she left me out here—she said she would shoot me if I tried following her back. Please, you have to believe me, you just have to believe me!”

He squeezes you harder against his chest. “I do, baby. I do believe you,” he assures you. Pulling away, he takes a step backward and takes your face between his palms, peering at you in concern. “Y’hurt, sweetheart?”

“No,” you hiccup, curling your hands around his wrists. Your lower lip trembles. “I—I thought I’d never see you again. I was scared I wouldn’t,” you admit, softly.

Joel’s thumb wipes away a fresh tear. “M’here now,” he murmurs. “You’re with me, baby. You’re safe, alright?” As a late evening breeze passes through, he lets you go and shrugs out of his brown jacket. He goes to drape it around your shoulders, but you snatch it right out of his hands, then toss it aside.

Something in you snaps. You take fistfuls of his flannel, pulling him down towards you to do yet something else that takes you both by surprise—you initiate a kiss. You lean forward and press your lips to his, a little swipe of your tongue across his bottom lip as you clutch tighter at his shirt, holding him in place. Groaning, Joel opens his mouth more, his tongue brushing yours.

Liquid heat pools in your belly, and before you realize it, you’ve grown frantic, kissing him with fervor. Releasing his shirt, you slide your hands down his chest, over his stomach, lower and lower until you find his belt buckle. Desperate, you clumsily fumble with it, and that’s when Joel tears away from you, his breath hitching.

You’re begging before he can even say a word. “Please. I need you—I want you. Right now.”

You cup him through his jeans, and he exhales sharply.

“Fuck.” Without giving it a second thought, his hands reach for the straps of your dress, pushing them off of your shoulders. He roughly tugs at the material, letting it slip down your body until it falls around your feet. In a tangle of limbs and tongues, you both sink to the forest floor. Your hands brush his buckle, and he catches your wrists. “Not yet, baby girl. M’still in charge, alright?”

Sheepishly, you nod.

“Say it.” His command is firm, but somehow still gentle.

“You’re—you’re in charge.”

“Good girl.” Joel guides you onto your back. He’s over you in a second, swelling your lips with a hard, hungry kiss that leaves you dizzy and breathless. He moves his mouth, teeth scraping over your cheek and jaw, down to your neck where he nips at the tender, delicate flesh over your pulse point. Then, he bites his way over your collarbone and to your shoulder. “Bet she’s already wet for me,” he mumbles into your skin. “Ain’t she, baby?”

Pushing himself back onto his knees, he slides a finger over your clothed cunt, eliciting a small gasp from you. Hooking his fingers under the elastic waistband of your cotton underwear, he yanks the fabric down your legs. It catches on your foot, your wetness smearing against the inside of your ankle.

You’re drenched.

“C’mere,” Joel grunts, sliding his hands under your ass and pulling your hips over his thighs. He leans over you once more, your bare, throbbing cunt rubbing against the crotch of his jeans. He tuts lightly into your neck as you buck against him. “Such a fuckin’ needy little girl.”

Desperate, you try rolling your hips into his. “Joel.”

“Kinda like it when y’say my name.” He starts making his way down the length of your body. “Think I’ll like it even better when you’re screamin’ it. Won’t I, baby?”

Your stomach tightens as he nibbles his way down your neck again, teeth scraping over your clavicle and down your chest to your heaving tits. Taking one in his hand, the other goes into his mouth—his tongue is scorching hot over your nipple. He licks the pebbled flesh, sucks it and bites it while he rolls the other peak in between his thumb and index finger. “Oh fuck,” you gasp.

Releasing your breast with a wet pop, Joel sinks further down your body. He plants hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your tummy, leaving behind a trail of fire in their wake. He stops over your mound and hovers for a fraction of a second before pressing his nose into the silky soft curls there. Inhaling deeply, Joel picks up the subtle, herbal scent of the lavender soap you had washed yourself with. “Fuck, y’smell so fuckin’ good.”

He pushes your thighs open, pinning one to the ground with his hand while the other goes over his shoulder. Your foot slides down his back, toes curling despite the fact that he hasn’t even reached the spot where you’re aching to have him most. Heart thundering, your blood rushes, roaring in your ears.

Joel turns his head, his lips brushing your inner thigh in another kiss. “S’this where y’want me, honey?” he asks you. Goosebumps erupt over every inch of your skin as he draws closer, his breath like steam on your core. He glances up at you, his cock twitching against his zipper at the sight of you laying naked before him on the floor of the forest. Willing. Wanting. “Hm? Right here?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please, Joel.”

Thankfully, you only have to ask him once, and then his face is buried between your legs, and he is giving you what you want.

“Fuck!” you cry out. Back arching, your head tilts back until the crown of it meets the ground, leaves and twigs finding their way into your clean hair.

Joel’s tongue flattens over your cunt in a broad stroke, then dips between your folds, collecting your slick with a harsh groan, one that sends a bone-rattling vibration throughout your entire body, from head to curled toes. His mouth opens wider—a starving, greedy man trying to eat you whole. Sliding his tongue over your clit, Joel seals his lips around it, sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves until it swells in his mouth.

High-pitched little cries and whines spill from your lips. Your hands shoot down, fingers tangling themselves in his dark, graying curls, eliciting a grunt from him when you tug at his roots. “Joel, fuck,” you choke, your nails scraping against his scalp. He slurps and swallows your wetness, the sounds drowning out those of the night—the chirping of crickets, the croaking of frogs, the soft hooting of owls are washed away until all you can hear is him devouring your pussy.

Your body starts to tremble, and you know you’re close. Joel does, too. He feels your thighs twitch, threatening to close around his head, but he wrenches them further apart with a muffled but firm, “No.” He drapes his arm over your pelvis, his large hand splayed on your belly.

Relentless, he sucks your clit, gliding his tongue over it, again and again until the muscles in your lower tummy tighten and you burst at the seams, unraveling into his mouth. Warm slick gushes out of you, a sweet mess he licks clean. You choke back sobs of pleasure, your body tensing, vision blurring with every stroke of his tongue, each scrape of his teeth over your clit.

Joel lifts himself onto his knees with a grunt and gazes down at you—his good girl, sweet and pliant and ready to be fucked full of his cock. His hands slide his belt out of its brass buckle, eyes still trained on you as he pops the button of his jeans and yanks down his zipper.

Your mind is fuzzy, still syrupy and dripping—it doesn’t fully register what he’s doing, not until he climbs back over you and you his hard cock brushes your thigh, hot velvet that sears the inside of your leg. Precum smears your flesh.

“Y’feel that? Feel what you fuckin’ do to me?”

“Joel.” Hands shaking, you reach for the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more of his skin on yours. You whine when he catches both of your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. “Your clothes—”

“Stay on.” Ducking his head, he nips at your pulse point and mumbles, “Tell me what y’want, pretty girl.”

