#this will not turn into smut but it will get a little heated | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pome-seed · 1 day ago

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Summer Surprise ࿐࿔ Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Age-gap 40s DBF Bucky Barnes x Mid-twenties Reader

Summary: You've been looking forward to kicking off the summer with a week on your dads new boat. You decide to have one last night of fun before committing to a week on the sea with your family. But you're thrown into a world of shock when you realize the older man you slept with, only days prior, is not only friends with your dad, but also joining you for the trip.

Word Count: 21.0k

Warnings: Graphic Sexual Content. DBF!Bucky. Oral sex (M&F receiving. Mostly F.) Soft Dom!Bucky. Age-gap (40 y/o Bucky x mid 20s reader). Hand jobs. Hair Pulling. Light Choking. Heavy Teasing. Smug asf Bucky. Neck fixation. Body Worship. Wall Sex. Tension. Just so so so so much smut. P with P (but not toooo much plot) ABSOLUTE filth.

18+ blog, Minors Do Not Interact.

Author's Note: Hey guys! I really enjoyed making this one. This one is a little crazy and a little wild. But I hope you guys like it!!! Also, requests are always open.

The air is charged with electricity, the rhythmic base pulsing through the floor. Your delighted laugh is muffled by the heavy beat as you roll your hips into your friend.

Wanda presses up behind you, her hands slithering around your waist to tickly Nat’s hips. Nat smacks her hand away with a snicker, her body swaying into yours.

You pant, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to your skin from the heated room. “Fuck,” you groan. “I’m thirsty, Imma get a drink, you want anything?” You shout over the music, pushing out from between the two women.

“All good,” Wanda laughs, turning to grind back into Natasha.

You giggle at the pair and start shoving your way through the packed crowd. You’ve never seen your favorite club as packed as it was tonight. Usually, that would make things a little more fun, but tonight it made things a nuisance.

You push through people packed body to body, shouldering through couples and friends to get to the bar.

About two feet from the bar, a drunk man shoulders past you to collapse into a free barstool. You feel your heel slip as you wobble- your stomach drops to your feet in a moment of panic. But before you can roll your ankle, strong hands slide onto your waist and steady you.

“You okay?” A rough voice shouts from above you.

You roll your head back, looking up at a jaw dropping man. A drunken smile slips onto your lips as you unconsciously lean back into him. “All good now,” You giggle.

The man helps maneuver you so you're facing him, a chuckle falling from his lips. “You sure?” His dark blue eyes trail down your body shamelessly. His hand stays on your hip.

“Mhm,” you nod heavily, your gaze flickering between the salt and pepper in his hair, to the pretty crows feet that form when he smiles down at you.

He couldn’t be more than forty. Your light buzz sinks a little deeper as you ogle the man, watching the way the neon lights flicker against his skin.

“You want a drink, sweetheart?” He leans down into your space, so he doesn’t have to shout as much for you to hear.

You swallow heavily. “You buying?”

“For someone as pretty as you, absolutely.” His tongue swipes over the point of his teeth.

You grin and nod, shamelessly leaning into him. “Lead the way, handsome.”

And he did lead the way. Just not to the bar.

He led you to the alley out back, where the line to get into the club stretched to the street. And without a care- or thought for your dignity- in site, he presses you against the cold, chipped bricks.

His facial hair burns against your face as you suck gently on his tongue, your hands frantically fisting at his hair. He chuckles into the kiss, his large hands pinning you in place by your hips.

He nips at your bottom lip, rolling it until it stung, then soothed over it with his tongue. He pants softly into your mouth, a hand traveling up to grip your jaw tightly. He angles your head, pressing his lips to yours in a bruising kiss.

“Fuck-” He groans quietly against your lips, his other hand slipping down to grab your ass.

He smells of expensive cologne and lingering smoke. He tastes like fine liquor.

“Gonna take me somewhere-?” You gasp against him. “Or ‘re you gonna fuck me right here?”

He laughs, deep in his chest, against your neck, his lips trailing rough kisses down the expanse. “That eager?” He whispers, dragging his teeth along your throat.

“Fuck yes-” You pant, arching up into him.

He snickers quietly as he pulls back, his hand sliding back around your jaw. “I’ll take you somewhere baby,” he swipes his tongue over your sore bottom lip. “I’ll take care of you.”

And that's how you end up in a strange hotel, your hair in this random mans fist, as he fucks you into the mattress.

You can barely see straight. Your body aches and your thighs are barely holding your weight by now. The man’s strong fingers press bruises into the soft edge of your hip as he drags you back against his cock.

You choke on a broken wine, your jaw loose as he yanks on your hair.

“Fuck-” he grunts, fucking his cock back into your soaking entrance. “Do that again, sweetheart,” his lip twitches back in a snarl as his muscles clench.

Your eyes roll back as your trembling hand pushes between your legs to circle your clit.

“Just like that, baby, doing so good.” He pants, his nails scraping your scalp as he regrips your hair.

“Oh shit-” You moan, rocking back into him.

He smirks to himself, his large hand swinging back to deliver a quick slap to your ass. You whine, your mouth falling open further. He smacks your ass again, pressing his palm to the red mark that follows.

“That feel good, sweetheart? Huh?” He thrust his hips at a steady pace, deep and hard, punching the air from your lungs. “I asked you a question, baby.” He smacks your ass again.

You nod quickly, your scalp burning as he fists your hair. “S-so fuckin’ good…”

“Yeah? Feels so good gettin’ stuffed full of cock?” He chuckles to himself, his own words making him smile. “Bet it does. Bet you’ve never been fucked like this, huh?”

You shake your head, pushing back against him needily. He pulls you back on his dick, grinding into you slowly. He tugs gently on your hair, and then you feel his breath ghosting across your throat. He presses a soft kiss to the hinge of your jaw.

“Ever been fucked by someone older?” He whispers, his lips dragging over your shoulder.

Your vision nearly blanks out when he grinds his hips into you again. You gasp when a sharp sting against your ass shocks you back to reality. “No-...” You groan.

“Mm,” he hums, sinking his teeth into the curve of your shoulder. You nearly sob, your fingers circling your clit a little slower. You don’t want this to be over yet. “‘S it feel good?” He whispers, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. “Do boys your age make you feel this good?” His stubble burns where he drags his chin against your cheek.

You shake your head. He softens his hold on your hair to massage your scalp.

“Does it make you wanna cry?” He whispers, kissing the corner of your lips. He rolls his hips into you a little slower. You choke on a garbled noise.

Your stomach twists almost painfully, something hot and aching spreading through you.

You nod, blinking through tears to try to ground yourself.

You can feel him smile against your cheek. He nips your jaw. “I bet.” He snickers, snapping his hips against yours as he pulls back. He curls his fist back around your thick locks of hair. “I won’t stop you, baby,” he groans, his chin dipping to his chest as he stares at himself sinking into you.

“You can cry, sweetheart. Go ahead and cry.”

You can’t remember falling asleep.

The last thing you could recall from the night before was the man spreading you out on your back, softly kissing your cheeks. His tongue dragging over your skin as he licked away your tears.

You remember his kisses trailing down your stomach, his hand wrapped around your throat.

You remember him smiling against your inner thigh, before he gently kissed your soaking cunt.

After that, everything was a blur.

So now, as you stretch slowly beneath the silky sheets, you feel sore and raw. Every part of you feels so deliciously tender.

Calloused fingers twitch over your stomach. You shiver, glancing down at the thick arms wrapped snug around your waist. You look over your shoulder to find the man sleeping soundly, his face nuzzled into your hair.

You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning like a fool. But you can’t help it. Your whole body still feels loose and raw from the way he picked you apart the night before.

So you relax into the sheets and trace your nails over his knuckles, forcing yourself to stay quiet. To savor the moment a little longer.

His body feels warm against yours, heavy and relaxed. You feel his soft lips brush your nape. Your stomach flutters as you tug the thin sheet a little higher over your chest.

Your little savory moment is cut short when he releases a heavy breath against the back of your neck, his arms winding tighter.

You make a soft noise as his arms press into your stomach.

His chest rumbles in a sleepy chuckle, his lips dragging over your skin. “Morning,” he whispers, his voice all gravel and velvet.

