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iconbyunghun · 3 days ago

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first time

Pairing: Lee Byung Hun x virgin!reader

Summary: After a failed attempt to take the step into intimacy with your beloved boyfriend, you finally feel confident enough to give yourself to him. He couldn’t long for anything more than making you feel desired and showing you how amazing making love can be.

Warnings: Smut 18+, MDNI, age gap (early-20s/50s), virginity loss, oral (fem receiving)

Word count: 3.9 k

a/n: I wish I had more time during the week to finish my drafts (work and adult life sucks) :( so this is one of them. I tried to make it kinda fluff, but I’m not sure if I succeeded.

From the beginning, sincerity was the foundation of your relationship with Byung Hun. Despite the significant age difference, the chemistry between you made everything flow wonderfully during the six months you had been together. You loved being able to talk to him about anything, sharing your doubts and concerns, and feeling how his maturity and experience always had the perfect answer for everything. But, although you never hid anything from each other, there was one topic that, up until that point, had never been addressed.

Intimacy.

It wasn't a lack of desire. You felt it in the way he looked at you when he thought you didn’t notice, in the way his hands lingered a little longer on your skin, in how his kisses, at certain moments, became more demanding. And, of course, you weren’t oblivious to how attractive he was—his presence, his gaze, the tone of his voice—he was every woman’s dream.

The breaking point came one night after you attended an event as his guest. When it ended, he suggested going to his apartment, and there, with a few glasses of wine in your system, you both let yourselves be carried away by the rhythm of your lips meeting. His jacket ended up on the floor as he positioned himself over you, supporting his weight on his knees and his left arm beside your head. Without breaking the kiss, he deepened it, making it more intense. Your hands, tangled in his hair, gave him gentle squeezes as his free hand slid down your thigh, caressing your skin before slipping under your dress. He smiled against your lips as his fingertips brushed against your warm, damp center, confident that you were ready for him.

And suddenly, you broke the kiss—and the moment. The instant you felt him move your underwear aside and attempt to slide a finger inside you, you snapped out of the trance immediately. As a reflex, you tried to close your legs and pushed his shoulders with a startled gasp.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, concern evident in his voice as he gave you the space you seemed to need. He was worried he had done something wrong.

You curled your legs against your chest, resting your arms on your knees. Your face burned with embarrassment. You didn’t know how to explain it, and all you wanted was for the ground to swallow you whole.

Since you had started dating, you had thought about this topic many times. You had never had sex before, and it wasn’t something that had particularly interested you. Not until you started your relationship. You knew he was experienced and that, at some point, he would expect to take that step with you, as any couple would.

In your limited romantic experience, you had never gone beyond kissing and a few touches with an ex. Most of your friends had already done it, and from listening to their stories—almost always disastrous—you couldn’t help but feel a certain aversion to the idea of being naked, exposed, and vulnerable in front of someone else.

Even if that person was your beloved boyfriend, someone who loved you devotedly and would never hurt you, you simply needed more time to feel safe.

"I-I’m sorry..." was all you could say before rebellious tears welled up in your eyes.

Byung Hun, still trying to understand the situation, shifted on the couch and focused his attention on you. Feeling a pang in his chest at seeing you so vulnerable, he lifted a hand to gently stroke your face and wipe away your tears.

"Baby, you don’t have to apologize for anything," he said softly, searching for clues in your gaze.

The lump in your throat grew bigger. You felt like a fool for not being able to do something so “normal” and for not even being able to explain it without breaking down in tears.

"I-I’ve never..." You bit your lip, searching for the right words. "I’ve never done it... and I don’t want you to think I don’t want to, but I need more time..."

Covering your face with your hands, you rested your forehead on your knees. You couldn’t bear to look at him.

Byung Hun raised his eyebrows, surprised, and then he understood everything. He felt bad for assuming you already had experience.

"Sweetheart, I’m the one who should be apologizing," he said tenderly, taking your arms and pulling you into his embrace. "Come here."

With gentle movements, he slid one hand along your back and the other under your thighs, effortlessly guiding you onto his lap. Wrapping his strong arms around your waist, he pulled you close, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You curled up against his chest, feeling his warmth envelop you completely.

"I should have been more mindful of this. You don’t have to feel bad."

For a moment, the thought that he might love you a little less for not giving in scared you, but his warm embrace and words of understanding dispelled that fear.

"Doesn’t it bother you to wait a little longer?" you asked in a trembling voice. "I... I don’t want you to get tired of me..."

He let out a soft chuckle before placing another kiss on your head, lingering there for a few seconds as he inhaled the sweet scent of your hair.

"Sweetheart, I’m completely in love with you," he said seriously. "I want it to be special for you when it feels right."

That night, you fell asleep in his arms, letting his warmth surround you.

After that, the topic was never brought up again. You both continued with your routine, but the thought lingered more persistently in your mind.

You started analyzing your body in the mirror after showering, wondering if he would like you enough, if you were attractive enough when fully exposed. The thoughts forming in your head told you no—not when he had been with stunning models and actresses you could never compare to—and that only discouraged you more.

You searched for information online, though it wasn’t the most reliable source, but you didn’t have the confidence to ask a friend about your doubts. Most advice said that to avoid discomfort, your partner should prepare you well and that you should know your own body. You wondered what they meant by "knowing yourself better." It wasn’t as if you had never masturbated before, but it wasn’t something habitual for you. And now, when you tried following the advice, you only ended up frustrated—rather than letting the sensation flow, you just felt stressed.

Byung Hun, for his part, made sure not to make you uncomfortable again. His touches were completely innocent: his hugs purely comforting, accompanied by kisses on your cheek, forehead, and soft pecks on your lips.

You started sleeping over at his place more often, which allowed you to spend more time together. Even if your schedules didn’t always align during the day, you could always see each other for breakfast, lunch, and, without fail, at night to rest.

That Sunday night, as had become routine, you two picked—or rather, you picked—a movie to watch before bed.

"Are you paying attention?" you asked, turning your head to look at your boyfriend.

He smiled before placing a soft kiss on your temple.

"It’s Twilight, baby. I don��t think I need one hundred percent of my focus to understand it," he teased, earning a light slap from you on his shoulder.

You laughed, adjusting yourself slightly before returning your attention to the movie, which was nearing its end. Both of you were curled up in bed, the sheets covering half of your bodies. He was dressed in pajama pants and a white T-shirt, while you wore a silk top with thin straps and matching shorts—ones he had gifted you. Your head rested on his left arm while his other arm wrapped around you, holding you close.

His fingers began to trace barely-there caresses on the exposed skin of your abdomen. At first, it seemed like an unconscious gesture, but you noticed. The sensation became hypnotic, completely capturing your attention. Suddenly, you became more aware of the heat of his body against yours, of his masculine scent enveloping you—intoxicating and consuming.

Almost without thinking, you pressed yourself closer to him. The movement made his touch stop, leaving you with a subtle sense of emptiness. Your gaze slides sideways toward his face. He seems focused on the end of the movie. The dim light from the TV casts shadows over his features. His hair was longer now—at your request—and you loved how a few strands fell over his forehead. His glasses, always present, gave him an intellectual air you adored. His strong jawline and well-defined nose were the perfect combination, and when he ran his tongue over his lips to moisten them, the simple gesture sparked something inside you that you hadn’t felt before.

Without thinking too much, you placed your hand on his chest in a casual attempt to get his attention. His eyes lowered until they met yours, and a smile formed on his lips.

"Everything okay, princess?" he asked curiously.

You didn’t say anything. You simply leaned in and brushed your lips against his in a soft kiss. Your hand moved up to his cheek, and he responded immediately, returning the gesture with the same tenderness.

He leaned slightly over you, shifting his weight carefully as his lips moved over yours with patience, exploring you without rush. His glasses slipped slightly down the bridge of his nose, and noticing your breath fogging them up, he took them off with a smile before setting them on the nightstand. You took the opportunity to grab the remote and pause the movie just as the credits started rolling. The dim light from the screen was the only thing illuminating you both.

His attention returned to you. He leaned in, his lips barely inches from yours. Your hand found his cheek again, caressing him in a silent invitation.

“We're feeling affectionate tonight, huh?” His tone was playful.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. Yes, you were fully aware of your need for contact that night, but you didn’t need him to make it so obvious.

“Shut up…” you whispered, giving him a light smack on the cheek, which made him laugh.

“Sorry,” he murmured before kissing you again.

This time, his lips moved slower, deeper, making you want more. Your tongue barely grazed his upper lip, and the gesture didn’t go unnoticed by him. He felt the warmth spread inside him. He understood your silent permission, and without hesitation, let his tongue explore the kiss with more intensity. A muffled moan escaped your lips as he invaded your mouth, the touch of your tongues sending electric currents through your body.

His hand settled on your waist before naturally sliding over your skin. You felt it slip under your pajama top, and a shiver ran through you as his palm cupped your breast, squeezing it gently. A gasp left your lips when his thumb brushed over your nipple, hardening it.

The pleasure took you by surprise, making you break the kiss as you tried to catch your breath. He stopped immediately, his eyes searching for approval in your flustered expression.

"Sorry, I got carried away…" he admitted, his voice deeper, huskier than usual. He withdrew his hand gently, bringing it to your cheek, caressing you tenderly.

But frustration filled you. You didn’t want him to stop. Yes, there was a flicker of fear in the back of your mind, but at that moment, your body craved his touch more than anything.

“Byung Hun…” his name slipped from your lips in a whisper, and he felt a shiver run down his spine.

You took his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and guided it back to your chest. “I want you to continue.”

Your voice was a little firmer now, and he searched your face for any sign of hesitation. “Baby, you know we’ll only go as far as you want, right?”

You nodded, and he sighed in relief. He didn’t want you to feel any pressure.

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips before kissing you again.

This time, when his hand slipped under your pajama, it moved with confidence. His thumb traced slow circles over your nipple, and your muffled moans were swallowed by his mouth.

And you felt it. His hardness against you, even through the fabric, his hips unconsciously pushing against your center, sending a wave of pleasure through you. You knew that if you wanted to stop, now was the time. But your body responded instinctively—your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Baby, I need you to help me with this…” he murmured against your lips, grasping the hem of your pajama.

You hesitated for a second, and with a slow breath, you sat up and pulled the garment over your head, but as you lay back down, your arms instinctively crossed over your chest. Byung Hun remained on his knees, watching you with desire.

“I think we should be in the same conditions,” you muttered, noticing that he was still dressed.

“Well, that seems fair,” he replied with a nod before pulling his shirt over his head and letting it drop to the bedroom floor.

Your eyes roamed over his bare chest, down his torso, following the faint veins disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants. His body still held its athletic definition, and you were completely captivated by the sight.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll be the embarrassed one,” he teased.

Your gaze returned to his face, finding him with an amused expression. He loved seeing you like this—expectant, eager. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about being the first man to have you. He wanted to show you how good making love could feel and ensure you never forgot your first time.

He placed his hands on your thighs, caressing them softly before leaning down to press a kiss on the inside of each. Then, propping himself up on his forearms on either side of your abdomen, he began trailing small kisses along your skin.

His hands reached the waistband of your silk shorts, slowly sliding them down as his kisses followed the path. He left a lingering one at the top edge of your underwear.

“No… you don’t have to…” your voice trembled slightly with nervousness, stopping him.

He looked up at you and pressed a final kiss to your stomach. “Baby, if you want this to be easier, you have to let me prepare you.”

You wondered how he could speak so naturally while you could barely nod. But you trusted him.

“Okay…” you whispered. And you mentally thanked yourself for always keeping that area bare for comfort.

He placed another kiss just below your navel before sitting up and, with both hands, slid your shorts and panties down together. You lifted your hips slightly and then your legs to help him remove them completely.

When he tossed the garment aside and looked at you again, he swallowed hard.

The sight before him was sublime—you were naked and completely exposed to him. Your arms instinctively tried to cover your chest, your legs remained pressed together, and your skin burned with a blush he wasn’t sure was from heat or embarrassment. He didn’t know if paradise existed, but he had an angel right in front of him.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

He reached out, parting your legs and settling between them. A stifled moan escaped your throat as you felt his heavy breath against your most sensitive area. His grip on your thighs was firm, his eyes gleaming with hunger as he took in the glistening evidence of your arousal.

You bit your lower lip, trying to hold back a moan—but it was useless. The moment his tongue traced a slow, deliberate path along your center, working its way up to your clit, a shudder ran through your body. He groaned softly against you, savoring your taste like a drug that left him craving more. His tongue moved with precision, teasing and exploring, while your breathless moans filled the room.

When he flicked the tip of his tongue over your clit, your hands, which had been clutching the sheets, shot up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on. He responded eagerly, his mouth devouring you as if you were the most exquisite thing he had ever tasted. He sucked on your most sensitive spot, making you arch against him, and when you tugged at his hair in desperation, he only groaned in approval, the vibrations making your whole body tremble.

Lowering his mouth, he let his tongue glide down to your entrance while his fingers gathered your wetness. A shiver coursed through you as he pressed them gently against you.

“Fuck… you taste so damn sweet,” he murmured against your core before slowly easing two of his long, thick fingers inside you.

Your body tensed at the new sensation, but he kept you distracted, his tongue never ceasing its movements. His fingers moved with a slow, deliberate rhythm, sliding in and out, curling slightly to brush against a spot inside you that made your thighs tremble. He spread his fingers just enough to stretch you, coaxing your body to open up for him.

The pleasure built quickly, a tight coil forming in your stomach. His free hand rested on your lower abdomen, feeling the way your body quivered beneath his touch. Your hips instinctively began to move in time with him, chasing the mounting pleasure. His mouth latched onto your clit once more, alternating between sucking and flicking his tongue with fervor. His fingers quickened their pace, thrusting deeper, and then—

A sharp, blissful tremor surged through you as the wave of pleasure crashed over you, pulling you under.

��B-Byung Hun,” you moaned, his name escaping your lips as he licked and kissed you through the aftershocks of your release. Your chest rose and fell in rapid breaths, your body still tingling in the aftermath.

“My sweet princess,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet adoration. You slowly opened your eyes, finding him hovering above you, his face mere inches from yours. Your gaze drifted to his lips—swollen and glistening from his efforts.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You swallowed, still trying to steady your breathing. “Y-yeah… that was incredible,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Satisfaction flashed across his features, pride evident in the way he smirked. “Give me a second,” he murmured before pulling away and standing up.

Your legs still trembled as you watched him cross the room, his broad back a perfect view. He rummaged through a drawer in the closet before turning back toward you, a small silver packet in his hand. Your eyes widened slightly. He had condoms here?

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said with a sheepish chuckle. “At some point, we were going to do this, so I had to be prepared.”

There was nothing hesitant in the way he carried himself. He was calm, confident, utterly sure of what was about to happen. Standing beside the bed, his gaze roamed your body as he reached for the waistband of his pants. Without another word, he let them drop to the floor.

Your breath hitched.

Even through the fabric of his boxers, you could see how hard he was. The sight sent a new rush of heat through you.

Climbing back onto the bed, he knelt between your legs. With deliberate slowness, he slid his boxers down, freeing his length. Your stomach clenched at the sheer size of him. This was definitely going to hurt.

Tearing open the silver packet, he rolled the condom down his length with practiced ease. You couldn't take your eyes off him.

Noticing your gaze, he let out a small laugh and cleared his throat to get your attention. He winked at you, amusement and desire shining in his eyes.

“We’ll take it slow,” he assured, his voice raspy. “But if you want me to stop at any point, just say the word.”

You nodded. “I trust you.”

A slow, reassuring smile tugged at his lips before he shifted closer. One hand slid between your thighs, fingers gliding along your oversensitive folds, while the other guided himself to your entrance. He brushed against you, coating himself in your arousal before pushing in—just the tip at first.

A sharp, stinging sensation made you gasp, your fingers digging into his arms. He immediately leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your neck, his lips soft and soothing against your skin.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with restraint. “Taking me so well.”

He pushed in deeper, inch by inch, letting you adjust. You sucked in a deep breath, trying to relax, feeling every stretch of him as he buried himself to the hilt.

A low, guttural groan left his lips. “Fuck… you feel so, so good.”

The tremor in his voice sent a jolt straight to your core, making your walls tighten around him. His arms trembled slightly from holding back, from trying not to lose himself in the overwhelming heat of you.

You swore you had never heard anyone sound so damn sexy in your life.

“Please… keep going,” you whispered.

You gasped as your body gradually adjusted to his intrusion, the discomfort melting away into something deeper, more intoxicating.

He started with slow, careful movements, rocking his hips in a steady rhythm. His lips found yours, swallowing your soft moans as your hands clung to the back of his neck. Little by little, the lingering pain faded, replaced by waves of pleasure that built with each thrust.

A particularly sharp moan tore from your lips when he hit a precise spot inside you, making your vision blur with white-hot pleasure. You needed more.

“Go… go faster,” you pleaded, your voice trembling.

Byung Hun didn’t hesitate. Almost instantly, he picked up the pace, his movements becoming more urgent, more demanding. The room filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin, of breathless moans and the sheer bliss of being completely filled for the first time.

Your walls tightened around him, the pressure almost unbearable. He knew you were close—so was he. He wouldn’t last much longer.

“Cum for me, baby,” he murmured against your ear, his voice thick with desire, before trailing wet kisses down your neck. That was all the stimulation you needed, his name slipping from your lips in a breathy moan

“You’ve done so fucking good,” he panted. With one last ragged breath and a few uneven thrusts, he spilled into the condom, his body trembling against yours.

His breathing was still uneven as he carefully pulled out, disposing of the used condom before collapsing beside you. Without a word, he wrapped you in his arms, your overheated bodies molding together in a lazy, intimate embrace.

With a slow, deliberate movement, he shifted onto his back, pulling you onto his chest. The tension in your body slowly unraveled, replaced by a warmth that settled deep in your bones.

Still floating on the lingering high of pleasure, you felt your eyelids grow heavy, your breathing slowing as sleep crept in.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice laced with adoration as his fingers traced lazy patterns down the curve of your back.

A sleepy smile ghosted your lips as you nuzzled closer. “I love you too,” you whispered against his skin, before surrendering to the pull of sleep.

#lee byung hun x reader #hwang in ho x reader #frontman x reader #lee byung hun x you #hwang in ho #lee byung hun #lee byung hun imagine #in ho x reader #squid game #lee byunghun #squid game season 2 #squid game smut #squid game fanfic #Reminder that English is not my first language #so I apologize for any writing mistakes.

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striped-urchins · 2 days ago

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NGL I do think the above posters are missing the point on this whole affair. I've seen the idea floating around among American users that this is an exceptional state of affairs, that trump and vance are uniquely evil and/or deep in Russia's pockets. There's this idea that if Americans can get rid of the baddies (trump, Vance, Putin - or whatever global South politician the media can convince you is the villain of the day, whether it's Xi, Maduro, Kim Jong-il, Gaddafi, you name it), then the world will go back to how it should be and we can maintain global law and order. Whether trump really is in Putin's pocket or not is largely irrelevant, because this betrayal isn't really about trump at all.

What I want Americans (and people of the global north in general) to understand is that this IS the normal state of affairs and the playbook that America has used for as long as it has been a dominant power. Yes, even for those presidents you like - Obama, Carter, and JFK. The only difference is that trump has less tact in enforcing it. The playbook looks like this:

1. Use military and financial aid to support a government in a civil war, external invasion, or other time of crisis.

2. Make that aid contingent on being able to control natural resources and their economy. (In this case, America recently made a demand that Ukraine cede 50% of their mineral rights to America)

3. This is an offer the government cannot refuse. Either they cede their economic and political sovereignty to America, or they are crushed by whatever force they are opposing (in this case Russia, or in other cases, opposing sides in a civil war often supported by other world powers, as in the innumerable proxy wars in Africa and Latin America)

5. If the government agrees to America's terms, they continue to receive military aid. But of course, America's demands do not stop there. They will continue to run your economy and foreign policy for the foreseeable future, and in order for that government to retain power, they will continuously need to buckle to America's demands (such as South Korea).

If, of course, the government refuses this deal, they will see themselves crushed. If by some stroke of luck this government manages to maintain power in whatever conflict they find themselves, they will find the tides of American opinion and foreign policy turning against them, as in the case of Gaddafi, and in all likelihood lose power in an American intervention and get bombed back into the stone age (or face economic blockades that do the same thing).

I think it should be common sense that America's foreign aid is NEVER out of the goodness of their heart. It always wants something in return. And in dealing with America, you can never win. Betrayal and exploitation IS the norm and always has been throughout the history of America's foreign policy.

There was no instance where Ukraine could have come out of this America-brewed conflict winning. If trump and Putin both thanos snapped out of existence tomorrow, the same economic and political forces would prevail and cause the same circumstances. We NEED to stop thinking about politics in terms of personalities, good guys, and bad guys. We need to start understanding global politics in terms of the material interests of governments, which will continue to cause predictable actions as long as those material interests prevail.

I say all this not to be combative (and please don't take it as such), but because I really don't think that this way of thinking about politics is productive. If we are committed to reducing global inequalities, promoting world peace, and all these other noble goals, we need to understand both history and current affairs in a meaningful and contextual way.

So this was a pre-planned (and likely paid for by the Kremlin) show: to invite Zelenskyy, scold him like a kindergartener in front of the press, present him with an unreasonable "deal" - an ultimatum - knowing full well he will refuse it (as anyone in this position would). And then tell the world: "Look, our mighty Orange King could've ended this horrible war in a day, but this poorly-dressed, warmongering, ungrateful twat just doesn't want peace! It's not our fault, we did what we could!"

The show is so cheap, so transparent, yet still effective for so many brainless people.

#i am begging you to read the shock doctrine by naomi klein #and please please please read the open veins of Latin America

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fireinmoonshot · 1 day ago

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about love | joaquin torres x fem!reader

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: Joaquin thinks taking the engagement ring he's bought for you on a mission with him is a good idea �� it's definitely safer with him than it is anywhere else, right? Well... until he loses it. Warnings: Mentions of minor injuries (a bump on the head) Word Count: 4k A/N: Had this idea at work yesterday and thought it was so Joaquin so I had to write it. I'm so happy with how it turned out. Thank you for all the love on my Joaquin fics so far – I have more coming for sure, I have so many ideas in a note on my phone, as well as the requests you guys have sent in! 💗

“Woohoo! That was awesome!” Joaquin yells, his feet finally hitting the ground after being airborne for what feels like hours. He misses the feeling of flying already. “Did you see me?” He asks Sam, walking towards him.

Sam has just landed not too far away from him and is already sighing at the sound of Joaquin’s voice. “See what?”

“When I did the thing with the thing! And then I did the other thing and bam! He was falling out of the sky! I saw him land in the water and it did not look like a nice landing!” Joaquin explains, in probably the poorest possible terms.

For a second, Sam just stares at Joaquin. How is this the man that he’s basically picked to be the Falcon to his Cap? “Nothing about what you just said makes sense, bro.”

“Yeah, it does!” Joaquin insists. “I did the thing!”

Sam and Joaquin had been expecting this mission for weeks. Everything pointed towards things turning into a fight, but the location and time had been left to chance and eventually, things had turned out just as they’d expected. They hadn’t expected having to fight over the water, though. Sam was just glad things hadn’t turned out the way that they had the last time they’d fought over the top of the ocean.

“Just… go and get checked out by a medic,” Sam orders – the Air Force had been standing by, ready to help if Sam and Joaquin needed it. They luckily hadn’t. “You almost got hit out there. Don’t forget that I saw that.”

Joaquin grins to himself as he watches Sam walk off, holding his shield by his side. “Come on, that was awesome, bro! And it was an almost hit – they didn’t even graze me!”

“Tell that to your girlfriend!” Sam yells in reply.

At the reminder of you, Joaquin pauses. The ring. His hands move to the pocket where he’d placed the ring box before the mission and his heart drops into his stomach when he finds it empty.

“No, no, no, no…”

Joaquin checks every other pocket in his suit, trying to keep hopeful for as long as possible, but it becomes clear very quickly that the ring box is no longer in his suit or even on his body at all anymore. This was not good… if it fell out during the mission… over the ocean… there was no way he was getting it back. Oh, he's so screwed.

He’d been planning to propose to you for over a month now but it had taken him a while to find the perfect ring. He’d scoured the internet and just about every jewellery shop in the city to find one he knew you’d love. When he and Sam left for the mission, he knew he had to take it with him. There was no other choice. What if his apartment was broken into while he was away and they stole the ring? Or worse, what if you came over to his place to get something of yours that you’d left behind and found it? It’d ruin the surprise.

In hindsight, Joaquin realises that maybe the ring would’ve been safer at home… instead of where it likely is now, sitting on the bottom of the ocean or… swallowed by a whale or something… poor whale…

The excitement at the success of the mission is long gone by the time he trudges his way to the medic, who is waiting to see him. He removes his suit slowly and carefully, all the while hoping that the ring will suddenly appear in one of the pockets, but it never does.

Later, as Joaquin sits in his hotel room, he can’t tear his eyes away from the confirmation email he’d received when he’d ordered your ring. It’d ended up being one he found online, but with a few custom alterations to make it more you. The ring was one of a kind, like he’d intended for it to be, because so were you. It made him even more disappointed that he’d never end up getting to give it to you. And now he had to fork out even more money to find a replacement. He knows nothing would ever live up to the original, even if you loved it.

His phone buzzes in his hands and your contact photo pops up on the screen, one he’d taken of you when you hadn’t been looking at him. He’s quick to accept the call, already feeling comforted by your voice the second you say hello.

“How did it go!?” You ask, voice full of joy. “I saw some footage on the TV. You guys looked so awesome out there. It’ll never get old, seeing you flying in that suit, even if it kinda fills me with dread that something might happen to you.”

Joaquin laughs softly. “Thanks, angel. It was good. We won.”

Just by his short reply you can tell that something is wrong. Even though you’re in an entirely different state and you can’t see his face, the fact that he’d not excitedly recounting every single detail of the battle to you says more than his words ever could.

“Joaquin, what’s wrong?” You’re not one to beat around the bush.

“Huh? Nothing’s wrong, angel. I’m just tired.”

“You’re usually so excited after a successful mission and today you sound the complete opposite. Did something happen?” A thought enters your mind. “Wait, did you get hurt? Are you in the hospital?” He hears shuffling on the other end of the line. “Have they got you hopped up on some kind of painkillers?”

Joaquin can’t help but smile a little. “Angel, stop trying to put your shoes on and pack a bag at the same time. I’m not in the hospital, I’m in my hotel room. And I’m not on any painkillers. The medics checked me after the mission and gave me the all clear.”

You pause. “How did you know I was trying to put my shoes on and pack a bag?”

“Cause I know you, that’s how,” he smiles to himself. “You get the thought in your head that I’m hurt and you’re already looking up flights. I’d be the same way if things were reversed, believe me.”

Back in your apartment, you kick off the one shoe you’d managed to get on and sit back down on the couch. “So why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

Joaquin sighs. How can he tell you what’s wrong? That he’s actually devastated cause he lost the ring he was planning on proposing to you with? He can’t. He hates lying, especially when it comes to you, and now he’s being forced to lie to you because of his own mistake.

“I promise nothing is wrong, angel,” Joaquin tries to make his voice sound less sad. “I really am just tired. It takes a lot out of you, fighting in a battle like that. It’s one thing to be flying in a plane but to actually be the one flying… it’s a lot. I’ve still got a lot to get used to. I’m just ready for a solid twelve hour sleep.”

“Oh.” You’re not really convinced but for Joaquin’s sake, you decide to drop it. You can already tell that you’re not going to get anything else out of him. “Well, I suppose I’ll let you get your rest then if you’re that tired. You’re flying home tomorrow, right?”

Joaquin nods. “Yeah, my flight leaves at… four? Six? Something around then. Thank you for calling though, angel. Really. I always love getting to hear your voice before I fall asleep.”

You smile at the way you can audibly hear the happiness in his voice. “Any time, Joaquin. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? You get a good night sleep and I’ll text you in the morning. I love you.”

“Love you too, angel.”

With that, you end the call and Joaquin groans, letting his phone fall onto the bed and his head back onto the pillow behind him. Instead, though, his head bashes rather hard onto the wall behind the bed. He grunts in pain, a hand going to the back of his head to rub the sore spot. Yeah… that’s gonna leave a bump for sure… he probably deserves it…

It’s a few hours later and Joaquin is finally about to give up on staying awake and finally try and get some sleep when he hears a knock on the door of his room. It takes a tremendous amount of effort to pull himself up from the bed, his whole body aching from the activity of the day. When he pulls open his door, he’s more than surprised to see Sam on the other side.

“Listen, bro, I’m way too tired to have a post-mission debrief and drinks or something, so can we just do this in the morning?” Joaquin asks, already knowing Sam would prefer it.

“That’s not why I’m here,” Sam says. “Can I come in?”

Joaquin stifles a yawn and steps aside to let Sam into the room, closing the door behind him. Sam takes a seat at the small table and chairs over by the window and Joaquin takes the seat opposite him, not wanting to be disrespectful by sitting on the bed like he would much prefer to do – the chairs are not padded and not comfortable in the slightest.

“What’s up, Sam?” Joaquin questions, leaning back against the chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

Sam shoves a hand into the pocket of his jacket and removes a small blue velvet box and slides it across the table towards Joaquin. He almost jumps out of his seat at the sight of it, instantly snatching it up and opening it. He sighs in relief as he sees the ring, safely inside the box, completely unharmed.

“Bro, what the hell!?” Any of the exhaustion that was in Joaquin’s body is gone as he looks across the table at Sam. “Did you send someone to retrieve this or something? A dive team? How did you even know that I’d lost it?”

Sam smiles a little at the younger boys excitement. “Maybe this might teach you to secure your valuables a little better, hey?” He shakes his head. “It didn’t even make it to the ocean, Joaquin. It fell out of your pocket before we were even in the air. I saw it, picked it up. Decided to keep it safe.”

He knew that if he’d given it back to Joaquin then that it would be all he’d focus on for the mission. He’d be berating himself so strongly that he’d almost lost the ring that he wouldn’t be able to give his full attention to the mission. Sam had watched Joaquin get hurt before and if he had his way, he’d never see it again.

“And it took you this long to give it back to me!? Bro, do you realise what this is? How important this is? How could you keep this from me?” Joaquin’s voice is raised but he isn’t angry – he’s still angry at himself for losing it in the first place. He’s more than grateful to Sam for keeping it safe, but now that he’d lied to you over the phone about it… all of that could have been avoided if Sam had given it to him sooner.

Sam sighs and leans back in his chair. “Damn, these things are uncomfortable,” he mutters. “Listen, your girl sent me a text like an hour ago. She was asking if you were okay or if you were hurt, if anything went badly in the mission, cause she said she called you and you were acting all weird. I only remembered then that I even had it. I put it in my suit to keep it safe during the mission. I realised that the reason you must’ve been acting weird was cause you realised that you’d lost it.”

“And it took you an hour to come down two floors to give it back?”

“Nah, it took me an hour of thinking to decide whether to give it back to you tonight or give it back to you in the morning, Joaquin,” Sam admits. “This… this is a serious thing you’re planning on doing. You know that, right? I know it’s not my place but I just… I just wanted to make sure you know what you’re doing.”

Joaquin furrows his eyebrows. “Of course I know what I’m doing, Sam.”

“That came out wrong,” Sam huffs, then tries again. “I’m sure you have thought this out, but I just wanted to check in. You’re a public figure now. People know you’re the Falcon, they see you coming out on missions with me. People might target you now in an attempt to get to me. Your life is in more danger than it ever has been before. Even when you were serving in the Air Force full time. You sure your girl knows that too?”

One thing that Joaquin has always been confident about with you is that you knew the risks of dating him. You’d started dating him back when he was in the Air Force, long before he became Falcon. Throughout it all, you’d stuck by his side, even when he wondered if you wouldn’t. When people started commenting on his Instagram photos saying rather unsavoury things, or leaving rude comments about you, he wondered if it would scare you away from him. But it never did. You were completely loyal to him and he knew it. If you were affected by his job as the Falcon that much, you would’ve ended things long ago.