Joel shifts over you, his cock now resting on your lower belly, thick and heavy and leaking.

You squirm under him, hips coming off the ground, that hollow thing inside of you begging to be filled.

“Use your words, sweetheart. Tell me what y’want.”

“You, Joel—I want you. Please, please, please—”

He hushes you.

“I’ve you, baby. I’ve got you,” Joel promises. He wraps his other hand around himself, dragging the head of his cock along the seam of your puffy folds, up and down—he elicits a ragged little gasp from you when he grazes your clit and his fingers tighten around your wrists. He coats himself in your slippery slick until he’s glistening with it, and then he gives a slow roll of his hips, working himself into you.

Your mouth falls open. No words come out, no pleas for more—only jerky breaths, pathetic little pants for air as you take it.

Joel’s cock throbs, pulses like a heartbeat as your cunt welcomes him home. He presses his forehead to yours. “She’s always so fuckin’ sweet to me.” His voice is low, rough gravel. His eyes meet yours in the dark blue glow of the forest, and he savors the last moments of seeing your pretty face before the last traces of dusk are gone. Brushing his lips to the corner of your mouth, he feeds you his cock inch by inch, murmuring, “That’s it, honey. Good fuckin’ girl.”

You melt around him at his praise.

Releasing your wrists, he moves his hand, placing it on the crown of your head. “Ain’t ever lettin’ you out of my sight again,” he swears. “Alright? Never gonna be apart from me again, baby girl. Never. Y’understand me?” He curls his other hand firmly around your jaw, his fingers sticky with you and him. “Do you understand me?”

“Never,” you repeat, softly.

Joel kisses you, deep and slow, almost sweet. Tender. He breaks away, his lips hovering right over yours as he pushes his hips forward, bottoming out inside you.

Moaning, your hands grasp at his shoulders. Your legs widen further to accommodate the breadth of his hips.

“There y’go.” Joel presses deep within, until your belly feels hot and full. “That’s it, baby. Good girl,” he coos, drawing his hips back, then rolling them right back into you. He takes one of your ankles and tosses it over his shoulder, giving himself a better angle to fuck into you.

A loud cry tears from the back of your throat. “Joel!”

He grins in the darkness. He knew he’d like hearing you scream his name.

Joel’s hand settles on your leg that’s over his shoulder, your thigh already shaking. “Y’gonna be a real good girl n’ give me another one?”

You try to answer him, you really do, but your mind falls further and further away.

His fingertips sink into your thigh. He strokes in and out of you, never retreating more than inches at a time so he keeps you full. Stuffed. “Christ. Takin’ it so fuckin’ well,” he croons, moving your leg off of his shoulder so they are both wrapped around his waist. Hunching over you, he bears down hard, using most of his weight. He almost chuckles at the little oof that puffs out of you.

Rocks and twigs dig painfully into your back, but all you can do is feel him. How close he is.

You’re right there with him.

“Joel—fuck, I’m gonna co—”

You’re cut off by your own sharp gasp.

“That’s it. C’mon, honey.” Joel slips his hand between your thighs, his fingers firmly rubbing your clit. “C’mon, baby. Be a good girl and come on my cock—”

It rips through you like an electric current, a shockwave that has you clawing at the dirt. You come crying Joel’s name, crumbling into a whimpering, quivering mess.

Within seconds, he’s swept away by the same tide.

“Baby,” he groans, dropping his head into the hollow of your neck. He goes still and lets your tight cunt clench at him, gripping his cock as it throbs, pulses, empties into you. After a minute, he brushes a kiss to your neck before mumbling, “My sweet girl.”

Joel makes no move to pull out of you. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your soiled fingers toy with the soft curls at the nape of his neck, shattered breaths slowing and piecing back together.

You gaze up through the trees at the night sky, feeling the safest you’ve ever been with the earth at your back and your whole world on top of you, his cock buried in your cunt.

Tess is right. Joel Miller really does have you fucked in the head.

You’re certain of it when you make the realization with a smile.

divider credit to @/saradika 🖤

for fic notifications please follow @joelsgreysupdates!

[brunchable]

Moving In [18+]

《Beefy!Bucky Barnes x f!reader》

Pairings: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader. Summary: You're moving into your brand new apartment with Bucky. Themes/Warning: FLUFF and then SMUT. Dirty Talk, Oral Sex in shower [M receiving], Breath play, Breeding Kink, Rough Sex, unprotected sex, a bit of Cumplay, pet names [baby, angel], Bucky talking Russian, Bucky watching you undress, Bucky washing your body. A/N: Enjoy. Also I only use goodle translate for the Russian translations so it might not be accurate okay?

Tags: @hzdhrtss @classicrebound @winterslove1917

You’re standing outside your new apartment, staring at the couch wedged halfway through the doorframe. Bucky is on the other side, trying not to scowl too hard, but it’s obvious he’s moments away from snapping.

“Remind me again… why this couch?” he grumbles, giving the couch another push, his biceps straining against his shirt. You can’t help but admire how ridiculous he looks—like an action hero struggling against a villain that won’t budge.

“It’s cute!” you call from the doorway, trying to sound casual.

“It’s a tank,” he mutters, adjusting his grip. “It’s like you went into the store and said, ‘Show me the one that can take out a wall.’”

You stifle a giggle and shrug. “Hey, it’s got character. You love character, right?”

Bucky raises an eyebrow at you, glancing between the couch and you. “Character? Babe, this couch has more attitude than I do.”

You smirk and cross your arms. “Mmm I think it’s 50/50.”

He doesn’t even dignify that with a response, pushing the couch again with a grunt. After what feels like an eternity, he manages to wedge it through the door and into the living room. He flops onto it, completely spent, his chest heaving.

“I swear,” he pants, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, “if we ever move again, I’m burning this thing.”

“Oh, relax,” you say, walking over to flop down next to him, throwing your legs across his lap. “You’re just cranky because the couch won.”

He gives you an incredulous look. “Cranky? Me?” Then, with an exaggerated groan, he places a hand on his chest. “Oh no, not at all. I love breaking my back for this thing. Love it.”

You poke his ribs, and he twitches. “Don’t be dramatic. I thought you were tough.”

“I am,” he says, sitting up with a mock glare. “But that couch is no joke.”

You snicker, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Well, now that the couch is in, we can start painting!”

Bucky’s expression drops like a rock. 

“Painting?” He points to the walls like they personally offended him. “What’s wrong with these walls?”

“They’re beige, Bucky. Beige. Who chooses beige?” You hop up, grabbing the paint roller with a bright smile. “Come on! I picked a beautiful sky blue for the feature wall.”

“I miss the couch already,” Bucky grumbles but stands up to help.