You swallow hard, your mouth now deeply dry. Your confidence now heavily lacking, now that you’re sober.

“Morning,” you mutter.

His hand slides from your stomach to your hip, massaging gently into the muscle. “Feel okay?”

You suppress a shudder, and nod, your eyes glued to the wall across from the bed. “Mhm.”

Something nervous curls in your stomach.

The man makes a rough noise before he starts to turn onto his back- pulling you with him. You shift with him, pressed into his side- almost on top of him. Before you can do much else, the hand not glued to your waist rakes the hair from your face.

You blink up at him now, blue eyes flickering over your features.

“Hi,” he whispers, his teeth nipping his lip.

“Hi,” you groan, dropping your face to his chest. The hand in your hair slips to cradle your nape as he laughs. You can feel the vibrations through his ribs.

“Where’s all that gusto?” He hums, his nails gently scratching your hip.

“You fucked it out of me,” you huff.

He makes a surprised noise at that, his palm loosening around your neck. Once he gathers himself, his nails start gently scratching at your scalp. “There it is.”

You sigh against him, and faintly you realize he still smells like cologne and smoke. You swallow, your lips pressed to his chest. “I’m Y/n, by the way,” you slowly lift your head, an embarrassed smile curling at your mouth.

“Bucky,” he mutters, still stroking your scalp. “Nice to meet you, doll.”

“What a meeting,” You snicker, pushing up over him a little further. You drag the sheets with you as you slowly straddle the man. He watches you, his hands falling to your thighs, where they peak beneath the white sheet.

He hums to himself, biting back a smirk as he looks at you fully. He looks sweet, bathed in warmth and sleep. You rest your hands against his chest, your touch trailing as you reach to cup his jaw. On a whim, you lean down and press a soft kiss to his lips. He hums again, his tongue brushing yours.

“You have pretty eyes,” You whisper against his mouth, feeling his facial hair scrape your face. “So blue.”

He smiles into the next kiss, struggling to keep his teeth out of the mix. “Mhm?” He murmurs, his hands stroking up and down your waist. “Didn’t see much of me last night?”

You shake your head. “It’s hard to see when you’re sobbing.” You snicker.

He groans softly, his head falling back against the pillows in exasperation. “You can’t say that when you’re on top of me, doll.”

You rake your fingers through his hair, pushing it back. “Oops,” you smirk, your stomach fluttering at how pretty his eyes look with his crows feet.

His hair is soft beneath your fingers, thick and tangled. Your gaze sweeps over his face, his neck, his chest. Faint freckles mark his warm skin. You wonder faintly if he has any tattoos.

“Whatcha starin' at?” He chews at his lip, a hand dropping to gently palm your ass over the sheets.

“You’re really fuckin’ attractive.”

He chokes on a laugh, a grin spreading across his face. “Jesus, girl.” He shakes his head at you. He slowly sits up against the headboard, dragging you closer in his lap. “You’re blunt when you’re sober,” he smirks, leaning down to kiss your shoulders.

“Can’t help it,” you mutter, arching your neck to give him space.

“‘S that right?” He nips gently at your throat.

“Mhm,” you sigh.

“I’ve got a few new observations too. Wanna hear?” He lifts a brow at you, struggling to suppress his smile. You nod, your hands slide to rest on his shoulders.

He leans in, his lips pressed to the shell of your ear. “You look good with makeup running down your face.”

You flinch back with an embarrassed gasp, your hands smacking over your face. “You’re kidding-” you groan. “Is it everywhere?”

He snickers heartily, his fingers slowly wrapping around your wrists. You try to keep yourself covered but he easily tugs your hands away. “I’m just teasing, baby,” he chuckles. “You’re fine.”

“Are you?” You lift a suspicious brow at him.

He shrugs slightly. “Only a little.”

You groan and drop your head onto his shoulder. “Oh god-” you huff. In reality, you shouldn’t feel so bad. You know he seems to like it. But the image of yourself you’ve cooked up in your head looks like a mess.

And Bucky is by far the hottest man you’ve ever slept with. So being a mess is less than desirable.

He rubs your back gently, his cheek knocking into the crown of your head. “You’re fine, you’re fine. It’s only a little eyeliner.”

You shake your head in embarrassment, your lips pressed firmly to the thick muscle of his shoulder.

“You’re not gonna look at me now?”

You shake your head.

“Mkay,” he hums. You gasp when his fingers slid into your hair, curling around the strands and yanking. He easily pulls you back to look at him, a gentle sting sizzling against your scalp. He tilts his chin up and presses a soft kiss to the corner of your eye. “So pretty.”

Your stomach twists, butterflies knotting inside you. Jesus. You’ve never had a one night stand like this before.

You stare at him, your face aflame.

“Not gonna hide?”

“No…” you whisper. He easily retracts his hand from your hair.

“Good girl.” He snickers when your eyes bulge.

“Jesus-” you shake your head at him, wiping your eyes with your finger tips. Before another word can leave your mouth, your phone rings somewhere in the room. Your spine immediately straightens. “That’s mine-” You blurt looking over your shoulder past the bed.

You awkwardly climb out of Buck’s lap, dragging the sheets with you in search of your phone. You find it by the door, with your heels and purse.

You have three missed calls from Wanda.

“Shit…” You mutter, calling her back. It rings once before she’s answering.

“Y/n? Finally!” Wanda groans.

“Hey, what’s up? Are you okay?”

“Ah- we’re locked out of the house, can you come by and let us in?” She awkwardly mutters.

“What? Both of you? Where did you sleep last night?” You frown.

“We got a cab to Pietro’s, slept there. But we still can’t find our keys.”

“How did both of you lose your keys?” You groaned.

“Nat put hers in my purse, and then I put mine in my purse, but I think I left my purse in the cab.” You could hear her cringing through the phone. “Nat’s gotta get ready for work, so can you please come home and let us in?”

You stiffen, glancing back at Bucky, who is shameless staring at you from the bed. “I uh- yeah, I’ll be right there. Gimme like-” you glanced at the time. “20-30, okay?”

“Thank you so much- we owe you.”

“Big time,” you hiss, then hang up. You turn back to face Bucky, your fists white knuckled against the sheets. “I have to go.”

“I caught that,” he smiles, lazily rolling out of bed. Your face heats as you watch him find and tug on his boxers. You watch him shamelessly, your gaze traveling down the expanse of muscle beneath his skin.

He steps into your space, and only now did it really sink in how tall he is. Large hands cup your jaw, pulling you up to kiss him. You sigh against his tongue as he takes the lead, easily molding you beneath his hands.

You lean your weight into him, your body sagging against his.

He pulls back with a wet sound, his tongue darting out to lick over your lips.

“Can I see you again?” You blurt, your eyes fluttering open as he sighs against your skin.

He smirks, his nose nudging yours. “You wanna see me again?” He teases, stretching it out.

You nod slowly.

He chuckles, then reaches to snag your phone. “‘F course, sweetheart.” He muttered, already punching his number into your contacts.

You try not to look as light-headed as you feel. You try not to seem as excited as you are. “Thanks,” you mutter when he hands you your phone back. You see he sent himself a text from your number.

Pretty girl from the bar.

Weirdly enough, the fact that he put a period at the end of the text is what turned you on.

You watch as Bucky quietly searches for his pants. You stand there, wrapped in the sheet, wearing nothing but your fragile dignity. He doesn’t pull his pants on when he finds them, and instead fishes out his wallet.

Your brows pinch together in confusion. But then he pulls out two twenties and holds them out for you. “Call a cab so it’ll be here when you’re ready.” When you don't move, he smiles softly at you. He pulls your purse from the floor and sticks the money inside.

“I’m gonna get cleaned up in the bathroom, so you can get changed out here, okay?” He lifts a brow at you as he sets your purse back down.

You nod. “Okay.” You mutter, stunned by his caring actions.

He shakes his head at you with a chuckle as he gathers his clothes and enters the bathroom. The door closes with a soft click. You release a shocked breath.

You would have stood there longer, if you didn’t remember that Natasha and Wanda were shivering and waiting for you. You roll your eyes and start gathering your clothes.

When you’re finally dressed and pulling on your heels, Bucky emerges from the bathroom. He’s holding a damp cloth, folding it up as he approaches you.