But you didn’t. You’d started making plans to move in with him instead, as soon as the lease on your apartment was up in two months time. You’d come over more often, spent more nights at his apartment. You’d made changes to your own life to accommodate his ever changing schedule. You were in this for real.

“She knows,” Joaquin nods. “I wouldn’t be asking her to marry me if she didn’t.”

Sam lets out a breath. “Okay, well… good. I just… I wanted to check. Make sure you weren’t rushing into things or asking her for some reason other than love.”

Joaquin smiles a little. He’s known for a long time that Sam is full of heart but this has reminded him. Despite all the sarcastic comments and jokes they make, Sam probably has a bigger heart than Joaquin himself.

“Everything I do when it comes to her is about love, Sam, I promise you that.”

Not long after, Sam excuses himself and leaves the room, leaving Joaquin alone with the ring. The one he thought he’d lost forever, now sitting here on the table in front of him. Not a scratch or a lick of damage anywhere on it. Sam had done a good job taking care of it.

He crosses the room to grab his phone, still sitting on the bed where he’d left it, and sends you a quick text. Angel, you still awake?

Your reply comes almost instantly. You okay?

Joaquin sits down on the edge of his bed, eyes resting on the ring box on the table, and smiles. You got a spare thirty minutes to call so I can tell you all about how badass I was in the mission today?

During the plane journey home, Joaquin decides that he needs to propose sooner rather than later. He doesn’t want to risk losing the ring again or something else happening to it. It’s why, when he gets back to his apartment, he calls you and asks if he can come over to your apartment the next night – he’ll bring some takeout for dinner. He’s more than relieved when you say yes, telling him you can’t wait.

But then the night comes and Joaquin is sitting beside you on your couch, your now empty takeout containers sitting on the coffee table in the centre of the room. He feels like his heart might beat right out of his chest with how nervous he is, but he thinks he’s doing a pretty good job at holding it together.

Joaquín takes a deep breath and turns to face you, clasping his hands together in his lap to force himself not to prematurely reach for the ring box in his jacket pocket. “So, I think I owe you an explanation for why I was weird on that phone call two days ago.”

You look at him, eyebrows raised. “Do you? I thought you were just tired. You ended up calling me back and talking about the mission with me so I thought it was all sorted.”

“It is sorted, but… well, I kind of lied to you in the first call,” he winces a little, hating to have to admit it to you even though he knows you’re not going to care once he explains everything properly. “Something happened after the mission and it really messed with my head but I couldn’t tell you about it then.”

He can see by the look on your face that you’re concerned about what he’s going to say. He hates worrying you like this and he doesn’t mean to drag it out so much but he’s also so nervous about what he’s about to do that he can’t help but stall.

“Joaquin, just tell me. Please.”

Your voice is small, full of a sudden fear, and just the simple act of hearing that is the encouragement that Joaquin needs to push him forward to do this, to tell you the truth and pull the ring box out of his pocket with a long, deep breath.

“I took this with me on the mission to make sure nothing happened to it, but after the mission I realised that it had fallen out of my suit and I’d lost it,” Joaquin starts. His heart is in his throat at admitting all this to you and thinking about what is coming. “Turns out Sam had actually picked it up when it fell out prior to the mission. He came and gave it back to me after you texted him that you were worried about me.”

At seeing the ring box in his hands, tears immediately come to your eyes. This was what you were so worried about? You were so scared about what Joaquin was about to say, worried that some of your deep fears might be coming true, but instead it was your dreams that were coming true.

You watch as Joaquin slowly moves from sitting on the edge of the couch to kneeling on the floor in front of you. He flips the ring box open, finally letting you lay eyes on the ring inside of it, and a sob erupts from you.

“I was gonna try and do this in a better way,” Joaquin chuckles. “I had all these ideas for plans of things to do, but in the end I decided that I just wanted it to be between us. I didn’t want anyones eyes on us while I did this, cause this is our moment.” He’d almost booked several restaurants, even almost booked flights to Paris to propose in front of the Eiffel Tower, but this was better than any of the plans he could’ve come up with.

“I told Sam when he came to talk to me after you texted him that everything I do when it comes to you is about love,” he continues with a shaky breath. “You are the love of my life, angel. You have been ever since I first met you and I intend on loving you for the rest of my life if you’ll let me.” The words, which Joaquin had expected to be difficult to say when the time came, flow out of him with so much ease it surprises him. “So, I suppose what I should finally ask, since I know you’re thinking about how much you wish I would just ask the question and stop talking about everything else… is… will you marry me?”

You’re on the floor in front of him before Joaquin can even blink and in his next breath, your arms are wrapped around him, pressing your body to his. He laughs, a little shocked, as he wraps one of his arms around you, still holding the ring in the other hand. He can tell that you’re crying but he already knows they’re happy tears without having to see them.

“So… is that a yes?” He asks, grinning.

“Of course it’s a yes!” You exclaim, pulling away from him. The look on his face makes you fall in love with him all over again. The way he’s smiling at you sets butterflies off in your stomach. “Will you put the ring on me?”

You extend your hand and Joaquin wastes no time in removing the ring from the box and sliding it onto your ring finger. He can’t keep smiling and his face is starting to hurt but he doesn’t care. He’ll deal with a sore face from smiling forever if it means seeing you this happy. The fact that he is the reason behind this smile makes him smile even harder.

“It’s so beautiful, Joaquin,” you marvel, unable to take your eyes off of it.

“Just like the woman wearing it,” he says, unable to help himself. “I’m just glad I didn’t actually lose it in the middle of the ocean. I was just about ready to start a dive team to find it before Sam gave it back.”

You meet his eyes and laugh, shaking your head. “You’re an idiot, Joaquin Torres.”

“I might be, but at least I’m your idiot,” he grins.

With a smile, you lean forward and press your lips to his, wrapping one of your hands around the back of his neck. He kisses you back instantly, arms wrapping around you to hold you close. When your fingers make their way into his hair, though, he grunts a little in pain as they brush against the bump on the back of his head. He’d forgotten about that.

You pull away, eyes concerned. “Are you hurt? Did you get hurt on the mission?”

Joaquin is quick to confirm that he isn’t. “I hit my head when I was in the hotel… this is so embarrassing to admit,” he laughs softly. “When I was still sad cause I thought I’d lost the ring, I leant back and hit the wall… a little harder than I intended to. I guess it left a bump… but it doesn’t mean you have to stop kissing me, y’know…”

Thankfully, you accept his poor reasoning for his sore head and kiss him again, your fingers moving out of his hair and instead resting on his shoulders. He’s already counting down the days till his head is fully healed – he loves the feeling of your fingers in his hair.

After that, you only break apart for air when you really need to.

“So… this means I can call you my fiancée now…” Joaquin mutters against your lips.

“Oh, that’s true… fiancé… I like how that sounds,” you hum in reply.

“I’m one step closer to being able to call you my wife now,” he says, smiling.

“Hold your horses, Joaquin,” you laugh, pulling away from him despite your desire to stay as close to him as humanly possible. “Let me be a fiancée for a while, okay? Now,” you lean back against the couch. “Tell me all about how you lost this beautiful ring of mine and how it happened to come into Sam’s possession… and then we’re gonna call him and thank him for keeping it safe when my fiancé couldn’t.”

Joaquin laughs, leaning against the couch beside you and reaching down to take your hand in his, his fingers spinning the new ring around on your finger. “You’re never gonna let me live it down, are you?”

“Oh, baby, even our great-great-grandchildren will know about this.”

#joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #captain america #captain america brave new world #joaquin torres x you #falcon #falcon x reader

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beardedjoel · 15 hours ago

Text

ride

joel x f!reader

request: "prone, leaving a hickey on their neck, in a truck bed" sent in as part of my 5k celebration! or you try to grapple with feelings for your parents' friend while getting absolutely railed by him 🤠 6.5k words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, age gap (unspecified but college age reader and it's said that joel is over twice her age), oral f receiving, unprotected piv, pr0ne b0ne, creampie, hickeys, dirty talk and pet names, bit of daddy kink (sue me okay), angsty feelings, alcohol, reader has a mom and dad and clothing is described (shorts and t-shirt).

a/n: saw this prompt and instantly loved the visual! such a fun one to write, and i got weirdly caught up in these two having history and a bit of angst so it ended up way longer than i anticipated (aaand everybody is thinking we are not surprised julie couldn't shut up).

Today had you on edge, taking in your surroundings more dutifully, fearing the rounding of corners on campus in case you’d run into him. You try to pretend you don’t want to see him, but can’t deny the sinking feeling in your stomach as you arrive for your shift that evening without having any chance encounters. You hate that you’re imagining how one would go as you wait on your tables, how you’d pretend you hadn’t even thought about the possibility of him also being on campus for parents weekend. Casual. It was totally, completely casual - the same sentiment you’d been trying to convince yourself of for months.

His daughter Sarah is only a year younger than you and ended up at the same university a couple of hours from your hometown. You’d played little league soccer together for a few years as kids, and your parents became much faster friends with Joel than you and Sarah ever did.

Despite Chip’s Bar & Grille being located off campus, it doesn't seem immune to the influx of people due to parents weekend as you weave through your tables, a sweat breaking out on your neck. Your asshole of a boss - the Chip of Chip’s Bar and Grille - never quite learned how to keep the temperature comfortable in here for the workers. He’d also declined your request to have tonight off to spend with your parents - too many other coworkers of yours had the same idea as you with people’s parents being in town, apparently. You know he also simply just enjoyed telling people no.

You plaster on a fake grin as you carry a tray of beers over to a rowdier group of men, probably here to watch Friday Night Football or something, judging by their team spirited paraphernalia. They’re already a few drinks deep, getting increasingly more bold with their commentary towards you, but it’s nothing you haven’t dealt with here before. You easily brush it off, navigating your way through their charged remarks with grace and sweet looks that should only boost your tips, letting the act drop dramatically as soon as you walk away from them.

Karina, the hostess - a sweet girl around your age - flits up to you, buzzing information in your ear. “Table 19 just got sat. Said it’s your parents, I think?”

You smile to yourself - it’s thoughtful that your parents would brave the greasy, unappetizing food at Chip’s just to see you twelve hours earlier than planned. They instantly glow and warm up at the sight of you, looking slightly out of place but nothing short of comfortable. They were the type of people that could adapt nearly anywhere.

“Hey, honey!” your mom trills, hugging you tight, pressing the slightly damp t-shirt you’re wearing into your back.

“Sorry. Sweaty,” you warn her too late, getting a chuckle in your ear. Your dad squeezes you tightly next, and when they go to sit down, you notice with confusion that Karina has placed three menus on the table.

Your eyes snap up to the front door just in time to see a familiar, broad form step into the fray, weaving his way through the bodies and tables. His eyes scan across the restaurant - dark and brooding as always - then land on you, standing tall above where most people are seated at their respective tables. Your stomach leaps, leaving your breath caught in your throat, him letting his lip twitch into some semblance of a smile - or a smirk, rather, given how haughty he looks right now.

For that brief second, it’s only the two of you in this bustling, noisy room, before the bubble bursts and he stalks over to you and your parents. It’s only then his eyes are torn off of yours, leaving you breathless and confused. And angry.

“Oh, good, already got us a table. Parkin’ was weirdly a nightmare out there,” he says, smooth and silky, announcing his presence. With one more flicker of his eyes to yours just before your mom pops up to hug him, blocking you from view, you see the mischievous amusement behind them. He’s enjoying the fact that he’s caught you off guard, that you’re flustered by his mere presence alone.

Yeah, angry sounds right. Joel Miller: certified prick.

After the fuss settles down, your parents explain they ran into Joel at a cafe when they got to campus this morning while you were still in class. Being their gracious, hospitable selves, they’d promptly invited him to come out to dinner with them tonight to catch up. Just your luck.

“The rest was history. Joel seemed awful happy to get to see you too, know it’s been a while,” your dad happily and obliviously trills.

You’ll bet he seemed happy.

Joel moves in for an embrace, and you stiffen before feeling his meaty, thick arms draping around you, the warmth of his chest pressing closer, his breathing in your ear. Everything feels lit up inside of you, sparks skittering across your skin. You beg your knees not to buckle, reminding yourself that refusing to hug him begs more questions than you’d like from your parents. You try not to melt into the familiarity of it when your arms fling around his neck, try to keep it… casual. The word bites at you, stinging deeper each time you try to convince yourself of its place in this relationship.

“Hey there, sunshine. How you been?” he mutters in his slow, sweet drawl. You can’t help but smile at your favorite pet name he’s had for you for years, wishing to wipe it off your face as he pulls back and sees it. There’s a returned softness there beneath all his amused loftiness.

“G-good. Good,” you manage to stammer out. “How’s the business… How's Sarah?”

You watch on as Joel stays planted right in front of you, the moment lingering longer than necessary or normal. You watch him have the same realization, clearing his throat and turning to pull out his chair, sitting down.

“Good,” he echoes you, smiling softly. “And good. Girl’s too busy with friends to see her old man tonight, though. Stuck with these two now.” He jabs a thumb in the direction of your parents.

The dig gets a hoot out of your mom, her hand playfully nudging him. The noise of her balking breaks you out of your reverie where your eyes had been plastered on his features, begging them to tell you anything.

You suck your lip between your teeth, blinking a few times to snap yourself out of this haze. You’d wanted this, hadn’t you? A chance to run into Joel, knowing that parents weekend would likely bring him this way. It’s too much, too… intense, to see him in your workplace, somehow merging his life with the one you lived separately from him. Back home the two of you had been on equal footing, but now he invaded your space, the places you were able to go to get away from whatever this was, to get away from him.

“I - I’ll go check on my tables. You guys decide what you want to order and I’ll come back. And I’ll talk to Chip about a family discount, or something.”

Your dad insists it’s not necessary before you scurry away, but you ask anyway. Chip unsurprisingly argues with you, huffing and puffing and generally being the asshole that he is.

“You want a discount for your family? And where’s that money gonna come from? Maybe from your tips tonight? Would that work for you? Hm?”

“Forget it, Chip.” Muttered under your breath, you roll your eyes, feeling dejected as he stalks off to likely terrorize someone else or put on his fake schmoozing act with a loyal customer.

When you glance back at your parents across the room, Joel’s eyes are on yours, intense and questioning. They burn into you, making you immediately turn away, trying to hide the glistening of tears from Chip’s beratement. It’s dumb, really. He’s always this big of an asshole. You aren’t sure why you expected anything other than his default or a single generous thing from him.

After pulling it together enough to do the rounds on your tables, you stop back to take your parents’ and Joel’s orders. Joel seems like he’s stewing, his energy quiet and distracted as he glances down at the menu, ordering a cheeseburger with a distant voice.

It’s not until you’re off at the point of sales system tapping in their orders that a presence sidles up beside you, the voice deep and hushed.

“That your boss there? The one lookin’ like he’s got somethin’ shoved up his ass?”

You do a slow turn to peer at Joel incredulously, glancing around as if you’re caught in a compromising position. You suppose maybe you are, but at least your parents are out of view from where you’re tucked back in the little hallway leading to the restrooms. It’s cramped back here with the service station, leaving Joel’s body close to yours.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you hiss, instead of answering his question.

“It’s not a crime to go to the bathroom,” he quips back. “Answer me.”

“What? You’re gonna beat him up?” You give Joel a pointed look before focusing back on the screen, punching in your dad’s Dr. Pepper.

“No, jus’ wanna know why a boss is out here makin’ his employees cry.”

“I wasn’t crying. He - he’s just an asshole. And why do you care? You’re not my -” you cut yourself off, shaking your head, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s fine. I promise. Please just… why are you here, Joel?”

“Havin’ dinner with your parents.”

You have to force in a deep, calming breath before sighing it out. “You like this. Surprising me, catching me off guard. You’re the one being an ass now.”

Joel visibly softens at your stressed demeanor. “It’s also not a crime to want to see you, y’know. And have some fun trippin’ you up along the way. I didn’t realize -”

Your eyes linger on his face for a long, quiet moment, burning with frustration and contempt and something deeper you won’t allow yourself to access. “I’ve got to get back to work,” you say, concluding the conversation as you snap the notebook containing your orders shut and push away from the computer. You brush past Joel’s shoulder, turning to glance back at him.

“It is nice to see you,” you utter, half hoping he can’t hear it over the bustle of the restaurant. When his lips twist to the side in a lopsided smile, you know he did.

“You too.”

Joel seems to behave the rest of the evening, paying the proper, appropriate amount of attention to you, treating you like the family friend that you are and nothing more. Just as it should be, you remind yourself every time a pang of sadness pulses through your chest.

When they pay and leave, you breathe a sigh of relief, working the rest of your shift with an odd buzzing in your head, picturing Joel’s tanned skin and rugged lines. The memory of the feeling of his body close to yours in that hallway makes you shudder, then curse yourself.

A mixture of disappointment and irritation worms its way into your mind as you realize that was your chance. That was the time you got to spend with Joel this weekend, when he was so close within your grasp. He’d be busy tomorrow, spending time with Sarah, letting her tote him around campus - showing him where she takes her classes, her favorite places to eat, her dorm that is likely decorated with purple accents and posters of her favorite bands.

You’d missed the opportunity to actually see him, too busy being pissed at him for existing in your sacred space, for never leaving you alone no matter how hard you tried to get him out of your head. You never knew when the next time would come around - even if you were back home, time spent around Joel was never guaranteed. Nor was it appropriate.

You worry your lip into oblivion, realizing it’s for the best, anyways, as you push the back door to the bar open after your shift, letting the cool night air greet your grimy, post work skin. You go to round the building, heading for the bus stop on the main street that will take you exactly twenty five minutes and eleven stops back to your dorm.

A voice cuts in, seeming to come from the darkness itself. “You always wear shorts that short to work?”

God damn it. You flinch and then press your lips together, slowly turning your head to the corner of the parking lot, following the gruff, familiar voice. You see Joel leaning against the front of his truck, arms crossed over his chest. He’s half illuminated by the streetlamps placed periodically across the asphalt, casting long shadows on him. The blue flannel he wears is stretched tightly over his arms, the sleeves rolled up to reveal those forearms that make you feel more than you’d ever care to admit.

“Better tips,” you reply, nonchalant. You adjust your bag on your shoulder, walking over to him. You stop short, giving a wide berth between the two of you, attempting to avoid the always inevitable pull you feel towards him.

“That so?” he says, sounding amused. Joel lets his eyes roam up from your feet, scanning your bare legs, drinking you in all the way up your chest until his gaze rests on your face where it softens. He’s obvious about it, not caring to hide the lust that lives between the two of you now that you’re alone.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, feeling like a broken record. You watch as he turns and starts walking to the back of the truck. You peer around to see the bed is open, staunchly crossing your arms and not following him.

“Thought I’d give you a ride home,” Joel throws over his shoulder.

“What if I had my own car here?”

“You don’t,” he punches out. “Parents told me they hate you takin’ the bus so late.”

You quietly groan to yourself. Of course they did.

“And I thought you could use one of these after a long shift,” Joel adds on, proudly holding up a six pack of cheap, generic beer, strung together by plastic loops. You give him a sardonic laugh, finally giving in and making your way to the back of the truck. Joel has it parked with the bed facing the far corner of the parking lot, looking directly into the thicket of trees beyond that separates Chip’s from the McDonald’s behind it. It’s late, the lot nearly empty and the businesses around you all quieted down for the night. Some kind of thickness hangs in the air, otherworldly and separating you from reality, pressing in on you to be so alone with Joel.

“Aren’t you driving?” you ask, brows raised.

“Ain’t for me. It’s for you.”

“Miller Lite,” you say, gesturing to the six pack. “Clever. And disgusting.”

He smirks, tearing one out of its loop and handing it to you. It’s chilled, but not cold, and you nearly grimace. You don’t even like beer, but being around Joel still makes you nervous so you crack it open, listening to the little click of the pull tab and ensuing fizzy noise from the liquid inside, then take a long swig.

“Attagirl,” Joel comments passively. Your heart flutters at the small praise and you peer at him, doelike, from over the can, hoping your eyes don’t give you away. Of course they do, they always do. You look down, shuffling your feet, clad in your black, non slip work sneakers.

His hand is hesitant, reaching out to you from where he now leans against the open truck bed, clasping around your wrist with a gentle authority. It tugs you, forcing you to take a step towards him.

“Joel…” you warn, still unable to bring your eyes up. You know if you do, you’ll fold.

“Hm?” he rasps, moving you closer still. Joel’s legs and feet come into view, thighs thick and meaty in their denim, his work boots dirty and scuffed. It made something inside of you flutter again, these details about him. You liked his mess and his manliness, the way he didn’t give a shit if his shoes were dirty, but that they were functional. You like his worn denim with the outline of his wallet seared into the back pocket from too much use. You like… him.

“Come sit,” he begs of you, and despite your best efforts, you’re unable to resist. You hop up onto the back of the truck, letting your feet dangle while taking another sip of crappy beer. He pulls himself up next to you, and leans closer, knuckles brushing along your neck, making you shiver. It’s heavenly and electric, everything you’d craved and missed and wanted, never able to stop thinking about these calloused hands and the man they’re attached to.

“We… we can’t do this again,” you force yourself to utter, fiddling with the pull tab on the can held in your lap.

Joel’s hand freezes. “You got a college boyfriend now or somethin’?” he spits out, unable to hide the greed from his voice.

“No…” you admit.

“Alright, why not then?”

“We just… shouldn’t.”

“Y’weren’t sayin’ that over winter break. Or durin’ Thanksgiving, or the summer before that when I was fuckin’ myself deep inside of you, lettin’ you call me your daddy,” he drawls out lazily, continuing to softly revere your neck with his hands, slowly moving to your shoulder and back, fishing underneath the collar of your branded Chip's tee shirt to find bare skin.

You swallow hard, feeling your cheeks blazing at the memories of how caught up in it you’d gotten. “I - I don’t think…”

“That’s right, sweetheart. Just don’t think.”

You finally dare a flash of your gaze to his, finding his eyes dark and wanting. “Joel…” you plead again, unsure of how to express anything else. “This isn’t… right. Who you are to me, my parents. You know that, right?”

He licks his lips and nods, moving in close and ghosting them over your neck. Your eyes roll back, your touch-starved, needy body begging you for more. “Torture myself over it all the damn time, pretty girl,” he rasps right next to your ear.

“Then why did you come here tonight?” you ask in a lusty whisper as his lips attach to your skin, sucking softly. Your breath catches in your throat, fighting a whine.

“I don’t know. I jus’... did,” he says earnestly, sounding pained. “I wanted it. Didn’t care ‘bout the rest. I wanted to see you, just us.”

Your heart pitter patters in your chest, that pesky, squeezing feeling of it that always takes over around Joel pulling taut. You know he doesn’t mean it, that he doesn’t want you. He wants what you offer - your body, your naïveté to stay involved in this, your company when he’s lonely. It was hard to say just how Joel felt about you, because he’d never dare say it out loud for fear of making this too real.

His scent invades you - musky and something fresh and nature inspired, pine maybe - and you feel yourself folding in real time.

“Joel…” you warn one last time without any resolve behind it, eyes fluttering shut as he nuzzles into your neck. You want this. You don’t want this. You want him. You don’t want this uncertainty, this unstructured and wild thing that you two have become tangled up in.

It happens before you can even register your body moving of its own accord, crashing your lips into his waiting ones. His hands are fast, eager, to touch every part of you now that you’ve given some semblance of a go ahead. Squeezing, groping, one hand relishing in the feel of your tits, the other cupping your cheek, pulling you deeper into the searing kiss.

“Fuck,” he mutters when your hands move with equal fervor on his body - squeezing his thigh, wrapping around him the to clutch the hair at the base of his neck. “The hell says we shouldn’t be doing this…”

You shake your head, smiling into the kiss. “Probably everyone.”

“Makes me want you more, baby,” Joel counters, and you nod feverishly in agreement, squeaking in surprise when he pushes you down to the truck bed, swinging himself over to straddle you. His weight crushes down, comforting and arousing all in one, no time to even dwell on it before his lips are on yours again, a hand plunging between to cup you through your shorts. Warmth flows freely between your legs, the fabric dampening the sensation but it’s still too much, too built up, and you buck your hips.

“I want these shorts gone,” he demands. “Everyone wishin’ they got a peek under these, givin’ you all those tips, except at the end of the night it’s me right here, gettin’ everythin’ they want.”

Your head goes fuzzy, swimming with lustful thoughts as his dirty talk ramps up. It turned out that Joel Miller had the filthiest mouth you’d ever encountered, something you’d never have expected from the quieter, gruff man. He was an archetype of southern politeness most of the time - not without his sass, sure - but you’d never expected… this.

“Take them,” you breathe out. Joel grins above you, unbuttoning the shorts with ease, hooking his fingers in the sides.

“You’d let me, really? Right here… right out in the open?” Joel tsks, the grin on his face spreading into something wicked. You blink back to reality, to the parking lot around you, and yet your answer remains unchanged.

“Yes,” you whisper, feeling shame burn at your cheeks.

Joel works your bottoms down slowly, taking your panties with it and speaking unhurriedly. “Let anyone who comes to see what all the fuss is about see all of this, would you?”

“Yes,” you answer dutifully.

“God damn.” He chuckles, tossing your shorts to the side, leaning back to glimpse at the bottom half of you, now exposed to him. “Dunno what’s worse. This, or that closet at your parent’s place. You’re a dirty little bitch, ain’t you?”

You nearly growl. “You love it,” you shoot back, spreading your thighs wide open for him.

Staring between them with a certain wonder about him, he answers. “I do.”

He sinks himself down, moving to pleasure you, pulling your clit into his mouth and giving it a gentle suck. You yelp, a tiny squeak that has your hand flying over your mouth to quiet yourself down.

Joel moves his tongue to lap at your folds, drinking in the sweet slickness you’ve already poured out for him. The slickness that had been pooling between your thighs just at the sight of him earlier tonight.

“You been this wet all night for me?” he asks incredulously, toying a finger through it now, circling your clit in a slow, tortuous circle.

You whimper first as an answer. “You - you make me -”

“I know I do. Ain’t easy to hide a hard fuckin’ cock under the table with your parents either, y’know. Wearin’ shorts like that on that gorgeous ass of yours.” He tsks into your pussy before slurping again, groaning as your arousal starts to coat his beard.

Your chest heaves, desperately needing more from him, his satisfaction with toying with you going longer than you can handle tonight. Not after how long it’s been.

“Please, J-Joel.”

He chuckles darkly. “We both know that ain’t the name you want to call me right now.”

He was right, the word had hung on your tongue since the second you’d been alone together, since you felt his warm hands exploring your skin. It came out somehow more naturally than you’d expected or even wanted, but something about it just felt… right.

Self conscious, you hold back and grumble as he withholds contact from you, staring up expectantly. “Come on, angel. I wanna hear it, too. Been too long.”

“Please, daddy…” you correct yourself shyly, readjusting to the word on your tongue. Joel’s face, shadowed by the yellow light of the closest streetlamp, breaks into a smirk.

“That’s right. Right now, when we’re like this, I’m your daddy, aren’t I?”

You nod and he continues to lick your needy cunt as a reward, swirling his tongue over the delicate bud near the top. “Yes, you are.”

Joel’s tongue moves faster, urged on at your breathless cries for him. “And you’d want to come for your daddy, wouldn’t you?”

The words twist your core tighter, the warmth building to a near breaking point. “G-god, yes. Y-yes!” You cry out louder as he sinks a finger inside, crooking it to make you go a little dizzy. You clamp a hand over your mouth again, tighter this time, stifling your cries.

Joel pulls back, a string of saliva and arousal connecting the two of you. His finger keeps the pressure on that spot inside of you, his breath ghosting over your sensitive skin as the most painful tease.

“Nuh-uh. Think you should be loud. Unless… you don’t want your coworkers to hear ya? Or better yet, that asshole boss of yours?”

You picture the ramifications of what Joel is saying, the way Chip’s face would go red, twisted up in anger before he likely fired you. You break into a cheeky smile, and without conviction you say, “I - I shouldn’t."

“You should be doin’ a lot of things right now, sweetheart. But here we are. Don’t act like you don’t like the idea of pissin’ off that bastard.”

You chuckle, nodding in a dazed agreement as Joel glides his nose over your sex, flicking his tongue out periodically and making you start to squirm impatiently. “Bet he wants to fuck you, too. Such a pretty, perfect girl. Bet he wants to bury his mouth in this sweet god damn perfect cunt.” He punctuates his words with a deep inhale to your pussy, his nose now tracing a little circle over your clit.

His words send you reeling - something about the possessiveness he holds over you makes you clench around his digits like you’ve never done for anyone else. “Please -” you beg before you can even think.

“Please you want him to fuck you?”

You sigh in lustful, irritated frustration. “D-damn it, Joel. No. You.”

“Need daddy to fuck you good, don’t you? These college boys ain’t doin’ it for you, are they?” he purrs into your skin, finally pulling himself from between your legs to glide up over your body, shielding you completely.

You feel yourself flush hot, still sheepish even after all these months affected by his dirty words and that stupid, yet hot - so hot, god why is it so hot - title he’s bestowed himself. A tickle of embarrassment creeps into your belly knowing that you’ve hardly pursued anyone at school, never able to find exactly what you’d already had all along - only it wasn’t yours to keep. It never could be.

“I - I -” you mumble, avoiding eye contact as his face hovers above yours.

“What? They’re that bad?” he teases, and you bite your lip.

“There aren’t many… relations going on, okay?” You grimace, finding his dark eyes and seeing him amused, yet studying you carefully, more seriously.

Joel throws you the tiniest smirk, but his voice is deep and sincere. “Damn shame for all of them. But makes me awful happy to hear on account of myself.”

You swallow, nodding, feeling an anxiousness playing in your belly. “Have - have you…? Since we last…?” You don’t know why you even ask, why you’re hellbent on setting yourself up to be hurt.

Joel hesitates, debating for a moment, then leans in to kiss you, long and deep. He pulls back, then shakes his head. “Not since December, no.” The words are hushed, whispered, one hand squeezing at your hip.

The moment is tense - too much so - and the urge to escape it crashes into you. You shift underneath him, pressing your hips up into his to entice him. “Don’t you want to fuck me then before ol’ Chip gets his chance?”

Joel practically growls, his hold going tight. “Wouldn’t fuck you like I do.”

You shake your head, licking your lips and feeling the flicker of desire reignite between your thighs that had briefly paused. “We’ll see about that,” you say, raising your eyebrows.

“God damn it, kiddo, you’re tryin’ to piss me off.”

“It’s better when you’re irritated with me -” You lick your lips, your hands finding the waistband of his jeans, toying with it. “Daddy.”

That same growl erupts from his throat, aggravated and breathless. His hands scramble with yours to free his cock, and you can’t help but peer between your bodies to catch the sight of it. You love every bit of his body, love seeing the way it moves for you, with you. The way that it evokes things in you you’d never known possible, hitting all of your buttons just right.

Only getting a short glance at his erection, your body is quickly handled by Joel’s rough, eager hands rolling you onto your stomach. You’re held down immediately, his weight crushing into you, nearing on uncomfortable with the bumps and ridges in the bed of the truck. One hand presses to the back of your head as he mounts you, the hot skin of his cock teasing at your ass.

All you can do is whimper, your head straining to look back at him as he spreads your ass cheeks, slipping between them and to your slick core, nudging at your entrance. Anticipation hangs in your labored breaths until he enters you, the tension released in an exhale of relief and sharp tenderness at the full stretch of him.

Joel wastes no time slamming into you, satiating every fantasy you’d had of him, every desirous, late night thought that caught you off guard since your last rendezvous. It was always just as you’d remembered it - a miraculous connection of your bodies that seemed to stump the two of you every time you’d tried to make sense of it.

“Hell yes, angel, you always take me so good, so perfect,” Joel grunts out as he thrusts into you. “Never complainin’, jus’ takin’ what you’re meant to.”

Your eyes roll back slightly as he presses impossibly deep inside of you. Despite everything - his size, your ages, the myriad of reasons this shouldn’t even be happening right now - it feels like the perfect fit.

“S-so good,” you whine , breathless as his body starts to lean in close, his chest pressing against your back.

“So good, who?” Joel reminds you, his voice now rumbling right in your ear.