Soon enough, you’re both in old clothes, standing in the middle of the room with paint trays and rollers. Bucky, as expected, is focused, serious, and meticulous, carefully applying each stroke to the wall like it’s a mission briefing.

Meanwhile, you’re rolling the paint on a little haphazardly, watching him out of the corner of your eye, trying not to laugh. He’s so serious—too serious for something like this.

“Bucky,” you call out sweetly, taking a step toward him.

“Hm?” he grunts, still focused.

“Hold still.”

Before he can react, you swipe your paintbrush across his nose, leaving a perfect streak of blue on his face.

He blinks, stunned for a moment, his mouth hanging open. Then he narrows his eyes at you, his voice dangerously calm. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, but I did,” you say with a grin, taking a step back.

Bucky doesn’t say anything for a second, but the look on his face tells you everything—you’ve started something. Suddenly, he grabs his roller, slowly dipping it into the paint tray, his gaze locked onto you.

“Bucky—” you start, backing up.

“I’m warning you,” he says, lifting the roller like a weapon. “You’re not walking out of here clean.”

You squeal, trying to dodge as he lunges at you, but he’s faster—much faster. With one swift move, he swipes the roller across your arm, leaving a giant blue streak on your sleeve. You burst out laughing, and before you know it, both of you are chasing each other around the room, paint flying everywhere.

“Truce!” you yell, holding your hands up, but Bucky only smirks.

“No way,” he says, catching you around the waist and pulling you close. “You started this.”

Before you can protest, he swipes his finger across your cheek, leaving another streak of blue paint. You gasp and laugh, wriggling out of his grasp, but not before leaving a handprint on his shirt.

“You’re ruthless,” you say between giggles, wiping paint off your face.

“Says the woman who wiped paint on my nose,” he fires back, but he’s grinning now, looking much more relaxed than before.

Finally, you both collapse onto the plastic covered couch, your clothes and skin now covered in paint smudges, breathing heavily. Bucky rests his head on the back of the couch, glancing over at you with a soft smile. His nose is still blue, and he hasn’t even bothered to wipe it off.

“I can’t believe you picked a fight with me,” he says, his tone playful.

“I didn’t pick a fight,” you say, smiling. “I picked a paint war.”

He shakes his head, chuckling. “You’re lucky I love you.”

You lean over, kissing his cheek. “Yeah, I am.”

And there you are, sitting together on your way-too-large couch, paint everywhere, and Bucky with a sky-blue nose, looking happier than you’ve seen him in a while.

× × × ×

After what feels like hours of cleaning up paint splatters and arranging your oversized couch (which Bucky still glares at from time to time), you both flop back onto it, utterly spent. The place looks halfway decent now—painted walls, the couch finally in its rightful place—and both of you are starving.

You sit cross-legged on the couch, with takeout boxes from your favorite Chinese restaurant spread out on the coffee table in front of you. Bucky’s already digging into his lo mein like it’s the best meal of his life. You, however, are eyeing your sweet and sour pork, but your gaze keeps flicking over to Bucky’s food.

He catches your glances and raises an eyebrow, fork halfway to his mouth. 

“What?”

You quickly look back at your own box. “Nothing.”

He narrows his eyes suspiciously and takes another bite. You make a show of enjoying your food, but out of the corner of your eye, you keep stealing glances at his lo mein.

“Seriously, what’s going on?” Bucky asks, pausing mid-bite. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?” you ask innocently, poking your sweet and sour pork with your chopsticks.

“That thing where you pretend you don’t want my food but keep staring at it like it’s the last meal on Earth.”

You bite your lip, stifling a smile, and look at your chicken again. “I’m not staring. I’m just… admiring.”

“Admiring?” Bucky’s voice is filled with playful disbelief. “You hate lo mein.”

“I do not!” you protest, but your eyes flick back to his box of food.

Bucky leans back on the couch, a smirk forming on his lips as he watches you. “Uh-huh. So, you don’t want to swap?”

You freeze, pretending to look offended. “Why would I want to swap? I love sweet and sour pork. It’s… my favorite.”

“Uh-huh,” he repeats, his smirk growing as he scoops another big bite of lo mein into his mouth. “Because it really looks like you’re enjoying that pork.”

You poke the pork again, this time with a little less enthusiasm. You’ve had sweet and sour pork a million times. Meanwhile, Bucky’s lo mein looks warm and savory, and you swear he’s eating it like it’s better than yours on purpose.

“Okay, fine!” you finally admit, throwing your hands up. “I want your lo mein. Happy?”

Bucky laughs, his deep voice filling the room. “I knew it! Why don’t you just order what I order?”

“Because I like variety,” you say, crossing your arms. “But your food always looks better than mine.”

He snorts, shaking his head, before pushing his lo mein box toward you. “Go ahead, have at it. I knew this was coming.”

You take the box without hesitation, immediately diving into it like you’ve been waiting for this moment your whole life. 

“Thank you.”

Bucky watches you with a smile, then reaches for your untouched sweet and sour pork. 

“Fine. I’ll take this. Not that you ever really wanted it.”

You both eat for a few minutes, but Bucky’s watching you again, this time with a curious expression.

“What now?” you ask, pausing mid-bite.

“I just don’t get it,” Bucky says, waving his fork around. “You always do this. You order something different, then you want what I have.”

You shrug, swallowing a mouthful of noodles. “It’s a girlfriend thing. We like to try your food.”

Bucky chuckles, shaking his head. “You don’t try it—you take it.”

“I can’t help it!” you laugh. “You always pick the better food.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a fond smile on his face. “Next time, just tell me what you want. I’ll order two of it.”

You smile sweetly at him. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Bucky groans but doesn’t stop eating. After a few more bites, though, you notice him eyeing his old box—the one now sitting in your lap.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, a grin spreading across your face.

“Nothing,” he grumbles, glancing between his pirk and the lo mein you’ve commandeered. “Just… thinking maybe I miss my lo mein.”

You smirk and nudge the box toward him. “Wanna swap back?”

“Maybe,” he mutters, but you can tell he’s holding back a smile.

Without another word, you swap your food again, and Bucky’s face immediately brightens as he digs back into his lo mein. You laugh, shaking your head, realizing this is going to be a never-ending cycle of food-stealing whenever you two order takeout.

As you both settle in, Bucky looks over at you, this time with a soft smile, no teasing, no complaints. 

“You know,” he says, his voice a little quieter, “this whole moving in thing… not so bad.”

You smile back, your heart warming at his words. “Not so bad,” you agree, leaning into his side.

And as the two of you sit there, eating takeout on your too-big couch in your freshly painted apartment, you realize there’s no one else you’d rather steal food from for the rest of your life.

The apartment is finally feeling like home, and the evening sun filters through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room. Bucky’s arm is draped casually around your shoulders, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your arm.