When you look up at him, he gently pinches your chin and starts wiping smeared mascara from your temples.

You swear you could have blacked out from arousal right then and there.

“Did you call a cab?” He asks, steadily stroking the warm cloth over your eyes. You nod. He smiles and wipes the remaining smudged makeup from your skin. “Good.” He tosses the rag onto the bed.

When you finally stand, he dips down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You lean into it, your stomach twisting with images of the night before.

“Get home safe, sweetheart.” He brushes a soft kiss over your lips, then he’s gone.

You: I’m still sore

Bucky: I bet. Did you get home safe?

You: Yup, safe and sound.

You: When can I see you again?

Bucky: I’ll be busy next week, but after that, when are you free?

You: Any day after that, I’ll make time :)

You: I’ll tell you my work schedule when I get it

Bucky: Can’t wait. I was thinking of your pretty smile the whole way home.

You: That all?

Bucky: And a few other things.

You: Liiiiike

Bucky: Typing this shit out is a lot harder for someone my age, doll.

You: You act like you’re 60

Right as you send that message, another from him comes through.

Bucky: I was thinking about what you would look like with your mouth full.

Bucky: I’m 40, I’m getting up there.

You: I like where your head's at

You: I can’t wait for next week to be over

Though until this morning, you wouldn’t have meant that. You’re actually really looking forward to the upcoming week.

To kick off the summer, your dad invited you and your friends to join him and your step-mother for a week on his new boat. It had been a long running tradition in your family to spend a week with your dad as the weather turned scorching.

He always looked forward to spending time with you, and now he had a shiny new investment to show off to you and his friends.

Free vacation on a boat? Who turns that down?

Natasha was giddily joining you, though Wanda wasn’t gonna be able to make it. She already had a trip planned with her brother to go visit their parents back home. So you and Nat promised to take as many pictures as you could.

“Are you still texting him?” Nat glanced at you, momentarily taking her eyes off the road.

“Maybe,” you grin, tapping your thumbs against the screen.

“I should have left you behind.” She rolls her eyes. “You better not spend all week drooling over your phone.”

“I won’t, I won’t. I’m just having fun.” You snicker. “He’s so cute with how he texts.”

Nat rolls her eyes. “Don’t start.”

The air feels brisk on your skin, with each brush of the breeze. You can almost taste the salt. Laughter drifts from ahead.

Further down the dock, you see your dad handing his wife a crate of beer. She tucks it under her arm and steps onto the looming, luxurious Yacht. “Dad!”

He grins when he sees you, waving dramatically. “Hey, hon,” He scoops you into a bear hug. “And Natty,” He yanks Nat into his arms. She chuckles, smiling to herself .

“Hey Mr. L/n,” she pats his back and releases him.

“How was the drive?” He lifts another pack of beer, handing it to his wife. The older woman waves hello and smacks a kiss to the top of your head.

“Good, Nat drove the whole way,” you bump her shoulder. “I’m just itching to go swimming- when’s take off?” Your father lifts your bags onto the boat, leading the way to the cabins.

“We were just waiting on you two, I’ll let the crew know we’re good to go while ya’ll get settled.” You follow him through the bottom lower deck, into the first of the several lounge areas.

You whistle low, dragging your fingertips along expensive sofas. Nat hides her shock with slightly raised brows. Just past the kitchen is a spiral staircase that leads below deck.

Your room was larger than you thought it’d be. “Geez…” You huff.

“I would have given ya’ll one of the nicer rooms, but since you’re sharing, I thought you’d be fine with the two twins. ‘S that cool, hon?” Your dad slides your suitcases into the shiny, luxurious room.

“There’s bigger rooms?” Nat gapes.

“I’ll give you the grand tour after dinner, how’s that?” He grins. “But first, you two get changed, I want you to meet everyone. We’re having drinks on deck one. Bars on deck three. ‘You girls need anything else?”

“Nah, we’re fine- we’ll meet you up top!” You pull your suitcase on your bed, yanking the zipper open.

You dad says his goodbyes and slips out of the room. Natasha immediately turns to you with a dropped jaw and widely gesturing hands.

“I mean- come on!” She flops back on her bed.

“Right?” You laugh, pulling out your bikini and shawl. “The perks of the corporate ladder.” You sigh wistfully.

“Maybe we need to quit our jobs and go for the office life.” Natasha stretches with a groan.

“You wouldn’t last a day,” you toss your sunscreen at her.

“Hey,” she catches the bottle and shoots up. “I’ve got a good two weeks in me.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up, get dressed. I wanna indulge in the free bar.”

The yacht pulled off from the dock shortly after you boarded. You could feel the initial sway of the water as the mass steadily bobbed. After getting dressed, you and Nat made quick work of exploring the kitchen and luxury lounges.

On the second deck, you found a built in, fully stocked bar. A young man worked the bar, who you eagerly interrogated about the boat.

Apparently, there was a crew of 11 people, all who slept in the very bottom ship. There were three chefs, one bartender, and the rest worked on steering and maintaining the boat.

Two of the maintenance crew worked the diving deck, which was stocked with scuba gear and emergency watercrafts.

Natasha moves behind the bar to pick through the liquor while you continue interrogating the young man. You assume your father had just hired him, because he seemed eager and a little nervous.

“Y/n, hon, c’mere!” Your father shouts from the deck below.

You pull back from the built in bar, plucking a cherry from a small bowl. “I’ll be right back,” you chuckle, leaving Nat to continue mixing your drinks.

You jog down to the lower deck where your father and his friends are talking over beer. You adjust your sunglasses as you step around the built in couch.

“I want you to meet everyone- where’s Natty?” Your dad frowns, squinting up at the bar.

“She’s getting our drinks, she’ll be-...” The words die on your tongue as one of the men by the railing turns back to look at your dad. Then you.

Cool blue eyes find yours.

You can see the moment recognition fries his brain. Furrowed brows shoot to his hairline, dark eyelashes flutter as he gapes at you.

“Oh, hon, c’mere,” Your dad shoves you forward. “This is James, he lives a few houses down from me. He’s my running buddy.” He grins ignorantly.

Your tongue feels weighted and dry as you stare up at the man. “Hi.”

“James, this is my daughter, Y/n. She’s here with her friend Natasha,” he points over your shoulder to the red head.

Bucky’s shocked expression shifts back into something resembling calm. “Nice to meet you,” his lips twitch in a soft smile. You glance down at the large hand outstretched towards you.

You visibly shake your head, snapping yourself out of your daze.

“Yeah, you too-” You loosely shake his hand. You try not to shiver when his callouses brush over your smooth skin.

Bucky’s lips curve into an amused smile.

“Uh- James, you said?” You blurt, yanking your hand back.

“James, but I go by Bucky.” Bucky straightens, his curious gaze sweeping over you. You stiffen, turning to your dad to avoid the obvious flush that begs to creep up your neck.

“I prefer James,” your dad shrugs, nudging the man.

“So…” you swallow, “you’re the James my dad’s been training with?” You knew your father had a friend he worked out with. You knew he had help training for the marathon he ran last spring. But him?

Bucky nods slowly, his blue eyes piercing. “Mhm.”

Your words fizzle out as you stare up at the man. The air feels thin and sharp around you. You feel the weight of your phone in your hand, memories of the texts you shared with him just that morning haunting you.

“And this is Bruce, we work together-” You dads voice cut through the moment as he pulls forward his other friend.

You swallow and take a step back, turning to the other older men introducing themselves to you. You nod along in a daze, not absorbing a single name or relationship.

“I’m- I’ll be right back, I’m gonna grab Nat so you don't have to repeat all this later.” You awkwardly interrupt your dad.

Bucky’s gaze burns into the side of your face.

Your dad makes a face and nods, cracking open a beer. “Mkay, be quick!”

You’re already walking away, trying not to shiver under the weight of Bucky watching you. You can feel it. You hear the low rumble of his voice as he says something to your father.

Your ears start ringing. You nearly slam into Natasha on the way back up the stairs. “Come with me-” You blurt, dragging her with you.

“Hey- don’t make me spill, I just made these.” She hisses.