“F- Daddy. So good daddy,” you quickly spit out, lost in the moment. Joel had once called you cock dumb, and you’d wanted to scoff, but moments like these proved it to be a very real phenomenon. You typically consider yourself relatively level headed, but right now you’re completely helpless to the power he holds, all thought centered on the way he slips in and out of you, every sensation and nerve lit up from the drag of the head of his cock inside of you.

You shudder, feeling his hulking form so close as he brings his lips to your ear, wet kisses trailing to your neck. He’s always loved your neck - it was the first thing he’d deigned to touch all those months ago that had felt charged, different than your typical interactions. That’s when he’d drawn you in, hooked you and pulled you into this whirlwind.

You scramble a hand back to reach for him, touch him, but he grabs it, tracing his fingers over your palm, interlacing them with yours for a brief moment before your wrist is pinned down. He fucks you harder, faster, his lips bouncing against your neck before they latch on, sucking hard.

“J-Joel!” you cry out in a panic, realizing the possibility of a mark being left with an impending meet up with your parents tomorrow.

“It’ll be fine,” he purrs against your sensitive skin, sucking a little harder before moving to another spot. "Jus' leavin' you with a little somethin'."

You see stars as his cock presses as deep as it can go on his next thrust, and you lose the will to fight a losing battle. You have makeup for a reason, you suppose.

You moan, loud and clear, suddenly unable to even care about the world around you, an audience or Chip or any of your coworkers rounding this truck and seeing you getting absolutely ruined by a man well over twice your age. None of it matters when you have Joel so close to you, so ready to please you and take care of you.

“G-god, you’re so deep,” you whimper out in a garbled haze as he keeps up his punishing thrusts, letting the head of his kiss the deepest parts of you.

Joel chuckles dryly, doubling down on his efforts, the both of you panting, close to reaching something extraordinary together. “Mmm,” he groans into your ear, still lapping at your neck periodically. “What d’you want with an old man like me anyway, huh?”

It’s a question you’ve asked yourself dozens of times, one you’ve never quite found the answer to, even after searching deep within yourself. Joel was brutal in the sheets but also sweet, and maybe that was a balance you’d been seeking without knowing it. The illusion he created of not caring was always overpowered by the look in his eyes that told you there was something more there, something you both wanted to build upon but knew you never could. So you took moments like this - dark and rushed and secretive in parking lots - and made the most of them while you could pretend that the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Instead of saying all of that, you just mumble out through your panting, “Y-you know why.”

“That’s right, this big cock, fuckin’ you like nobody else can,” Joel replies for you, and you nod languidly, your eyelids heavy, your mind concentrated now on the heat building deep in your belly, furling tighter with every thrust.

“R-right there, oh my god,” you breathe, pressing your hips into each thrust to pull him that much deeper, to make each crash of your bodies into one another that much harder.

Joel moans quietly, attempting to stifle the lusty little sound but it's music to your ears, listening to him fall apart for you. “Come for me, sweetheart, s-shit, daddy needs to hear you…”

“D-daddy!” you whine out loudly, knowing he loves to hear that name nearly pornographic off your lips in these heated moments. Your pants and noises break into little moans that crescendo as bursts of pleasure wash over you. Every muscle is taut and taking Joel’s harsh, relentless thrusts into you, nearly making you scream with how vibrantly every sensation seems to crash over you.

“Y-yeah, let ‘em hear it. Christ you sound so pretty f’me, baby. Milk daddy’s cock, f-fuck that’s it…” Joel’s string of praises reaches your ears in a distant fog before his hips stutter inside of you and he’s spilling himself deep and full. You clench around him one last time, shuddering at the sensation as your skin tingles pleasantly. You feel floaty, far gone as you try to regain your bearings, slumped and ass up on the cool material of the truck bed. Reality comes back slowly as Joel kisses down your back, planting one on your ass cheek before giving it a playful bite and kneeling next to you.

“You okay, sunshine?” he asks softly, and for some reason, despite feeling elated, tears prick at the back of your eyes. It’s too much, too emotional. You will them away in a second, not daring to let Joel see.

“Mhm,” you weakly utter, nodding. Joel’s hand strokes along the side of your head, and you peer up at him with a slack smile, finding that he’s giving you one back.

He comes down to your level, kissing your forehead. “Best yet, maybe,” he says playfully, but you aren’t sure you feel like laughing.

“Maybe,” you ponder, watching Joel’s face morph into a more serious expression. He curls his fingers around your ear, tracing shapes along your hairline, your neck, your shoulders as you stay just as you are for a long, quiet moment. He guides you to sit up, silently handing you your discarded clothing, helping you dress as the mess of him slips down your thighs. You have the passing thought that maybe he has napkins in his glove box, but then decide you’d rather have the reminder of him.

Joel sits next to you on the edge of the truck bed again, and interlocks his hand with yours. “I - I’ve got a hotel, right on campus. I could take y’home, but I’d like if you came back w’me for the night.”

His words give you pause, a tiny inhaled breath as you go to speak, snapping your lips closed and looking down at your lap for a beat. “Is that a good idea?” You ask for so many reasons, knowing that Joel is as acutely aware of all of them - the worst being that the longer you spend together, the harder it is to come back to reality.

“It ain’t a bad one,” he rasps, sultry and rough, and you crack a tiny smile. Always persuasive and charming when he needs to be.

“It’s not,” you admit, looking into his inquiring gaze.

“W-well?” he asks, nudging your side. “Jus’ one more night. I hardly get to see you, an’ you can go in the mornin’.”

You know how the night will go. You’ll both think you’re there for the sex - to sweat and say dirty things and pant all over again until you both come so hard that it boggles your mind. You’ll convince yourself that’s all it is, until you end up staying up late - talking, laughing, held in the other's arms. Intertwined together, bodies naked and comfortable with the other, because you’ve been here before.

You’ll both find yourself wanting to shy away from that fact that more is there - a real connection, two people with unlikely similarities, that just… get the other. You’ll both get lost in it, until the sun shines the next morning and you have to pretend that it doesn’t exist, that it was some figment of the power that the night holds over a person’s emotions, those dark twilight hours taking over your minds.

But you’ll both know that isn’t true, and there is nothing you can do about it.

“Okay,” you tell him, knowing the fate you’re subjecting yourself to - one that’s as wonderful as it is confusing. It hurts at times, but the spectacular things this man makes you feel outweighs it all. It’s worth it, that pain, to be able to find one another time and time again, and maybe even dream of more someday. “Let’s go.”

divider by @/saradika-graphics!

#julie's 5k celebration fic #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #x reader

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seospicybin · 2 days ago

Text

SEOSPICY UPCOMING POST.

COCKY.

Bangchan x reader. (s,f)

Synopsis: As a researcher developing a specialized condom in extra large sizes, you never expected the company’s product manager, Chris, to volunteer as a test subject—let alone for things to get this complicated. Balancing professionalism with undeniable chemistry, you must navigate a partnership that’s strictly business… or so you keep telling yourself.

Preview under the cut!

...

Chris Bang is a name everyone in the company knows. As a product manager, he’s known for his reliability, innovative ideas, and ability to bring projects to life. He’s respected, well-liked, and a natural leader. A social butterfly who effortlessly navigates through the office, friendly to everyone he meets.

You, on the other hand, have only ever interacted with him in passing—polite nods, brief greetings when you cross paths in the hallway. So when you receive an invitation to meet him in his office, you can’t help but wonder why he suddenly wants to talk to you.

A few minutes before four, you find yourself lingering outside Chris’s office, nervously shifting on your feet. You check your watch, heart thumping. A little after four, Chris finally appears, offering an apologetic smile.

"My apologies for the delay," he says. "Please, come in."

You follow him inside, settling into the chair across from his desk as he takes his seat. He folds his hands on the desk, studying you for a moment before speaking. "Thank you for coming. I wanted to discuss something regarding your research."

You nod, trying to keep your curiosity at bay. "Of course. How can I assist you?"

Chris watches you carefully, his expression unreadable as he leans forward, resting his forearms on the desk. The slight shift in his posture draws your attention—just enough to make you hyper-aware of the space between you.

“What specific criteria are you looking for in a participant for your product test?” His voice is even, measured, but there’s something in the way he asks that makes your breath hitch for just a second.

You clear your throat, straightening in your seat. “The main requirement is that participants need to have a genital size above average.”

His lips quirk up slightly, though his expression remains composed. “And what qualifies as above average?”

You’re certain he already knows the answer, but you respond anyway, keeping your tone professional. “Anything more than 5.5 inches when fully erect is considered above average.”

A beat of silence stretches between you. Chris doesn’t say anything immediately, just sits there, tapping a finger lightly against the desk, his gaze flickering over you in a way that makes the air feel heavier.

Then, finally, he exhales, tilting his head slightly. “I may have a solution to your participant problem,” he says, his voice lower now. “I would like to volunteer.”

Your brain short-circuits for a second. “You… what?”

“I want to be a participant for your product test.”

You blink, your mouth opening slightly before snapping shut. Your grip on your pen tightens as you try to process what he just said.

He nods. "I see potential in your product, and I believe in its success. More importantly, I want to contribute to the company’s innovation."

You stare at him, still trying to wrap your head around it. "How exactly are you going to be a participant?"

Chris leans back slightly. "I ask that my involvement remains anonymous."

Your throat feels dry as you nod. "Alright. But how are we going to conduct the test if you want to remain anonymous?"

He watches you carefully before answering. "We can arrange to do it outside of the office, in secret."

Without another word, Chris pushes himself up from his chair and moves around the desk. He stops right in front of you, leaning against the edge of his desk, arms crossing over his chest as he watches you, waiting.

And that’s when it happens.

For the first time, you really look at him—not just as a well-respected product manager but as a man. The sharp cut of his jaw, the slight crease between his brows, the way his fitted white dress shirt does absolutely nothing to hide the definition underneath. How had you never noticed before?

Your eyes trail lower before you can stop yourself, a fleeting glance—until you realize exactly where you’re looking. The bulge against his dark slacks.

Heat floods your face as you snap your gaze back up, praying he didn’t catch that momentary lapse in professionalism.

Chris doesn’t comment on it, but there’s something almost amused in the way he tilts his head. He extends a hand toward you, expectant.

“So? Do you agree to this arrangement?” he prompts.

“Yes,” you regret for answering too quickly, making you sound way too eager. When in fact, you're just glad to finally solve the problem but also, yeah, okay, you can’t lie, you're a bit curious about something, about Chris.

Your fingers wrap around his, and as you shake hands, you feel it. The shift. The undercurrent of something you can’t quite name just yet.

...

COCKY full fics will be released this Friday, March 7.

Or you can read it early on my Patreon page!

#seospicy upcoming post #stray kids smut #skz smut #bangchan smut #seospicy smut

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boreal-sea · 3 days ago

Text

Nothing in my post is actually explicitly Zionist. I didn’t even say whether or not I’m Zionist.

I just said that people might want to check themselves if the idea of lynching Jews gives them pause but the idea of lynching “Zionists” doesn’t.

What is your definition of an ethnostate? What is the cut-off percentage of one race? 60%? 70%? More?

What is the racial makeup of Israel?

How do other countries such as Ireland or China NOT fulfill that definition? Or do you consider China and Ireland to be ethnostates, and thus immoral?

Did you know you’re misinformed about the Ethiopian Jews and you’re spreading antisemitic lies?

Jewish Ethiopian women were offered Depo Provera when in transition camps in Ethiopia on their way to Israel. Others were offered the shots once they reached Israel. Depo Provera is a very helpful form of both control in non-ideal situations for multiple reasons, especially the fact that it lasts several months and lightens your period, both things that would make a difficult journey easier. These were administered by a mix of medical personnel, many of whom weren’t Israelis.

Every single woman who received the shot was able to get pregnant afterwards. That’s a pretty ineffective sterilization attempt if every single one of them got pregnant.

Now it is absolutely true that some of the women who received the injection didn’t know what it was and that is ABSOLUTELY a failure of the system and a failure of communication. But those women did eventually receive the proper information, were able to stop taking it, and those who wanted, got pregnant. Again, this was not a sterilization attempt in any way.

Like. I don’t know if I’m a Zionist or not and I don’t actually use that word because I’m not done with my conversion yet. I also didn’t talk about proportions of anti-Zionists to Zionists in this post, so I’m not sure why you’re accusing me of erasing anyone.

Israel as a state exists. People live there. Forcibly removing people from their homes is wrong. It would be wrong to forcibly remove every American of European descent from the USA, and we’re actually colonizers.

I actually fully support the Palestinian right to return. I think Israel needs to work out some way to accommodate and embrace Palestinians that were forced out during the Nakba. Much like Land-Back in the USA, this should be a peaceful, cooperative thing that doesn’t involve forcibly removing anyone from their homes. Yes, that means it’s probably going to take a long time.

I think the illegal Israeli settlers in the West Bank, however, should absolutely be forcibly removed. In some cases they MURDERED people to steal those homes. It is internationally recognized they are breaking the law. Even Israel admits this. So they need to go, right now.

I think Israel should absolutely pay to rebuild Gaza. They should house Palestinian refugees until the process is complete.

I don’t know what the best step forward is for the peace process right now. Both sides want impossible things from each other.

None of that is going to happen while Trump is in power, unfortunately.

The moment for thinking “what would I have done in Germany before and during Hitler’s reign” is over. Look back over the past two years. What did you do? What did you think and feel?

Did your opinion about Jews change?

If you went from supporting all Jews to thinking that a least some Jews, (namely “Zionists” or “Israelis”) deserve suffering, exile, and/or death, then you fell for modern antisemitic propaganda, and you would’ve fallen for it in Nazi Germany, too.

Maybe you would blink if the police today started rounding up the Jews in your neighborhood, or smashing synagogues, or arresting Jews off the streets. But would you feel better about it if they call them Zionists or Israelis? They’re not arresting “good Jews”, they’re arresting Zionists, to make them pay for their crimes.

It’s not too late to fix that, though. You can come back from being sucked into antisemitism. You can do better going forward.

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hughesmuse86 · 3 days ago

Note

Okay maybe subby jack because you’re jealous? like a girl is flirting with him at the bar and he’s just a natural flirt so he’s giving the wrong impression and she goes to kiss him and that’s where you jump in as he pushes her off of him. he’s clearly confused and not interested and you’re pissed so you go home and show him that he’s yours. He so apologetic and begging for forgiveness, definitely whining and praising you.

Yeahhhhh I like this sub!jack

Hi hun! Thank you so much for your ask!! 🤭🤭🤭 ahhh I’m so glad you like him too 😋💕

+18 -> smut | Jack needs to make things better after a bar night gone wrong 🩷

𝓢𝓾𝓫!𝓙𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓗𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓮𝓼 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

c/w: sub!jack, jealous reader, ownership, swearing, pet names (bunny, baby, sweetheart, princess, pretty <- out boy is in trouble), cum tasting, oral (female receiving, praise, begging

just a little t8 to set the mood 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

1.7 k

Jack Hughes has always been a flirt. Not in a way that means anything; he’s just too damn charming, naturally magnetic, with a smile that makes all the girls weak, including you. He doesn’t even realize half the time how easily he pulls people in. You know this. You’ve always known this. But tonight, he’s testing you.

You're sitting at a bar, celebrating a win with some of his teammates. The energy is electric, music pumping; drinks flowing. Jack has had a grin plastered on his face since you got there, enjoying the post-game buzz with his teammates, completely relaxed and carefree.

Jack walks up to the bar, ordering your drinks as you watch from across the way. And, just like clockwork, a woman walks up to him, and all smiles as well. A beautiful smile—the bleach blonde putting on a show as she arches her back and flutters her lashes.

Her fingers run through her hair, playing with it a little, her glossed lips catching the light. She laughs at something he says, leaning a little too close and touching his arm for just a little too long.

Jack, being Jack, doesn’t shut it down. He’s too nice. Too oblivious. He doesn’t realize that just because he’s not interested doesn’t mean she won’t be.

Luke catches your eye from across the bar, raising a brow in question. He knows you well enough to tell you’re seconds away from snapping if his brother doesn't pull his head out of his ass. You exhale sharply, setting what’s left of your drink down hard before stepping out of the booth and walking toward him.

Luke leans over to warn him you're coming, bringing Jack closer to her, and of course, she takes it every way but right—rising on her tippy toes, lips parting as Jack’s body retracts, dodging her advances a new clarity, blue eyes wide like a deer in the headlight.

“Woah, hey now—” He stops her, his voice laced with confusion. His eyes snap down to you, blinking like he doesn’t understand what could have possibly just happened.

And just as fast as she came, she scurried away, recognizing your face right away. You turn toward him, stepping a little closer, your features sharp as he starts to panic.

“What the fuck, Jack—”

“I'm just as confused as you, baby. I swear—”

You cut him a look, and he instantly shuts up. “I’m leaving.”

“I’m coming with you, baby. What do you mean?”

“You seem busy, Jack,” you clip, giving him a smile—the kind that's anything but nice, causing him to panic.

“She got the wrong idea. I promise—” He stammers as you turn on your heels, walking toward the exit, and before you can even take a step, his hand is on your lower back, guiding you through the thick crowd, his soul-focus on you.

The two of you step out into the street, taking the short walk back to the hotel, Jack’s feet pounding against the pavement to keep up with you.

You step into the elevator, and he quickly steps to your side. His body language’s rigid; his apology, right on the tip of his tongue. He sneaks anxious glances at you, fingers tapping against his thighs.

As soon as the hotel door locks, he's on you, his chest pressed against your back with his hand holding your hips, burying himself in your neck. “Baby, c’mon. I didn’t do anything, I promise. You know me. You know I wouldn't do that to you. It was nothing—”

A laugh bubbles up in your chest, surely making him shiver. “Mhmm… That looked like a lot of nothing, Jack,” you say with a sigh, your words dripping with condescension.

“I didn’t think—”

“That’s the problem, Jack,” you cut him off. “Luke saw it before you did… He was thinking. You…”

“Weren’t thinking,” he finishes your words submissively, his voice hoarse and uneasy.

“She thought she had a chance.”

“No fuckin’ way—”

“Are you serious?” You ask through a laugh as you turn around to face him, and you can see in his eyes that he clearly does not have a clue, nonetheless you couldn’t help, but be pissed.

Jack shakes his head so fast it’s almost pathetic, his hands reaching for you desperately. “No, baby, I wasn’t flirting back, I swear. She’s Trevor’s sister. She was in town for the game. We were just jokin’ around, talking shit about him. That's it.”

"That's all? You allowed her to touch you, Jack. You allowed her to think she could kiss you."

His shoulders slump in defeat as he looks down at you, biting at his lip, trying to think of what he can say to make this better. "I didn't do it. I swear, I didn't do it. I would never…"

You tilt your head slightly, angling your lips, making him chase yours. Your hands press against his broad chest, holding him back, making his breath catch.

“You didn’t even realize, did you?” You whisper as you feel his uneven breaths dust your lips. “You’re mine, Jack.”

A small, shaky whimper slips from his lips. “Yours,” he breathes instantly. “I’m yours, bunny. Only yours. Please, I swear.” Jack takes his opportunity, stripping the both of you bare.

“Are you gonna prove it?”

His hands tighten on your waist, his voice soft and needy. “Let me, baby. Please...”

You look down, wrapping your fingers around the base of his thick dick, pulling to the tip, making his abs flex tight.

His lip tucks between his teeth as he watches your finger swirl through the precum, gathered at his pulsing tip.

“You’re saying you're sorry, Jack. Does it look like you feel bad?” You ask with a slight tip of your head, your finger slipping between your lips to suck it clean, making his eyes roll back as you release it with a pop.

“I'm sorry. I—”

“Then get on your knees.”

Jack drops so fast it makes your head spin, looking up at you, eyes wide and desperate as he waits for instruction, wanting to do whatever it takes to get back in your good graces, knowing full well you could easily make him sweat it out longer and that's the last thing he wants.

“Baby, please,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper as his rough hands grip your thighs.

You scratch your nails through his hair, making his dark lashes flutter shut as he feeds off your touch.

“You embarrassed me, Jack,” you whisper. His lips part with a shaky inhale, his fingers twitching against your thighs. “You let some girl think she had a chance with you.”

He whimpers, his head jerking back and forth in a wild motion. "No, no, baby. I swear, I didn't… I didn't even know—" His voice breaks, and he buries his forehead in your hip, his grip on you tightening.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging his hair just enough to make him look up at you again; his lips are rosy and swollen, his pupils blown wide.

“Make me forget—” Jack doesn’t need to be told twice. Jack’s hands tighten on your thigh as he grips one, lifting it over his shoulder, his lips brushing soft, teasing kisses against your skin as he settles in.

He applies another kiss on your inner thigh, and another one, clutches like he's relishing the moment as though he's thanking you for letting him do it

“I love you, princess,” he mumbles, hot against your sex. “I’m gonna be so good for you, bunny. So fucking good… Gonna make you forget about everything else. Just you and me, yeah?” He whispers against your lips pressing onto your clit, inserting two thick fingers deep, curling them inwards, causing your knees to buckle.

"Fuck, Jack," you groan, your hand in his hair tightening as his fingers slide in slow, calculated motions, his lips kissing and sucking, tongue flicking and swirling.

He groans against your cunt, the sound resonating directly through you, making your toes curl. His biceps curl, pulling you closer, drowning in your wet pussy. Your head falls back in pleasure as a moan tumbles from your lips. “There we go,” he sighs as he hears your pleasure, feeling like he’s making headway. “Sound so fucking good, baby.”

He works you with a little more desperation, finger and tongue fucking you just like you love, hoping to hear it again as you hold back your pleasured sounds with intention.

You gasp out a breath, unable to stop the words from coming. “Atta, baby. Fuckk. Please—Just please let me make you cum,” he pleads.

“Just like that, Jack. Fuck, you're gonna make me cum—” Your words cut off as pleasure courses through your veins, Jack only working harder as your thighs shake with overstimulation.

He slows down, dropping his hands, using his tongue to clean up the mess he made as your body softens.

With one powerful movement, he lifts you up into his muscular arms, his grasp tight and possessive. Your thighs hug his waist, arms wrapping his shoulders as he pushes his mouth on yours in a tender kiss.

You can taste yourself on him—the sweetness of my release mixed with the heat of his mouth. His tongue sweeps against you, rolling effortlessly as he walks with you toward the bed. “Taste that, pretty?” He asks, his voice low and husky. Jack’s lips curl into a smirk as he hears your uneven breathing this time. “So damn sweet.”

“Yeah?” You ask breathily, with a taunting edge, like you're still expecting a little more begging even after all that.

“You taste so fucking good, sweetheart. Could stay between your legs all fuckin’ night if you’d let me… Just wanna make you feel good. I wanna be good for you, baby…”

“You're mine, Jack,” you whisper.

“I’m all yours. I’m gonna prove it to you… Whatever you want, alright?”

“Okay…”

“I love you,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “My girl—”

“I love you too, baby,” you mumble between gentle kisses. “Now make me forget again.”

𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

#jack hughes #jack hughes smut #asks answered 🧸#jack hughes x fem!reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x reader #blurbs ଘ(੭ )━☆ﾟ.#hughesmuse86 ₊✩ˎˊ˗#hockey smut #hockey x reader

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ryuucam · 2 days ago

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HANDS OFF !

˓𓄹 ࣪˖ what’s their favorite part of your body? multi-fandom scenario

contains nsfw (duh), oral (both receiving and giving), handjobs, boobjobs/paizuri, marking (a disgusting amount tbf), lots of spit, nipple play, breeding, bondage (m! receiving YES!!!) sub!character but idk if anyone minds actually, ass slapping + ass play, last part is shorter bc i had no more ideas ..

notes writers block is so real u guys .. also i just spent 20€ on hsr somebody sedate me!!!! please!!!! (gallagher and sunday are almost in all of those i need a lobotomy)

he likes your HANDS, likes the way they’re smaller and softer than his. loves when you run them through his hair, even when you pinch his cheeks (even if they end up red and swollen after).

he’s the type of person that loves holding your hand during sex. it doesn’t matter if he’s being rough, or if it’s just gentle lovemaking, you best believe your hand is getting held tightly by his. it’s comforting, grounding, it shows you that he’s here, no matter what, and you can trust him to take care of you. when his hands are busy doing other things (such as keeping your legs open or restraining you from squirming so much), he likes having your hands holding onto his shoulders, or cupping his face, anything’s fine as long as you keep touching him.

handjobs are his guilty pleasure. sure, they may be nothing over the top, but he thinks there’s nothing as arousing as having your small hand (or hands) wrapped around his cock, doing your best to bob them up and down, even if the amount of precum he’s leaking makes everything so sticky and wet. he just sits back, enamored with the little huffs and puffs you let out every once in a while, struggling to grab his whole cock. but that’s what makes you so charming to him, how cute you look when you’re so intent on nursing on his dick, how you whine at him to just help you out. he’s not a mean man, but just this once he’ll just sit in silence watching you.

kaeya, ayato, alhaitham, kaveh, neuvillette, lyney, childe, kinich (genshin impact) welt, sampo, luocha, jiaoqiu, aventurine, gallagher, phainon, anaxa (honkai star rail) chigiri, kunigami, nagi, itoshi sae, kaiser (blue lock) byakuya, nagito, kokichi, rantaro (danganronpa) mikey (lazy ass), chifuyu, ran (lazy ass n2), nahoya “angry”, kokonoi (tokyo revengers) dazai, ranpo, fukuzawa, tachihara, odasaku, jouno, nikolai (bungou stray dogs) deku, aizawa, sero, mirio, dabi (my hero academia) hinata, oikawa, iwaizumi, matsukawa, semi, kenma, yaku, akaashi, suna (haikyuu) whitney, syndey, wren, brian (degrees of lewdity) gojo, shiu, nanami, sukuna (jujutsu kaisen)

he likes your THIGHS, and likes napping on them even more. regardless of how much he likes to laze around, the soft skin always lulls him into a deep sleep. and when he’s not sleeping, he’s tracing countless patterns on them as he talks about his day - or listens to yours. he bites you sometimes, then licks and kisses the skin better. call him a freak, but he’d die for your thighs, no questions asked.

have you guys ever seen those memes that are like “i’d be happy to die crushed by my gf’s thighs”? that’s him. point blank. he spends hours and hours between your legs, overstimulating you to the point of tears, and the more you cry and try to close your legs the more he enjoys it and keeps going. he starts by kissing your legs, inching closer and closer to your core, leaving numerous hickeys and bite marks all over your inner thighs. when he starts sucking and licking your clit, his hands squeeze the fat of your thighs, further bruising the flesh. you can’t even get mad at him, really, because the massages and creams and who-knows-what he gives you during aftercare makes up for it.

when you’re not feeling like having full on sex, you both agreed on letting him fuck your thighs. it’s a win-win, really, since he gets off and you can lay down and rest (as much as you can while having your boyfriend rutting in your legs from the back, to be fair). the slick coats your skin, making it easy for his cock to slide in and out of your thighs. his tip peeks out from the front, red and throbbing while he overstimulates himself. he groans in your ears, about how “you feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart, you’re such a doll for letting me fuck you like this”. well, you can’t really resist him when he’s like this, so when his cock doesn’t go down after the nth orgasm he’s had, you just tell him to fuck you properly. he can’t wait.

diluc, albedo, xiao, gaming, zhongli, kazuha, thoma, wanderer, pantalone, childe (genshin impact) caelus, dan heng, dr ratio, moze (honkai star rail) isagi, bachira, rin, sendou (blue lock) makoto, kiyotaka, gundham, hajime, shuichi (danganronpa) mikey, kazutora, inui, mitsuya, souya “angry” (tokyo revengers) atsushi, tanizaki, chuuya, tecchou, sigma, mark twain, poe (bungou stray dogs) kaminari, tokoyami, shinsou, monoma, tamaki, hawks (my hero academia) kageyama, yamaguchi, hanamaki, sugawara, goshiki, fukunaga, bokuto, atsumu (haikyuu) kylar, robin, doren, mason, alex (degrees of lewdity) choso, ino, gojo, geto (jujutsu kaisen)

he likes your BOOBS. a worrying amount, actually. he feels like a teenage boy all over again, but he can’t help the way his eyes always drop down to your cleavage (regardless of the shirt you’re wearing, or lack of thereof). his hands are always grabbing your chest, squeezing the fat like they’re stress balls, and he won’t stop unless you whine enough or he’s satisfied (very unlikely). he could spend his whole life tugging and circling on your nipples, sucking on them, biting your tits, anything, really. and obviously your boobs end up swollen, bruised and overstimulated, but can you really be mad at him, though, when he looks at you like a kicked puppy?

a while ago, one of his friends showed him a video of this dude fucking his girlfriend’s tits, and the thought hasn’t left his head ever since. not to say he doesn’t like your pussy, or mouth, but there’s just something so lewd, so messed up about sliding his cock in and out of your boobs. he’s lucky to be dating a cutie like you, honestly, since you let him do just that. he’s a freak, he knows it, but your tits are just so soft, so warm and tight and wet that his dick slides against them so well. sometimes you’re sweet enough to take his tip into your mouth, licking and suckling on it, spreading precum all over your lips. he’s a meanie, though, cumming all over your tits and face. other times, he just rubs his cock all over your chest, pace quickening against your nipples. and no matter how many times he cums, his dick always gets hard again when he sees your doe eyes and pretty tits. be patient with him, yeah?

having you ride him is definitely one of his favorite positions, since it’s a win-win for both of you: you’re taking all of his cock (or at least, you try to), and he has your tits bouncing right in his face. yeah, having you twitch and squirt all over is length is nice (well, more than just nice, but you get my point), but he’s so mesmerized by your boobs. as stated above, he’s no better than a teenage boy, and just a handful of tits is enough to get him going and cumming deep inside you. sometimes he grabs your chest, sucks on your nipples hard enough to bruise them, but when you get sick of all the marks and spit, your best bet is to just tie his hands up. all he can do is whine, “c’mon baby, don’t be so mean. just wanna touch you” and “you’re bein’ so mean to me, i’ll be good, yeah?”, but you know him well enough to know they’re all lies. well, all the more reason to take control for once, no? he does deserve a little punishment every once in a while.

venti, kazuha, ayato, ororon, wriothesley, capitano, dainsleif (genshin impact) caelus, luka, gepard, jing yuan, boothill, moze, blade, gallagher, sunday, mydei, phainon (honkai star rail) isagi, aiku, reo, ness, nagi, rin itoshi, sendou (blue lock) mondo, nagito, kazuichi, korekiyo, kokichi (danganronpa) baji, kazutora, ran, shinichiro, izana, inui, hakkai, draken (tokyo revengers) dazai, ranpo, akutagawa, chuuya, fyodor, nikolai, jouno (bungou stray dogs) deku, shoji, bakugo, todoroki, sero, tamaki, monoma, shigaraki (my hero academia) kuroo, fukunaga, kageyama, tsukishima, osamu, kita, bokuto, sakusa, iwaizumi (haikyuu) kylar, robin, eden, sydney (degrees of lewdity) toji, gojo, higuruma, choso (jujutsu kaisen)

he likes your ASS. it’s a classic: who doesn’t? he likes laying his head on it, likes groping it when you’re wearing short, or skirts, or… never mind, he’s always touching it. whistles when you walk by, slaps it when he passes by you. call him childish but he could care less.

most of the time, he’s fucking you from behind, just so he can see the fat of your ass recoil and bounce when it hits his pelvis. he’s so rough, but he just can’t stop when you’re wrapped so tightly around him, not when the room is filled with the squelching sounds of your cunny. when you whine too much, he just slaps your ass, leaving big, red handprints on it, but he knows you don’t mind it. you won’t mind if he sticks his thumb inside your puckered hole, right? he doesn’t care about that “embarrassing” nonsense you keep on blabbering about, just let him take care of you. you seem to cum harder when he’s playing with your hole, anyways.

kaeya, dottore, tighnari, alhaitham, itto, zhongli, pantalone, childe (genshin impact) sampo, jing yuan, gallagher, mr reca, mydei, boothill, anaxa (honkai star rail) leon, gundham, kaito, k1bo (danganronpa) sae (canon), aiku, kunigami, barou (blue lock) baji, nahoya “angry”, draken, rindou, kakucho, mitsuya (tokyo revengers) kunikida, tachihara, jouno, mark twain (bungou stray dogs) bakugo, kirishima, aizawa, mirio, overhaul (my hero academia) bokuto, ushijima, hinata, yaku (haikyuu) bailey, sirris, mason, wren (degrees of lewdity) geto, shiu, gojo (jujutsu kaisen)

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dollveis · 2 days ago

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⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐇 !

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀you've got a fetish for my love

❝ ELLIE WILLIAMS ❞⠀ ✿ you always push ellie away because you're sure you couldn't work together, but maybe you can under the bed sheets. 3.3k words.

pairing. jackson!ellie x fem!reader content warning! mention of consuming alcohol, smut, vague plot tbh, the smut it's actually pretty light and there's more tension and making out than anything, a bit of fluff and maybe angst if you squint, kind of a enemies to lovers but they're not completely enemies (just don't get along), open ending, oral (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), top!ellie, bottom! reader, there's not really a dom/sub dynamic here.

☆ this is the first thing i've wrote in like a year and a half so bear with me please, this also has been sitting in my drafts for two years already and i finished it just now. i hope this isn't that bad! if there's any grammatical mistakes please let me know, english is not my first language, enjoy ♡

The party was obviously Dina's idea. She'd been going on about it for weeks now, how the younger crowd of Jackson needed a break, no one had barely time to just be and exist with all the patrolling, hunting and just surviving in general.

The party is already in full swing when you finally arrive, half the town's twenty-somethings crowding Dina's place. The warmth it's the first thing that hits you, the house is candlelit, the soft cracking of the fireplace and the strong scent of whiskey and woodsmoke fill your nostrils. The sound of laughter echoes from the living room, someone's half-drunk attempt at playing the guitar makes everyone laugh, you hear Dina's voice rising above it all, welcoming everyone, teasing people, just keeping the energy high. She really outdid herself, the whole place is alive in a way that Jackson rarely is.

And you hate it.

You immediately thought you shouldn't have come. The party is loud, too loud. It's not that you don't like the people here, you do, for most part, but crowds make you restless and you've spent the whole day convincing yourself that this? this isn't what you need, you should've stayed home but Dina insisted, said you were wound up too tight.

“Loosen up, drink a little, talk to someone who isn't your damn horse!” she said when she greeted you and saw that expression in your face, like if you were about to run back to your house.

So now you were stuck there, standing stiff against a wall, drink in hand and watching the room from a distance like it might swallow you whole.

Then your eyes land on her.

Ellie.

She's sitting in the corner, half sprawled on the couch, beer dangling from her slender fingers and her other arm resting lazily over the back of the couch, boots kicked up on the edge of a coffee table just if like she owns the fucking place. She's laughing at something Jesse just said, her head tilting back slightly, exposing the column of her throat. It's a rare sight— her guard down, her expression relaxed, warmth slipping through the usual sharp edges.

For a second you let yourself look, your gaze fixated on her. The way her shirt clings to her frame, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, her tattoo catching the dim light of the place. The way her fingers absently trace the label on her beer bottle. The way her green eyes flick across the room, scanning, searching, until they land on you.

There's a pause, a beat where neither of you look away. Then—

She smirks. Fucking smirks. She lifts her beer slightly, a silent acknowledgement of your presence, before taking a slow sip. She knows exactly what she's doing, she enjoys watching you bristle.

You scoff and turn away, pulse kicking up in annoyance. You and Ellie don't get along, y'all never have, she's stubborn, reckless, too sure of herself in a way that grates on your nerves. Every patrol together turns into a heated argument, every introduction a silent battle. It's not like she's mean, if anything, it'd be easier if she was, but she's just Ellie, all sharp words and cocky grins, pressing your buttons like it's a game. And she's determined to win it. For some reason she never lets up, not with you.

Maybe it's a game of push and pull and you always push first.

An hour passes, maybe more, two? you spend most of it trying to avoid her, talking to Dina, Jesse, anyone else but you feel her presence like a weight. Every time you glance her way, she's already looking, every time you move, she's just there and it's pissing you off.

You down the rest of your drink and push through the crowd, slipping down the back hallway, you don't run but you walk fast enough that it feels like it, you dodge Jesse's half-hearted attempt to pull you into some drinking game. You just need air, space—distance.

The first door you find is half open, a guest room, mostly unused since the bed was neatly made. You step inside, inhaling deeply, relishing the silence

Then the door shuts behind you, you don't even need to turn around to know who it is.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter glaring at the ceiling, “do you ever take a hint?”

Ellie just chuckles, the sound low and amused, “Not when it's this much fun, to be honest,” and you don't even need to look around to know she has that stupid smirk plastered on her face.

You spin to face her, your eyes meeting her intense emerald eyes and your arms crossing tight over your chest, “What the hell do you want?”

She leans against the doorframe, her hand holding her chin like she was pretending to think, “dunno. . . maybe i just like seeing you squirm.”

Your jaw clenches and your fists close, “i'm not squirming.”

You see her smirk grow, a knowing look in her eyes, she looks at you like if she was able to read your thoughts and body language, like if she knew something you don't.

She steps closer, “no?”

You hate how easily she gets under your skin, how quickly she turns the air electric. The room feels smaller with her in it, the tension between you palpable. And the worst part? She knows.

You can feel the anger growing inside you, “why do you always do this?” you snap.

Through her lips escapes a soft chuckle as her brow raises, “do what?”

“This. You act like— like —” you exhale sharply, trying to put your mind in order and find the right words, “like you're trying to get a rise out of me.”

Another step, now you can smell the mix of beer and whiskey on her breath, the faint scent of smoke clinging to her shirt, “what if i am?” she says, her voice now lower, rougher.

You breath hitches, for a moment neither of you move, the tension is thick, suffocating, a rope pulled too tight between you, you're both too stubborn, too reckless, you'd burn each other out before you even had the chance to try.

Your heart pounds, your skin prickles, and fuck, you should push her away like you always do.

But you don't.

You take a step forward, closing the distance completely. Ellie doesn't flinch, doesn't back down, if anything she leans in, her usual green eyes now dark and heavy lidded, her smirk fading into something different. Something dangerous.

“You gonna keep pretending?” she murmurs close to your ear.

You don't answer, you can't because she's right and you both know it. So when she tilts her head, gaze flicking down to your lips— when she hesitates, waiting for you— you do the stupidest thing imaginable.

You kiss her.

The kiss is not soft, not sweet, there's frustration, months of tension unravelling all at once. Ellie makes a sound low in her throat, something between a gasp and a groan, and then she's grabbing you, fingers curling around the back of your neck, pulling you into her, pressing you against the door. The alcohol on her tongue is dizzying, her body solid and warm against yours and fuck, maybe you should stop. Maybe this is a mistake— but when she bites at your bottom lip, hands slipping under your jacket, pulling, teasing, demanding, you know there's no going back.

Ellie kisses like she fights, hungry, restless, all consuming. Her hands grip at your waist, pulling you impossibly close, fingers digging into the fabric of your shirt like she's trying to stake her claim. The taste of her mouth makes your head spin. You should stop, you really should, you keep repeating that to yourself in your mind but when she presses you harder against the wall, when she nips at your lower lip and swallows the soft, sweet sound it pulls from your throat— you don't. You won't.

Your hands move on their own, fisting into the front of her shirt, yanking her closer, until there's barely any space left between the both of you. You feel Ellie exhale sharply against your lips, a quiet, breathy curse before tilting her head to deepen the kiss. Months of pent-up frustration unraveling with every movement.

Her hands now drag under your jacket, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, her rough and calloused fingers grazing over your bare skin. The touch sends a shiver through you, your breath hitching as she maps the contours of your waist, ribs, back and dangerously close to your chest.

“Fuck,” Ellie mutters against your mouth, voice husky and almost desperate, “you're—” she cuts herself off, biting at your lip again before pulling back just enough to look at you.

Your chest rises and falls in tandem, lips swallowed and face flushed. And, God, that sight was delightful for her, she could feel herself getting wet just by looking at you, her pupils are blown wide, green eyes dark and unreadable as they flick between your lips and your gaze. She's still gripping at your waist, still pressing you into the door, but there's hesitation now— like she's waiting, like she's asking, like she needs you to make the next move.

You exhale, reaching up, letting your fingers tangle in the short hairs at the nape of her neck. She shivers under your touch, just barely, and something about that sends a thrill directly to your core, making you bolder and almost demanding.

You tug her back in, Ellie groans softly as your lips crash together again, her hands gripping tighter, wandering and exploring beneath your shirt, sometimes her hands traveling to graze your chest. She moves like she's trying to memorize you, like she's been waiting too long for this moment and doesn't want to waste a second of it.

Somewhere between kisses and touches she starts backing you up slowly, steady, until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and your stomach tightens.

Ellie pulls away slightly, breath ghosting over your lips, “tell me to stop.”

You obviously don't. Instead, you hook a finger into her belt loop and pull, letting yourself fall back onto the mattress, bringing her down with you. She lets out a breathless chuckle, bracing herself with her hands on either side of your head.

“Yeah?” she murmurs, voice teasing but still rough around the edges, like she's barely holding herself together.

You swallow, breath shaky, “yeah.”

And that's all she needs. She kisses you again, even deeper this time, slower, like she wants to savor it. The weight of her body presses into you, her thigh slotting between yours and pressing it softly against your core, the heat of her touch setting your skin ablaze.

She takes her time now, trailing her lips down your jaw, your neck and collarbone, her hands moving and groping deliberately, teasing your nipples over your shirt. You arch into her touch, finger gripping at her shirt, nails dragging lightly down her back.

Ellie exhales shakily, her lips barely brushing against your skin as she murmurs, “I knew you wanted me.”

You laugh, breathless and heady, tilting your head back as she marks your neck with her mouth, “shut up and prove it.”

And Ellie doesn't hesitate at all now, the second your words leave your mouth, she moves— lips tracing a slow path down your throat, hands now gripping your waist with just enough pressure to keep you grounded. The heat between you is unbearable, every inch of your body hyper aware of her. She really takes her time, dragging her fingers along the hem of your shirt but not directly touching, she's just teasing, testing. Like she's giving you again the chance to change your mind, like she wants you to stop her and you won't.

You tilt your head back, giving her more room to work, breath hitching as her lips graze over your collarbone. Your fingers curl into the fabric of her shirt, tugging her closer, needing more, she grins against your skin, clearly pleased, before shifting her weight just enough to pull your jacket off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

The room is quiet except for your breaths and soft moans, the faint crackling of a candle in the dresser, the muffled sound of the party still going outside. It feels like another world, distant, unimportant. Right now it's just you and her.

Ellie leans back to look at you, her green eyes searching your gaze, “you sure?”

And that almost made you roll your eyes, wasn't the whole situation obvious enough?

You exhale, heart pounding and voice low, “Ellie.”

That's all it takes. She kisses you again, her hands slip under your shirt, fingers warm against your skin as she softly gropes your tits, sending a shiver down your spine. You press into her touch, drinking in every sensation, every little sound she makes as your hands wander, lifting the hem of her shirt, feeling the taut muscle beneath. She groans when you drag your nails down her back and the sound sends a rush of heat directly between your thighs. A slow, aching need building, making your head spin.

The bed creaks slightly as she shifts, settling between your thighs like earlier, her weight pressing you deeper into the mattress. When her knee makes friction with your wet and aching pussy, you gasp, fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her back down to you, lips meeting in a heated, breathless rhythm.

She moves like she wants to take her time, like she's been waiting for this moment as long as you have but neither of you have the patience for that.

Clothes come off in slow, teasing increments— shirts and pants slipping, fingers tracing new paths along the bare skin. You shudder at the warmth of her mouth trailing lower and lower, her lips leaving marks you know won't fade by morning. She's restless, enjoying every reaction, every gasp and sharp inhale.

When she finally, finally, presses closer, when her wet mouth meets your core through your panties, when her fingers tighten against your hip,it's nothing like fighting. There's no sharpness, no stubborn push-and-pull, there's no battle to win.

Just heat. Just the press of her body against yours, just the slow, aching rhythm her tongue sets, the way she whispers your name like it's the only thing she knows. Just her.

She pulled away her mouth for a moment, enjoying the sight of soaking wet panties, your own fluids mixed with her saliva. With her free hand she began to rub up and down your slit, the thin fabric of your underwear making the friction even more delicious.

The way she was edging is making you crazy, she finally decide to move the fabric aside, she iz quick to attach her warm mouth directly to your, already, sensitive clit as her two of her fingers make their way to the entrance of your needy hole. A gasp escapes your lips when you feel her calloused fingers teasing it at the same time she sucks and licks your clit. The humid sounds of her mouth making your arousal grow even more and she knows.

Her lips let your clit go for a moment, she speaks in a lustful, almost velvety, tone, “i prefer when you're like this and not fighting me back,” and you can't even fight or bite back, you just whimper in response and she grins before going back to work.

She finally stops teasing your entrance and she slips one finger inside you, slick dripping down to her wrist. She was quick to find your spongy spot and she presses exactly where you need and while a soft moans leaves your lips, she inserts another finger, feeling how your walls clench against her digits.

The feeling of her fingers pressing your g-spot as her lips latching onto your bud quickly turns to be too much, you don't even know where to grip, you feel like you need something to keep you grounded, your whines and whimpers music to her ears.

And you don't know how much time passes but the room is warm, your breath stutters as Ellie moves against you, her fingers shifting slightly inside you, every touch, every word, sending a wave of arousal. She's steady, controlled, like she's savoring every second, like she's engraving this moment in her memory.

You, on the other hand? You're unravelling, your hands grip at her naked back, your fingers pressing at her warm skin, desperate to keep her close, to pull her even closer. She responds with a quiet, breathy chuckle, but there's roughness to it, a slight tremor beneath her confidence that tells you she's just as lost in this as you are.

She leans in, pressing her forehead to yours, breaths mingling, eyes half-lidded as she watches you, “you're so fucking stubborn,” she murmurs, her voice rough and teasing.

You let out a shaky laugh, tilting your head back as her lips find your throat, “look who's talking.”

Ellie hums in agreement against your pulse, her grip tightening at your waist before she started to move again inside you, it was slow and measured but intentional, the way her fingers curl inside you pulls an embarrassing sound from you, but she swallows it with her mouth, kissing you deep, hungry. She doesn't let up, doesn't rush, just takes her time learning you, every sound, every shiver, every spot that makes your breath hitch. It's infuriating and intoxicating all at once, the way she knows exactly what she's doing.

And when she finally pushes you past that point, when you can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything but feel her, when you're about to hit ecstasy— she murmurs your name against your skin, like it's a confession, like she's giving you something she hasn't given to anyone else.

When the tension finally shatters, your fingers curl against her back, scratching her, pulling her down into you as everything blurs, melts, breaks. She helps you to ride your orgasm, cooing you with sweet words and praises even if everything you can say it's just “hah-ahh” and moan.

The aftershocks leave you both breathless, tangled in each other, skin sticky with heat and effort. Neither of you move for a long moment, just lying there, letting the world settle back into place around you.

Ellie shifts first, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your shoulder before resting her head against your chest. Her fingers trace lazy forms over your side, absentminded.

You exhale, your body still trembling slightly, you lift a shaky hand to run through her hair, pushing damp strands from her forehead. Silence lingers between you, but it's not uncomfortable. It's new, uncertain, but not something you want to pull away from just yet.

The auburn haired girl lets out a slow breath, pressing a kiss to your marked collarbone before murmuring, “still think we don't work?”

You huff a quiet laugh, shifting beneath her, “i still think you talk too much.”

She grins, biting lightly at your shoulder in retaliation before settling back down, “yeah, sure,” a pause. Then quieter, more serious, “you're not gonna run, are you?”

Your stomach tightens at that, at the way she asks like she already knows the answer, like she's bracing herself. You hesitate, your fingers playing with her hair.

You don't know what this is, what it means, if it even means anything at all. Maybe you'll still fight on patrol, still push each other's buttons, still refuse to admit how deep this thing between you two really runs.

But right now, here, in the quiet warmth of this bed? You don't want to leave.

“No…” you finally murmur, feeling the way her body relaxes against yours at the answer, “not tonight.”

Ellie hums, pressing one last kiss to your skin before sighing, “good.”

And for now, that's enough.

#𔓘 vi's works. ꒱#ellie wiliams #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie x y/n #the last of us part 2 #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams headcanons #ellie willams x reader #tlou fanfiction

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minswriting · 1 day ago

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nsfw | mdni | aaron hotchner x reader | vibrators

sharing a room with hotch while on a case and he finds your vibrator on accident so he uses it on you.

it’s not like he meant to find it. you had left your bag open after grabbing your things to take a shower and it caused your bag to spill over. and aaron, being the amazing person that he is, was going to fix it up for you so that you didn’t have to worry about it.

he realized that his kindness was a mistake as he found accidentally came across a device shaped like a rose. aaron wasn’t stupid, he knew exactly what it was. and the idea that you were going to use it to get yourself off? well, the blood certainly rushed to his cock.

you walked out of the bathroom dressed in a pair of pajama shorts and a t-shirt with your hair still wet, of course. you saw aaron, sitting on the bed, with that familiar device in his hands, causing your eyes to widen. “hotch-what-“ you stuttered, clearly mortified that your boss had found your sex toy.

“it fell out of your bag,” he said simply, looking at you and then at the device and then back to you. silence encompassed the two of you as you tried to figure out how to approach the situation. that was until hotch broke the silence. “it must be inconvenient to have been roomed with me.”

“aaron i-“ you began but he interrupted you.

“so i might as well make it up to you.”

and that’s how you ended up naked, in aaron’s arms, with your back pressed against his chest as he held the rose toy to your clit. it was on the lowest setting, enough to make you feel something but not enough to quite get the job done.

you made a soft noise, resting your head on aaron’s shoulder as he circles the toy gently against your clit. he kissed the shell of your ear before speaking. “you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, breath hot against your skin. “does this feel good?” and just as he asked that, he turned the toy to the next setting, causing you to jolt and moan.

“mhm!” you moaned, your eyes fluttering shut as you kept your head on aaron’s shoulder. “so good,” you spoke, licking your lips.

aaron gave you a hum of acknowledgement, watching the way your body reacted to the toy. he brought his other hand to your chest, massaging your boobs, thumbing your nipple. “oh fuck,” you moaned, your hips moving against the toy.

aaron gave a deep chuckle, leaning his head down to kiss your neck before turning the toy onto his highest setting. you let out a loud whimper, reaching out to grab something, anything, to ground yourself as you basked in the pleasure. you grabbed aaron’s thigh, squeezing it. “o-oh my god!” you said, bucking your hips into the toy.

“pretty girl,” he murmured against your skin before nipping and sucking on the flesh.

it didn’t take long until you were arching your back against him, whining his name in such a way that would certainly live in aaron’s dreams for quite awhile.

and when you had come down from your high, you didn’t hesitate to return the favor, giving aaron the best handjob he had ever received.

#🌸 — min’s asks #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminals minds x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x female reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds reactions #criminal minds aaron hotchner

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paulyenvol6 · 2 days ago

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Perfect For You

Joel Miller x female!reader / No outbreak AU

You are Joel's affair and can't keep your hands off him during a garden party at his house which ends in a heated encounter in his bedroom... This is basically just filthy smut lol. Enjoy :)

Contains: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, rough oral sex (m receiving), crying, thigh riding, orgasm denial, dirty talk, dumbification, very degrading and objectifying, mean and dom Joel, soft!dom Joel in the end, begging, spitting, age gap, reader is in her 20s and Joel is in his 50s, daddy kink, cursing, Joel cheating on his wife with you

Wordcount: ~6.37k

Masterlist

Joel should've known.

He should've known from the second his wife had come up with this stupid idea that this wouldn't end well. But of course his mind had gone blank at the sound of your name, and perhaps the fear of saying anything that might reveal the nature of his relationship with you, so he had just nodded and dropped his eyes to his breakfast. No wonder Kate had been confused.

'You don't think it's a good idea to invite her? I think she's lovely and I thought that the two of you were going along well,' she had said and Joel had wanted to smack his head against the table.

'No, no, hon, I think it's a good idea. Sorry, I'm just a l'il tired.' Kate had smiled and kissed him on his cheek and then matter was finished. For her.

Joel on the other hand hadn't been able to stop thinking about the upcoming garden party and had felt torn between regretting his approval and his desire to see you on the weekend. The last couple of weeks had been stressful and there had barely been any time to see, let alone fuck you and his body was hungry for your touch.

But at the same time it was always risky when there were more people around, especially his wife. Joel simply couldn't control himself around you; he felt like a teenage boy that only had sex on his mind and as much as he enjoyed to feel that way about somebody again, he knew how dangerous it could possibly be. Kate couldn't find out about this and although he currently spent most of his free time thinking about you, he wouldn't risk his marriage.

But that was how Joel had ended up where he was right now. Sitting on a chair in the garden beneath the warm sun, his hand resting on his wife's thigh and his thoughts with you.

He just couldn't help it. You looked too pretty in that little flower dress that definitely revealed too much skin for his liking, especially considering that you had spent a suspiciously large amount of time chatting with another of Kate's co-workers, Ian. 'At least he's her age,' Joel thought bitterly and toyed with his fork.

"Honey?" a voice suddenly cut through the air and his head quickly turned around fearing that he had stared at you too obviously.

"Yes?" Joel asked gently squeezing Kate's thigh.

"I was just asking if you could hand me the water."

He nodded a little too fast but reached out to grab the bottle and of course his eyes fell on you again while doing so. He felt the urge to curse something or someone and first and foremost you because why did you have to look so sexy and cute today? Joel wanted to crash or kick something, anything to get rid of the accumulated tension in his body as his eyes automatically ran over your curves. He would give anything to be inside of you right now and he felt his pants painfully squeezing his cock at this very thought.

'This is not good,' the panicky voice in his head reminded him and he quickly tried to think of something else. Something disgusting perhaps but he couldn't help himself. All he could see in front of his eyes was you.

A week ago when he had fucked you on the couch during Kate's business trip. Your legs spread wide, your pussy on display for him and your little hands clutching his shirt in frustration because he had teased the shit out of you.

And then he saw how you had looked on your knees for him when you had visited him at work. After the two of you had hooked up for the first time and after he had been over his regrets and doubts realizing that not seeing you again wasn't an option, Joel had set clear rules such as not meeting you at his work place. But after he had realized how difficult it was to see each other without getting caught it had been a matter of days until he had allowed you to visit him. It was a quick fuck and definitely hadn't satisfied him entirely but it was better than nothing.

"Your mind really is elsewhere today, mhm?" his thoughts were interrupted once more but this time it was Tommy.

"Sorry. Did you say something?" Joel demanded to know and swiftly turned his attention back to the food on his plate.

"No. I was just noting that you seem absent. Everything alright?"

He prayed that Kate to his left wouldn't notice the bulge in his pants because it certainly would be hard to explain while he tried to come up with an answer.

"Yes I'm fine. Just thinkin' 'bout work."

"Oh Christ, Joel. You need to grant yourself some joy, okay? You can't always make everythin' perfect, you know that, right?" Tommy determindely looked in his eyes and Joel would have almost broken into a smile.

He did grant himself enough joy and that was the core of this whole problem. He should forget you, start treating you like what you were, his wife's co-worker, and be grateful to have such a caring and kind wife. Instead there he was daydreaming about a girl almost 30 years his junior like Kate didn't even exist. He really was an awful person but the worst part was that Joel didn't intend to change anything about it.

It got even worse because the longer he spent sitting by the table, you in a dangerous 5 meter radius of him, the clearer it became that he wouldn't be able to pass the day like this. He needed you the way he needed air and soon Joel would suffocate.

"Excuse me for a moment," Joel finally pressed, and given his friends' confused reactions, it had come out at a bad time.

"Alright, sure," Kate nevertheless smiled and patted his hand. At this point he didn't care about anything anymore but just rushed to the backdoor which probably looked odd. Joel had decided that it would be best to quickly jerk off in the bathroom and then return once he was feeling fine again because the way he acted right now only drew the attention to him.

Almost blind with lust he stumbled into the house and rushed to the kitchen to splash some cold water in his face which wasn't only helpful to get a clear head but was also very comfortable considering the hot weather.

He was just drying his face, starting to feel like a normal human being again when he heard a noise behind him. Joel abruptly turned around so the person behind him jolted but quickly collected herself to smile at him.

"Joel. Are you alright?"

Of course it was you and he cursed himself for feeling this instinctive tightness in his chest hinting at the fact that you were just the person he wanted to see right now. Which was so fucking wrong.

"Yes. I'm fine. Just go back to the party," he mumbled already turning around with the intention to leave the kitchen but you were quicker and held him back by placing a hand on his arm.

"Where are you going?"

He rolled his eyes feeling the familiar tightness in his pants again and just prayed that neither you or anyone else who might come to the kitchen now would notice it.

"To the bathroom. Go now, the others are probably waiting."

"Joel," you said quietly and a cease appeared between his eyebrows.

"What?" he spitted almost feeling a little bad for being so harsh with you but what else was he supposed to do? He needed a moment alone and, frankly, you were getting on his nerves.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Jesus…," he sighed and rubbed over the lower half of his face. "Yes I am. It's just the heat."

He gently and yet firmly removed your hand from his arm but you had a determined look on your face as you stepped in his way once more.

"But maybe I'm not."

Joel frowned resting his hands on his hips as he looked you up and down. "Y'look fine to me."

A little smile formed on your lips that looked so goddamn kissable right now that he had to shake his head to remind himself of the current circumstances.

"I need you. I need you so badly, Joel and I can't go back outside now. Please."

His heart sank into his legs at your words and he felt such an indescribable anger and desire at the same time. He wanted to shake you until he had reminded you of the consequences of what you had just said but he couldn't deny the way his body reacted to you. 'I need a clear head now,' he said to himself as he closed his eyes, then grabbed your upper arms and pushed you through the kitchen door in the floor so that any guests entering the house wouldn't see you.

"Have you lost your fuckin' mind?" he gritted his teeth and watched the way you squirmed with satisfaction. But you were yet to give in and instead pleaded him with your eyes.

"I'm gonna lose my mind if you don't do anything, Joel."

"You know how risky this is? My wife is in this fucking house. Collect yourself and then go outside, for god's sake."

He placed a hand on your back to push you towards the kitchen again but you stubborn little creature clung to his arms as if life depended on it and gave him these puppy eyes that never failed to make his knees wobbly.

"I don't care. We can go upstairs and then no one will hear."

He scoffed clasping a hand around your chin as he patronisingly lifted his eyebrows.

"How about you use your brains for once in your fucking life? Do you think nobody will notice us being away for so long?"

You let out something that sounded like a little desperate whine and as angry and frustrated he was with you right now there was also a part of him that was satisfied and smug about how needy you were for him. Joel was certain you were close to begging him on your knees and the animalistic side of him enjoyed this show so much that he wished you would refuse to leave just for a little bit longer.

"I don't care… fuck… You can't make me go back, please. It's aching and I… I just need you."

His grip on your chin tightened and his eyes spat fire at you remembering how risky and precarious everything about this was.

"Shut up. Shut the fuck up and get yourself together. Stop acting like a needy slut and behave yourself."

He had expected you to be intimidated by his powerful words but something shifted in your expression and you glared at him a lot more confident now.

"I know you want it too. You can't lie to me, Joel. What's the fucking problem? We both want it and we'll feel better afterwards."

"The problem is that my wife is a few feet away from us and I think even you are smart enough to understand what's gonna happen when she finds out."

You bit your lip unaware of what it did to Joel and stomped with your feet.

"She's not gonna find out. We'll be quick."

Suddenly he felt the urge to wrap a hand around your throat and choke you until you would finally shut up and he knew he really had to get you away from him now because he didn't know what he might do otherwise.

"Go. Now. I'm not gonna repeat myself."

"Then don't," you shrugged your shoulders and suddenly pulled away from him. You leaned against the wall licked over your lips and then slightly, just about an inch, lifted the hem of your already inappropriately short dress.

"Y/n, I swear to god…"

"You can have it," you interrupted him brushing with your thumb over your soft skin while looking right into his eyes. "You just need to take it. I'll be at your mercy doing anything you want me to."

All Joel was capable of hearing was his own heavy breathing and all he could see was those perfect legs that he wanted to bite and caress so badly. And then a switch in his brain flipped and every rational thought was replaced by the need to claim you.

Without saying a word, he grabbed your arm and dragged you along, not caring if he hurt you. For some reason he was still so goddamn pissed. He probably projected the anger directed at himself on you just to have someone to be mad at.

Joel took you upstairs and then shoved you into his bedroom immediately locking the door behind him and raised his hand as you intended to speak up.

"Shut it. I don't wanna hear any noise coming out of your mouth, have I made myself clear? I'm gonna fuck you and use you 'cause that's what you asked for 'n' if I hear any complaining I'll be out of here."

You nodded with big eyes but it was clear that you were beyond satisfied with the way things were going right now. "Yes."

"Good."

He took a big step towards you, pushed you to the wall and then his rough hands started to undress you by pulling the thin straps of your dress over your shoulders. When the fabric gathered around your waist and your bare chest was revealed he let out a growl and rolled his eyes.

"Oh for fuck's sake, you're kiddin' me… You're tellin' me you walked around here with no bra on? Have you gone fuckin' insane?"

You slightly arched your back to press yourself closer to him offering him free access to your upper body, but Joel wasn't done yet and refused to touch you.

"You can't do stuff like that, y/n. Is it that hard to understand? I know that you don't care but I have a fuckin' wife, okay? And if you continue to walk around my house in front of her eyes dressed like a cheap little whore and throw yourself against me she's gonna find out. 'Cause she might not be as pretty as you but she's a lot smarter than you."

He didn't know what kind of answer he expected but as he didn't get one Joel just sighed and then finally took a closer look at your body and instantly felt more blood rushing to his center. He quietly cursed to himself and then roughly grabbed your left breast while rubbing with his thumb over your right nipple.

"Oh fuck me," he grunted his mouth coming down to your temple to kiss your pulse point. "That's all you're fuckin' good for. Looking pretty f'me an' doing as you're told. And you enjoy it way too much, babygirl."

He felt how you buckled against his hands and craved to just slide into you and pound into you until you were so tired and exhausted that you would stay still already. But for now he enjoyed how your breasts felt against his hands and contently listened to your little whines and whimpers that sounded like the sweetest piece of music to his ears.

Soon his jeans felt so tight around him that it felt like they were about to burst so he decided to change something about it.

"Get on your knees," he commanded you who looked like you were waking up from a delicious dream when he stopped kneading your flesh but instantly obeyed and quite literally fell to your knees in front of him.

For the first time Joel chuckled quietly and almost lovingly caressed your hair.

"What a sweet 'n obedient little toy I've gotten myself. You're just so eager to please your daddy, mhm? You think s'good enough? You think daddy will be proud of you for dropping to your knees like some filthy slut?"

Your round eyes almost questioningly stared up to him and Joel couldn't help himself and yanked your head back further.

"You're doin' this for everyone, huh? Are you also fallin' to your knees for your co-workers? For… what was his name again… Ian?"

Your bottom lip trembled looking intimidated but yet so eager to finally get to work.

"N-No. I only do it for you, daddy."

Joel grinned with delight at his view and then started to undo his belt.

"I know. 'Cause these boys wouldn't know how to handle you. They wouldn't know what to do with all of this, ain't that right?"

"Yes, daddy. Only you can do it, please. Please I need your cock so badly."

You had grabbed his thighs and Joel once again wondered how he had gotten so lucky. Not just the fact that such a lovely and pretty girl like you enjoyed getting fucked by an old man like him but you were literally begging him to let you suck him off. He couldn't highlight it too often, he was old. Way too old to have you in this position for him right now and definitely too old to be worshipped like this. Maybe he just wasn't the only one of the two of you that was fucked in the head. Maybe you actually needed him to degrade you just as much as he needed to own and ruin you.

"Stick your tongue out," Joel said, the horniness clearly showing in his voice.

You obeyed and this image of you kneeling in front of him made him realize that he wouldn't last long. He gathered some spit in his mouth and then let it fall down on your flat tongue.

"Keep it there," were his next words and he observed you precisely while finally pulling down his jeans along with his boxers so his dick was freed and Joel let out a satisfied sigh.