You’ve got your phone in your hand, lazily scrolling through TikTok while Bucky relaxes next to you. Every so often, you let out a soft chuckle or grin at a funny video, completely absorbed in your scrolling.

Bucky isn’t saying much, just watching you quietly with that soft, fond expression he always gets when he thinks you aren’t paying attention. He likes these moments—when you’re just being yourself, not thinking too hard about anything. It’s one of the things he loves most about you.

Suddenly, you laugh out loud, covering your mouth as a TikTok meme plays on your screen. 

“Oh my god,” you snicker, turning to Bucky with a mischievous smile. “This is literally you.”

He raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “What? What is?”

You bite back another laugh and replay the TikTok, showing him the video. The meme says: "My boyfriend every time any part of my body touches him" followed by the guy on the video saying, "I may or may not have a boner right now."

Bucky stares at the screen for a moment, then glances back at you, his expression deadpan. 

“Really?”

You burst out laughing, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes! This is so you!”

Bucky groans, rubbing his hand over his face, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “That’s not me.”

“Yes you are!” you tease, poking him in the side. “You’re exactly like that. Every time.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Not every time.”

You give him a look, arching an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

Bucky smirks, leaning in a little closer. “Okay, fine. Maybe every time. But it’s not my fault. You’re… hot.”

You laugh again, nudging him playfully. “Uh-huh, sure.”

He catches your hand, pulling you closer, his smirk turning into a full grin. “What do you expect? You’re walking around here, looking all cute and stealing my food. What am I supposed to do?”

You roll your eyes, trying to hold back your smile. “Blame me for everything.”

He shrugs, still grinning. “I’m just saying, it’s a natural reaction.”

You shake your head, trying to keep a straight face, but you can’t help it. You burst into laughter again, leaning into him as you laugh. Bucky watches you, his expression softening, his hand moving to rest on your thigh as he pulls you even closer.

“See?” you say, still laughing, pointing at him. “Exactly like the TikTok!”

Bucky rolls his eyes dramatically but doesn’t bother denying it. “Fine, fine. You got me.”

You grin triumphantly, leaning your head on his shoulder as you settle back into his side. “I knew it.”

For a moment, neither of you says anything, just enjoying the comfortable silence. Then, with a small laugh, Bucky leans down, his voice low and teasing in your ear. “For the record… I may or may not have a boner right now.”

You gasp, swatting his chest. “Bucky!”

He laughs, pulling you into his lap and wrapping his arms around you, his grin wide and completely unrepentant. 

“Hey, you started it!”

You groan, shaking your head as you push yourself out of his lap, a smile tugging at your lips. 

“I don’t know… I think I’m going to have a shower,” you say, standing up and stretching.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, looking intrigued. “Oh, yeah?”

You give him a playful smirk. “Yeah. Alone.”

His face twists into a dramatic pout.

“Alone? C’mon, we should save on the water bill. Be responsible adults,” he says with a mock-serious tone, raising his eyebrows like it’s a valid point. He grins, leaning back on the couch, crossing his arms. “Just looking out for our finances.”

“Right. Well, I think we’ll survive a little higher water bill,” you tease as you make your way toward the bathroom.

He sighs dramatically. “Guess I’ll just sit here being financially responsible all by myself.”

You pause in the doorway, throwing a look over your shoulder. “Good luck with that.”

Bucky smirks, not giving up. “Last chance. Think of the planet.”

You roll your eyes but chuckle, finally giving in. “Alright, fine! Hurry up!”

Bucky’s face lights up, and he pumps his fist in victory. 

“Yes!” He jumps off the couch, pulling his shirt over his head from behind in one smooth motion, already halfway undressed as he strides toward you with a triumphant grin.

Your eyes instinctively drift down his body as he walks toward you, taking in the way his muscles shift with every step, his abs defined and his chest broad. He tosses his shirt aside, and you can’t help but admire the view, your cheeks heating slightly as you watch him.

When he reaches you, Bucky’s hands move swiftly to his belt and the buttons on his jeans, undoing them with ease. His fingers are quick and sure, and he glances up at you, clearly amused by your reaction. He knows exactly what he’s doing as he works to undress, his grin widening when he sees you watching.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter, leaning against the doorframe, trying to play it cool despite the way your gaze lingers a little longer than intended.

“Responsible,” he corrects with a wink, kicking off his shoes. “Environmentally conscious. And now, efficient.”

You snicker, stepping aside to let him through. “Alright, Mr. Efficient, you’re on a time limit.”

Bucky grins, already slipping into the bathroom. “Don’t worry, I’m a super soldier. Fast is kind of my thing.”

As you stood shut the door behind you, you suddenly felt a sharp smack on your ass. You gasped, turning around to find Bucky grinning behind you.

“Oh my god, Bucky!” you exclaimed, but he was already past you, reaching in to turn the shower on like it was the most normal thing in the world.

He glanced back, his eyes filled with playful mischief. “What?” he asked innocently. “You love it.”

You rolled your eyes, trying not to laugh. “Can you not watch me?”

Bucky leaned casually against the wall, crossing his arms, his eyes fixed on you with a smirk that made your stomach flip. Slowly, he licked his bottom lip, his gaze drifting over your body like he was committing every inch of you to memory.

“Why not? I’ve seen this a million times,” he teased, his voice low and teasing. “Besides, I like watching you take everything off.”

His eyes lingered on the curve of your waist, traveling up to your bare shoulders, then back down again, soaking in every detail. The way his lips tugged into a smile when you caught him staring sent heat flooding through you.

Your cheeks flushed, but you tried to act unbothered, peeling off your clothes while fully aware of his intense gaze following your every move. You could feel the way his eyes moved over your skin, taking in the sight of your legs, the dip of your back, and the way you tried to casually brush off his attention.

Finally, the water was hot enough, steam swirling around the bathroom. As you reached for the shower door, Bucky’s hand shot out, tugging you toward him and into the shower, his grip firm but gentle.

“Bucky!” you yelped as the warm water cascaded over both of you. His arms wrapped around you from behind, pulling you against his chest, the heat of his body almost matching the warmth of the water.

He kissed the back of your neck, his voice a low, amused rumble in your ear. “Told you. Saving water.”

Taking the soap, he worked up a lather in his hands and pulled your back against his chest. He soaped your breasts, massaging them and pinching your nipples. You wound your arms around his head, giving you your weight and full access to your luscious body.

Bucky reached for your clit, stroking and circling with two fingertips, loving the way you responded to him. Never had a lover been so in tune with what he needed, your cravings a perfect match to his own. He felt like a god every time you gave in. Soon you were panting, your ass rocking against the semi-erect cock between his legs.