“I don’t care-” You pull her into the cabin on the second story. You slam the sliding door shut, heaving a rough sigh. “He’s here- and he’s friends with my dad.” You shiver, suspiciously glancing out the window at the deck.

You look for only a second, but it’s like he can feel you. Blue eyes snap up to the window as he takes a slow swig of beer. You choke down an undignified yelp.

“Who? What is happening right now?” Nat smack your arm.

“The older guy from the other night- he’s here.”

Nat stares at you for a long moment, a disbelieving smile spreading across her red lips. “The guy that screwed your brains out?”

You shiver and roll your eyes. “Yes, Nat he’s here- oh my god and he knows my dad-” You huff.

“He’s actually friends with your dad?” Nat snickers, taking a sip from her cocktail. “That’s rich.”

“I was literally texting him on the drive here-” You take your drink from her. You gather you’ll be needing a lot of those to get through this trip.

Nat peaks her head through the glass door. She glances back at you with a cheeky look. “Might wanna finish that, looks like he’s coming up.”

Your heart, once again, drops to your ass. You down the rest of your drink, then the rest of Nat's. “Get out, go, go-” You shoo her. She snickers to herself as she slips out. You hear her voice as she says a sly “Excuse me,” on the way down the stairs.

Oh god.

You barely have a second to collect yourself before he’s standing in front of you.

The door slides shut with a click.

Your gaze slides from the floor to his face, shamelessly taking him in. He’s dressed in black swim trunks and a compression t-shirt, accentuating the dips of his muscles.

“Hi,” you gulp.

“Hi,” he tries to suppress the cheeky grin that fights its way onto his face. His sharp gaze trails over your bathing suit, to the cover up that covered nothing, to the tight grip you had on your glass.

“So this is what was keeping you busy for the next week.” You supply helpfully.

“Mhm,” he takes a careful step closer. You don’t pull back. He slowly pulls the sunglasses from your face and sticks them in your hair. “Your dad, huh? Didn’t see that coming.” He mutters, his fingers brushing a line down your cheek.

You glance out the tinted windows, down where Natasha was socializing with your dad. Nerves and paranoia curl into something painful as it flutters in your stomach.

“Yeah,” you whisper, your breath hitching in your chest when his thumb drags over your lips.

“You’re full of surprises,” he hums, tilting his head down at you. He curls his hand around your jaw, lifting your head fully to look at him. You swallow heavily. “So,” he sighs, his breath ghosting your cheek, “What do you want to do?”

You try to hide the fact that you’re teetering on the edge of breathlessness. You try to seem unaffected. You blink stupidly. “What?”

His fingers twitch against your jaw, pressing softly into your cheeks. His smirk curls deeper. “What do you want to do?” He repeats.

“Do you want to pretend nothing happened?” His free hand tugs the empty glass from your fingers. He slips it on the table behind you. “We can ignore the other night and play nice for your dad. Or,” His grip tightens slightly against your jaw, his smile deepening. His pretty crows feet curve against his skin. “Or we make good on our plans.”

“Our plans,” you pant, leaning into him subconsciously. “For seeing each other again?”

“Mhm,” he hums, his free hand skating down your naked waist. “I could show you a few of the things I’ve been thinkin’ about.” He drags his rough palm over your hip. He doesn’t even seem to hesitate over his next words. “You ever been fucked on a boat, sweetheart?”

You shiver, your eyes falling shut. You shake your head.

“Words,” he whispers, his nails pressing into your hip.

“No,” you gasp, swallowing around your tongue. His firm grip on your jaw keeps you from hiding from him. “I haven't.”

“Mm,” he nods in thought. “Wanna try it?”

You nod without thought, blinking back up at him. Your body feels hot. You can feel your pulse in your toes. “Yeah.” You pant.

He smirks, tugging you closer by the jaw. He presses a bruising kiss to your lips, his stubble scraping your face raw. His tongue drags slowly over yours, slow and claiming.

He hums appreciatively, guiding you gently with each slick slide of the kiss. Your wandering hands find his chest, your fingers curling into his tight black shirt.

He snickers into your mouth as you press closer, mocking your desperation.

A chorus of laughter drifts from outside, shocking you back into the moment. You yank back, he lets you go without a fight. You stumble into the table behind you with a wince. Bucky tilts his head at you, brown hair highlighted with grays falling into his eyes.

“Careful,” he glances at your hip. But your gaze is stuck on the way his tongue swipes over his slick lips. He leans back against the wall, his arms folded over his chest.

You suck in a shaky breath, steadying yourself. Why can’t you catch your breath? “My dad can’t find out.” You blurt.

He chuckles. “Goes without saying, sweetheart.”

You nod to yourself, wiping a hand down your face. You wince internally, hoping your lips don’t look too puffy. “Okay- okay, um…”

Bucky sees your panic and sighs. He pushes off the wall, stepping back into your space. You curse yourself, still barely holding it together. He pushes thick locks of hair behind your ears, cupping your face. “If you don’t want him to find out, you have to relax,” he mutters.

You nod, your cheeks puffing from his hold.

He bites back a smile. He pecks your lips, gentler than you were expecting. “C’mon, go get a drink and socialize. I’ll find you later,” he whispers, pulling back with a light smile. “Just relax.”

“Okay,” you nod obediently, taking a deep breath.

He chuckles and releases you. “You’re cute,” he shakes his head, then slips out the glass doors. You’re left alone, struggling to breathe.

When you rejoin the party, Nat’s telling a story, and has every last one of the men wrapped around her finger. You slide up beside her, dropping onto the heated leather of the couch.

The sun hangs high in the cloudless sky, beating down on your skin. You’re sweating. But you can’t tell if it's from the literal heat, or from the way you keep glancing back at Bucky- only to find him already looking at you.

He sips slowly on his beer, his palms growing slick against the perspiration. You spot the pink of his tongue as it swipes over the rim.

You snap your gaze back to the center, to where your father is boasting about fishing stories.

“I’ve been trying to get my girl to come with me, but she just hates her old man,” he huffs, gesturing to you.

“Dad, fishing isn’t exactly up my alley.” You shake your head at him.

“You go hiking with your mother all the time,” he pouts.

“Because hiking doesn’t include fish guts, and sitting in silence. Take one of them fishing!” You snicker, tossing your hand at his group of friends.

“James said he’d fish with me once we park her,” your dad pats the metal backing of the couch.

Your gaze flickers to the mentioned man, who peaked up once hearing his name. “You fish, James?” You watched him over the rim of your glass, sipping on your cocktail.

His lip twitches in amusement. “Mm, not much.” He mutters, shrugging his shoulders lightly. “But I’ll give it a try, since you’re slackin’ on your old man.”

You shake your head, taking a cherry stem between your teeth. “Please tell me you won’t be gutting fish out here,” you turn to your dad.

“We can’t eat it if we don’t prepare it, hon,” Your dad chuckled, setting a hand on his belly.

“The stink of fish guts is exactly what this vacation needs,” your step-mother, Claire, grimaces as she walks up with a bowl of chopped fruit. “I’m with Y/n. If you’re fishing out here, you’re throwing it back.”

You grin, taking the bowl from the woman. “Thank you very much, Claire.”

“Will you give it a try then?” Bucky’s voice makes you freeze, a thick chunk of watermelon stuffed into your cheek. “Without the stink and death, might as well.”

You chew slowly, your stomach turning as you lock eyes with the man. “I think you can handle it on your own.” You pass the bowl of fruit to Nat. “I’ll sit in the hot tub and watch.”

“Watchin’s no fun.” He sips on his beer. Under the bright rays of sunlight, you can see the speckled gray of his hair a little clearer.

“I’ll make do.” You shrug, crossing your legs. You don’t miss the way his gaze flickers to the movement. Your stomach twists with something hot.

“I’ll go fishing with you guys,” Bruce, one of your dads other friends, awkwardly chimes in. You could almost laugh at the innocent shift.

“I’ll go with Y/n and sit back. I’m not one for fishing.” Everett, another friend, makes a sarcastic face before swigging from his beer.

Natasha sets the bowl of fruit on the couch and tugs you up by the arm. “I’m done with fish talk, come sit with me while I tan.”

You throw one last look over your shoulder as she drags you off. Blue eyes follow you with each step. You snap your gaze forward, your stomach twisting. “Jesus,” you whisper.