You clearly expected him to tell you to swallow his spit now and were narrowing his eyes when he instead reached to a drawer next to him to search for something. When he had found what he was looking for he turned to you again and pulled the hair tie on his wrist. Joel towered over you, collecting all your hair and then tying it back into a ponytail so it wouldn't distract you while you were getting fucked in the mouth. When he was done he curiously glanced in your open mouth and raised his eyebrows noticing that it seemed like you had accidentally swallowed his spit.

"M'sorry," you breathed but were cut off as Joel slammed his cock into your mouth and you almost lost your balance gripping his thighs to support yourself. He heard a muffled cry but he prevented you from pissing him off further by silencing you with his cock and observed your struggling with relish.

"There you go… So fuckin' desperate to get that slutty mouth fucked."

To say your mouth felt good around him was an understatement. It was his own personal paradise. This was the best he had felt in a while and if he hadn‘t been so close to coming already he would've stayed here forever. Your lips wrapped tightly around his shaft while your throat welcomed you so wonderfully that he knew exactly how much you savoured this as well despite all this complaining and whimpering.

The only thing that he still craved right now was to see you choke on his thick cock and perhaps even coax a few tears out of you and so he went deeper although it felt like there wasn't any space left. You wriggled and jolted away but Joel's hand was firm around your ponytail holding you in place for him.

"This is what you fuckin' asked me for so you're gonna take all of it until I'm satisfied. Just let it all out. S'alright if it's messy, don't you worry about that. It's exactly what daddy wants. I wanna see you realize what you are. A plaything… a stupid fuckin' doll."

He was so deep inside you now that it felt almost unnatural, and for a moment he was genuinely worried that he had pushed you too far, but when he slightly backed out you coughed and squirmed in his grip so he knew you were just struggling a little. Joel remained like this getting off on the way your eyes squeezed in fear every time he went a little deeper before pulling back again and perhaps he was an awful person for doing it but humiliating you and toying with your emotions just turned him on.

He wanted your powerless beneath him. Utterly surrendered to him and fully submitted to his touch. He wanted you dependent on him even if it meant fucking you during a garden party in his bedroom because he was the only one who could satisfy you.

The moment that he saw how you were getting used to his little movements inside of your mouth and stopped twitching he decided to teach you another lesson and thrusted in you with so much force that you let out a cry that was way too loud but luckily muffled by his cock.

"Shut up. I swear to god, I'll kick you out if you can't control yourself."

He fucked your mouth at a punishing pace now hitting the back of your throat every time and in any other case he might have felt bad just a little bit but today his frustration and anger at you took over and made him come to the conclusion that you deserved every last bruise and hurt after having begged him like that in his kitchen.

The noises the two of you produced were filthy and obscene and as was the picture. Your gagging and retching, the wet slapping of his balls against your face, the sound of his cock sliding past your lips and the drool and spit running down your chin and neck. Everything about it was messy and counted as one of the things that were only meant to be seen in dubious videos on the internet and most certainly wasn't supposed to be witnessed by his wife.

When Joel felt that he was close he unwillingly stopped moving and came to a stop in your mouth. Thirty years ago he would have bursted in your mouth, made you swallow every last drop, then fisted himself a couple of seconds and fucked your brains out but in his age he knew he wouldn't be able to get hard again that quickly after an orgasm. It pained him to pull back, his cock feeling like it was about to explode but the thought of splitting you open for him overshadowed the disappointment.

Joel pulled you up by your hair until you stood in front of him his eyes coldly running over the messiness that was your face.

"You know what I'm gonna do to you now?" he whispered harshly his hand coming down to wrap around your already abused throat. He watched with happiness how you almost weren't able to look in his eyes, your bratiness and cockiness gone, replaced by submissiveness and the need to please.

"No," you shook your hand grabbing his shirt when he pushed you towards the bed.

"I'll make you take every fuckin' inch of my cock no matter if you can handle it or not. I'll ruin that l'il pussy of yours until you scream for me to stop. 'Cause you're mine. You're mine to throw around and bend the way I want to and I swear to god, if you ever think about letting some of your little colleagues touch what's mine you'll pay for it."

You gulped at the intensity and filthiness of his words and doe-eyed, like there wasn't a thought in your head let him mandhandle you on your back.

"I'll break you down, babygirl. Piece by piece until I have you bawling your eyes out. How does that make you feel, huh? Bein' my fuckin' pet."

He was on top of you now pressing you into the mattress his hand still around your neck to make you stay still.

"I want it. I want it, daddy, I wanna be your toy. I want you to use me, please, do anything you want," you cried tears spilling from your eyes from how tense and needy you were for him.

"You poor little thing," Joel cooed his right thumb tracing the delicate skin on your neck while his left painfully twisted your nipple.

"I've made her all needy and weak for daddy. It's pathetic really. Think you're supposed to be laying underneath a man old enough to be your father begging him to destroy your cunt? You think that's cute?"

He pinched your nipple with more force than would have been necessary but he felt so goddamn angry at you that he just wanted to punish and hurt you. Push your boundaries and drive you further.

"Daddy," you cried out and widened your eyes when Joel placed a hand on top of your mouth instantly silencing you.

"Jesus fuckin' christ… You really are a dumb little thing. This hand's gonna stay here now."

With these words he finally drew his attention to the lower part of your body regarding your dress that was ruffled around your hips. Joel lifted the dress a little only to laugh at the lacy black panties that you certainly hadn't picked out coincidentally.

"What a shame," he mumbled to himself and before you could think about what he meant by that you heard a ripping sound and then felt cold air brushing over your labia.

Joel smirked at the way you arched, your hands reproachfully pushing at his shoulders but the big hand on your mouth prevented you from complaining about his way of undressing you.

"You wore them for me and so I get to choose what happens to them," was all he said and then while you were still narrowing your eyes at him you suddenly felt his tip at your entrance and then within a few seconds his entire length had entered you and a loud moan escaped your mouth that made Joel feel thankful that he had shut you up.

He knew that it must be a lot for you because sure, you were more than well lubricated, but he was huge and thick and even though this obviously wasn't the first time he had fucked you, you usually needed a moment to adjust to him.

But today Joel simply didn't care about the sex being comfortable for you because he pounded into you with no regards to your poor pussy being exploited like this. He took what he wanted, savoured your tight walls taking you with so much force that you were pushed up the bed with each thrust. If you wanted to complain you didn't stand a chance because his hand didn't leave your mouth for a second and so you had no choice but to take what he gave you.

Joel moaned in your ear growling whenever he thrusted back in and soon placed your legs on his shoulders pushing your knees to your chest so he could reach even deeper. The cease between your eyebrows deepened and your sweaty hands searched for his that was wrapped around your knees.

When Joel saw fresh tears escaping the corner of your eyes he slightly loosened the grip of the hand on your mouth giving you some space to greedily inhale and at the same time giving himself the chance to take pleasure in your pretty crying face.

"D-Daddy," you whimpered your whole body trembling with the need to come and at this point you were so fucked out, he knew you would do anything he asked you to do.

Joel was close, his cock beginning to throb and his view getting white. Before he could have a second thought and perhaps help you to cross the bridge as well he had exploded inside of you filling you up to the brim.

His head dropped to his chest his hands coming down next to your head to steady himself and then his thrusts in you came to a stop only little growls escaping from his mouth every now and then. Joel was at calm now, his body captured in a peaceful post-orgasm dizziness but you were obviously far away from it.

You were craving a release as well but instead of vocalizing your needs you just rocked your center against his leg that was now positioned between your thighs again.

"D-Daddy. P-Please, I-I was g-good," you stuttered nervously pulling at his shirt while Joel let out a frustrated sigh. He wasn't even able to enjoy this moment of quietude and although he had given you just what you wanted you were asking him for more.

"You think you were good? Think you deserve to come?" he spoke leaning down to you and tracing the outlines of your mouth with his thumb.

"I need to. Please daddy, I really need it."

"That's not an answer to my fuckin' question. I said do you think you deserve to come?"

You remained silent your face crumbling again but Joel was sick and tired of you crying whenever you wanted something that you didn't get so his hand closed around your chin once more and his face came close to yours.

"Drop the attitude, babygirl. Fine. You can come but you're gonna work for it so you see that you can't always get what you want by blinking with your eyes a few times and expecting daddy to do everything. You can ride my thigh and if you do it well you'll get off that way."

He instantly saw how disappointed you were with his answer because your lips formed a pout and your forrowed your brow. "But –"

"It's this or nothing and I mean it. Tell me if you wanna do it and if not I'm gonna leave right now. You can be glad I haven't already 'cause I already gave you what you wanted, you ungrateful little brat."

You were officially sulking now but Joel didn't care. He observed you waiting for an answer and then you finally swallowed loudly turning your head to escape his gaze and mumbled a quiet "Fine."

"Louder," he demanded and yet another sound of frustration left your body before repeating the word louder this time.

"Fine. I wanna do it."

Joel nodded graciously, rolled off you and then took his place with his back against the headboard of the bed his legs parted so you had some space to straddle his lap.

"Come over here," he guided you and you clumsily rose to your knees to crawl to him.

Of course Joel was aware of how affected you were by this denial, not just physically but also mentally but he wanted to teach you a lesson after all and perhaps next time you would act more responsibly and not beg him to fuck you during a garden party. He had desired you as well, sure, but he had had the decency to merely think about it and perhaps jerk off to the thought but not actually act according to it.

You were on top of him now, his right leg between your thighs but it was obvious that you had no idea what you were supposed to do.

"Christ…," he sighed resting his head against the headboard because he really hadn't planned to guide and talk you through your orgasm now but it seemed like that was exactly what he was about to do.

"Can't do it yourself?" Joel asked with raised eyebrows and the slight shake of your head while looking down told him everything he needed to know.

"Fine," he sighed and slightly moved up on the bed. "Hands on my shoulders. You're gonna need it to steady yourself."

He placed his hands on your waist pressing you down until you felt his muscular thigh against your slit.

"Now rock yourself against me. You're gonna want to stimulate your clit so you're gonna move your hips. Just do what feels good 'n then fuckin' come."

Perhaps it was the way you frowned looking all concentrated and focused on pleasuring yourself. Or how you kept pushing your hair back because it was in your face. Or how after a few minutes you let out the first little sigh almost looking off guard by how good it actually felt. Or perhaps it was just his own post-orgasm peacefulness.

Whatever it was, Joel softened up at the sight of you.

All of a sudden he felt the urge to embrace and care for you and it was now that he regretted not having done it earlier. You poor thing had to do it all by yourself after having been such a good girl for him.

Joel decided to at least help you a little and put his hands on your hips to guide your movements and according to your expression you hadn't expected him to assist you. But now that he did, his fingers softly dug into your flesh his thumb drawing little circles over your skin while he helped you rolling your hips.

"You like that, babygirl?" he whispered clearly not unaffected by the scene either and your eyelids fluttered threatening to close.

"Yes, daddy. I'm gonna come soon, I promise."

Joel sighed while moving the hair out of your face realizing that he really had pushed you far today. He lifted his leg a little higher pressing it against your center to create even more friction for your clit, feeling the slickness connecting his thigh and your pussy every time you rubbed yourself against him.

"It's alright. Just concentrate on how it feels, okay?"

Well aware that what you enjoyed just as much as being degraded was being praised, Joel softly smiled at you while drawing patterns over your thigh.

"You've been such a good girl for me, hon. The best. You know why I'm rough with you sometimes, don't ya?"

Feeling all submissive and needy, of course you nodded and held on to his shirt that for some reason hadn't left his body yet.

"I know, daddy. And I'm sorry. I know that I was bad."

"But now I want you to come for daddy 'cause you deserve it. Want you to soak my thigh and let go. I will be there to catch you, sweetheart, promise," he gently soothed you his face softening at the way you tightly gripped his shoulders as you picked up the pace.

"There you go… Doin' so well."

Joel patiently whispered sweet nothings in your ear encouraging you to chase your orgasm and when it finally happened he talked you through it his hands firmly holding on to your waist so you wouldn't fall over while his other hand once again muffled the little cries leaving your mouth.

"That's right… I know it feels good, babygirl. Such a good girl…"

At this point you were too weak to hold yourself up and collapsed on top of him, your head resting against his chest and his hands running up and down your back.

"Shh, honey," he whispered over your loud panting as he combed through your hair, which could no longer be called a ponytail as your hair stood in all directions.

"You good?" he eventually asked with the urgent realization that the two of you had been gone for way too long now.

He really didn't want to throw you out and disturb you in your exhaustion but once the others would start searching for you, things certainly wouldn't end well.

Fortunately you nodded lifting your head from his chest and in this moment Joel couldn't act all grumpy and annoyed with you. He had a soft spot for you after all and when these pretty eyes of yours looked at him as though he was the best person you had ever met he couldn't stay strong and hide his affection.

His mouth twitched as he ran a thumb over your chin and then leaned down to kiss you. Suddenly it was him who would have preferred to stay here in the bedroom a little longer but when he heard loud laughter from outside he was reminded of the risk of what the two of you were doing.

"M'really sorry, sweetheart, but we need to get back to the party."

You let out a disapproving moan and buried your face in his chest but didn't fight when Joel sat you up on the bed and adjusted your dress that was still ruffled around your waist. Only then did he remember what he had done to your panties and widened his eyes in shock.

"Oh fuck me…," he groaned rubbing over his forehead.

You couldn't walk around the house without underwear, and Joel decided this not only for your own safety, but also for his own selfish reasons. He definitely wouldn't allow you to dance and twirl around Ian, who clearly had more than friendship in mind for you.

Therefore Joel approached Kate's wardrobe and although even he felt very bad while doing it pulled out one of his wife's panties which he handed you without a word.

"Joel…," you began but he shook his head. "Just put them on."

You followed his order and then once he had also fixed his jeans he kissed your forehead.

"You good?" he asked again still a little concerned about whether he had been too hard on you but you nodded again giving him a shy smile.

"Yes. More than good."

Almost longingly he caressed your cheek and then turned to the door as if it was the final boss.

"Ready?" he asked tilting his head at you and you pursed your lips.

"No. But let's go, I guess."

Joel squeezed your hand gently pulling you with him to the door and then opened it.

173 notes · View notes

witchywithwhiskey · 1 day ago

Note

hiiiii, it's asreadbyaj, wanting to participate in your sweethearts game. You know how much I'm obsessed with your toxic Bucky series so naturallyyyyy I had to pick Mr. Barnes and the sweetheart "Crazy 4 You." If that prompt's already picked, however, I'll go with "You Wish"

it's kind of a funny story

pairing: divorced neighbor!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: you get back early from a work trip, happy to see your cat alpine, but a little sad to have no one else to come home to. things change, though, when you discover your neighbor in your bed doing something very inappropriate...

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), unspecified age gap, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (f and m receiving), face-sitting, masturbation (m and f), cock warming, brief pussy spanking, multiple orgasms, voyeurism, accidental voyeurism, tit worship, nipple play, large cock, marking, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink, light degradation kink, pet names (bunny, baby), aftercare, happy ending, both reader and bucky are big pervs

word count: 8.5k

a/n: ahh AJ, you were the first person to send in Bucky Barnes and i just knew i had to use this tweet as inspiration for the prompt. i also liked the idea of Alpine belonging to reader and Bucky coming to adopt the cat by getting together with reader. also sorry this is so long, i just had so much fun writing these two!! 🫣 anyway thank you for playing my sweethearts game, i hope you enjoy ♡♡

sweethearts game masterlist

A happy, chirping meow greeted you as soon as you pushed inside your apartment. The ball of white fluff lounging in a spot of golden, late afternoon sunshine rose and darted toward you, winding around your legs.

Despite your exhaustion from your trip, a soft smile curved your lips. You dropped your bags and bent down to scratch between the ears of the white furball that lived in your apartment—also known as your cat, Alpine.

“Hello, sweet girl,” you cooed at her, scooping up her fluffy body and pressing kisses all over her furry face. Alpine’s expression was partly aggrieved, no doubt angry that you’d gone away again, and partly indulgent of your love.

Truthfully, you were just as aggravated about your time away as Alpine. Your job had you travelling more and more, despite the role purporting to be work-from-home, and each time you returned to your apartment, you couldn’t help but be reminded that Alpine was the only one there to greet you.

In the comfort of your own space, you could admit to yourself that it would’ve been nice to have a person to come home to—a man who’d happily shower you with just as much affection as you were showing Alpine. A man who’d help you with your bags and then wrap you up in his arms and kiss the exhaustion from your lips.

Of their own volition, and as they often did, your thoughts strayed to Bucky Barnes.

The divorced man had moved into the apartment immediately below yours a little over two years ago, having split from his wife and needing his own space. He was older than you—too old for you to have anything so banal as a crush on him. And yet, you often found yourself thinking about Bucky Barnes.

His brown hair was a little too long, and messily swept back from his face in the way of someone who frequently ran their hands through it. The scruff on his jaw was a little too thick, like he was constantly forgetting to shave but refused to commit to a full beard. His blue eyes were bright and sharp, but more often than not, they were framed with dark circles like he didn’t get enough sleep.

Bucky Barnes was a bit of a mess, but he was handsome in a way that made your heart beat a little faster in your chest and a low warmth begin to simmer in your body whenever you passed him on the stairs and got a whiff of his cologne. It was spicy and earthy and you wanted to bury your face in his neck and inhale deeply, certain you’d be able to get high off it if you tried hard enough.

Shaking your head to free yourself from thoughts of Bucky Barnes, you scratched Alpine under the chin and cooed at her, “Did Mr. Bucky take good care of you while mama was away, sweetie?”

Alpine let out another of her happy meows, butting her head against your cheek, as if to say she’d been very well taken care of, but still missed you. The edges of your mouth curled into a smile and you nuzzled the cat back, pressing a kiss between her ears.

Before Bucky had moved into your building, if you ever needed someone to feed Alpine while you were away, you’d gone to Mrs. Cabrera down the hall. But when your work trips had grown more frequent, she’d had to ask you to find someone else, unable to balance Alpine’s care with her active social life and visiting her grandchildren all over the city.

You’d been on the phone with your best friend in the lobby of the building, asking whether she’d be able to stop by and feed Alpine, when Bucky had been getting his mail. He’d offered to help you out, and you’d been so grateful, you hadn’t grilled him too much on what he knew about taking care of cats.

Bucky had turned out to be a surprising success as a catsitter. He sent you photos of Alpine a few times a day while you were out of town, and reported perfunctorily on how much she’d eaten, how many treats he’d given her and what toys he’d used to play with her.

He was everything you’d ever hoped for in a sitter for Alpine, and the fact that he was so good with your cat only made your crush on him burn hotter. When you were on your work trips, you often fantasized about coming home to Bucky and Alpine, and the happy little family you’d make together.

Your trip home that day had been no different. You’d been called to another city halfway across the country for the week and had originally intended to fly home the next day, but you managed to book an earlier flight that got you home on the evening of Valentine’s Day.

You refused to think about how pathetic you were—daydreaming about returning home to your divorced neighbor, and all the ways you wanted him to show you how happy he was to see you, while everyone else was going out on romantic dates with actual partners.

If you thought about it too much, about how desperately you wanted someone to love you, it would’ve made you miserable. So you didn’t think about it.

Alpine squirmed in your arms, suddenly deciding she was done with your love fest, and you let her hop down, watching fondly as she shook out her fluffy white fur. The cat turned her big blue eyes up at you and meowed, then led you toward her food bowl in the kitchen.

“Did Mr. Bucky forget to feed you, sweet girl?” you asked with a frown, toeing out of your shoes and following her through the living room.

It wasn’t like Bucky to forget to feed her, and, sure enough, when you saw Alpine’s bowl, you could still see traces of the wet food he had given her that evening. It was even still a little wet, so you knew he’d been by pretty recently.

You were inexplicably sad that you’d missed him. It would’ve been almost like your fantasies if you’d come home while he’d still been feeding Alpine, but you pushed the thoughts aside, refusing to dwell on them any longer.

Chuckling to yourself when Alpine meowed forlornly, you grabbed the bag of treats and fed her a few while you gave her even more pets and kisses, apologizing for being gone so much.

As you were giving Alpine as much love as the cat could stomach, a soft sound came from the direction of your bedroom.

You froze at the unfamiliar noise. It didn’t sound like any of the normal creaks and groans of the old Brooklyn building you called home.

Your mind raced as you jumped to the most obvious—and unlikely—conclusion, that there was a murderer in your bedroom, lying in wait to stab you gruesomely. But just as quickly as the thought flitted across your mind, you pushed it aside, telling yourself to be realistic.

Alpine had just eaten, and there were no signs of your front door lock having been broken. It was probably just Bucky, who was the only other person to have a key to your apartment. Just like that, your heart started to race with excitement—he was still at your apartment.

He’d probably needed to use the bathroom. Or maybe he’d laid down on your bed and fallen asleep.

You’d come home to find him like that once. He’d been sprawled across your bed, feet hanging over the side, mouth open and drooling a little on you comforter, one of Alpine’s cat toys dangling loosely in his hand like he’d fallen asleep playing with her.

For a moment, you’d just looked at him, your heart beating fast against your sternum as dangerous thoughts flitted across your mind—thoughts about how good he looked in your bed, how soft his hair might feel if you ran your fingers through it and pushed it back from his face.

You’d given yourself that moment to indulge in your wildest fantasies, and then you’d shaken his shoulder gently to wake him.

He’d apologized profusely, pushing his hair back from his face while a blush spread across his cheeks, and you’d been incapable of thinking it was creepy or weird. Bucky was a bit of a mess, and apparently that included falling asleep in his neighbor’s apartment while playing with her cat.

Another sound came from your bedroom, and you were comforted by how much it sounded like a snore.

Confident it was Bucky, having accidentally fallen asleep on your bed again, you stepped softly toward your room, not wanting to wake him. You wanted another stolen moment to watch him sleep and imagine him spending more time in your bed—preferably naked.

But when you reached the doorway to your bedroom, you stopped short. Your breath caught sharply in your throat at the sight that greeted you.

Bucky Barnes lay on his back across the middle of your bed, his shirt off, revealing a broad golden chest with a generous dusting of dark hair. That was enough for your eyes to widen, to snag on the rise and fall of his pecs and the bulge of his bicep as he breathed heavily.

But then your gaze followed the line of his muscular arm down to where his belt buckle was undone, his jeans were unzipped and his hand was shoved into the black boxer briefs he wore. Out of sight, you could see Bucky’s hand moving, his knuckles brushed against the inside of the soft cotton of his briefs as they moved in an unmistakable stroking motion.

Between your thighs, your clit twitched. The bundle of nerves practically perked up like a desperate puppy as you watched Bucky’s hand move inside his briefs while he pleasured himself, his hips thrusting into his own touch like all he wanted to do was pound into his fist, but he was trying prolong it.

He groaned softly, the sound drifting across your room and sending so much heat spiraling through your body that you squirmed where you stood. Still, you were transfixed—unable to look away or give Bucky some semblance of privacy, and unable to move forward and join him as your body so desperately wanted.

Worried he might’ve sensed you watching him, your eyes flicked up to Bucky’s face, which was when you noticed he was holding something up to his mouth and nose. He took a deep breath, grunting softly again as his fist worked a little faster in his jeans.

The thing in Bucky’s hand was one of your sweaters, you realized dazedly. It was one that you’d tossed onto the chair in the corner before you’d left on your trip. It must’ve still smelled like you, like the barest hint of your perfume…

And Bucky was smelling it. He was inhaling the scent with deep breaths while he stroked his cock. On your bed.

On some level, you knew there was something deeply wrong about what Bucky was doing. You knew that he’d crossed so many boundaries—taking off his shirt, laying on your bed, smelling your sweater, stroking his cock in your room—that your trust in him should be broken irrevocably.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to feel horror or disgust or betrayal at his actions. Maybe it was the shock of finding your divorced neighbor in such an erotic state, or the fact that you were lonely and Bucky had been the object of your fantasies for so long, but all you felt was turned on.

You were filled with a pleasant warmth that was burning hotter and hotter with every moment you stood in the doorway of your room, watching Bucky stroke himself in his jeans. A revealing wetness was growing between your thighs, your legs pressing together against the ache building in your core.

It had only been a few seconds since you’d discovered Bucky in your bed, stroking his cock while he smelled your sweater, but you were already so turned on, you were squirming in the doorway. Your fingers drifted to the juncture of your thighs and pressed into the seam of your leggings.

A breathless whimper slipped from your lips as you rubbed your clit, the spark of pleasure having an incendiary effect on your body. What had been a simmering heat of desire was quickly growing into an inferno of need—a need that you suspected only Bucky, with his deft fingers and hard cock, would be able to sate.

You hadn’t thought the sound you’d made was loud enough to catch your neighbor’s attention, but Bucky froze for a beat before his head turned and he saw you in the doorway. Surprise and guilt flickered across his gaze, his arm moving as if to pull his hand from his pants.

But then Bucky seemed to take in the full sight of you, and his eyes snagged on the way your hand was pressed between your thighs, your fingers unmistakably rubbing your clit. His gaze darkened to a midnight blue, and a knowing smirk spread across his handsome face.

Suddenly, you felt like you were the one who’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t and, inexplicably, that only made you feel hotter and squirmier. Snatching your hand away from your clit—ignoring the way your body protested—you twisted your fingers together uncertainly.

“I caught an earlier flight,” you blurted, feeling the need to explain your sudden appearance in your own apartment.

Bucky’s smirk only seemed to deepen and for one, breathless moment, you simply stood there, staring deep into his eyes. There was no judgement in his gaze, no recrimination for touching yourself when you found him stroking his cock on your bed. There was only a desire that matched the feeling pulsing through your body.

Slowly, as if worrying he’d spook you if he moved too fast, Bucky pulled his hand from his pants and your eyes darted to it uncertainly, wondering what he was doing.

He reached out to you, his hand open and welcoming—and you had the wild urge to press your face into his palm, to breathe in the scent of his cock, which surely lingered on his skin. You wanted to lick the taste from his palm and nuzzle into his hand, but his voice broke you free from those thoughts.

“C’mere, bunny,” Bucky rumbled, so much affection and lust dripping from his tone that the pet name felt like a sweet caress to your cheek.

You could hardly think, your mind a twisted mess of what you should do and what you wanted to do. But your body didn’t seem the least bit confused. Your feet carried you forward, closing the short distance between the doorway and the bed, and you were sliding your fingers into Bucky’s palm by the time you’d admitted to yourself it was what you wanted.

Bucky helped you onto the bed, the older man showing his strength as he manhandled you into the position he wanted—your knees planted on either side of his torso, your clothed pussy hovering a few inches above his face.

“Sit on me, bunny, let me breathe you,” Bucky murmured gruffly from between your legs, his hands gently kneading your thighs. You could feel his harsh breaths against your sodden core, and it made you all the more eager to follow his command.

You lowered your hips until you felt Bucky’s nose against your slit and stopped, hovering above his face and fearing that you’d crush him with your weight—which would be a tragic thing to do when you’d only just found him shirtless in your bed.

But Bucky didn’t like that. His hands wrapped around the tops of your thighs, fingers digging into the creases where your legs met your hips, and he yanked you down until your body settled on him entirely.

He groaned loudly, the sound only slightly muffled by the way his hot mouth was pressed against your damp center, which sent shivers of delight dancing through your body.

A sudden, breathy moan tumbled from your lips and your whole body trembled with pleasure, your thighs quivering on either side of Bucky’s shoulders. It felt so good that you wanted more, so you pressed down harder on his face.

You could feel the hungry grin Bucky wore before he opened his mouth and you felt his tongue lick a searing line along your slit. You could feel him, hot and hungry, through your leggings and panties, the heat of him sending delicious sparks up your spine.

Unable to keep holding yourself up, you curled forward, your cheek pressing against Bucky’s hip and getting a front row seat to the sight of his hand slipping into his boxer briefs. You watched the obscured view of his fingers curling around his hard, thick length, your mouth falling open with wonder as he stroked himself slowly.

All the while, Bucky mouthed at your pussy, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue before licking deep into your slit and groaning obscenely at the taste of your arousal. It was mesmerizing, the way Bucky licked you through your clothes while he stroked his cock just out of sight.

You could’ve stayed like that for hours, reveling in your euphoria and watching Bucky pleasure himself, but the longer his mouth worked your pussy, the more your need grew and grew. Between one breath and the next, you went from laying peacefully on Bucky to grinding your pussy shamelessly on his face, seeking your release.

“That’s it, bunny, grind your needy little cunt on daddy’s face,” Bucky growled, his words half muffled by your heated flesh pressed to his mouth. “Knew you’d be a perfect little slut for me, be a good slut for daddy and make yourself feel good.”

Your pussy spasmed when Bucky called himself ‘daddy’, a lewd moan slipping from your lips that you tried to bury against the older man’s bulge. You’d never called anyone that before, even though you’d thought about it plenty, and it felt like a precious gift that Bucky seemed to want you to call him daddy.

You felt undone and laid bare by Bucky’s tongue and his words, your innermost fantasies exposed to the golden late afternoon light streaming into your bedroom. It was all you could do to spread your knees wider and hump against the older man’s face, giving in to all your basest desires.

“Daddy, it feels sooo good,” you whimpered, nuzzling mindlessly into Bucky’s cock while your hips worked harder against his face. “Your mouth feels so good, daddy, you’re gonna make me cum.”

Bucky pulled his hand from his pants and you immediately replaced it with your mouth, your lips curving around the thick ridge of his cock through his boxer briefs, sucking on the tip. You huffed a happy sound as his musky taste burst on your tongue.

His hips bucked up off the bed, a muffled grunt coming from between your thighs and you smiled against his hardness. You secured your lips more tightly around him, letting your spit dampen the cotton of his briefs while you sucked lewdly on the crown of his cock.

For a moment, Bucky must’ve been distracted by your mouth, but then he seemed to remember himself. His fingers slipped under your sweater and hooked in the back of your leggings, yanking them and your panties down over your ass until the cool air of the room brushed against your bare pussy.

You barely had time to mewl, the sound full of blatant need, before Bucky was pulling you back down on his face, his hot mouth latching onto your pussy without anything in between. He took a deep breath, the sound of him sucking in the smell of you loud, even while it was muffled by your body.

“Fuck, bunny, you have no idea how long I’ve dreamed about getting my mouth on your sweet cunt,” Bucky groaned, pressing the flat of his tongue into your slit and licking greedily. He pushed deep into your hole, mouth sucking your juices straight from the source. “You taste better than I ever imagined, so fucking sweet—you’re such a good slut, creaming all over daddy’s tongue.”

“Daddy, ‘m gonna cum,” you gasped, pleasure driving you as you pushed your hips down hard on Bucky’s face and began grinding against his mouth, feeling him smile between your thighs. It only drove your pleasure higher, pushing you closer to the edge. “Please, daddy—daddy, please make me cum, ‘m so close!”

“Cum on my tongue, sweet bunny, cum like a perfect little slut for your daddy,” Bucky rumbled in a gruff, lust-soaked voice. Then his lips were closing around your clit and he sucked hard on the tight bundle of nerves, his tongue lashing at the tip until the coil of tension in your body snapped.

Pleasure crashed through your body and you let out a sharp cry as you came. Burying your face against the base of Bucky’s cock, you sobbed through your release, wave after wave of pleasure sweeping through and devastating you while you moaned into the older man’s balls.

Between your thighs, Bucky groaned and lapped up your release hungrily, licking you through all the minor tremors and aftershocks of your release. He eased you down from your high gracefully, his tongue exploring every inch of your pussy while your inner walls fluttered around nothing.

“I’m gonna treat you so well, baby, gonna take such good care of you,” Bucky rumbled, talking to your body in such a way that you weren’t even sure if he was talking to you or your pussy. “Gonna fill you with my cock and so much cum, your belly will be bloated with it.”

At that, you moaned softly, enjoying the way Bucky’s cock twitched against your cheek. You nuzzled into his hard length, pressing soft kisses everywhere you could reach while you were still laying collapsed on top of him, sated from your orgasm.