Bucky maneuvered you into the spray, letting the warm water cascade down your skin, droplets running down your shoulders and back as you settled into the heat. He stayed close behind you, soaping his own body while you soaked beneath the shower.

Your gaze flickered, darting between his legs as he washed his cock and balls, the sight almost too tempting. Without thinking, you started to reach for him, fingers trailing toward his groin.

“Later,” Bucky rasped, his voice thick with desire. He caught your wrist gently, his lips brushing your ear as he added, "In fact, I planned on fucking you all night." 

You shivered at his words, heat pooling low in your stomach as his breath tickled the sensitive skin of your neck. 

"You're not actually worried about the water bill, are you?" you teased, glancing back at him with a smirk, trying to break the tension, though your pulse was racing.

Turning away, you began to wash your hair, lathering the shampoo into your scalp. But before you could finish, Bucky's hands reached for yours, gently moving them aside. 

"Let me," he murmured, his fingers threading through your hair as he started massaging your scalp with the perfect amount of pressure, and you moaned. Bucky chuckled softly, the sound went straight to his dick.

"Sovsem ni kapli," he said, his voice rumbling low. 

"What?" you chuckled, realising he'd spoken Russian on purpose, knowing it turns you on. "You're doing that thing where you talk in Russian.”

He grinned, his lips ghosting over your ear. "Not even a little."

You tilted your head back slightly, feeling his fingers still working through your hair. "Are you teaching me Russian?"

“Maybe," he said, a playful edge to his voice, “Ya lyublyu tebya” I love you.

“Ya lyublyu tebya,” you repeated in an accent far more non-russian accent than Russian.

“You’ll learn. You will be ready to tell me to fuck you in Russian very soon.” 

“Teach me how to say that,” you said as you moved under the spray to rinse your hair.

“Pozhaluysta, trakhnya menya. Ya tvoya malen'kaya shlyushka.”

“You said more than just ‘fuck me.’” 

He grabbed your waist and pulled your wet body flush to his. Bucky said, ‘Please fuck me. I am your little slut.’” 

“Oh, my God—you nasty.” You fingers threaded through his hair, your eyelids hooded. “Why is that so hot?” 

“Because you like it dirty, just like I do.” Bucky pushed you against the tile and ate at your mouth, devouring you as he thrust his tongue inside. You kissed him back, meeting him eagerly, and his balls were heavy again with the need to have you.

Bucky reluctantly tore his mouth off of yours and said, “You know what I want.” 

You wasted no time in dropping to your knees on the slick tile. He didn’t move, so you shuffled forward until the tip of his erection was within reach. You opened your mouth and sucked on the head, using your tongue on the underside. 

“Argh—that’s my girl,” His palm swept over your wet hair.

You pushed your face toward his pelvis, taking more of him. He filled your mouth, so thick and smooth, and you could taste the precum leaking from the tip. You closed your eyes, savouring the sensation, loving the power this gave you over his pleasure.

He rocked his hips, fucking your mouth, and you took it eagerly, relaxing your throat to keep from gagging. You made sure your lips stayed tight on his shaft, and you fluttered your tongue until he grunted. 

“Eyes up here.”

You looked up at his face, which was taut with lust, his pupils wide. Bucky began muttering something under his breath, which was something he does to keep himself going for longer. 

By the time he finished, you were panting, more turned on than you could stand. You started to reach between youe legs, ready to make yourself come, but his fingers twisted in your hair. 

“Not yet. Put your hands behind your back.” 

You obeyed and his nostrils flared at your compliance. “Who do you belong to, baby?”

You knew he wanted an answer, so you started to release him. He shook his head and held you in place. “No, don’t pull off. With your mouth full of my dick, tell me who you belong to.” 

Holding his gaze, you gave a garbled answer around the rigid flesh. “Mmmu.” 

Satisfaction twisted his expression and he pushed deep, making you gag. “That’s right. What a good girl you are. I think I’ll reward you.” 

You groaned low in yourthroat, and the vibrations made him shudder and his eyes rolled, breaking your eye contact. You moaned again, this time intentionally and watched his rapturous expression, revelling in the sudden power. The more he growled and the harder he gripped your hair the more voraciously you tried to devour him with your tongue.

Bucky pumped his hips against your mouth and the only thing keeping you steady was his grip on your head as you felt him stiffen even more against your tongue, your mouth followed, moving wetly back up the shaft. You let out more moans before he gasped and cried out thickly. You felt a pressure in your mouth and it was suddenly filled. You nearly gagged and had to swallow several times to keep from choking, finally pulling away with a gasp to see the remainder still leaking from the tip. You blinked up at him taking heavy breaths.

Turning off the water, he stepped back and his cock fell out of your mouth. He raised a hand to brush the hair from your face and cupped your cheek in one hand. His hand almost practically engulfed you but was extremely gentle, almost tender.

“Up.”

After you rose, he pointed behind you. “Go to the bed. Lay down, arms above your head and legs spread.” 

You didn’t bother towelling off as you left the bathroom. Instead, you stretched out on the cool sheets, the water drying on your skin and making you shiver. Your clit was swollen and begging for attention.

Bucky strode into the bedroom, his glorious cock bobbing with every step. He was going to shove that monster inside your pussy and you couldn’t fucking wait. 

Putting one knee on the bed, he reached between your legs. “Fuck, you’re so wet. Did my Russian turn you on?” 

He shoved two fingers inside you and you gasped, you upper half bowing. “God, yes!” 

“Is this pussy empty? Do you need me to fill it?” He pumped his hand, giving you a taste of the friction you craved. “Beg me. ‘Trakhni menya zhestko, soldat.’”

You dug your fingernails into the headboard. “Trakhni menya zhestko, James!”

“Fuck,” he ground out. “I want to edge you for hours, but I can’t—let’s just go for round two.” In a flash he was on his knees between your thighs, lining up at your entrance and pushing in. The pressure was a lot to take. 

You weren’t sure you were one hundred percent ready. “Oh, shit.” 

“Shh,” he said, smoothing his palms down your legs. “You can take me, baby, you always do.” 

He watched as his cock spread your pussy open, his hips moving slowly, like he wanted you to feel every centimeter. Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head. “So good, Bucky. You’re killing me.”

He dragged a hand up your hip, along your ribs and over a breast, until he reached your throat. 

“No, I’m not killing you . . . but I easily could?” Bucky jokes, his fingers covered your neck and squeezed, not enough to cut off your air but enough to cause your eyes to pop open. He was smirking down at you. 

“You’re alive at my mercy, angel.” As if on cue, a flood of moisture coated his cock just then and he tunneled farther inside, now in almost all the way. He squeezed your throat a little harder. “You like that, don’t you? When I play with you like this.”

Your lips parted with the force of your breaths, your pulse throbbing beneath his hand. He slid in as deep as he could go, his cock fully seated and taking up all the room inside you. You wriggled your hips, trying to urge him on. You needed to come so badly. 