“You two are real subtle, babe.” Nat chuckles, dragging you down onto two soft beach chairs. You scoot your chair closer and cross your arms over your eyes.

“He’s so hot,” you groan.

“Say it louder, for the crew to hear.” She snickers, laying back with a sigh.

You bite back a smile, stretching your limbs out to soak in the sun. If you put aside the twisting flurry of arousal and attraction burning in your gut, you felt relaxed.

Beyond relaxed. Out here, the air is crisp and fresh, smelling of salt and sunscreen. On the lower decks, if you leaned close enough over the railing, you could feel the cold water misting your face.

You’ve been excited for this trip for weeks now, feeling like summer has finally arrived.

All you wanted to do was swim in the ocean and lounge around with free snacks.

Now, you wanted the same things. Just add screwing the shit out of Bucky to that list, and it’d be perfect.

After you finally get your fill of the sun, you and Nat move down to soak in the hot tub. You have to turn down the temperature so you don't get heat stroke, but god those bubbles feel nice. You sink back into the water and stare up at the clear sky as Nat rambles quietly.

Natasha doesn’t often allow herself to wind down. You were honestly still shocked you got her to join you.

The jets hum softly beneath you, easing your muscles as the salt-tinged breeze brushes your skin. The day’s heat lingers, but the warm water cocoons you in comfort, making the transition into evening feel effortless.

It’s quiet, but not silent. You hear the soft lapping of waves against the hull, the occasional distant call of seabirds, and maybe the gentle clink of ice in a nearby cocktail glass.

The sun slowly drifts towards the horizon, casting melted colors across the water. Light reflects off the waves, rocking and swaying with each brush of the wind.

The drive over took you girls longer than you thought it would, so by the time you set out, it was the late afternoon. With only a few hours on the water, dinner time was already around the corner.

“Girls, start drying off, we’re heading in for dinner,” your father shouts up at you from the lower deck.

Nat rises from the water, playfully splashing you on her way out. “You coming?”

“Mhm, in a minute, I’ll meet you inside.” You hum, your eyes sliding closed.

“Mkay,” Nat wraps the towel around herself and leaves you to yourself. You can hear your fathers loud, boisterous laughter from inside. You assume he’s getting giddy over dinner.

You sink deeper into the water, the warmth beckoning you in as the air grows chillier.

“You planning on skipping dinner?” You jump, water splashing over the edge as you look back. Bucky smiles at you from the steps, that cheeky look on his lips.

“No, just didn’t wanna get out yet.”

“Mm,” he hums, tilting his chin up to glance at the temperature gauge.

“Are you not heading in?” You swallow, feeling bare beneath his gaze.

He shrugs. “They’re gonna bring the food outside, to the lounge.” He nods his head to the lower deck. He snags your towel from the nearby chairs and holds it out for you. “C'mon.”

You lift a brow at him. “Bossing me around now?” You huff, but obediently climb out of the water.

Bucky watches the droplets slide down the valley between your breasts. “‘Mhm,” he hums, a soft sigh leaving his chest when the towel wraps fully around you. “You’re good at listenin’.”

You swallow, your throat feeling dry. “Am I?”

“We’ll find out.” He smirks, gently pushing wet hair from your face. You shiver beneath his touch.

You glance around you, paranoia mixing with arousal. “Someone could see…” You whisper.

His smile twists deeper. His palm curls around your nape. Your knees feel like jelly. “I know,” he mutters, slowly guiding you indoors. You pant softly, feeling breathless as he maneuvers you with a possessive grip.

You follow him into the small sitting area, nothing up there but the bathrooms and a few sofas. A spiral staircase stood between the two restroom doors.

“Where are we going?” You waver, your breath hitching when his thumb strokes your neck.

“Right here,” he pushes you out of view of the windows, pressing you to the wall. Your head knocks back against the firm wall, your gaze a little spacey. Bucky’s warm fingers slip beneath your towel, tugging until it falls to the floor. You gasp, your stomach clenching.

He smiles to himself, pleased with how reactive you are. His knuckles trail between your breasts, then brush over your stomach. “What room’s yours?”

“Huh?” You blink, staring up at him.

He chuckles, meeting your gaze. “What room’s yours?” He tilts his head, his knuckles brushing the hem of your bathing suit bottoms.

“It’s- It’s the fourth one down, to the left,” you pant. “I’m sharing with Nat.”

He nods slowly, his fingers sliding beneath the ties of your bottoms. You hold your breath. “Mkay,” he mutters, pulling back and releasing the band with a snap. You flinch, your stomach flipping. He snickers at you.

A heat rises up your neck, embarrassed and too flustered to care.

“My room is the first one to the right, when you go down the main steps.” He whispers, the hand on your neck gently massaging your muscles. Your lashes flutter. He leans down, trailing his lips over your throat.

“Careful,” you swallow, “not to rub off my foundation…”

“Hm?” He mutters, pressing a soft kiss to the hinge of your jaw.

“I’m- I’m wearing makeup on my neck.” He pulls back enough to look at you, his brow quirked. “You left a few marks the other night. I had to cover them up.”

The sly grin that spreads across his face is less than subtle. His thumb presses firmly to your neck, where he still holds your nape. “Might wanna go easy on swimming.”

“Waterproof,” you smirk.

“Gotta love science,” he dips back down to press a lingering kiss to your jaw. “Where?”

Your shaky hand slides between you. You tap the curve of your shoulder. “Here,” you tilt your head back. “Here,” you brush the apple of your throat. “Here,” you trail your fingertips to several places along your collarbones.

His warm breath tickles your throat as he chuckles, finding great amusement in marking you up. “Don’t want daddy to see,” he pulls back, releasing his grip on your nape.

You roll your eyes, arching into his touch as his fingers press into your side. “Shut up.”

“Do you remember what I said?”

You frown. “What?”

“Where's my room?”

“Oh-” you smack your lips, smiling awkwardly. “Nope.”

“First one to the right when you go down the main steps.” He repeats. “Repeat it back.”

You shiver under his authoritative tone. “First one to the right.”

“What staircase?” He lifts a brow.

“Main one, the main stairs.” You swallow.

He gives you a pleased smile. “Good girl,” he whispers, leaning down to brush his lips over yours.

You lean into it, but he’s gone too soon. He steps back, leaving you cold and panting. You frown at him as he picks up your towel. “Dinners starting. Don’t wanna keep them waiting.”

You wrap the towel around yourself and nod, wiping a hand down your flushed face. Before you can get another word out, Bucky’s already leaving the room.

You stare at him go, trying desperately to catch your breath.

You find yourself at Bucky’s door late into the night.

Dinner was lengthy, shared over drinks and laughter, and plans for the next day. After the meal was finished, everyone took their desserts- scoops of ice cream- to the deck to stare at the stars.

Out on the ocean the stars burned brighter. For the first time in your life, you could really count the constellations.

Your father and his friends poured over generous amounts of beer, listening to music and shouting with laughter.

You and Nat stayed to yourselves, watching and snickering at your dad as he got more and more drunk.

When the night finally came to an end, you felt more awake than ever. You spent the entire night dodging looks from Bucky- hoping to keep your composure.

And now, freshly showered and changed, you stood outside his door. Praying he wasn’t asleep.

You knocked gently on the door, your knuckles thudding softly.

With little to no shame, you leaned in and listened for any signs of life. You waited, barely breathing, but heard nothing. You started to doubt yourself, when you finally caught the sound of the bathroom door clicking.

The door swung open in front of you, revealing Bucky, messily toweling his hair dry. Your gaze travels down his body, to the dark blue boxers being all that clothed him.

A large hand slips around your wrist, tugging you inside. “Standin’ in the hall isn’t exactly secretive,” He chuckles, closing the door behind you.

“Right,” You whisper, peeking around him into his room. You blow out an impressed whistle. “Damn, my dad was serious about the rooms. We got the short end of the stick.”

You step further into the room, to the full sized bed and spacious bathroom.

Plush cream carpet, smooth cherry wood accented walls, polished marble crowning, warm glowing lights. Three towering windows peaked out to the dark blue ocean. By the doors to the hall and bathroom sat a cushioned sofa, where Bucky’s suitcase lived.