Bucky didn’t seem to be paying much attention to anything but your pussy, though, as he used his fingers to spread you open, pushing his tongue deep into your hole like he was searching for the last drop of a sweet treat. When you moaned around his cock, he grunted hotly into your cunt.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, you’re gonna be craving my cock every second of the day,” he want on, his voice growing rougher with desire, using his nose to nudge against your clit and make it twitch for him. “Whenever I’m not inside you, you’re gonna be wishing I was, bunny—just like I spend every fucking minute of my day thinking about this sweet pussy.”

The warm haze of your release had mostly worn off, and it took you only a second to process Bucky’s words, a gasp slipping from your lips as your whole body clenched tight. A greedy, possessive side you never knew you had delighted in the idea of Bucky thinking about you so much—it seemed only fair when you’d thought about him nonstop for two years.

“Do it, daddy,” you murmured, a challenge in your tone that had Bucky going still. His fingers dug into the plush curves of your hips as if wordlessly telling you to continue. “I’ve wanted your cock for months,” you confessed, pressing a kiss to his hard length, still pushing against the soft cotton of his boxer briefs. “Show me what I’ve been missing, Bucky, show me what I’ve been craving—please, daddy.”

Your voice was little more than a purr, and that final ‘daddy’ seemed to snap something in Bucky because his hands were shifting on your hips and he was lifting you up from his face, manhandling you onto your back on the bed. Bucky pushed between your thighs, covering your body with his own until his face was level with yours.

“Are you sure, bunny—tell me you’re sure,” Bucky asked urgently, a desperate rasp in his voice as his wild blue eyes raked over your face, as if searching for any trace of uncertainty. “Because I’ve thought about this for so long, you’ll break my heart if you’re not serious.”

Your hands cupped Bucky’s scruffy jaw and you looked at his face, really looked at him. He still had dark circles under his eyes, and weathered lines feathering out from the corners of his eyes. His hair was half sticking up and flopping to the side at the same time, the brown strands looking so soft and inviting, begging you to thread your fingers through it.

Bucky Barnes was still a bit of a mess, but he was a mess you craved unequivocally. And, even though you’d found him pleasuring himself in your bed, after the intense orgasm he’d given you, there was no way you’d pass up a chance to find out what else your divorced neighbor had to offer.

“I’m sure, Bucky,” you said, your voice calm and certain. “I want this—I want you.” You dragged him in close enough to brush your lips against his in the ghost of a kiss, tasting traces of yourself on his lips. “Fuck me, daddy, make me your slut and show your bunny who she belongs to.”

Bucky groaned and slanted his mouth to yours, kissing you softly at first before deepening it by sliding his tongue along your plump lower lip. You opened for him readily, groaning into his mouth when he slid inside and you tasted your cum on his tongue. It was dirty and filthy and the perfect counterpoint to the sweet way it had started.

As he kissed you, Bucky’s hands grew more and more bold, slipping beneath your sweater and groping your tits through your bra. When you pulled away to gasp for air, the older man made quick work of pulling off your sweater and then unclasping your bra, tossing both somewhere in your room.

Then Bucky paused, his gaze transfixed by your tits. He watched, awe etched into his features, as his big hands cupped your soft mounds. His thumbs stroked over your nipples, the sparkling pleasure of his touch making your spine arch as a mewl spilled from your lips.

Bucky closed his eyes, like he was overcome by the sight, which only made a new warmth bloom in your chest. It had been hot to see him jerking himself off while he smelled your sweater, but this—seeing Bucky nearly come undone just from watching your reaction to his thumb sweeping over your nipple was something else entirely.

Your fingers wrapped around the strong muscle of Bucky’s forearms, just above his wrists, and you urged him on. “More, daddy, please,” you whimpered, catching his eye when his flew open, the blue of his gaze darkening into something smoldering and hot.

“You’re so soft, so fucking perfect, bunny,” Bucky grunted. The veins in his arms stood out in sharp relief as he groped you more roughly, spurred by the soft sounds of delight you were making, until you were squirming beneath him. “Always knew your tits would be perfect.”

“Daddy,” you moaned, arching your spine and pushing your tits into Bucky’s touch. You were giving yourself over to the pleasure of Bucky’s big hands on your body, sinking deeper into the pillows at your back as you babbled, “Feels so good, so good, daddy.”

Another orgasm was building in your core by the time Bucky had his fill of your tits, moving his hands down your sides and pausing for a moment to grope your ass. The movement pulled your pussy lips apart, and you could feel how wet and messy you were from your earlier release and the new arousal he’d coaxed from you by playing with your tits.

Bucky let out a growl of impatience when he tried to pull your leggings and panties down, finding himself in the way, and folded your body in half. He yanked them up your legs and off, tossing them off the bed and leaving you naked, bent in half with your knees pushed to your chest and your pussy on full display.

You watched Bucky’s gaze fall to the place where you were wet and aching and desperate for him, seeing his gaze grow dark and intense as he stared at your pussy. You were drenched in your own juices and a little swollen from the earlier attention of his mouth, and the sight seemed to drive Bucky wild.

His hands were rough as he pushed your legs together, his other hand shoving impatiently as his jeans and boxer briefs, pawing at his clothes almost like a feral dog. You took pity on him—and, truthfully, you wanted him to hurry up. You wrapped your arms around the backs of your knees to hold yourself in position so he could use both hands to free himself.

When Bucky’s cock finally, finally bounced free from his boxer briefs, you gasped in delight, the thick length of his dick looking perfect to your eyes.

It had a slight curve to it, with a thick tip that was flushed an angry red and dripping precum onto the back of your thighs. Bucky’s fist curled around the base and your eyes raked up the length, drool gathering in your mouth at the sight of the veins protruding from the shaft.

You wanted desperately to trace every single vein with your tongue, teasing Bucky mercilessly until his hips were bucking in a silent plea. And then you wanted to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, tasting his precum from the source, before letting him fuck your throat.

But that would have to wait fore another time, because Bucky had other ideas.

He used his grip on his cock to smack the heavy length against your soft, wet slit, fucking between your swollen folds in a way that made you light-headed with desire. You could feel the tip bullying against your tight little hole before sliding past and teasingly brushing your clit.

“You want my cock, baby?” Bucky rasped, his tone dark and dangerous in a way you’d never heard before, like fucking you was a threat he had every intention of delivering on. “You want daddy’s cock to push into your tight cunt and fuck you hard, even after you caught me jerking off in your bed?”

Your breath caught in a gasp and your eyes flew to Bucky’s. He was looking directly at you, the hint of a deviant smirk in the curve of his lips.

He’d looked guilty when you’d first found him that afternoon, but in that moment, he looked entirely too satisfied with himself—like a demon who’d already convinced you to sell your soul to him and all that was left was to have some fun. He looked hot.

A slightly unhinged smile spread across your face. Later, the two of you would talk about what you’d walked in on, but until then, you could accept the hand Bucky was reaching out to you and sink down into the filthy depravity of his actions. You could join him in reveling in it.

“Yes—please, daddy!” you cried, one of your hands reaching for him. Your nails dug into his forearm, delighting in the feeling of his muscles and tendons shifting beneath your touch. “I don’t care what you did—I don’t care if you’re a dirty old man, I want your cock!”

Bucky’s reaction was immediate, his eyes darkening dramatically at your pronouncement, his pupils blowing so wide, they nearly blotted out all of the blue. A growl rumbled in his chest as he lowered himself over your body, his cock bullying more insistently at your hole, but never pushing inside, leaving you to squirm and whine beneath him.

“Tell me, bunny, did it turn you on to catch a dirty old pervert jerking off to the scent of your perfume in your bed?” he asked, his tone deep and dangerous, his eyes sparkling as they held your gaze without mercy. “Did your slutty pussy get wet catching me like that—be honest, tell daddy the truth.”

His hips were working insistently, fucking through your swollen folds, while the knuckles of his fist brushed against your greedy, achingly empty cunt. It was all you could do to huff an impatient sound, your hips bucking up against his cock, but Bucky didn’t give you what you truly wanted. He was waiting for your answer.

“My clit twitched and I got so wet,” you confessed, and you were so drunk on the desire pounding through your body that it loosened your tongue until you were spilling your every filthy thought. “It was so hot, seeing you like that, and I’ve thought about you so many times—I’ve touched myself in this bed thinking about your cock splitting me open—and you were stroking yourself and… I couldn’t help it!”

“Jesus, bunny,” Bucky groaned, dropping his head and closing his eyes. His hips stilled, his cock resting heavily on your messy, swollen cunt, and you whined, your body squirming at the lack of movement.

Bucky’s eyes flew open a moment later, pinning you with a predatory stare that had you freezing, your breath catching in your throat. He looked at you as if through new eyes, eyes that finally, truly understood you.

“You’re just as much of a pervert as I am, aren’t you, bunny?” he asked, his tone rough with affection bleeding into it. His big palm caressed your thigh, almost like he was trying to soothe you.

You had to bite your lip to hold back your grin, which only made Bucky’s eyes flare with interest, his gaze falling to your mouth like he wanted to free your lip from your teeth and then sink his own into its plush softness. It would’ve made you giggle if it wasn’t for how hot and wet and aching you were for his cock.

“Yes, daddy,” you said sweetly, smiling up at Bucky while he leaned over you. “I’m just as much of a dirty pervert as you.” You dragged him down until his lips crashed against yours, the kiss filthy and messy, all nipping teeth and roaming tongues. When he pulled away, you couldn’t help but add, “I’m just not as old as you.”

A good-natured growl rumbled in Bucky’s chest, a playful grin curving his mouth. He looked like he’d taken the comment in stride, but you learned better a moment later when he pulled his cock out of the way before spanking your pussy sharply, your shrill squeal filling the room.

“You’re not that young either, bunny,” Bucky said pointedly, sliding his cock back between your lower lips. “Not young enough to stop me from fantasizing about you every night, coming in my hand like a goddamn teenager,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“Daddyyy,” you whined, when he seemed content to keep rubbing his cock against your pussy instead of pushing inside. It was driving you closer and closer to your second release, but you didn’t want to cum until you’d been filled and fucked hard, just like he’d promised. “Now that we’ve established we’re both gigantic perverts, will you fuck me already?”

Your voice was a pleading, pitiful sound, and when Bucky finally dragged his gaze from your pussy, you pouted up at him. Your cunt was dripping and so empty, you just wanted him inside you already, which you tried to convey with your eyes.

“Anything for my bunny,” Bucky growled, his words your only warning before he pulled his hips back and lined up the tip of his cock with your pussy. In the next breath, Bucky was shoving his considerable girth into your tight hole and you were crying out at the stretch.

“Too big, too big,” you whined, and Bucky paused immediately, but you didn’t want that. “Don’t stop,” you cried, your hands reaching for him, grabbing his hips and sinking your nails into golden skin as you dragged him closer. “Split me open, daddy, fuck me full.”

Bucky let out a grunt of acknowledgement and planted his hands on the backs of your thighs, pulling back before pushing in deeper. He split you open with merciless determination, working his cock deeper into your cunt with every thrust.

When he was nearly there, he rearranged himself, leaning over your body and pressing you into the mattress, covering you with his larger form while his cock worked into your tight cunt. The position put his face level with yours and the corners of his mouth curled into a smirk when he took in the blissed out look on your face.

“You’re so tight, has it been a while, bunny?” he asked teasingly, his eyes watching your expression closely, like he was looking for something more than his words implied.

But if he was worried about whether there were any other men in your bed, he needn’t have. Bucky Barnes had been the star of all your fantasies since the day you’d met him two years ago.

“Too long—three years,” you gasped, rocking your hips in time to his thrusts. You watched the worry drain from his expression, the emotion quickly replaced with an intoxicating mix of possessiveness and affection. You liked it so much, you wanted to drive your point home. “Not since before you moved into the building.”

You’d barely gotten the words out before Bucky’s mouth was crashing down on yours, his hands roughly pushing your thighs out of the way so he could press his chest against yours, skin to skin, getting as close as humanly possible while his hips drove his cock home.

“I’m crazy for you, bunny,” Bucky rumbled when he pulled away, his forehead pressed to yours, his cock buried fully in your cunt. “You’ve been under my skin since I met you, and I knew I should forget you—you’re too good for me—but I couldn’t.”

His hips started rocking, fucking you in short, grinding thrusts that had the tip of him rubbing against a spot inside you that made your whole body clench tight. Your fingers sank into his messy, soft brown hair, threading through the soft strands. You pulled his mouth close to yours as he went on.

“I don’t know if I can let you go afer this, baby, I don’t think I can do a one-time thing,” he confessed, brushing kisses to your lips and cheeks and nose, everywhere he could reach. “Fuck, you feel like you were made for me, bunny.”

“I was,” you said, your voice vehement even as you exhaled a shuddering breath, fighting against the pleasure building in your core to keep your mind together long enough to say what you wanted to say. “I don’t want this to be a one-time thing, I don’t want you to let me go.”

Using your grip on Bucky’s hair, you pushed him away, only far enough that you could look into his eye as you went on. You wanted him to see the honesty on your face and hear it in your words at the same time.

“I want to be your bunny—your girl, made to take your cock,” you confessed, your words coming out of you in a rush. “I want to be your perfect slut and let you drain your balls in my cunt whenever you want—I want it all, daddy.”

“Jesus fucking christ,” Bucky bit out, his eyes closing as if he was overwhelmed by everything you’d just said. But they opened again a moment later, looking intense, the flicker of something deeper than affection sparking to life in the depth of his gaze. “You’re gonna be the death of me, bunny.”

You huffed a laugh at that, unable to hold back the smile his words set free.

“Silly daddy,” you teased, rocking your hips and digging your heels into the backs of his thighs, spurring him to move, to thrust into your pussy and bring you pleasure. “You’re not allowed to die,” you purred, arching your spine and bearing down on his cock. “Not before you make me cum again.”

It was Bucky’s turn to laugh, the sound coming out choked and dissolving into a groan when your bodies found a perfect rhythm together. He moved determinedly, working your body up until you were teetering on the edge of your second release.

“Cum inside me, daddy,” you murmured against Bucky’s scruffy cheek, nuzzling into the coarse hair and soft skin that smelled like earth and spice. “Fill up your bunny with all your cum, my pussy’s begging for it—I’m begging for it, daddy, please.”

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl, bunny, such a good slut,” Bucky rumbled, his hips snapping against yours in deep, brutal thrusts that had you seeing stars. “Taking daddy’s cock so well and begging for daddy’s cum so sweetly—you’re such a perfect girl.”

You keened happily at Bucky’s praise, your knees climbing his sides until you were nearly folded in half again. His hips were pounding into yours so hard, you could hear the lewd smacking of his skin on yours, the wet sounds of your sticky, clingy pussy between you.

“I’m gonna give it to you, baby,” Bucky gritted through clenched teeth, changing the angle of his hips so his cock rubbed against your clit with every thrust. “Cum for me, bunny, cum for daddy so I can fill you up with my seed.”

His filthy words and the perfect way he was fucking you set you off, making you cum harder than you ever had before. A scream wrenched from your throat as you threw your head back into the pillows of your bed, your spine arching up off the mattress and your pussy clenching down hard on Bucky’s cock as waves of pleasure overwhelmed you.

Your release sparked Bucky’s, his hips rutting into your fluttering cunt before he came with a grunt muffled into the side of your head. His hard length twitched deep inside you as he spilled his seed, flooding your pussy with his cum.

But he didn’t stop moving, Bucky’s hips kept working, fucking his cum deeper inside you while you clung to him, your skin slick with sweat. You buried your face in his neck and sucked a hickey into his skin, unable to stifle the possessive urge to mark him just as he was marking your insides with his cum.

When you were both finally sated, Bucky rolled over with his hand pressed to your lower back, keeping your bodies locked together and your hips pinned to him. His cock was still lodged deep in your pussy, plugging you full of his cum. He heaved a contented sigh with your body sprawled out on top of his.

It wasn’t until both of you had caught your breath that you lifted your head and met Bucky’s gaze, giving him a pointed look.

“So,” you started, drawing out the word and enjoying the way his eyes crinkled and looked to the side, as if he knew what was coming. “Do you want to tell me why I came home to find my divorced neighbor-slash-catsitter jerking off in my bed?”

Your tone was light, even if the question was not, and you half expected Bucky to get defensive, but he just laughed a little awkwardly and ran his fingers through his hair. The move made his already messy hair even messier, so you tangled your fingers with his and trapped them beneath your chin, which was propped up on his chest.

“You know, it’s kind of a funny story,” Bucky began, darting his eyes to yours, as if making sure you were paying attention—and weren’t about to bludgeon him over the head.

When you gestured for him to go on, he continued.

“I’d picked up Alpine—for her post-dinner snuggle, of course,” he said, a slight pink blush in the apples of his cheeks.

“Of course,” you echoed, the ghost of a smile flirting at the corners of your mouth. It sounded exactly like Alpine to demand cuddles after she’d just eaten. Not that you could blame her, you would have greedily taken cuddles from Bucky too.

The older man smiled indulgently at your expression, like he knew it was for your cat and not necessarily for him. But it seemed to embolden him to continue on.

“I was just asking Alpine if she had any tips on how to tell her mama that I’m crazy about her,” he said, his voice warm with affection.

It was so sweet, you tilted your face down, biting into one of the knuckles on his hand. The older man didn’t even flinch. Bucky just laughed and went on speaking.

“Anyway, her claw got stuck in my sweater and it hurt, and she was yowling like she was going to die.”

You lifted your head again and Bucky’s eyes were wide as he told this part of the story, his gaze staring off into the near distance like he was haunted by the memory, which you could understand. It wasn’t easy to keep your calm when you had a sharp nail digging into your skin and a cat that was freaking out.

“I took my sweater off, and got her nail unstuck, but Alpine grabbed it and ran off.”

You laughed, wondering what would possess your cat to do such a thing, even as you nuzzled deeper into Bucky’s chest. Breathing in the scent of him, all earth and spice, you thought you might get it. You wanted to be surrounded by his scent and would’ve gladly stolen his sweater if you’d had the chance.

“I was looking for one of your sweaters to see if she’d let me trade it for mine,” Bucky explained, his voice starting to slow, as if he’d gotten to a part of the story he didn’t want to tell. “I caught a whiff of your perfume and I…” He ran his free hand down over his face.”Look, there’s no excuse for what I did—I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry.”

Bucky caught your eye and he was so handsome, all you could do was stare. The sun was dipping low, slipping behind the buildings of Brooklyn. The light in your room was quickly turning from golden yellow to the tranquil blue of sunset, and everything felt just right.

Your silence, however, seemed to make Bucky nervous, so he kept talking.

“Have I mentioned that I’m crazy for you and I haven’t touched a woman in over two years and I forgot how fucking hard a woman’s perfume can make me?” he rambled, a pleading tone in his voice.

It was so cute and such a shock to hear him plead with you so genuinely that a surprised laugh burst from your lips.

You couldn’t help yourself, you pushed yourself up and pressed a kiss to Bucky’s mouth. Maybe it was ridiculous or dumb, but you’d already forgiven Bucky. He’d made a mistake, had a moment of weakness, and you’d surprised him by coming home early. It wasn’t like he’d been trying to get caught, it had been an accident. Sort of.

Besides, it had led to the two of you getting together. You’d dreamed about Bucky for so long, fantasized about him in so much filthier situations than the one you’d found him in, that it only seemed right that he was just as much of a perv as you.

“I’m crazy about you, too,” you murmured when you pulled away, only far enough to speak. “I forgive you.”

Bucky heaved a sigh of relief and dragged you in for another kiss, showing you his remorse with every sweep of his tongue. You sank into the kiss, letting him win back your trust, knowing the two of you were going to use the awkward start to build something real.

You made out on your bed, your body keeping Bucky’s softening cock warm, until full dark had fallen. In between kisses, the two of you talked—about what came next (a proper date) and whether Bucky would keep the key you’d given him for catsitting (he would, after swearing never to use it without your permission).

Eventually, you climbed off Bucky and took a shower—alone, despite his offers to help clean you up. You still felt a bit grungy from your trip home, and you wanted to take your time. So Bucky grabbed a shower at his own place, and came back, knocking on your door with a bottle of wine in hand, when you texted him you were done.

Bucky ordered dinner while you opened the wine, and you couldn’t help but appreciate the ease with which you’d fallen into a kind of domestic routine. Part of the reason you’d had a crush on Bucky was that you genuinely enjoyed his company, and you were glad to see that hadn’t changed.

When you brought the glasses out to the living room, Alpine was curled up on Bucky’s lap and he was stroking her softly, asking if she might want a papa. You bit back a smile and told him teasingly that it might be a bit soon for such a conversation with your furball daughter.

Bucky took the glasses from your hands and set them on the table before pulling you down onto the couch beside him. He made sure not to jostle Alpine as he manhandled both you and your cat into a comfortable group snuggle, with her laying across your lap while you sat in Bucky’s.

You laughed at him, but you were secretly very pleased, unable to stop grinning since Bucky was making your dreams come true without even realizing it. You’d longed for someone to snuggle with you and Alpine, to love you both, and it seemed like Bucky might be that man.

For the rest of Valentine’s Day, you spent the holiday with your two favorite people in the world, Bucky and your cat, Alpine.

Despite your teasing, you hoped it was only a matter of time before Bucky became her papa and moved in, becoming the person you could come home to and who would shower you with the affection you deserved.

Your divorced neighbor, Bucky Barnes, may have been a bit of a mess, but he turned out to be exactly what you needed—the perfect partner to come home to, one who shared your kinks and was just as much of a perv as you. He was a good papa to Alpine, and was happy to build your family together.

It’s kind of a funny story how you got together—but it’s a story with a very happy ending.

sweethearts game masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan characters #neighbor au #witchywithwhiskeywork #witchywithwhiskey's sweethearts #asreadbyaj

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mcrdvcks · 2 days ago

Text

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ dancing with our hands tied

chapter summary: After helping a young boy, you and Logan talk about trying again.

word count: 10.2k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: i'm pretty sure that like half of this is smut so enjoy it y'all

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, fluff, slight angst, talks of trying for a baby, smut, oral (f&m!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, shower sex

series masterlist - chapter 6 → chapter 8

Logan took you into town after you said you wanted to try the new bakery that just opened up. You had mentioned it offhand a few days ago, and true to his nature, Logan didn’t forget. The smell of fresh bread and sweet pastries hit as soon as you opened the bakery door, a small bell jingling to announce your arrival.

It wasn’t overly crowded, but it was clear the bakery was already a hit. The cozy little space was dotted with people sipping coffee and chatting softly over plates of desserts. You adjusted your glasses, scanning the menu. Logan stood behind you, his hand lightly resting on your lower back as you debated between the chocolate croissant and the cherry tart.

"Why not both?" Logan murmured, leaning down so his gruff voice was low and close to your ear.

You tilted your head to give him a soft look. "I’ll never finish both."

"I will," he said with a shrug, making you smile despite yourself.

With a soft laugh, you turned back to the counter, placing an order for both with tea for yourself and coffee for Logan. As the barista rang you up, you stepped aside to wait. You didn’t immediately notice the little boy lingering near the door until he spoke.

"Excuse me," he said in a tiny, trembling voice.

You turned to see him standing there, his wide brown eyes full of uncertainty. He couldn’t have been more than five. His clothes were neat but slightly wrinkled, and he clutched a little Star Wars backpack to his chest like a lifeline.

"Hi there," you said gently, crouching down so you were closer to his level. "Are you okay?"

He shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. "I c-can’t find my aunt and uncle," he stammered. "They were here, and then I… I couldn’t see them anymore."

Logan was at your side in an instant, his tall, broad frame towering over both of you. Despite his intimidating presence, his voice was calm and steady. "Hey, kiddo. What’s your name?"

"Peter," the boy whispered, sniffling.

You gave Peter a kind smile. "Okay, Peter, my name’s Y/N, and this is Logan. We’re going to help you find them, alright?"

Peter nodded, his grip on his backpack tightening. You straightened up, glancing at Logan. "Should we check inside the other stores? Maybe they didn’t realize he got separated."

Logan nodded. "Yeah. Let’s start close by."

For the next twenty minutes, you and Logan moved between shops, asking employees and passersby if they’d seen anyone searching for a lost child. Peter clung to your hand the entire time, his little fingers wrapped tightly around yours.

When it became clear his aunt and uncle weren’t nearby, you crouched down again to look him in the eyes. "Peter, do you remember their phone number? Or maybe where they were parked?"

He shook his head, biting his lip. "No. I don’t remember. Are they mad at me?"

"Not at all," you assured him quickly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "Sometimes these things just happen. We’ll figure it out."

"We can call the cops, get them to put out a message," Logan suggested softly, leaning on the wall beside you.

You hesitated, noting how small and nervous Peter looked at the mention of police. Something about the idea didn’t sit right with you either. "Let’s try one more thing," you said. "Peter, do you want to come with us for a little while? We can go to a safe place until we find your aunt and uncle."

Peter’s gaze flicked between you and Logan. After a long pause, he nodded, his lower lip quivering again. "Okay."

Logan reached down, easily scooping Peter up and settling him on his hip. The boy’s small hands clung to Logan’s jacket as you both headed back to the car. On the way to the mansion, Peter’s initial shyness melted away just a little. You kept him distracted with stories about your favorite bakery treats and promises to show him your time bubble powers when you got home.

---

When you arrived at the mansion, Peter stared wide-eyed at the enormous house. "Whoa," he whispered, twisting to look at you. "Do you live here?"

"Yep," you said, taking his hand to guide him toward the entrance. "It’s like a big school. But it’s also kind of like one giant family."

"And you’re a teacher?" Peter asked, glancing curiously at your glasses.

"That’s right," you said with a small smile. "I teach physics. That’s like science and math together."

“Oh, I like physics! And I watch Star Wars with my Uncle Ben all the time!” Peter said, his eyes lighting up for the first time since you met him.

Your heart softened at the boy’s excitement, a smile creeping across your face despite the weight of the past few months. “Yeah? What’s your favorite part?”

Peter adjusted his little Iron Man backpack and said without hesitation, “When Luke fights Darth Vader, and then—then at the end, he saves his dad!” He blinked up at you eagerly. “Do you like Star Wars?”

“Like it?” you said with a mock gasp, crouching slightly to meet his gaze. “I love Star Wars. Especially Empire Strikes Back. Do you know that one?”

Peter nodded, practically bouncing in place. “That’s the one with the snow! And Yoda! But the Darth Vader part was scary.”

Logan, who had been quiet while Peter rambled, glanced at you with an amused smirk. “Looks like you’ve got a little fan,” he murmured.

You nudged Logan gently with your elbow before returning your attention to Peter. “It is a little scary,” you admitted. “But that’s what makes it so good—it surprises you. And Darth Vader turning good later? That’s pretty amazing too.”

Peter nodded sagely, as if your approval was the only confirmation he needed. He glanced toward the enormous doors of the mansion again. “Do you have any Star Wars stuff in there?”

Before you could answer, Logan chuckled. “Darlin’, don’t even get him started, or you’re gonna have him camped out in your lecture hall for the next week.”

You shot Logan a teasing glare but ruffled Peter’s hair. “Actually, I’ve got some posters and a little Yoda figure on my desk. Want to see?”

Peter’s face brightened. “Yes, please!”

The boy’s newfound enthusiasm made your chest tighten in an unexpectedly familiar way. You led the way into the mansion, Logan trailing closely behind as Peter’s little hand stayed tightly clasped in yours.

---

Once inside, Peter was immediately wide-eyed, craning his neck to take in the grand ceilings and marble floors. “This place is huge,” he whispered in awe.

“It is,” you agreed. “But you’ll get used to it fast.”

As you moved toward your office, Logan leaned in and asked quietly, “you sure this is the best way to handle this, sweetheart?”

You glanced at Peter, who was now marveling at a painting on the wall. His little hand hadn’t let go of yours once since you’d found him. “He’s scared,” you whispered back. “This helps distract him until we can figure everything out.”

Logan gave you a long look, something tender flickering in his expression. “You’re good with him,” he murmured.

You looked away, your face warming. “I’m just... trying to help.”

When you arrived at your office, Peter gasped at the sight of the little Yoda figurine on your desk. “He’s so cool!” he exclaimed, running to inspect it closer. His awe made you laugh softly, and for the first time in a while, it felt natural.

Peter was chattering about his favorite lightsaber battles when Jean appeared in the doorway. She looked between you, Peter, and Logan, her brow furrowed slightly. “New recruit?” she asked with a teasing smile.

“Not exactly,” Logan grumbled, crossing his arms.

Peter ran up to Jean without hesitation. “Hi! I’m Peter! And I’m here because I lost my aunt and uncle at the bakery!”

Jean’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh,” she said softly, crouching to meet his gaze. “Well, hi, Peter. I’m Jean. And I’m sure we’re going to find your family soon, okay?”

Peter nodded quickly, his little hands still gripping the straps of his Star Wars backpack. “Okay,” he whispered, but his voice wavered, betraying the fear he was trying to keep at bay.

Jean glanced up at you and Logan, her expression laced with concern. “Have you called the local precinct yet?”

“Not yet,” Logan said, crossing his arms. “Kid didn’t look too thrilled when I mentioned it. Figured we’d keep him calm first, then call it in.”

You crouched down beside Jean, meeting Peter’s wide eyes. “Hey, Peter, do you want to hang out here for a little bit? We’ve got snacks, a big TV, and even a pool table if you’re into that.”

Peter hesitated, his gaze darting between you, Logan, and Jean. “You’re not leaving, right?”

“Not a chance,” Logan said firmly, his voice a reassuring rumble. “We’re stickin’ with you, kid.”

Peter nodded, his grip on his backpack loosening just a fraction. “Okay.”

Jean rose and gestured subtly for you and Logan to follow her into the hall. You gave Peter a quick smile. “We’ll be right back, okay? Just stay here and make yourself comfortable.”

When you stepped into the hallway, Jean folded her arms and kept her voice low. “He seems pretty attached to you two already.”

“He’s scared out of his mind,” you said quietly, glancing back toward the office. “And honestly, I don’t blame him.”

“Yeah, but it’s more than that,” Jean said, her brow furrowing. “There’s something familiar about him. I can’t quite place it.”

Logan shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough. What’s the plan?”

Jean sighed, her expression softening. “I’ll go call the precinct, let them know we’ve got Peter here. If he’s reported missing, they’ll already be looking for him.”

“Good idea,” you said, your voice heavy with thought. “And I’ll stay with him, keep him calm.”

Logan gave you a look, his eyes soft but serious. “You sure you’re up for that?”

You nodded, pushing back the knot forming in your chest. “Yeah. He needs someone right now.”

Jean looked between the two of you, a flicker of understanding passing over her face. “Alright. I’ll handle the call.”

Logan followed you back into the office, where Peter had perched himself in your chair, spinning it slowly while inspecting the Yoda figurine on your desk. He looked up as you entered, his small face brightening just a little.

“You’re back!” he said, holding up the figurine. “I like this guy.”

“Me too,” you said with a soft laugh, settling into the chair beside him. “Yoda’s the best, isn’t he?”

Peter nodded eagerly. “He’s really smart. And he talks funny.”

Logan leaned against the wall, his arms crossed as he watched the two of you. Despite the situation, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“So,” you said, leaning forward on your desk, “what do you think? Want to stay here for a bit? We’ve got a whole library full of books, some even about space and Star Wars stuff.”

Peter’s eyes lit up again. “Really?”

“Really,” you said, your heart warming at his enthusiasm. “I can show you later if you want.”

“Okay!” Peter said, his voice a little stronger now. He glanced toward Logan. “Are you staying too?”

Logan nodded, his voice gruff but gentle. “Yeah, kid. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Peter seemed reassured by that, and for the first time since you found him, he smiled—a small, shy smile, but a smile nonetheless.

As the minutes ticked by, the weight in your chest softened just a little. You didn’t know what Peter’s story was or how long it would take to reunite him with his family, but for now, he was safe. And that was enough.

---

As the day turned into night, Peter sat cross-legged on the carpet of the mansion’s rec room, playing Go Fish! with Kitty and Rogue. His laughter bubbled up every so often, filling the space with a warmth that made you smile despite the tension that lingered just below the surface. Logan leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, his watchful eyes rarely leaving the boy.

Jean entered quietly, her expression softer than before as she approached. “I spoke to the precinct,” she said, keeping her voice low. “His aunt and uncle are on their way. They’ll be here within the hour.”