“Please, baby, you have to move.”

Instead, he held still and stared at you. “I am going to choke you while I fuck you.” 

Panic filled your chest. You weren’t ready for those kinds of games. That was next level shit. “No, wait. Don’t hurt me—take it easy.”

“Angel,” he crooned, “Of course, I will not hurt you. Ya tebe obeshchayu.” I promise you.

He gave a gentle thrust of his hips. “I am going to squeeze the sides of your throat. It will make you lightheaded and your orgasm will be a thousand times more intense.”

You knew many people were into breath play and strangulation, but it seemed dangerous to you. 

You swallowed. “O-okay? I trust you.”

“Don’t worry, I know how to do this correctly. You will love it.” He stared at his hand on your throat, then withdrew and rammed into your pussy, and the friction sent shockwaves through your limbs. He growled deep in his throat.

“Baby, shouldn’t we have a safe word? Or . . . .” your words died when he gave a rough thrust, rocking you body, and you cried out. “Oh, yes! More of that.”

“Nah. No need for a safe word. The fear and danger will make it more exciting for you.” Bucky winked, pulling almost all the way out then ramming back inside you.

“Fu—ck. It’ll just make it more exciting for you.”

Bucky only chuckled and he began stroking in and out, his hand resting on your throat. He wasn’t applying any real pressure, just building the tension, making you wonder when he would start, and for some reason the uncertainty made it hotter. Sweat broke out on your forehead, your body already primed to come, so you rocked your hips, trying to hit the right spot to send you over the edge.

“Look at me,” he ordered. 

You cracked your eyelids and read the intent in his gaze. Fuck, was I ready? I really liked the feel of his hand on my throat.

You nodded. 

As he started thrusting back into his rhythm, he squeezed the sides of your throat, pressing. You never looked away from him, unsure what you were feeling as the blood flow into your head slowed. He watched your face. 

“There you go, Angel. It feels so good, doesn’t it?” 

The fear and excitement sent you spiraling. “Oh, God,” you said, now lightheaded.

He rode you hard, rocking the headboard into the wall, and you inner muscles tightened around his dick. 

He growled. “I can feel you. Fuck!”

He released your neck, and what followed was a rush you’d never experienced in all your life. Your pussy clamped down as the orgasm slammed into you. Yoir hoarse shout echoed throughout the room, and you dug your fingernails into his arms as the climax went on and on.

Buck was pressing deep inside against your cervix, this time harder, and the pressure made you cramp. One of his hands has now begun toying with your breast, creating more of those warm and blessed shivers of sensation.

“You’re so hot when you take it.” He said brushing his knuckles against the undersides of you breast. 

“Yeah? Well you better not fucking pull out.” You demanded, insensibly rocking you hips against his, and pressing your breast into his hand.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? You're just going to keep having babies over and over. Don't let any of the cum out of your pussy when I come. We need it all in there so you can do your job. That's all you need to be. Just a little baby maker for me.” He pinched one of your nipples, a little hard, but you instantly wanted him to do it again.

"Oh—fuck, yes! I’m going to keep it all in for you, baby. Now why don’t you find a more...productive use for...your dirty mouth?” You looked at him with glazed eyes, and he gave you a heart stopping look in return.

"As you wish, angel." And with that his mouth was at your devouring your mouth, your throat, and finally was at your breasts. You rewarded him with an approving squeeze at the back of his neck, and his cock as he ravaged you.

He pumped into you more aggressively now, and you ground your hips against him, each shock sliding further from more pleasure. You cried out, clutching at him and wrapping your legs tightly around him, but he continued to thrust into you with greater need, moving more and more deeply, his tongue all over your body. 

Again the pain mingled with pleasure until it all blurred into a white heat. It was as if you felt everything and nothing. You had trouble discerning where one caress began and another violent thrust ended. 

You felt him moving above you, his muscles straining beneath your hands and at your mouth as you licked and nipped at his rough skin feeling an undeniable urge to feel and taste every part of him. You felt Bucky’s moans as much as you heard them, vibrating through your body as he pressed against you, covering you and burying himself inside you. He was everywhere, and it felt as if there was nothing left of the world beyond you two straining bodies.

You felt the knot in the pit of your stomach tightening once more and you rocked your hips faster against him, grunting as your bodies slammed together. 

“Ohhh—my—god, Bucky! YES. Put that hot load in my unprotected pussy.”

Your hips meet his thrusts coming closer and closer with each jarring shock. Bucky laced his fingers through your loose hair and gripped you again, leveraging himself into you and sending a blinding heat through you making your hips jerk beneath him. 

“Oh—fuck, I’m going to put a baby inside you now. Can you feel how deep I am inside you?” Grunting from the effort, he held you down as his hips slammed into you, a man possessed, and not even ten strokes later he was coming, his back arching.

His own cry tore from his throat as you shook beneath him, and you felt yourseld suddenly filled, if that were any more possible, and was overcome by a series of wrenching spasms that made you clutch at his skin and gasp for air. You twitched delirious as the throbbing inside of you sent hot waves of pleasure and relief through your trembling body.

Bucky didn’t immediately pull out. Instead, he hung his head, closed his eyes, and stirred his hips, like he wanted to prolong your connection. You could feel his come leaking out of you, our combined juices soaking the mattress. 

You reached down as he slowly pulled out, the emptiness causing you to shiver. You reached down and tried to extract as much some as you could by scooping it out of your with two fingers, eyes locked on Bucky while you seductively lick his come off your fingers.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Finally, he rolled off you and sprawled onto the bed.

Your head rested on his arm, your cheek pressed against the hard ridge of his chest. You slid a hand along the groove, trailing it down to his stomach and pressed your hand against it, exploring the firm lines of the knotted muscles with your finger tips. 

“Are you trying to get me hard again? Because it’s working.”

[kurooh]

MIGHT LET YOU MAKE ME JUNO ! — HAIKYUU

⊹₊˚. featuring timeskip! miya atsumu, miya osamu, kuroo tetsurō, iwaizumi hajime, & suna rintarou tryin’ to knock up their pretty wife !

warnings ★ 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, breeding, cuddlefucking, doggy, talk of kids & pregnancy, fluff, creampies, shower sex, minor cockwarming, squirting, full nelson, mirror sex, mention of lactation, mating press, cum in panties (offscreen), not proofread.

xoxo, juno ★ my namesake?! hehe, cheers to the surviving haikyuu fuckers on my blog <33 ty for your patience!! as always, send in some asks/reblog if you enjoyed, i love reading comments/tags

— MIYA ATSUMU

“go ahead ‘n slut yerself out all over my cock, baby.. fuuuck, jus’ like that.”

atsumu’s lips part around a needy moan, jaw hanging slackly in some kind of disbelief. after such a lengthy, tiring day, he found himself trudging into your shared bathroom to greet you.

he’d gotten hard in seconds, seeing your tits pressed against the glass door as well as your face, lidded eyes and cute pout enticing him to come join you. when he got onto his knees to get you ready, you’d bent over and tossed him a knowing smirk over your shoulder.