Rough hands settle on your hips, a thumb slipping beneath your shirt. Your stomach tenses as stubble drags over the tender flesh behind your ear.

“Maybe don’t mention your dad while you’re in here,” he chuckles throatily, the sound vibrating gently into your skull.

You nod shakily, leaning back into his firm chest. “Right,” you whisper.

His warmth sinks through the thin fabric of your top.

“Did you have fun tonight, baby?” He drags a soft kiss along the side of your neck.

“Mhm, lots.” You sigh, tilting your head back for him.

“Excited for tomorrow?” He presses his lips beneath the curve of your jaw, inhaling deeply. You shiver, your lashes fluttering closed. “Gonna go swimmin’?”

You nod, rolling your head back against his shoulder. He nuzzles his nose into your hair, smelling your conditioner. “Yeah,” you swallow. “Gonna go diving. What about you? ‘Re you gonna fish with you-know-who?”

He slaps your ass playfully, chuckling into your hair. “Watch it.” You press back into him with a sigh, a smile curling at your lips.

“Oops.”

His fingers slip beneath your shirt, his palm pressing into you as he brushes your stomach. “Bring up you-know-who again and Imma fuckin’ gag you,” he huffs, dragging his finger tips along the hem of your bra.

You groan, pushing your hips back against him. “Don’t tempt me.”

He shakes his head at you, pulling his hands from your shirt. He pushes you forward by the hips until you’re in the center of the room. You look back at him with a frown, swaying on your feet unsteadily.

Bucky sits down on the edge of the bed, his knees spread naturally. “Look at me,” he tilts his head at you.

You turn to face him, but before you can move any further, he shakes his head.

“I wanna see how good you listen,” he smirks, looking up at you through dark lashes.

You breath hitches in your chest, like your lungs are slowly being pressed down on by something stronger. Something big. “Okay,” you whisper.

He gives you a pleased look. He slides his hand down his thigh. Your gaze drops to his underwear. To the tent, steadily forming.

“Eyes on me sweetheart,” He chuckles, making you jump. Your eyes snap back to his. “Get undressed.”

You shiver, nodding shakily as you yank your top off. You nearly trip over yourself as you tug your pants off, tossing them somewhere across the room. “This too?” You breathlessly gesture at yourself, your underwear.

“Mm-mm. Not yet.” He smiles. “C’mere,” he holds his hands out to you.

You step between his spread knees, your hands falling to his shoulders. His rough hands slide down your body, along the dip of your waist, over the curve of your ass. You arch into his touch, a flush rushes up your neck as you stare down at him.

He leans forward, holding your gaze as he presses a gentle kiss to your stomach. His palms curl around the backs of your thighs, his fingers pressing firmly into the soft flesh. He tilts his head up, dragging a soft kiss along the swell of your breasts.

His hands slide back up, over your shoulders. He pushes the straps back. “Now?” You whisper into the quiet air between you.

He smirks, his stubble casting a dark shadow into his smile lines. He nods, watching with his lip between his teeth as you unlatch the clasp. You drop the flimsy material to the carpet.

A warm flush burns behind your skin as you inhale a shaky breath, standing before him bare.

“Hm,” he hums softly, his large hands sliding up your stomach to gently palm your breasts. “So pretty, baby.” He presses a soft kiss to your nipple, his thumb circling the other one.

You shiver, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he swipes his tongue over the soft point. His sharp stubble drags over the tender underside of your breast. “Prettiest.”

You sink your teeth into your tongue, forcing yourself to stay quiet. Something about the quiet way he nips at your chest makes you feel breathless. Embarrassed.

“Bucky…” You pant, swallowing around your dry tongue.

“Want somethin’, baby?” he smiles as he rolls your nipple between his teeth. “Speak up.”

You tug gently on his hair. “I don’t know what I want…”

He lifts his head, a smirk curled deeply on his face. “Yeah,” he whispers, his hand cupping your jaw. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, pulling at it gently. “But you know what to do.”

You nod into his touch, sucking his thumb into your mouth. He makes a pleased sound. You slowly sink to your knees, your tongue swirling around the rough pad of his finger. He presses down on your tongue, watching the way your jaw drops.

He watches you, something dark in his eyes. Like he was seeing something you couldn’t. “‘S that feel good? Havin’ something in your mouth?”

You nod, your lashes fluttering as you lean into his large hand. “Mhm…”

His smirk twists into a dark grin, something pleased spreading across his face. He pulls his thumb from your mouth, then wipes it on your cheek. He pushes his fingers back into your hair. Your wet lips press together as your struggle for air. You blink up at him, something hot and slick pooling in your stomach.

“Show me you know how to be good.” He whispers, his nails scratching at your scalp.

You drop your head to his thigh, choking on an aroused gasp. God, you can’t catch your breath. He chuckles at you, gently petting your hair.

“Too much, baby?” He hums, his lips press together as he coos down at you.

“No- no,” you shake your head, swallowing around the lump in your throat.

“Then do as you’re told,” the command is firm, but his sweet tone softens the blow. You shiver and nod obediently, fluttering your eyes open from where your cheek is pressed to his thigh.

You pant softly, your hot breath ghosting over the aching tent in his boxers, inches from your face. You nuzzle forward, dragging your lips over his erection.

Bucky sighs above you, spurring you on.

You press a firm kiss to the shaft, his heat radiating through the fabric. You drag your tongue over the wet spot where the cloth stuck to the head. His fingers tighten in your hair.

“Such a tease,” he chuckles, shaking your head with his firm fist in your hair.

“Can I?” You whisper, your voice muffled from where you nuzzle into his bulge.

“‘F course, baby. Go ahead.” His thumb traces circles into your scalp.

Trembling hands slip under the waistband, tugging down until he lifts his hips. Your breath hitches when you free his aching erection, the length bobbing subtly, flushed a warm color.

You lean forward, sliding your tongue along the thick vein along the underside of his cock. Bucky’s abdomen visibly tenses. He huffs above you, but says nothing.

You press another soft kiss to his tip, precum staining your lips as you pull back. You glance up at him, cold blue eyes meeting yours. Your lips twitch into a cheeky smile as they wrap around the head.

His brows twitch together, his jaw clenching tight as he exhales a shuddering breath.

You suckle gently, your tongue swirling around the head before pressing into his slit. His lashes flutter as he forces himself to keep his eyes on you.

“I was right,” he whispers, using his grip on your hair to guide your head down further. “You look good with your mouth full.”

You hum, hollowing your cheeks on the way down. Bucky’s eyes roll shut, his hips gently rocking into your face. Your throat spasms around him when he presses too far, but he doesn’t seem to care.

You let your eyes fall closed, relaxing yourself as he guides you. You let him take what he wants. The dull ache in your jaw spreads, the tingle in your scalp burns as he yanks at the strands.

But you take it.

A moan falls from Bucky’s lips, the sound rough in his chest. He pants softly, rocking his hips up.

“Takin’ it so good, baby. Just like I knew you would.” He grunts, his stomach twitching as the muscles flutter. “‘Bet you take everything so well. So good for me.”

You moan around his cock, swallowing as he rolls his hips into your mouth. He chokes on a groan, his hips stuttering until he’s pressed to the back of your throat. Your throat spasms again, a wet sound falling from your lips as you struggle to breathe.

Bucky holds you there, his grip on your hair tugging gently as he forces you to kiss his pelvis.

He watches you with a satisfied smirk as you struggle, your eyes rolling shut. “‘Look so cute like this,” he hums, tilting his head. “All full and obedient.”

You choke, your head instinctively pushing back against his hand. Your nails scrape down his inner thighs. You gag quietly, sucking in thin wisps of air around his cock. But you don’t fight him.

Deep down you like it.

Deep down, you burn hot with shame as you press your thighs closer together.

Bucky finally pulls you back up, until only half his length rests against your tongue. You gasp greedily, your mouth falling open. You swallow around his tip, trying to gather yourself. Bucky rolls his hips, fucking his tongue over the slick expanse of your tongue.

You blink up at him, tears blurring your vision.

He grins down at you, his tongue swiping over the points of his teeth.

You watch the muscles in his stomach flutter, twitching as he drags his cock over your tongue. You pant, holding your mouth open for him as he takes what he wants.