A knot in your chest loosened slightly, though it didn’t disappear entirely. “That’s good,” you murmured, your gaze drifting back to Peter. “At least he won’t have to stay scared for much longer.”

Logan’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t say anything. His eyes flicked to you for a moment, and then back to the boy.

Jean stepped closer, her tone gentler now. “Y/N, you’re really good at this.”

You raised an eyebrow, giving her a faint smile. “Good at what?”

“At being what he needs right now,” she said simply, glancing toward Logan as if daring him to argue.

“Yoda would call it ‘parenting,’” Logan rumbled dryly, but there was no edge to his voice.

“Funny,” you shot back lightly, though the way his words curled into your heart was anything but.

Jean smiled knowingly and then excused herself to check on Peter’s room arrangements, leaving the two of you alone in the doorway.

“She’s right, though,” Logan said after a beat, his voice softer now. “Kid’s been through hell today, and somehow, you’re the only thing that’s kept him steady.”

You crossed your arms, glancing at him. “I think it’s less me and more Yoda,” you joked, but the slight tremor in your voice gave you away.

Logan tilted his head, his piercing gaze holding yours. “Darlin’, it’s you. Don’t doubt that.”

A warmth you didn’t entirely know how to handle spread through your chest. “I just…” You paused, your fingers brushing your glasses. “I remember being Peter’s age and needing someone to make me feel safe. My grandma did that for me. Maybe I just… want to be that for him.”

Logan’s expression softened, his features shadowed by the rec room’s low lighting. He reached out, his calloused fingers brushing your arm lightly. “You are.”

You blinked up at him, your chest tight in a way that was both painful and comforting.

Kitty’s sudden exclamation broke the quiet moment. “Peter! You’re totally cheating!”

“I am not!” Peter squealed, clutching his cards to his chest and grinning wide.

“Are too!” Rogue teased, flicking a card toward him.

You turned back to Logan, the corner of your mouth lifting into a smile. “He’s resilient, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Logan agreed, his gaze softening as he watched Peter. “More than most adults I’ve met.”

Before you could say anything, the familiar sound of a car approaching the mansion echoed from outside. You glanced toward the window, spotting headlights cutting through the night.

“That must be them,” you said, your heart tightening again.

Logan pushed off the doorframe. “Stay with him. I’ll meet ’em.”

You hesitated. “Logan—”

“Sweetheart,” he said, his voice steady but firm, “trust me. I’ll bring ’em up. You just keep him calm.”

Something in his tone settled the whirlwind in your chest, and you nodded, turning back to Peter and the girls.

---

Peter glanced up as Logan led a man and woman into the room, their faces pale and eyes red-rimmed. “Peter!” the woman exclaimed, rushing forward and dropping to her knees in front of him.

His wide brown eyes blinked in surprise before lighting up with relief. “Aunt May!”

You stepped back, letting Peter and his aunt share a tearful embrace while Logan lingered near the doorway, watching. You felt your throat tighten as his uncle crouched to hold him too, whispering something you couldn’t hear.

May looked up at you, her eyes swimming with gratitude. “Thank you,” she said, her voice trembling. “Thank you for keeping him safe.”

You swallowed hard, nodding. “He’s a special kid. I’m just glad we could help.”

Logan’s quiet presence at your side grounded you, his arm brushing yours in a way that let you know he was there. Peter looked over at you, still holding onto May’s hand. “Will I get to see you again?”

Your heart cracked just slightly at his question. “You bet, Peter,” you said softly. “Anytime.”

Logan nodded toward the door. “Let’s give ’em some time, darlin’.”

You followed him out into the hallway, lingering by the door as you listened to Peter chatter to his aunt and uncle about Yoda and Go Fish!

---

Logan was already in bed, sketching something in his notebook as you sat down by his side, your nightgown bunching around your thighs.

You put your head on Logan’s shoulder, your glasses riding up slightly as you watched him sketch. His pencil moved fluidly over the paper, and though you couldn't quite make out what he was working on, you could see it was intricate—full of tiny details only he could capture so effortlessly.

For a while, neither of you spoke, content in the shared silence, but Logan wasn’t one to miss when something was on your mind. He paused his sketching and looked over at you, his warm voice breaking the quiet.

“What’s on your mind, darlin’?”

You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your nightgown. You knew he’d notice eventually—he always did. Taking a breath, you lifted your gaze to his face, his expression open and patient.

"I was just thinking about Peter… and his aunt and uncle," you admitted softly. "How relieved they were to see him. He means everything to them."

Logan nodded, his hand brushing lightly against your knee. “Kid’s lucky to have family like that.” He studied you for a beat, his gaze sharp but gentle, the way it always was when it came to you. “That ain’t all you’re thinkin’ about, though.”

You swallowed, your heart quickening. He always managed to cut right to the heart of things, but he never pushed—not until you were ready.

"No," you said finally, your voice quiet. "It’s not."

Logan put the pencil down on the bedside table, his attention fully on you now. "Talk to me, sweetheart."

You played with the hem of your gown again, gathering your thoughts. “It’s been seven months,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Since we lost…” You didn’t have to say the words—Logan’s hand was already wrapping around yours, steady and grounding.

“I know,” he said softly, the rasp in his voice turning gentle for you.

A lump formed in your throat, but you pushed through it. “Taking care of Peter, seeing how much he means to May and Ben… it just… it made me wonder if maybe… maybe I’m ready to try again.”

Logan’s grip on your hand tightened just slightly, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he shifted, turning to face you more fully, his free hand cupping your cheek.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice low but steady. “I ain’t gonna lie, darlin’. It scares me, what you went through. What we went through. Don’t want you hurting like that again.”

“I know,” you murmured, leaning into his touch. “I’m scared, too. But I keep thinking about what it felt like to be pregnant—how it felt to think about a future with a little one. Our little one. I… I think I want to try again. Not right away, but maybe soon?”

His thumb brushed over your cheek, his eyes softer now, filled with something that looked like both hope and worry. "Soon," he echoed. "We take it slow this time. No rushin’, no pushin’ ourselves too hard. Deal?"

You smiled faintly, blinking back tears as you nodded. “Deal.”

Logan pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “We’ll get there, Y/N. Together.”

You stayed like that for a long time, Logan holding you as if to shield you from all the pain and uncertainty. And for once, you let yourself believe it might be okay.

---

During Christmas break, Logan surprised you by taking you to a cabin in Upstate New York, apparently it’s one Charles owns but rarely uses.

You had suggested going to a Christmas tree farm to find a tree, and Logan had immediately agreed, despite the snow piling up in Upstate New York. His only condition? “We’re not getting one of those scrawny ones,” he’d said, crossing his arms as you both bundled up to head out. “I want one that’ll make the cabin smell like Christmas exploded in it.”

Now, you stood in a clearing surrounded by evergreens, your breath visible in the crisp winter air. Logan’s gloved hand was warm as it enveloped yours, his other hand holding an old-fashioned ax slung over his shoulder.

“What about that one?” you asked, pointing to a modest tree that seemed the perfect height for the cabin’s living room. Its branches were full, the green vibrant against the white snow.

Logan tilted his head, giving the tree a scrutinizing look. “It’s not bad,” he admitted, but then his gaze drifted further into the rows of trees. “But look at that monster over there.”

Following his line of sight, your eyes landed on a tree that was practically a skyscraper. You laughed, your breath puffing out in clouds. “Logan, that’s not going to fit through the door.”

His lips quirked in a grin, the kind that made your chest warm even in the biting cold. “Could cut it down to size.”

You shook your head, pulling him back toward the smaller tree. “Let’s not make this harder than it has to be. Besides, this one’s cute.”

Logan grumbled something under his breath about “cute trees,” but his smile stayed as he set the ax down. “Alright, darlin’. You win.”

Watching him chop down the tree was like stepping into a Christmas card. Logan moved with ease, his strength controlled but impressive, the sharp crack of the wood splitting echoing in the quiet forest. When he finally hefted the tree over his shoulder, he glanced at you with a smirk.

“Still think it’s cute?”

You grinned. “Very.”

---

Back at the cabin, you were in the kitchen setting up hot cocoa while Logan worked on securing the tree in its stand. The smell of pine was already filling the space, mingling with the scent of the cocoa you were stirring on the stove.

“Need help?” you called, peeking around the corner to see Logan wrestling with the tree.

He shot you a playful glare. “I got it. But if this thing falls, it’s your cute tree’s fault.”

Biting back a laugh, you brought two mugs to the living room just as Logan stepped back, hands on his hips, to admire his handiwork. The tree stood proudly, its branches brushing the cabin’s low ceiling.

“Not bad,” you said, handing him a mug. “You do good work.”

Logan took a sip, his hand resting lightly on your waist. “You just like bossin’ me around.”

“Someone has to,” you teased, leaning into his side.

The evening passed in a comfortable rhythm. You strung lights while Logan hung ornaments, occasionally passing one to you with a quip about how your “little nerd hands” needed the practice. By the time you finished, the tree glowed softly, casting the room in a warm light.

Settling onto the couch with Logan, you pulled a blanket over both of you, your glasses slipping slightly as you rested your head on his shoulder. His arm wrapped around you, and for a moment, the only sound was the crackle of the fire and the occasional pop of a lightbulb warming up on the tree.

“Think we’ll do this next year?” you asked quietly, your voice almost lost in the cozy stillness.

Logan turned his head, his lips brushing your temple. “Next year, the year after that… as many years as you want, sweetheart.”

You smiled, your fingers tracing over his knuckles where they rested on your knee. “I like the sound of that.”

Logan kissed your hair, his voice soft but firm. “Me too.”

---

The two of you had ventured out into Victor to buy a few gifts at the mall. Logan, for a brief period of time, had said he had to “find somethin’” and “not to worry your pretty head ‘bout it”. Which was fine, you were in a clothing store picking out a few items for Jean and Ororo for Christmas, even finding a simple dark red plaid dress you thought would be good for Christmas day, even if it was just you and Logan.

When the two of you made it back to the cabin, Logan started the fire while you unpacked your shopping bags and started wrapping gifts on the small coffee table in the living room. You glanced up occasionally to see him adjusting the logs in the fireplace, his flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows, highlighting his forearms.

“I wanted to show you something,” you said softly after a while, tying a ribbon around a small package meant for Ororo. Logan grunted his acknowledgment, dusting his hands as he stood and glanced over his shoulder at you.

“What’s that, darlin’?”

“Give me a minute,” you said, standing with the red plaid dress draped over your arm as you walked toward the bedroom. You returned a few minutes later, smoothing the fabric down nervously.

Logan turned, his brow lifting slightly when he saw you. His intense gaze softened as it trailed over you, taking in the way the dress hugged your figure just right. “Well, look at you,” he rumbled, crossing his arms. “That’s a damn good dress.”

“Not too much?” you asked shyly, adjusting your glasses as you stood there, your cheeks warming.

“Too much? Nah, darlin’, it’s perfect,” he said, stepping closer and tugging gently at your waistline. “You got a knack for makin’ things look better than they deserve.”

You laughed, swatting at his arm. “Thanks for the help, Logan.”

He chuckled but took a step back, his smirk hinting at something as he reached into the bag he’d brought back from the mall. “Speakin’ of things lookin’ good...” He handed you a small paper bag with tissue peeking out from the top.

Curious, you peeked inside, pulling out the soft, red lace of what was unmistakably lingerie. You stared for a moment before bursting out laughing, your cheeks burning even hotter.

“This,” you managed between giggles, holding it up by the delicate straps, “this is what you went off to find?”

Logan leaned against the edge of the couch, entirely unbothered by your reaction. His grin spread slowly as he shrugged. “Figured you’d like it. Or maybe I just wanted to see you in it.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “I’m more curious about you buying it. Did you actually go into one of those stores?”

“Yup,” he said without hesitation, his smirk widening. “Gal behind the counter said this was ‘popular.’ I figured, why not?”

“Why not?” you repeated, laughing harder.

His tone turned teasing as he nodded toward the bedroom. “Go on, sweetheart. Let’s see if it’s as good as the lady said.”

You hesitated, eyeing the lingerie before glancing at him. “You’re something else, Logan.”

“Damn right, I am.” He gave you a light swat on the backside as you turned toward the bedroom, his grin feral but amused.

“Logan!” you yelped, laughing as you scampered off to change.

---

A few minutes later, you stepped out of the bedroom, clutching the edge of the sheer, flowy skirt of the babydoll dress nervously. The delicate red lace and corset-style detail fit perfectly, the bow at the top adding an unexpected sweetness to the undeniably daring outfit. Your glasses slid down your nose slightly as you met Logan’s gaze.

His expression shifted immediately, his eyes darkening as they raked over you from head to toe. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, his voice rougher, deeper. “That’s... yeah, that was worth it.”

You laughed softly, trying to ignore how his reaction sent heat pooling in your stomach. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he said, his gaze lifting to yours, a crooked grin softening the intensity. “But I know what I like.”

Your nervousness melted under the weight of his appreciation, and you crossed the room toward him. He didn’t move, waiting until you were within reach to hook an arm around your waist, pulling you in close.

Logan’s lips pressed against yours with a slow, deliberate heat, his hands still spread over the sheer fabric of the babydoll dress. His roughened palms seemed impossibly gentle as they slid along your sides, brushing the soft material and igniting a warmth that pooled low in your belly.

“You’re somethin’ else, darlin’,” he murmured against your lips, his voice a rumble that made your knees weak. One hand moved to your waist, tugging you closer, while the other ghosted over the delicate lace at the hem of the dress, sending shivers up your spine.

“Logan,” you began, your voice soft but teasing as you started to reach for the straps of the dress. “Let me just—”

“Uh-uh,” he interrupted, catching your wrist gently and lowering your hand. His grin was playful but commanding, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’re keepin’ this on.”

“Why?” you asked, though the way his eyes darkened made your pulse quicken.

“Because I said so,” he drawled, one hand trailing lower to the garter strap on your thigh. His fingers slipped under it briefly before he let it snap back lightly against your skin. You yelped, a startled laugh bubbling out of you, and he smirked.

“Logan!”

“What? Feels like it’s got its uses,” he replied, the corner of his mouth quirking up. He pressed a kiss to your jawline, then down the curve of your neck, nipping lightly as he went. “Plus, you look too damn good in it to take it off right away.”

You huffed a small laugh, but any retort you might have had died in your throat as his lips reached the base of your neck, lingering there. His hand wandered back to your waist, slipping beneath the flowy fabric to grip your hip, his thumb brushing the bare skin there.

“Logan,” you murmured again, a breathless edge to your tone this time.

“Hmm?” he answered, his mouth now teasing along your collarbone. He was thoroughly enjoying taking his time, and it showed in the satisfied little growl that rumbled in his chest when your fingers tangled in his hair.

Before you knew it, he was guiding you backward toward the couch, his lips never leaving your skin. When the backs of your knees hit the cushions, he gave you a gentle push to sit down.

“Right here, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and rough. His hands eased your legs apart as he knelt in front of you, the sheer skirt of the dress pooling around your thighs. The firelight flickered behind him, casting a warm glow over the room and making his features even sharper, more intense.

“You’re really committed to this, aren’t you?” you teased, though the way your breath hitched when he leaned in betrayed your composure.

“Damn right,” he muttered. His hands gripped your thighs firmly, his thumbs tracing slow circles against your skin. He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss just above one of the garters. “Now, let me take my time, yeah?”

You nodded, your glasses slipping down your nose as you watched him. His hands slid higher, pushing the sheer fabric up slightly, exposing more of you to his touch. His lips followed, leaving a trail of kisses along your inner thigh that had you squirming beneath him.

“Logan...” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Patience, darlin’,” he said, glancing up at you with a devilish grin. His fingers gripped the lace at your hips, holding you steady as he pressed another kiss against you, this time over the delicate fabric of your panties. The heat of his mouth sent a jolt of electricity through you, and your head fell back against the couch with a soft gasp.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your skin, before he finally hooked his fingers into the waistband and slid them down your legs. The cool air hit you briefly, but it was quickly replaced by the warmth of his breath as he settled between your thighs again.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout this all damn day,” he muttered, his voice muffled as he pressed a kiss to your bare skin. His tongue followed, slow and deliberate, drawing a shaky moan from your lips.

Your hands gripped the edge of the couch as his tongue worked against you, his movements unhurried but precise. He seemed to know exactly what you needed, each flick and stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

“Logan,” you breathed, your fingers finding their way into his hair. He groaned at the contact, the sound vibrating against you and making your toes curl.

He didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. When your hips bucked against him, he growled softly, his grip tightening just enough to keep you in place.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured between kisses, his voice rough and filled with need. “Let go for me.”

And you did, your body arching off the couch as the tension inside you snapped. He didn’t stop until you were trembling beneath him, your breath coming in short gasps as you tried to recover.

When he finally pulled back, his grin was smug, but his eyes were soft as he looked up at you. “Worth every damn minute in that store,” he said, his voice tinged with satisfaction.

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, the lingering shudders of your release making your thighs tremble. Logan gave one last playful nip at your inner thigh before rising to his feet in one smooth motion. He loomed over you for a moment, his gaze drinking you in, the sheer red fabric of the babydoll dress bunched slightly around your hips, your skin flushed and glistening.

“C’mere,” he muttered, his hands sliding under your arms as he pulled you to sit up. Before you could fully process the movement, he dropped onto the couch and tugged you onto his lap, guiding your legs to straddle him.

“Logan—”

“Uh-uh,” he cut you off, his hands firm on your hips as he adjusted you to his liking. “You’re stayin’ right here, sweetheart.”

The rough denim of his jeans pressed against your bare thighs, the contrast making you hyper-aware of every point of contact. Logan’s hands roamed over you, one sliding up your back while the other traced the hem of the dress where it barely covered your hips. His touch was possessive, deliberate, his fingers flexing as if he couldn’t get enough of the feel of you.

“Y’know,” he drawled, his voice thick with heat as his lips found your collarbone, “I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout you wearin’ this since I saw it on the rack.”

You couldn’t help the soft laugh that bubbled out of you. “You didn’t even let me look at it when you came back,” you teased, your fingers finding their way to his hair, tugging lightly.

He groaned at the sensation, his teeth grazing your skin just below your jaw. “Damn right I didn’t. Knew it’d be perfect. And look at you now.” His hands slid lower, gripping your hips and rocking you against him, drawing a gasp from your lips. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

Your hands clutched at his shoulders as he leaned back slightly, giving himself more room to work. His mouth trailed lower, over the curve of your breast, and he nipped lightly through the lace of the dress. The sensation made you jolt, a mix of pleasure and surprise, and his low chuckle vibrated against your skin.

“Logan,” you murmured, your voice a mix of frustration and need as his teeth scraped over the delicate fabric again.

“What?” he replied, feigning innocence as his tongue flicked out to tease the sensitive skin beneath. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Before you could respond, his hands slid up your sides, pushing the fabric of the dress higher until it bunched just below your chest. He paused for a moment, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you. “Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

His hands were back on you in an instant, one sliding behind your back to pull you closer while the other cupped your breast through the lace. His thumb brushed over the sensitive peak, and you shuddered, your breath hitching.

“You’re drivin’ me crazy,” he said, his voice a rough growl as he leaned in to capture your lips again. The kiss was messy, desperate, his teeth catching your lower lip before his tongue swept into your mouth, claiming you completely.

“Logan,” you gasped when he finally pulled back, your head spinning. His hands moved to your waist, gripping you firmly as he shifted beneath you. The unmistakable hardness pressing against you made your pulse race.

“Need you,” he murmured, his voice low and urgent. “Right fuckin’ now.”

You nodded, your hands moving to the buttons of his shirt. Your fingers trembled slightly as you worked them open, revealing the broad expanse of his chest. He shrugged out of the fabric impatiently, tossing it aside before his hands returned to your hips.

“Keep the dress on,” he reminded you, his voice a gruff command that sent a thrill through you.

“I wasn’t planning to take it off,” you replied, a small smirk playing at your lips.

He groaned, his hands tightening on you. “Good,” he muttered, his lips finding your neck again as he began to guide you against him. The rough denim of his jeans added a delicious friction that had you both gasping.

Your hands found his belt, fumbling slightly as you unbuckled it and tugged it free. Logan’s lips never left your skin, his teeth scraping lightly as you worked to free him from the confines of his jeans. When you finally succeeded, he groaned, his hips lifting slightly to help you push them down.

“Goddamn tease,” he muttered, his voice thick with need as he lifted you slightly, positioning you over him.

“Takes one to know one,” you shot back, though your teasing tone faltered as you felt him press against you.

He didn’t reply, too focused on guiding you down onto him. The stretch was intense, stealing the breath from your lungs as he filled you completely. Logan groaned, his head falling back against the couch as he gripped your hips tightly.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasped. “You feel so damn good.”

You couldn’t form words, your hands bracing against his chest as you adjusted to the overwhelming sensation. Logan’s hands moved to your thighs, his thumbs brushing slow, soothing circles against your skin.

“Take your time,” he murmured, though his voice was strained with the effort of holding himself back.

After a moment, you began to move, your hips rocking tentatively at first. Logan’s groan spurred you on, his hands guiding your movements as you found a rhythm that had you both gasping.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Just like that.”

Your movements started slow, each roll of your hips deliberate, drawing quiet groans from Logan as he leaned back against the couch. His hands stayed firm on your thighs, his touch grounding you as you adjusted to the rhythm. The soft material of the babydoll dress clung to your skin, the sheer fabric shifting with every motion.

Logan’s eyes burned as he watched you, his chest rising and falling heavily. “Fuck, darlin’,” he rasped. “You’re somethin’ else.”

Your hands rested on his chest, your fingers splayed across his warm, scarred skin. His muscles tensed beneath your touch each time your hips shifted, his breaths turning into low, guttural sounds. Every inch of him felt alive beneath you, responding to your every move.

As your confidence grew, so did the pace, your movements becoming more fluid. Logan’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh just enough to leave an impression. He groaned your name, the sound rough and needy, and the way it rolled off his tongue sent heat pooling low in your belly.

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” he muttered, his voice strained. “You feel so good. Don’t stop.”

You didn’t. Your hips rocked faster, and Logan’s jaw clenched as he fought to keep control. His hands moved to your waist, gripping you firmly as he began to move with you. He thrust upward, his movements deep and deliberate, meeting you halfway and sending sharp waves of pleasure coursing through you.

“Logan,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. Your fingers curled against his chest, nails digging into his skin as he set a faster pace.

“That’s it,” he growled, his hands keeping you steady as he thrust harder. The couch creaked beneath you, but neither of you cared. His movements became more urgent, his breathing harsh against your ear as he pulled you closer.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice rough but laced with concern. His eyes flicked up to yours, searching your face.

You nodded quickly, your breath hitching as he moved again, deeper this time. “Uh-huh,” you managed, the word spilling from your lips without thought. Your head fell forward, resting against his shoulder as you clung to him, your body trembling with each thrust.

Logan’s hands moved to your back, sliding beneath the thin straps of the dress to hold you against him. Your chests pressed together, the heat of his skin searing against yours. His lips found your neck, trailing rough kisses along your pulse point before biting gently. The combination of pain and pleasure made you gasp, your nails raking down his sides.

“Fuck,” he groaned against your skin. His hips snapped upward with more force, each thrust dragging a whimper from your lips. “You’re so goddamn perfect.”

The words sent a shiver through you, your thighs trembling as you tried to keep up with his pace. Logan’s grip tightened, his fingers flexing against your back as he shifted beneath you. He leaned forward, pressing you down against him until you could feel every inch of him, his movements driving deeper.

“Logan,” you whispered again, your voice cracking as his name fell from your lips like a prayer. His lips captured yours in a desperate kiss, his tongue sliding against yours as he swallowed your moans.

“C’mere,” he muttered, his hands moving to your hips. He shifted, pulling you down harder as he thrust up, his movements relentless. The friction and heat built between you, each motion sending sparks shooting through your veins.

“Goddamn it,” he muttered, his voice rough and unsteady. “You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart.”

Your head tilted back, a soft cry escaping your lips as he hit a spot that sent your body arching against him. Logan growled, his teeth grazing your shoulder as he moved faster, his grip on you firm and unyielding.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “Let go for me.”

You couldn’t hold back any longer. The tension that had been building snapped, your body shuddering as you reached your peak. Logan groaned, his movements slowing just enough to let you ride out the waves of pleasure.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, his hands soothing over your trembling thighs. “Fuck, you’re incredible.”

You clung to him, your breaths coming in short, shaky gasps as you tried to recover. Logan pressed soft kisses to your temple, his grip on you loosening just slightly as he gave you a moment to catch your breath.

But he wasn’t done.

Before you could fully process what was happening, Logan shifted beneath you, his hands sliding to your thighs as he lifted you slightly. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and filled with raw need.

“You good?” he asked again, his voice softer this time.

You nodded, your fingers brushing his cheek. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice breathless but sure.

He grinned, a wolfish expression that sent a fresh wave of heat through you. “Good,” he said. “‘Cause I’m not done with you yet.”

With that, he shifted again, guiding you to lie back against the couch. The babydoll dress bunched around your waist, the sheer fabric clinging to your flushed skin. Logan loomed over you, his hands braced on either side of your head as he leaned down to kiss you deeply.

His hips moved again, slower this time but no less intense. Each thrust was deliberate, his eyes locked on yours as he watched every flicker of pleasure cross your face.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Every damn part of you.”

You reached up, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. Logan groaned against your lips, his movements becoming more erratic as he neared his own release. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he drove deeper, each thrust pulling a moan from your lips.

“Logan,” you gasped, your voice breaking as he pushed you to the edge again. His name was the only thing you could manage, your thoughts consumed by the overwhelming sensation of him.

“I’ve got you,” he promised, his voice strained but steady. “Let go, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

And with one final thrust, you did, your body arching beneath him as the pleasure crashed over you. Logan followed moments later, his groan low and rough as he buried himself deep, his body trembling against yours.

For a moment, the only sound was the ragged breathing that filled the room. Logan stayed over you, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath. His hands moved to your waist, his touch gentle as he smoothed over your skin.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice filled with quiet concern.

You nodded, a tired but satisfied smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah,” you whispered. “More than okay.”

Logan chuckled, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. “Good,” he said. “‘Cause I’m not lettin’ you outta my sight tonight.”

---

After waking up late the next day—only because Logan stuck to his word—you had made homemade banana bread that would have to cook for around 45 minutes before it was done.

While you waited, you decided to try something new. Logan was in the shower, and you knew his routine well enough to guess he’d be done soon. A flicker of boldness lit up inside you. Without second-guessing, you slipped out of your clothes, leaving them in a heap by the door. You placed your glasses carefully on the dresser—everything was a little blurry now, but it didn’t matter.

Quietly, you padded across the floor to the bathroom, pushing the door open just enough to slip inside. The air was warm and humid, the sound of water cascading against tiles filling the room.

Logan was standing under the spray, head tilted back, water streaming down his broad shoulders and muscled back. He hadn’t noticed you yet, so you stepped closer, your bare feet silent on the tiles. Steam curled around you, and you couldn’t help but take a moment to admire him.

“Darlin’, you forget somethin’?” Logan’s voice broke through your thoughts. He didn’t turn around, but you could hear the smirk in his tone.

You froze for a second, then let out a soft laugh. “Maybe I just wanted to join you,” you said, your voice steady despite the way your heart raced.

Logan turned slightly, enough to glance over his shoulder at you. His gaze flicked over your body, and his smirk widened. “Not that I’m complainin’, but what’s got you sneakin’ in here?”

You stepped closer, reaching out to brush your fingers against his arm. “Can I… do something?” you asked softly, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. The question hung in the air, the intimacy of it sending a spark through both of you.

Logan’s eyes darkened, his grin fading into something more serious. He turned fully, the water flattening his hair against his forehead. “You don’t gotta ask,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You dropped to your knees on the wet tiles, the water spraying against your back as you settled in front of him. Logan’s sharp inhale was the only sound for a moment. He reached down, his fingers brushing your cheek as he looked at you with a mixture of surprise and heat.

“You sure about this?” he asked, his voice softer now, though his arousal was clear.

You nodded, your hands already sliding up his thighs. “I’m sure,” you said, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your chest. You weren’t nervous because of him—you’d done this before—but there was something thrilling about the spontaneity of it.

Logan groaned softly as your hands moved higher, his muscles tensing under your touch. “Goddamn, darlin’,” he muttered, his head tilting back slightly as you began to explore him with your hands and mouth. The warmth of the shower and the slickness of the water added a new layer of sensation, and you could feel his body responding to every movement.

Your tongue flicked over him, testing, teasing, before taking him fully. Logan’s hand found its way into your hair, not guiding but grounding himself as a low growl rumbled from his chest. His hips shifted slightly, his restraint palpable as you worked him slowly, thoroughly, letting the heat and steam build between you.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Logan groaned, his voice rough and strained. “You’re gonna drive me insane.”

You glanced up at him, your vision a little blurry without your glasses, but you could still see the way his jaw clenched, his muscles taut as he fought to keep control. His reaction spurred you on, your movements becoming more deliberate, more confident.

“You’re so damn good at this,” he rasped, his voice thick with need. “Always know how to take care of me.”

Your hands gripped his thighs, steadying yourself as you continued, the warmth of the water cascading over both of you. Logan’s breathing grew heavier, his fingers tightening slightly in your hair as he murmured your name, a low, reverent sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

When he finally tugged you gently back, his chest was heaving, his eyes dark and intense. “C’mere,” he said, his voice a rough command that you couldn’t ignore.

You stood slowly, water dripping down your body as Logan’s hands found your waist, pulling you close. His mouth crashed against yours, hot and desperate, his hands roaming over your wet skin as the kiss deepened. The hunger in his touch was undeniable, but there was also a tenderness that made your heart ache.

Logan’s hands slid down to cup your ass, lifting you easily. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and he pressed you against the cool tile wall, the contrast of temperatures making you gasp. His lips moved to your neck, nipping and sucking as he positioned himself between your thighs.

You sighed his name, nails digging into his shoulders, the small crescent marks fading almost instantly. “I was s’pposed to—”

Logan cut you off, his lips brushing against your ear as he growled, “I know, sweetheart. But right now, I wanna be inside you.” His voice was rough, low, and the sound of it sent a shiver down your spine.

Before you could respond, he shifted his hips, pressing into you with a deliberate, maddening slowness. The heat of him, the thickness, made you gasp, your hands clutching at his shoulders as your legs tightened around his waist. Logan’s eyes locked on yours, his gaze unwavering even through the steam curling around you both.

“Let me hear you,” he murmured, his tone both commanding and tender. His hands slid to your hips, steadying you as he sank deeper. “None of that holdin’ back shit. Just let it out.”

Your lips parted, a soft whimper escaping as he filled you completely. It had become a habit, one you hadn’t even realized—biting your lip, muffling your sounds against his skin, or burying them in kisses. You’d gotten used to keeping quiet, especially back at the mansion. Now, the vulnerability of letting go felt foreign and exhilarating.

“Logan,” you breathed, your voice breaking as he began to move. The rhythm he set was slow but unrelenting, each thrust purposeful and deep. Your head fell forward against his shoulder, and you bit down lightly on his skin, trying to keep from being too loud.

Logan’s hand came up to cradle the back of your head, his lips pressing against your temple. “Don’t do that,” he whispered, his voice rough but filled with care. “You don’t have to be quiet. I wanna hear every damn sound.”

You swallowed hard, nodding, though it was a struggle to let go of the ingrained instinct. When he angled his hips and hit that perfect spot inside you, your head tilted back, and a sharp moan slipped free before you could stop it.

“That’s it,” Logan praised, his voice a low growl against your neck. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you down onto him as he thrust up. “Goddamn, darlin’. You feel so good.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly as the pleasure built. “Right there,” you gasped, your voice trembling. “Feels so good.”

Logan grinned against your skin, his teeth grazing your jaw before he claimed your lips in a heated kiss. “Don’t stop talkin’ to me,” he muttered between kisses. “Tell me how good I’m makin’ you feel.”

Your legs tightened around his waist, and you moaned into his mouth, your body arching into him. “So good,” you managed, your voice breaking as he thrust deeper. “Logan, please…”

“Please what, sweetheart?” he teased, his lips moving to your throat as he sucked lightly on the sensitive skin. His hips snapped upward, harder this time, and your nails raked down his back in response. “Use your words.”