“lemme see that ass move again.. shit, ‘s perfect. yer perfect.” you giggle, throwing your ass back onto his cock, eyes rolling back when his tip kisses your cervix just right, sending sparks of pleasure right through your veins.

“tsumu, this isn’t all that fun,” you huff, the wild need for him to truly ruin you growing by the second. “wan’ you to fuck me, and make me yours.”

“baby, yer already mine,” atsumu lands a slap on your wet asscheek, startling you enough for your legs to spread further. “good girl,” he praises, hushed and under his breath. he reaches upwards and pulls the shower head down, pushes it into your hand and changes the setting.

“use this on yer clit, ‘kay? when yer feelin’ like ya wanna cum, don’t. hold it ‘n we’ll cum at the same time, yeah baby?”

you nod, and he smacks your ass hard, leaning backwards. atsumu pushes a hand through soaked gold strands, chuckling lowly although his voice has a serious edge to it. “‘s not how we say yes, is it?”

“y-yes, tsumu. at the same time.”

he draws his hips back, then finds himself advancing forward brutally. he doesn’t think about anything beside you — you, you, you. with the scent of your body wash tangling in the hot air, the beautiful curves and slopes of your body, the noises you make for him only.

your chest heaves when the steady spray of the shower head soon reaches your clit, immediately proving to be overwhelming and intense paired with him fucking you.

“so god damn tight,” atsumu hisses, nails digging crescent moons into the plush skin of your hips as his own collide with your ass. the bathroom is full of steam and the rhythmic clap of skin against skin — it’s hard to keep from trembling with how good everything feels, all over.

frantic panting cuts through the sound of your whimpers as atsumu feels himself nearing his peak. it’s nasty, downright filthy, the way your nails drag down the wall tiles as you desperately hump your ass back into him.

gasps of your name and affectionate nicknames fall from his lips like a sacred prayer, blending into a whiny harmony as atsumu’s thrusts grow rougher.

“baby,” he chokes, voice tight. “ya better be close, can barely last.”

“tsumu, cum inside me,” you beg, skin burning and pussy squeezing uncontrollably, squelching growing louder. “p-please, i can’t— i’m gonna cum, ‘m gonna—” your body tenses, and the shower head falls to the floor with a clunk that neither of you register.

luckily atsumu looks down at the right moment, sees you squirt, pussy gushing onto his pelvis. as if your back arching and your clenching pussy wasn’t enough, he ends up cumming too hard, ribbons of white gushing deep into your awaiting pussy.

“fuckkk,” he groans, overstimulation setting in way too quickly and causing him to pull halfway out of your fluttering cunt.

“no, tsumu,” is all you can heave out, pushing back hard enough to send him into the wall behind him, muscled back hitting the tiles as he lets out a startled oomph. “wanna keep it inside, feels so good.”

— MIYA OSAMU

“samu,” you mumble into his lips, tossing a leg over his hip. he grunts, nose nudging your cheek as he pulls back. “yeah? what’s on yer mind, angel?”

“had a dream about a baby,” the words are spoken softly, and osamu’s fingers lightly graze your chin as he makes you look up at him. “i know it’s kinda stupid, but it was so..” your voice trails off sheepishly and there’s a pause before you admit, “you were such a good dad, samu, ‘n so sexy too.”

your bare bodies are bathed in the morning sunlight, warm and comforting as it peeks in through the curtains. this is the perfect moment with him, skin to skin, his cock still inside you as you kiss and talk about dreams of the future.

in his chest, feelings stir and ideas come to life in his head; osamu presses his hips forward with a hushed moan.

“well, i’ll give ya a baby, angel,” large hands smooth over your hips as he helps you turn away from him; then they pull you close, grabbing at your tits and tugging your nipples between his fingers.

“samu,” you sigh, words fading into a content moan as you feel his hips draw back, then advance forward, against your ass. “i want you to fill me up, give me everything.”

“only if ya take it all,�� osamu huffs, tucking his face into your shoulder and closing his eyes as he starts to fuck his cock into you deeply. the thick tip kisses your sweet spot over and over, and if that wasn’t already overwhelming enough, your hand wanders towards your swollen clit.

somehow, osamu’s faster than you, releasing one of your tits and swatting away your hand before he’s finding your clit with his index finger and rubbing it in messy circles.

“s-samu, fuck— jus’ like that, don’t stop!”

your back arches against him, hips twisting as a heat spreads through your veins, fiery and intense in the best ways possible. the movement of your body and then the frantic clenching of your pussy is too intense for him; sharp whines escape his throat, muffled as osamu bites into your shoulder desperately.

“i-i— shit, ‘m gonna fill you up,” is all you can make out from his rushed mumbling, and you turn your head quickly, desperate for his lips.

“kiss me, samu. kiss me as you cum inside, please.”

it’s as though the words break him — his face twists as he kisses you, whole body tensing. he presses his cock deep, thickening and throbbing before he’s gushing cum and can’t seem to stop.

“ah, fuck,” he tosses his head back, fingers scrabbling at your nipples as his chest heaves against your back, heart pounding steadily.

you cum with a whine, grinding down on his cock in an effort to get him impossibly deeper. as you ride out your highs together, trembling deliciously, he can’t help but dissolve into giggles of pure happiness.

“angel, ya got that baby for sure, jus’ like ya wanted, hm? ah, i can’t wait for a mini-me or a mini-ya. yer gonna be the prettiest mom, swear.”

— KUROO TETSURŌ

“fuck, babe. you’ve got no idea about what i saw today,” tetsurō huffs, warm breath fanning over your tits as they bounce, controlled by your bra.

spices clatter as tetsurō sweeps his arm across the kitchen counter behind you, clearing the space so you can lean back a little easier. his grip on your thighs doesn’t waver, nor does the ruthless tempo of his hips.

“tetsu, what’d you see?” you gasp, tears threatening to pour over your waterline.

“well, i saw this family,” he grunts, thrusting into you particularly hard now that he’s recalling the memory. “the dad had their kid on his shoulders, and the mom was pregnant. they looked so happy, and it made me think of you.”

“is that so?” you ask, spreading your legs impossibly wider as an invitation. you bite your lower lip, rolling your hips against his in an effort to get his cock deeper.