You slowly push a trembling hand between your thighs, your fingers pressing against the soaked center of your panties.

Bucky makes a displeased noise from above you, and then he’s yanking you off his cock, a sharp tingling spreading through your scalp. You hiss, your shoulders bunching up.

“So greedy,” he whispers as he kicks your hand away from your thighs.

“Please…” You choke, wiping your tear stains on your shoulder. “Please.”

His expression easily morphs back to something pleased. Something dark. “You wanna show me how good you are, don’t you?” You nod eagerly. “Then wait to do as you’re told.” He whispers, nudging your knees apart with his foot.

“Bucky-” you whine, your lashes fluttering shut as he rubs circles into your throbbing scalp.

“Shh,” he whispers, pulling his hand from your hair. “C’mere.” He gently pats his thigh. You slowly climb into his lap and slide your arms around his shoulders. He strokes a warm hand down your naked back, following the curve. He pinches your chin gently, guiding you to look at him.

“So pretty,” he mutters.

You huff quietly, leaning in to kiss him. He hums against your lips, stifling a chuckle as you take what you want. His fingers curl around your knees as he lifts you up, but you barely register it. You're too busy rutting your hips against his, sucking softly on his tongue.

He moans into your mouth, his hard cock pressed firmly between your bodies. Your stomach twists as the slick head nudges your stomach.

“Bucky,” you whisper. “Please just touch me-”

“I am touching you, baby.” He whispers, gently pressing you against the window. You huff quietly as the cold glass shocks your system. “Just relax, okay?” His palm slides down your thigh until he finds your panties. “I’ll make you feel good.”

You gasp as his fingers press over the soaked fabric sticking to your pussy. He slips his fingers beneath the thin waistband, his callouses rough against your sensitive skin.

“Yeah?” You gasp, grinding into the heel of his palm as his thumb slides through your folds. “You’re gonna-” you swallow around the choked sound that rises when Bucky pushes a finger inside your slick cunt. “You’re gonna take good care of me?”

“Mhm,” he hums, slipping another thick finger inside. “That’s right. ‘Can’t wait to fuck you to tears.” he whispers, curling his fingers against your fluttering walls.

You groan, your nails scraping down Bucky’s nape. “Oh god…”

“Shh,” he kisses your cheekbone gently, nudging your head back against the window. “Just look outside, isn’t the water pretty? Hm?”

Your lashes flutter as you press your hips against his, rolling against his aching erection. His fingers twitch inside you as he gasps, slick precum sticking to your stomach.

“I didn’t say keep your mouth shut, I asked you a question,” he whispers, his stubble burning against your cheek. “Isn’t the water pretty?”

You nod quickly, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “Yes- sorry, yes.”

He smiles against your jaw, his breath tickling against your flesh. “Good girl.” He pulls his slick hand from your panties and wraps his large fingers around his throbbing erection. You suck in a shaky breath as you look down between you, watching as Bucky pumps his cock.

His flushed tip peaks through his fist, his slit dribbling precum before he swipes his thumb over the head. He squeezes on the upstroke, soft groans tumbling from his lips.

You watch as Bucky yanks aside your panties, thumbing at your pretty pussy. You gulp, shifting against him as he nudges you with the head of his cock.

“Greedy little thing,” he chuckles, rolling his hips into yours. You choke on a whine as he slowly fills you, his thick length stretching you open.

At some point, your eyes flutter closed, your body humming with electricity as you slowly sink down on his cock. He groans into your neck, his hands gripping you close.

Something about the firm snap of his hips against yours, the mind numbing pleasure, the choked sounds Bucky makes, it all swirls together into a mess of ecstasy.

You lose yourself in the feeling, clinging to Bucky as he fucks you into the window. Outside, the world is silent, gentle waves rocking against the yacht. Outside that room, the world was oblivious to the degrading way Bucky fucked you.

Oblivious to the way you gave yourself over to him. To the humiliating way he whispered in your ear, quietly laughing at every embarrassing sound you made.

In the back of your mind you knew this was wrong. That this was dangerous. That if your father found out, you would drown in your own shame.

But you ignored that little voice in your head. Because you didn’t care. You didn’t care about the age gap, or the humiliation, or the danger. You didn’t care because it just felt so fucking good to sink down on Bucky’s cock as he whispered filth in your ear.

It felt good to pathetically beg for him to take you harder.

It felt good to let go and sob as he fucked you so hard you saw stars.

Bucky’s rough hands slide over the curve of your ass, his fingers pressing bruises into the tender flesh of your thighs. Your sweaty back presses into the cold window, the chill like heaven on your skin.

Bucky rolls his hips into yours, each thrust knocking you up the wall. He chuckles into your throat as you whine, his teeth nipping at your jaw. “‘S that feel good, baby?”

You gasp, his cock punching something tender in your stomach. “Fuck-” you whine. You knock your head back against the window, panting softly.

Bucky hooks his arms under the crooks of your knees, spreading you open for him to torment. “‘You like gettin fucked like a whore on daddy’s boat?” His tongue swipes over his lips. “Huh? ‘S it make you feel dirty?”

You choke on a sob, your eyes fluttering shut. “Bucky-” you whine.

He chuckles, dragging his tongue along your throat. “Hm? Tell me, sweetheart.”

You pant softly, sinking down on his cock. Bucky unloops a hand from your leg and slithers between you, his fingers pressing over your lower stomach. Your eyes roll back as Bucky groans into your hair. He slides his palm firmly over your lower stomach, feeling his own cock move inside you.

You roll your head back, your tear stained cheek pressed to the cold glass. Your lashes flutter against the fog your breath casts. Beyond the mind numbing pleasure, you registered the dark roll of the ocean, moonlight reflecting off the surface.

“You still in there, sweetheart?” He snickers, chewing at your earlobe. You shudder, rolling your hips against his. “Try to focus, baby.” he whispers.

You roll your head back to look at him, your fingers curling in his dark hair. A flush rises up his neck, painting his skin a warm color. His lips part around muffled groans, his brows furrowed. Blue eyes watch you with intensity, almost too much.

You shudder in humiliation, gasping quietly as Bucky pets his fingers down your stomach, his thumb brushing over your clit. “You’re so cute when you’re fucked stupid,” he grins lazily.

He swipes a stray overwhelmed tear from your cheek, then sucks it off his thumb.

You rock your hips into his, the coil in your stomach twisting tighter. Desperation flares in your chest as your second orgasm draws closer, just within reach.

“I-I can’t-” you whimper, locking your ankles tighter around his waist.

Bucky coos, his heavy hand petting down the side of your face. “It’s okay baby, it’s okay.” He whispers. He peppers gentle kisses against your lips, his facial hair scratching your soft skin. “You’re okay,” he slowly pumps his cock into your soaked cunt, each roll of his hips rendering himself breathless.

He pants into your mouth, his tongue pressing into yours.

“You’re doin’ so good for me, sweetheart.” He whispers, palming your breast between you. You sob against his lips, pressing closer to him as you whine. He chuckles, dragging a soft kiss against the corner of your lips. “Shh, gotta stay quiet. Don’t want anyone to hear.”

You nod helplessly against him, squirming as he slows his thrusts. “I’ll be quiet, I’ll be good- I promise…” you whisper.

“That’s right,” he smiles, grinding his cock into your cunt. “Be a good girl for me and keep quiet. Wanna keep you all to myself, can’t have daddy hear his little girl sobbing over my cock.”

You choke on a moan, your stomach clenching at his words. Your walls flutter around him, making his hips stutter. “Jesus-” you gasp, rolling your head back into the window. “Please just fuck me-”

He snickers, his arms curling back under your knees as he pulls you away from the window. “I’ll take care of you, baby.” He carefully lays you back on his bed, then pushes your arms up over your head. “You just need to be a good girl and take it.”

He snaps his hips forward, catching you off guard. You make a punched out noise as he presses your wrists into the blankets and fucks you into the mattress.

He licks over your lips as you pant, jaw slack. You press your heels into his lower back, pulling him closer.

“That’s it, just take it.”

“Get your ass up, James, we’re going fishing!” The door rattled heavily under the beat of your fathers fist.