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice trembling with need. “Don’t ever stop.”

Logan chuckled, a low, rough sound that sent heat pooling in your belly. “Not a fuckin’ chance,” he promised, his pace quickening. Each thrust dragged a new sound from you, the intensity overwhelming in the best way.

But then the habit crept back in. As the sensations grew, you bit down on your lip, stifling a moan as your head fell forward against his shoulder. Logan noticed instantly, his movements slowing as his hand tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

“None of that,” he said firmly, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Don’t hide from me, Y/N. I wanna hear you. All of it.”

“Sorry,” you murmured, your cheeks flushing. The apology was instinctive, but Logan wasn’t having it.

“Don’t be,” he said, his voice softer now. “Just let go, darlin’. No one else is here. It’s just us.”

His words broke down the last of your restraint. The next time he thrust into you, you let out a cry, your hands clutching at his shoulders as the pleasure crashed over you. Logan’s growl of approval only fueled the fire, his movements becoming rougher, more desperate as he chased his own release.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick with need. “You’re so goddamn perfect.”

“Logan,” you gasped, his name tumbling from your lips like a prayer. The sound of it seemed to spur him on, his grip on you tightening as he drove deeper. Your vision blurred, not just from the missing glasses but from the overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he encouraged, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “Let it all out. Don’t hold back.”

You clung to him, your body trembling as you reached your peak, the waves of pleasure crashing over you in relentless surges. Logan wasn’t far behind, his hips snapping one last time before he groaned deeply, his body shuddering against yours as he spilled into you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the only sound the steady spray of water and the ragged breathing that filled the room. Logan’s hands softened their grip, sliding up to cradle your face as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice rough but filled with concern.

You nodded, a tired but satisfied smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay,” you whispered, your fingers brushing the damp hair from his forehead.

Logan chuckled, his hands sliding down to your thighs as he eased out of you, lowering you gently to your feet. Your legs were shaky, but he steadied you, his hands never leaving your waist.

“Good,” he said, his lips quirking into a smirk. “‘Cause I’m not done with you yet.”

You tried to meet his eyes, though you weren’t sure if you did or not, while giving a small pout. “But the banana bread is in the oven.”

His eyes widened for a moment before he turned off the shower, water still running down his face as he looked at you. “Well, don’t let me stop ya,” he said, though the twitch of a grin tugged at his lips, and his tone betrayed an unusual excitement.

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at him playfully. “Are you—are you actually excited about banana bread right now?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, grabbing a towel from the hook. “I mean... it’s banana bread. Why wouldn’t I be excited?” His smirk turned mischievous as he turned back to face you, holding the towel open like a shield. “C’mon, sweetheart, outta the shower before I start thinkin’ you’re more fun than the bread.”

You snorted, water dripping from your hair as you stepped into his waiting towel. “Admit it, Logan. You’re acting like a kid waiting for dessert. I didn’t know you had such a thing for banana bread.”

Wrapping the towel snugly around your frame, he started to dry you off methodically, his calloused hands rubbing gentle circles against your arms through the soft fabric. “Ain’t just any banana bread—it’s your banana bread,” he said matter-of-factly, meeting your eyes briefly before going back to drying you off. “Gotta admit, though, you make the wait damn hard sometimes.”

The faint warmth of his compliment lingered as he continued his task. Logan’s attention was deliberate, unhurried, like he enjoyed every small moment between you. By the time he reached for another towel to gently dry your hair, you couldn’t help the grin pulling at your lips. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, giggling softly.

“Yeah, but you love it,” he teased, pressing a light kiss to your forehead before reaching for your glasses. He placed them on carefully, his fingers brushing against your temple. “There. Perfect.”

You huffed a laugh. “You’re getting better at this, y’know.”

“Maybe,” he said, grinning as he grabbed another towel to wrap around his waist. “Or maybe I just like seein’ you look all warm and cared for.”

Before you could reply, he grabbed one of the clothes bundles he’d laid out, already half-dressed himself as he guided you into a fresh pair of sweatpants and an oversized shirt you recognized as his. The soft fabric hung loose around your frame, and you gave him a questioning glance as he smirked again.

“What? Looks good on ya,” he said with a shrug. “Now c’mon, let’s check on this banana bread you’re teasin’ me with.”

“Teasin’ you?” you repeated, laughing as you followed him back toward the kitchen. “Pretty sure you’re the one making a big deal out of it.”

He looked over his shoulder at you as he walked. “Damn straight I am.”

When you reached the kitchen, the warm, sweet scent of the bread filled the small cabin. You moved to the counter to check on it, glancing over your shoulder when you heard him shift beside you. Logan stood close, resting a hand lightly against your lower back as you crouched to peek into the oven.

“I’m just sayin’,” he added, leaning casually against the counter, “whatever made you think to make this today? Keep it up, darlin’. You might just have me makin’ excuses to stay in more.”

You laughed as you stood, shaking your head at him. “Logan, you already hate leaving the cabin. What excuses do you need?”

He grinned and pulled you into his side, pressing a kiss to your temple as he mumbled, “Good point. Still, if it’s you bakin’, I’ll take the extra reason.”

It was such a small moment—banter layered in the comfort of your daily life together—but standing there with his arm around you, your shared laughter filling the cabin, it was everything. Every piece of grief and hope between you felt quieter, a little easier to carry.

Logan remembered the hardest things about you, the pain of losing you five times before. Yet in moments like this, you made him feel like he was learning you anew each day—and damn if he wouldn’t keep trying for a hundred lives more.

that is 2008!

also here is the lingerie dress reader was wearing - i honestly don't know the mechanics of this dress, so if something was wrong in the scene, just ignore it pls😭

i wanted to write a shower scene because it's something i've never done before, but i'm aware it's a bit inaccurate for some people (as someone with wavy hair, shower sex would never happen unless it was wash day, and even then i'm exhausted after washing it. funnily enough today is wash day for me, so i gotta go-).

y'all know i'm a marvel/mcu fan at heart, so i couldn't resist throwing in a little peter parker! <3 (i'm also in love with tom holland and his fiance so...)

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut #i love you in every time #i love you always and forever

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roguishcat · 2 days ago

Text

What books don't teach you (or how to date a wickedly charming vampire if all you know about dating is purely theoretical)

Summary: Unfortunately, having enough smutty fiction to sink a ship did not prepare you for dating (were you even dating?) Astarion. A shy/inexperienced Reader x Astarion fic where both do everything wrong but somehow end up getting it right. Set in Act II (before Astarion's confession).

Rating: Exlicit (MNDI)

Tags: MNDI, 18+, NSFW, Humour, Romance, Angst, Smut, Smut with feels, Smut with some plot, Oral (Male receiving), Masturbation (female), Vaginal Fingering, Praise kink, They are bad at communicating, Inexperienced Reader, Astarion is bad at feelings

Pairing: Astarion x female Reader (You)

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: It's spring cleaning time, so let's get those WIPs done! 😊 This is my first finished WIP for @thekindredcollective BG3 Spring Cleaning! Should have spent more time on this before posting, but my laptop is acting up again and I want to post the story whilst I can still use it (I hate writing/editing on my phone). Comments and constructive criticism are appreciated. Please tell me if you notice mistakes and typos! Hope you enjoy the story! ❤️❤️

You wanted to put him in your mouth. There. You said it. Well, admitted it to yourself silently in the dead of night whilst completely hidden under the blanket. Which was pretty much the same thing. Sort of.

You and Astarion had already done... it. The horizontal tango, that is. Twice even!

And you were very proud of how cool, smooth and put-together you were during those times. (Astarion immediately saw through your act, of course, but that was beside the point!)

Because no matter how inexperienced you were, you remembered both nights with hot cheeks and gentle warmth blooming to life in your chest every time you thought about the time you spent enjoying each other. Prior to meeting Astarion, you had no idea that bodies and tongues could even be used in such a manner. You read about it, of course. And being a voracious reader, especially when it came to certain literature, you had a general idea of what happened between consenting adults in the bedroom. And forests, beaches, caves, country houses, castle dungeons and so on.

But to actually experience it yourself! No matter how much you let your imagination run wild, to actually have someone, and a very handsome someone at that, outdo anything you imagined had been life-changing. You had a wonderful, toe-curling, lip-biting, earth-shattering, amazing time. And you really, really wanted to reciprocate.

And therein lay the problem.

The one and only time that you dared to go down on someone, you were told quite explicitly that you were completely shit at it. Absolutely talentless. Beyond terrible. And that put you off trying something like this with anyone ever again. Or so you thought.

Because when you looked at Astarion as he lay on top of you, making you tremble and shake with every movement of his hands on your skin, it made you wonder. Wonder how he would taste. You looked at Astarion and ached. Craved to hear him gasp and moan. Watch him unravel from the skill of your tongue and hands. Because surely if others could learn to do that to other person’s orifices then you… could probably manage to be okay at it.

The thought of your late-night musings becoming reality had your cheeks burning in seconds. You sighed and hit your head on the pillow, knowing that it was an awful, terrible idea.

Astarion was experienced, beautiful, and confident. You were not. Whatever it was that made him decide to be with you in the first place would surely be outweighed by the spectacular way you would screw this up.

You sighed again, this time a deep, long sound that almost emptied your lungs.

You wondered if you could just ask someone. You were sure that at least one of your companions could give you a pointer or two. But Astarion's pointy ears seemed to catch every bit of juicy gossip, every little whisper. He would know of the full extent of your inadequacy and promptly dump you.

No. You needed to keep your embarrassing secret to yourself.

And then you had a eureka moment. Because you realised that you didn't need to ask anyone at all! What you needed was to get Gale distracted enough for you to steal one of his books. Because you were more than certain that recently Gale had come into possession of a very filthy tome that he quickly squirreled away before anyone could notice. The tome that would be your salvation.

And with this comforting thought finally allowing you to relax, you soon found yourself in the arms of Morpheus, your sleep untroubled and filled with pleasant, if a little racy, dreams.

Astarion was... concerned. Yes, he wasn't worried exactly, though he was slowly edging towards that territory. And why? Well, because their level-headed leader started acting in a manner that one could politely refer to as eccentric.

This group was already full of weirdos, and you were pretty much the only one of the lot that one could call the voice of reason. Except lately you seemed to abandon all reason and instead chose to act like a woman gone mad as you made attempt after attempt to steal something from the wizard.

You were so bad at going about it in a discreet manner that it was almost amusing. Gale did not seem to notice, but Astarion knew that the cleric and the gith did, as did Karlach. He was sure that Shadowheart and Karlach had some kind of bet going on, although he did not care to find out exactly what the terms were.

Initially, he had a fleeting thought that you were trying to get into Gale's tent for amorous reasons. That you decided to take a new lover. Astarion tried not to examine the sick feeling that twisted his gut at the thought of you leaving his bedroll cold to frolic into another person's tent. Because there wasn't any sick feeling in the first place and even if there was, he could quite reasonably blame it on indigestion.

But then he realised that you tried to sneak into Gale's tent only when the wizard was otherwise occupied, usually right about the time he was preparing meals and seemed to be engrossed in whatever he was trying to make edible.

Either way, Astarion was confused, bewildered by why you doggedly chose to pursue something that the wizard had come to possess. Your tenacity and grim persistence would be amusing had it been anyone else that was acting batshit crazy. Alas, it was the one companion that Astarion bet on to stay sane throughout the whole ordeal. And that just wouldn’t do. Not that he cared, per se. But you being predictable would definitely make things easier in the long run. Astarion had a plan, after all, and he was sticking to the said plan no matter what.

A smile curved the elf's lips as you once again failed to infiltrate enemy territory and were forced to retreat rather hastily - and inelegantly - almost smashing into a nearby tree as you made your escape. That didn't go unnoticed by the cleric, who whispered something to Karlach, making the tiefling almost spit her drink out as she tried, and failed, to suppress a laugh.

It was at that moment that Astarion decided that he would help your poor pitiful self to steal whatever it was that you wanted to get from the wizard's tent. Because it would probably take one or two more failed attempts for Gale to notice, and that would mean that you would abandon your plan, and Astarion would never find out what it was that was worth all this trouble. Not that he cared as such. But it could be some powerful artifact, or a tome filled with nefarious spells. And if he knew what it was, he was almost certain he could convince you to share.

Later that day, as you positioned yourself strategically just outside Gale's tent, Astarion strolled up to the wizard with an air of casual boredom. Gale was busy preparing supper, chopping away at some vegetables and whatever else they managed to scavenge. Astarion snorted his disapproval at the scents emitting from the cooking pot.

"Something on your mind?" Gale chose that moment to speak up.

"Hm? Oh, no. Pay no attention to me whatsoever. I'm just pondering a dilemma of mine, and I am afraid I might not come up with an answer."

"I see, well, may I be of assistance?"

Inclining his head ever so slightly, Astarion could see you slink towards the open flap of Gale's tent, taking a step back to be swallowed up by the darkness.

Astarion smirked.

“I am not certain that you can, wizard. You see, this issue of mine would need a mind that is truly voracious. A certain someone that can unravel the unravellable. Solve the unsolvable.”

“And are you insinuating that I am lacking in this department?”

“Oh, no! I would never insinuate anything.”

Astarion heard something crash, the sound followed by a serious of muffled curses and something that that to a keen ear would seem like you fell over and were now struggling to extricate yourself from something or another. This level of clumsiness was so you that Astarion felt something akin to fondness.

Gale was about to turn his head when Astarion said, “I would not insinuate anything that I could state outright.”

That did it. Because Gale could take needling and teasing when it came to anything except his intellectual prowess.

“I’ll have you know that back at Blackstaff Academy I was often consulted on all matters of things! And often my council was the only one worth listening to! Now, tell me exactly what is troubling you. I am more than certain that I will solve whatever issue this is.”

Astarion saw you emerge with something hidden under your shirt. He didn't know why you bothered, it was more than obvious that it was a book of some sort. Though perhaps you were hoping to conceal the cover. Astarion's nostrils flared.

You were excited, embarrassed and a little aroused. An interesting combination to have to some light reading.

“Astarion? Are you listening?”

Ah, the wizard was still talking. How he loved listening to the sound of his own voice! Honestly, some could really benefit from working on their people skills.

“You know, perhaps being in the presence of such intelligence was enough. I just thought of what to do. No advice needed.”

Gale blinked.

“I see. I’m glad that you are no longer troubled.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far. We are all a little troubled around here. Anyway, must dash.”

And with that Astarion was gone in a flurry of silk and smiles that didn’t reach his eyes. Making his way out of camp, he pursued his target with predatory skill. It wasn’t like you were making it difficult to find you. A broken branch here, a piece of fabric snagged on a twig there. Astarion soon found himself on the riverbank, you not noticing his approach as you were deeply engrossed in your reading.

"Hm.. Where is the part about.. Aha! Here we go. 'His throbbing member brushed against her skirts'. No, I must have skipped too far ahead."

Astarion bit his lip to keep himself from laughing. This is what you were after all this time? Stealing a dirty, scandalous novel? Surely he provided you with enough entertainment for you not to require that type of books? Who knew you were such a deviant underneath that prim and proper facade? How absolutely wonderful.

"Yes! Finally! 'She took him into her shaking hands and pressed a gentle kiss to his pulsing shaft, her eyes asking the question her lips could not form.'"

Your eyes shone with a victorious if somewhat maniacal glint, there was a leaf in your hair, teeth worrying your bottom lip as you read the next passage with feverish intensity.

Perhaps it was time to make himself known. Astarion stepped on a tree branch, putting some force into it to make it snap.

You squeaked and whipped your head around to look at him, eyes comically round and large, cheeks flushed and rosy. And it was at this moment that you lost your grip on the book, making it slip out of your fingers. You tried grabbing it but it was too late. Whatever escapades the Duke and the debutante got up to were lost to you, swallowed up hungrily by the river.

"Well, I suppose now we will never know if he sheathed his sword to the hilt. Though perhaps it was more of a dagger?"

Astarion did not expect a pathetic little sob to be your reply.

"Darling?"

He crouched beside you, thumb wiping a stray tear that rolled down your cheek.

"It was supposed to be a surprise for you," you whispered, making a point not to look at him.

"Dearest, this is not the first novel of that sort that I've read and I am sure that it won't be the last."

"No- I- I wasn't talking about the book. I was trying to use it as a guide, of sorts."

"Well, I'm not sure if taking one too many bumps to your lovely head affected your memory, but we've already had sex. Twice, in fact."

"Yes,” you wiped your face with a swift, jerky movement, “but I wanted to do something. And I wanted to do it well."

Astarion chuckled as he realised what you were talking about. He had his suspicions when he had his wicked way with you, seeing the way you'd eye that particular part of his anatomy before quickly looking away. The elf lowered himself gracefully onto the ground and sat beside you, pulling you towards himself and letting your head rest on his shoulder.

"You've never-"

"Once. It wasn’t good. I mean I-I wasn’t very good," you admitted with a wince.

Astarion knew that he had to tread very, very carefully. It was glaringly obvious that you were inexperienced when it came to sex, even if you tried to act confident when you slept together. When he had stepped out from behind the tree the night when he bedded you for the first time, you walked towards him like a newborn doe, legs unsteady, hands shaking, a bright blush on your cheeks. You were excited and nervous in equal measures, and that made him both irritated and intruiged.

Therefore, Astarion chose not to tease you but took a deep breath, swallowed whatever witty comment was on his tongue, and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on your temple.

Bringing his lips to your ear, Astarion spoke in a low tone, "Darling, make of it what you will, but a student is only as good as their teacher."

Hearing your heartbeat speed up, Astarion smirked. You turned so you were looking straight at him.

Fingers clasping your chin, he pulled you up enough to brush cool lips against your own, tongue flicking out to wet soft flesh.

"Would you like me to teach you?”

“Yes.”

“Then be a good girl for me and follow my instructions.”

Having spotted a rock with a deep indent that would allow one to take a seat somewhat comfortably, Astarion rose and moved towards it, motioning you to follow.

“On your knees, my sweet,” he purred, undoing the laces of his trousers as he took his place. Looking up, Astarion’s eyes widened as he found that you were completely bare from the waist up, your exposed breasts level with his crotch.

"Feeling a little warm?" He cleared his throat.

"No. This is plan B."

"I need you to explain your thinking there."

"Well, if you don’t enjoy my mouth, these might come in handy."

After all, you've read enough fiction over the years to know how one can make use of this particular part of your anatomy.

"You mean-"

"Yes."

"I see."

Astarion felt himself grow harder still and willed his rebellious cock to cool it. He was supposed to be the one doing the seducing. Not the one who was most certainly a virgin mere weeks ago. Except suddenly you seemed to turn the tables on him and he, the suave and experienced rogue that bedded thousands, wanted you to touch him. The fact that he did not feel the usual wave of self-loathing and disgust was odd yet very welcome.

Your hands brushed against the skin of his thighs, so warm and gentle. So unlike the touch he was used to. Astarion looked into your eyes and felt himself relax at seeing the genuine excitement you were trying to be less obvious about.

It was sweet. You were sweet. You wouldn’t hurt him, or force him, of belittle him. And knowing with the utmost certainty that you'd stop if he asked you to made Astarion put his hand on top of yours. His cool hand gripping yours gently, Astarion delighted in the way you swallowed nervously when he slowly guided your hands up.

"Start gently. No teeth."

"Wasn’t going to use them."

"Don't try to take it all in at once."

"Don’t think I can anyway."

"And darling?" Astarion said, noticing the intense resolve on your face. "Please don't overthink this."

"Okay," you nodded.

And then you put your tongue on him and licked a long, wet trail, giving the tip an experimental suck. Astarion's brain promptly short-circuited. The second suck was a touch more insistent, Astarion making a strangled sound that was most definitely not a whine. Emboldened by his reactions, you took more of him in, moving your mouth up and down the shaft, trying to establish a pace.

Astarion's eyes slammed shut and he bit his bottom lip. He had forgotten how good this could feel. Hells, he could not for the (un)life of him remember the last time someone offered to pleasure him in such a way. His experiences of sex, at least from what he could remember, were all about giving at best. At worst? Well...

Astarion scowled, willing himself to stay in the present, focusing on the licks and sucks, and your hand stroking the base. The sensitive head pulsed from the attention. Astarion groaned when he felt your fingers wrap around the base, stroking back and forth along the section where your mouth couldn’t reach. His eyes rolled upwards, his hips moving involuntarily to meet your mouth.

And then his dick hit the back of your throat, making you gag. It was then that Astarion remembered that he was meant to be instructing and you, in your eagerness, had to be guided enough not to hurt yourself. Perhaps your attention had to be otherwise occupied.

"Darling," Astarion purred, pushing you back gently, making his cock slide out of your mouth with a wet sound. "There is something else I'd like you to do for me."

"Sure, I'd do anything to you."

"You mean for me?"

You shrugged, making him bark a surprised laugh. Oh, you were fun! Perhaps not always on purpose, but still. Much more fun than most, at least in his experience.

"I'd like you to take the rest of your clothes off and touch yourself."

At your dubious look, he leaned forward and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I'd enjoy seeing you pleasure yourself whilst you pleasure me."

"Um..."

"Good girl."

You obeyed, undoing the ties with shaking fingers and taking your clothes off, nervous yet giddy with excitement. Looking up, you saw Astarion watching you intently, a lazy half smile on his face.

He thought he was all that, did he? Well, you read enough naughty novels that you purchased from Sharess' - hood on, not making eye contact and trying to get out there as fast as possible - to have plenty of theoretical knowledge about how these things got done! And sure, perhaps you didn’t have lovers before Astarion. But you had years to explore your body well enough to know what got you going.

Astarion watched as you placed your hand on your breast and then trailed your fingers down, the descent slow and teasing. As a rule, Astarion didn’t enjoy seeing others pleasure themselves. He enjoyed feeling what little power he had over people, enjoyed how they would grovel and writhe just so he'd grant them a moment of bliss, enjoyed seeing them say and do whatever it was that he wanted because please, please, please.

Sex was a tool. Sex was a weapon. Sex was a way to get what he wanted. And he would damn well use all the tricks in his arsenal to have you where he wanted you.

Except a peculiar thing happened. He actually wanted you. Which was becoming more apparent by the second as your fingers pushed your underwear aside to bare yourself enough for Astarion to be getting quite a show.

He could see, smell and all but taste the way your body reacted to touch and to being watched. It made his fangs itch. And then you threw your head back, baring your neck ever so deliciously as you let out a wanton moan. His body jerked towards you, and it took all his willpower not to sink his teeth into inviting flesh.

No, he'd always ask before biting.

"Darling, may I?" Astarion said in a guttural voice he barely recognised.

Your 'yes' came out as an almost plosive sound that was half breathed and half forced out. He sighed appreciatively, so close to getting what he craved. You watched through half-lidded eyes as he put his hands on your shoulders and leaned in, nose trailing along your neck, tongue lapping at the twin marks that would most definitely become permanent. The thought had his hips thrusting forward, cock hard and leaking.

Not wasting another moment, Astarion sank his fangs into your neck, pulling you towards him. He could feel your approaching orgasm, taste your pleasure, making it his own.

"Astarion," you whispered, eyes fluttering shut, the hand not working you into a frensy rising to brush back soft curls. Your feather-light touch on his ears made him groan as he drank, a trail of blood escaping and trickling down between your bodies.

"Astarion I-" the rest was swallowed by his mouth as he crashed his lips against yours. You could taste your blood and then felt his fingers join yours before dipping into you and-oh.

Strong, and sure, and experienced, his fingers had you panting and gasping into his mouth. He moved and you tried to grind against him, but steady hands kept you in place. Your orgasm hit you hard, Astarion not relenting as you rode his fingers.

You two broke apart and Astarion grinned. Yes, judging by your glazed eyes and swollen lips, his plan was working as brilliantly as he hoped.

"Was this fun, my sweet?" He let your head fall onto his shoulder, watching your chest rise and fall as your breath escaped you in wheezing puffs.

"Very," you nodded and licked your lips, trying to steady yourself. "And now it's your turn."

Astarion blinked.

"Mine?"

"Yes. I mean, unless you didn’t like it."

Astarion found that for the first time in his life he was unsure what to say. Because he didn’t actually expect you to continue. Because he was absolutely certain that you just wanted to play with his cock for a while before chasing your own release.

"I did like it," he admitted, looking away in a manner that could be described as uncharacteristically shy, "but you don't have to-"

"I want to," you interrupted. "I wanted to for a long time. If you allow it, that is," you murmured into the elf’s ear, sending a delicious shudder through him.

Your earnest expression had Astarion considering it. That and the fact your parted, moist lips looked wickedly inviting. You wrapped your fingers around his cock, applying gentle pressure as you gave it a few slow teasing strokes.

"You up for it, lover?" You teased.

"Hah! That’s terrible. Don’t do puns, dear.”

“Because you’d much rather I do you?”

“You know that terrible jokes account for one in two murders?”

“Is that a real statistic?”

“It might as well be.”

Looking at you, Astarion felt a wave of something that another, better emotionally equipped being, would call fondness. And then he felt a wave of something that he recognised all too well. He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the way your hand moved over his hardness. And then he felt warm heat of your mouth and your appreciative sigh as you were finally given free rein, getting to do whatever you wanted to him as Astarion submitted to your ministrations.

He knew that he wouldn’t last long. Not with your blood coursing through him and the warmth from your mouth seeping into his flesh and electrifying his nerves. He tried not to arch his back, seeking more friction, more of you, just more of it all. Because- hells!

You chose that moment to palm his balls, rolling them teasingly as Astarion fought with himself not to thrust and roll his hips. His breath caught in his throat and he released a needy, half-chocked sound as you slowed to trace a lazy path up the spit-sleeked hardness, sending already sensitive nerves into overdrive.

“Darling, I won’t last long,” Astarion whimpered.

Your hum of appreciation just about sent him over the edge.

And then you went faster, as if getting greedier by the minute. Astarion’s words came out as whimpering pleas that did not make sense to his own ears. He gasped and whimpered as his pleasure built.

Whimpers turned into groans and those turned into silence as his mouth opened, deadly fangs flashing, as your other hand ventured further to find that spot and pressed into it with each movement. His orgasm swelled and broke, Astarion not even having the chance to ask where you’d want him to cum. You tried to swallow, but were rather unprepared, almost chocking then pulling back enough to let what you couldn’t manage trail down your hand and his body.

Astarion took greedy gulps of air that he didn’t need, eyes still closed, feeling boneless and lazy, and not wanting to move. He could feel you shift and next you started wiping him clean with a soft cloth, movements slow and careful. This wasn’t the first time you cared for him in such a way, but he still didn’t expect you to want to do something like that, not really sure how to react. And so Astarion chose to just stay silent and enjoy it while it lasted. Because for one reason or another, he was certain that whatever this was would not last.

“Did- Did I do well?”

He chuckled, “Isn’t it obvious? Or perhaps you’d like me to sing praises and commend you on your skill like they would in those novels you like, hm?”

One ruby eye cracked open and Astarion gave you a slow, languid smile.

“If you were in my novel, you’d definitely be more gallant,” you huffed.

“Apologies. I’ll try better next time.”

“Next time? You mean I get to do it again?”

“Can’t imagine why you are the one excited about it, but yes. You get to do it again.”

Your victorious, brilliant smile had him looking away, the tips of his ears tinged pink. He felt conflicted about the attention, confused as to why you’d feel so obviously happy at him being satisfied.

Astarion did not like not being able to figure people out. Not being able to predict what one would do, not knowing what came next had the elf stiffening involuntarily.

Red eyes watched you intently as you put your smallclothes on. The vampire was eerily still as you stumbled about, suddenly bashful and trying to cover yourself up as quickly as possible as you threw furtive looks in his direction. Then he took a breath, as if suddenly remembering that some would deem it a necessity and willed his body to obey him. Lips curving, a smile plastered on his face, Astarion rose in a smooth, elegant movement, still completely bare and seemingly not bothered by being nude out in the open.

A finger under your chin, he turned your head and pecked your lips.

“Thank you, darling. I had a simply marvellous time. How good of you to treat me so.”

His words didn’t have the desired effect. Instead of melting into a pile of feminine goo, as one should have done when being in the proximity of a gorgeous creature, you frowned and nodded.

“Yes. I’m glad. But I think I have to go.”

“Really? Have to?”

“No. I want to go.”

Astarion let his hand drop and watched you retreat with surprising haste, confused about what had just happened. It felt as if he had crossed some unspoken line, but he was unsure when and where he did so. Astarion dressed quickly, with jerky movements, tugging his shirt on angrily. Anger came naturally. Anger was easier. He did not know who he was angry at – you or himself – but somehow it made him feel better. Taking a different path to the one you chose to make your retreat, Astarion ran. Hunting something down and tearing into its throat with his fangs. Watching it thrust about as he bled it dry. He needed to at least sate his hunger if he couldn’t settle his mind.

Evening came and went with neither you nor Astarion uttering a word to each other. The next day was much the same. You communicated through others, but never directly.

On day six, you approached Astarion. He was reading, casually reclining against a tree, the wind playing with his curls and making them dance so beautifully that you almost missed a step and had to quickly catch yourself. Falling forward and kissing the ground would definitely put you in a state not conducive to having any conversation at all.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to just go for it. There was very little you could do to make the situation worse.

"I'm sorry," you blurted out.

"Beg pardon?" Astarion looked up with a cold expression on his handsome face.

Not a good start, but you decided to soldier on.

"I want to apologise."

"Do you know what you are apologising for?" Astarion closed his book and set it aside without breaking eye contact.

"I'm not sure exactly. I don't know what I did that day by the river, to make you look at me with such disgust-"

Astarion made a noise at the back of his throat which could be interpreted in many ways, and you took it as confirmation of your worst fears.

"And I don't know how to fix it! And maybe a simple apology isn't enough, but I couldn’t come up with anything better."

You had thought of how this conversation could go at length, tossing and turning late into the night. You had hoped to sound less pathetic, less needy. But perhaps being honest was the best way to go about it.

"I envy your easy confidence, you know. I never had that. Not once in my life. And it's not about my looks. I just don’t feel like I have the guts to talk about my wants. And I've never felt that I even wanted to… until you. And I'm not asking you to understand or to accept it. But I can't bear you to look at me that way again, like you can't wait to get away from me. So, I want to apologise. But I need you to tell me what happened,” you swallowed nervously, “please."

There was an awkward pause, a moment where Astarion didn't know what to do, what to say when faced with such sincerity and raw emotion. How would he even begin to explain what happened when he had spent centuries trying to avoid thinking about it for his personal sanity?

"I can't,” he began carefully, brows furrowed, fingers twitching. “At least I'm not sure if I can. But,” he paused, word coming out breath-heavy, “that, whatever that was, had nothing to do with you."

"Oh.” You looked away, whatever courage you summoned earlier used up at this point. “I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions."

Astarion rose in one swift movement. You were a breath away from each other, and yet not touching.

"I meant what I said that day. I did enjoy it. Being with you feels... like something else. Something new."

Untarnished, unspoilt.

"But it did bring up some less than pleasant memories."

"I'm sorry."

"Will you stop apologising, infuriating woman?" Astarion demanded sharply.

"I'm so-"

Astarion knew only one effective way of silencing you, so he pressed his lips firmly against yours, one hand finding itself in your hair, the other on the swell of your hip. You felt a tingle dance up your spine when Astarion coaxed your lips to open, his tongue slipping in to tangle with yours. You moaned into the kiss, the tension and worries of the past six days melting away until you felt like you were floating.

Remembering that you did, in fact, need to breathe, Astarion broke the kiss.

"No more apologies," Astarion admonished you gently. "Especially when you've done nothing wrong."

You nodded silently and quiet enveloped you both, Astarion looking at you with warm intensity as you ran your fingers through his soft, silver curls.

"And now, my dear," Astarion decided to finally ask you the question that has been on his mind for the past six days, "I believe we are overdue for a discussion of a different type. Because I simply can't go on another moment without knowing where you learned of plan B."

And this was when you told Astarion about your most prized possession - the library in the basement of your home with enough tomes to sink a ship. Astarion had never been more eager to get back to the Gate.

He simply had to survive long enough to see this. And then have you read to him from each one. Preferably naked.

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