“tetsu,” he raises his eyes from the mess between your legs to your face, earnest and flushed. “kiss me, baby.”

tetsurō obliges, lets you tug him forward by the chin, mesh his lips with yours. it’s warm and sweet, the aftertaste of the dessert you’d been making as his surprise for when he’d come home. your tongue slips between plush, parted lips and moves with his gently, quite a contrast from the rough way he’s fucking you.

“ah, shit,” he moans, struggling to kiss you back when he feels your sticky walls clenching down on his too sensitive cock.

tetsurō leans forward and buries his flushed face in your shoulder, kissing the tender skin a few times before nipping it and then finally biting down into your shoulder.

he practically loses it when you wrap your legs around his back, heels digging into muscle as you push him forward. in a hushed tone and into his ear, you say sweetly, “tetsu, fuck a baby into me.”

“oh, i fucking will, princess.”

although, despite his rough words, he’s wheezing and whining every now and then into your shoulder, hoping it muffles his sounds.

your hand slides up his neck and tangles into dark tufts of hair, pulling tight as your own orgasm approaches. your pleasure mixes with his own, and just before the knot in your belly snaps, you feel a strong pulsing deep within your pussy.

he groans loudly, burying his cock deep just as it starts to gush, painting your walls white. your nails dig hard into his scalp and the sting of pain only seems to make him get a little more vocal.

tetsurō pants into your neck, trying to find his bearings now that his limbs feel like jelly.

“hold me?”

— IWAIZUMI HAJIME

“h-haji, this was a good call..”

“oh yeah?” hajime’s voice rumbles in his chest, strong and steady against your back as he keeps your legs wide open. “have we ever tried this one?”

“i don’t think so, but we definitely will in the future.”

“feels that good, princess?” hajime chuckles, eyeing your reflections in the mirror mounted across the bed. for a moment, he considers the two of you puzzle pieces — he sees that his cock fits snugly inside you, and the thought that you may be made for each other briefly crosses his mind.

“of course it does,” a sheen of sweat glimmers on your face, skin glowing beautifully in the mirror. “god, hajime, y-you’re so deep..”

he notices your eyes falling shut, head tipping back, and he raises his hand to lightly smack your cheek. “mm, princess, gotta keep watching. i want you to see yourself cum, alright?”

“fine,” you huff, feet dangling in the air and bouncing every which way as he fucks into you, heavy balls smacking your pussy with each stroke.

“what made you wanna try this?” you ask, knowing you should save the question for later, but you’re too curious not to ask. why would your husband come home someday and randomly want to try a new position you’d never heard of?

“well, you know..” in the mirror, you catch the flush on his tanned cheeks. “we’ve both caught the fever recently, and this is a solid position for makin’ babies.”

you gasp sharply when hajime turns his hips ever so slightly, and the resulting sensation causes pressure to build in your pelvis. “shit— right there, haji, just like that..”

he grunts, body stiffening as he tightly holds you in place and fucks into you like it’s the last time you’ll ever be like this together.

“wanna get you pregnant,” hajime groans, abs flexing with the effort of maintaining his merciless pace, “i wanna—shit—wanna breed you.”

“you want it that bad?” you breathe, just barely keeping your eyes open and focusing on your bouncing reflection. “fuck me full, then, haji.”

hajime doesn’t question it, thinks of you with a swollen belly and milky tits all for him to hold and take care of. you, with your glowing skin and beautiful body from all the pregnancy hormones.

the idea of it all is too much to bear, not to mention cumming deep inside your cunt, this time with the intent to breed.

he can’t even muster the words to warn you that he’s cumming as hard as he is; after a choked, tight groan, he falls silent and rocks his hips into you.

“fuck it deep, haji,” you whisper, on the edge yourself. obedient and too far gone in his fantasy, he does exactly what you ask, whining very quietly from the sensitivity.

shaking on top of him and watching the reflections in the mirror, you cum hard, dissolving into unmatched pleasure. and you’re thankful you keep your eyes open, moaning at the very sight— hajime doesn’t even pull out, he’s still pushing his cock in and out of you, but cum races from your cunt in thick white rivulets.

“i’m trying,” he huffs, sensitive when he glances up and notices how intently you’re watching the mirror. his cheeks flush lightly when you both notice that most of his cum ends up dripping down his balls and out of you.

“don’t worry, princess. i’ll cum however many times it takes, sound good?”

— SUNA RINTAROU

“you want a few brats? oh, i just felt your pussy squeeze up. ‘s what you want, huh?” rintarou bites, harshness of his thrusts drawing whimper after whimper from your kiss-swollen lips.

“i want it, rin,” you feel one of his palms smoothing over the plushness of your lower stomach, just above your pelvis. “w-what’re you doing?”

he laughs at your stutter, keeps your legs steady over his shoulders. rintarou draws his hips back, leaving just his tip inside your quivering pussy. then, he presses down on your lower stomach and slides in, adding more pressure with each inch.

“rintarou!” you wheeze, jerking your hips to the side in a pathetic attempt to run away from the overwhelming pleasure he gives you with every movement, big or small.

“nuh uh, pretty girl,” his free hand grabs ahold of you tightly, tugs you towards him and then settles to rest on your neck. rintarou’s fingers are loose on each side of your throat, hand placed there in a demonstration of control. but what’s the point of that, when he’s already made it clear by hoisting your legs over his shoulders and folding you in half?

“you’ll take it, all of it.”

“but ‘m sensitive, i’ve cum too many times,” you can’t even recall a number or remember how long he’s been fucking you like this.

you’re both sticky with sweat, your thighs stained white with dried cum from previous rounds and marked with love bites he’d given you in his excitement to get a taste of your pussy.

it’s so fucking messy because rintarou’s the one who can’t stop asking to eat you out and push the cum back inside; you always say yes, then cum until you’re dizzy and can’t see straight.

you taste yourself from earlier on the corners of his lips when he bends forward and gives you a chaste kiss. “l-last time, okay? i’ll give you your brats, pretty girl.”

the sweet pout on your lips that’s quickly replaced with something else and wail of his name that leaves you when he starts jackhammering your pussy turns him on to the max.

incoherent babbling of what he’ll give you and how good you feel blend together, and before you can fully register it, rintarou’s folding forward with a deep groan. “shit, i’m gonna cum so fucking hard, i—”

he shuts up and gives you a few more thrusts before he’s pushing deep and cumming — he’s not done when he pulls out and covers your pussy in cum.

“r-rin, keep it inside,” you whine sadly, watching as he collects it on his tip and then plunges it back inside.

“jus’ needed some extra lube,” he says coolly, but he really just wants to cum all over you. “how’s it feel inside, pretty baby?”

“like i need some more.”

rintarou laughs at the way you turn away, cheeks hot in embarrassment because you were the one who wanted a break. “we are going out later, hm?”

your nod makes him smile, green eyes crinkling at the corners. “how about i cum in your panties and you walk around with ‘em?”