You startled awake, your eyes snapping open. Bucky flinched on top of you, his head snapping up from where he was nuzzled into your neck. You twitch, blinking groggily against the sunlight streaming through the window.

Bucky’s large hands skate down your naked body, his palm resting against your ass.

The door rattles again, your father knocking repeatedly. “We're in the middle of the ocean, get off your ass!”

“I’m comin’!” Bucky shouts, wiping a hand down his face. “Let me get up, asshole.”

Your father laughs heartily as he walks down the hall. Bucky drops his head back against your chest, his lips grazing your collar bone. He sighs, grumbling as he curls his arms back around your body. You grunt as he pulls you close, rolling almost on top of you.

You squirm, exhaustion settling deep in your bones. Your leg shifts where it's thrown over Bucky’s hip, your arms stretch over his shoulders.

Bucky yawns as he rubs his face against your shoulder, his stubble stinging your sensitive flesh. “G’morning…”

You swallow, your nails raking down his spine. “Morning, handsome.”

You feel him smile against your neck, a soft chuckle vibrating from his chest to yours. He pushes up, leaning over you with a lazy grin. He strokes your side, his fingers dancing over your breast to slide up your jaw. “Aren’t you pretty,” he hums, leaning down to peck your lips.

You tilt up into him, your lips dragging over his tenderly. A soft blush flushes your skin, staining you with your own embarrassment. When he pulls back you finally get a good look at him, with his messy bed head and soft blue eyes, crows feet curling at the corners as he smiles.

Words are lost on you for a moment.

A knock cuts through the silence again, thumping against the door. “I’m making breakfast, are you coming up? The girls are still asleep, so it’ll just be us and the guys.” Your dad must be making his rounds, waking up his friends, since he circled back.

You flinch again, cringing quietly. Bucky bites back a smile as he pushes his fingers into your hair, raking back the tangled strands. You involuntarily lean into his hand, purring beneath his firm touch.

“If you’re not getting up, I’m waking up the girls and you’ll be the only one left out.” Your father grumbles from the hall.

You flinch, your body going rigid. “How am I getting out of here?” You whisper, dragging your nails down his chest.

Bucky winces, his fingers pressing into your nape. “Jesus, man, I’m coming- pull the stick outta your ass,” he shouts over his shoulder, leaning up a little further.

You shamelessly peak down between your bodies, ogling the muscles in his abdomen as they tense.

“Alright, alright, then I’m going up. Wake up the girls when you’re done, okay?”

“Fine,” Bucky responds, listening for footsteps. When he finally turns back, he catches you staring down at him. A sly smirk slips across his lips. “Eyes are up here, doll.”

Your gaze snaps up to his, suppressing a smile with your teeth. “Oops.”

He shakes his head at you with mock exasperation. He clicks his tongue at you. “Nasty girl,” he snickers, diving down to sink his teeth into your shoulder. You giggle, choking on a gasp.

“Hey- I don’t want to bruise!” You squirm, stifling your laughter in his hair.

He soothes over the bite with his tongue, licking gently over his teeth marks. “You’re already painting half your body with makeup, what's a few more?”

You tug at his hair. “It makes my life a whole lot harder,” you laugh.

He rolls his eyes playfully, leaning back over you. “Fine, but you should have reminded me last night,” he hums, kissing over your purpling hickeys. “I count two more, today.”

You groan, twisting beneath Bucky. “Jesus- my neck is off limits now.” You huff, covering your face with your hands.

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head. “Nope, not happening. I like that part.”

You roll your eyes, grinning to yourself. “Shut up-”

He snickers, shifting between your legs. The sheets fall by your feet as he sits back on his ankles, your thighs spread over his. You shudder, instinctively reaching to cover yourself. Bucky catches your squirming hands, his hand wrapping around your wrists.

“Ah-ah,” he grins, sliding a palm down your thigh, over your hip bone. “I like lookin’ at you.” He holds your wrists to your lower stomach. “I haven’t gotten to do that enough.” He mutters, his gaze wandering over your exposed body.

“Bucky-” you pant, your cheeks heated in embarrassment. “We should- we have to go, my dad’s gonna come down to find us-”

He smiles shamelessly at your subtly squirm. His palm strokes over the notch of your hip, over the dip of your waist, along the underside of your breast.

“Shouldn’t be mentioning him in here, remember?” He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Especially not when you're naked in my bed.”

You groan, tugging against the hold he has on your wrists. “You brought him up like a thousand times last night-”

He snickers at you, leaning down to lick a kiss into your mouth. You groan, tilting your chin up into him. He smirks, finally releasing your wrists.

“Alright, fine.” He huffs, pulling back. You swallow a disappointed sigh as he rolls out of bed. You watch him as he finds his suitcase where it's propped on a small sofa. He digs through it until he finds his boxers.

You sigh as you watch them slide over the curve of his ass, shielding him from your prying gaze. He glances back at you, a grin curling at the corners of his lips.

“Perv,” he tugs out a shirt and tosses it to you.

You yank it over your head, shielding yourself. “You’re one to talk.”

You crawl out of bed, picking your clothes up piece by piece.

“That’s for sure,” he mutters, staring at you ass as the shirt rides up when you bend.

You straighten quickly, tugging the hem down. “You’re definitely the perv.” You chuckle, moving towards the door. “An old perv.”

He smacks your ass as he follows you to the door, making you jump. “Shut your mouth,” he huffs, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder. You lean back against him, swallowing a sigh.

He nips at your jaw, his fingers tickling your hip. You roll your head back against his shoulder. “I should go…”

“Mhm, you should.” He whispers, pecking a dark bruise along your neck.

You clench your teeth and pull out of his grip. “I should,” you blink through your haze. Without looking back, you creak open the door and peek down the hall. “It’s clear,” you whisper, turning back to him. “I’ll see you at breakfast?”

He nods, stroking his knuckles down your cheek. “Mhm, sounds good.” He leans down and kisses you. You sigh against his mouth, rocking on your heels. “I’ll see you then, sweet girl.” He whispers against your lips.

You shiver, pulling back. “Mhm,” you yank the door open and slip into the hall, breathless.

When you finally get back to your room, Natasha is there waiting- already in her bikini and lacy cover-up. When you turn to face her, wearing only Bucky’s shirt and a handful of bruises, she grins.

“You better tell me every last fucking detail.” She drops her phone. “But only after you shower and clean all of him off of you-” she waves a hand at you.

You choke on a laugh. “For sure,” you drop your clothes. “And trust me-” you glance back at her, a hand on the bathroom doorknob. “There’s a lot of him on me.”

She grimaces, shaking her head at you. “Disgusting, get in there.”

You snicker and shut yourself in the bathroom. You make quick work of your shower after catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror; hair knotted to all hell, neck littered in hickeys and love bites, lips swollen and flushed.

By the time you were clean and dressed in your bathing suit, Natasha was nearly asleep with boredom. And by the time you were finished telling her about your long, long, night of sexual escapades, you were starving.

“Can-” you spoke through laughter, “can we please go to breakfast now?”

Nat sighs from where she’s spread out on her bed. “Fine- I can imagine you're fucking starved after all-” she gestures between your legs. “That.”

“Jesus,” you roll your eyes, grabbing your bag of sunblock and towels. “Let's go, once we eat we can go swimming.” You bounce your shoulders in excitement.

Natasha follows you into the hall, smacking your ass as you climb the stairs. “You just wanna get out there so you can see him.”

“Shut it, I don’t want anyone to hear you,” you shove her with your bag. She shrugs as she leads you into the first level cabin.

“Whatever.”

The kitchen smells of bacon and toast when you both finally enter. You find your step-mother smacking a piece of bacon from your dads hand while they quietly bicker about his health.

“Eat some eggs first- you know what the doctor said about your cholesterol.” She huffs, hands on her hips.

Your dad peaks over his wife's shoulder and spots you, relief flooding his expression. “Hon, thank god, come here and let her fret over your health.” He gestures to your step-mom.

You roll your eyes and lean against the counter, plucking the bacon from your dads hand. “Don’t think I’m on your side,” you take a bite. “Eat some fruit or something- did you chop the fruit?” You ask Claire. She nods, turning back to your dad. “See, she even chopped you fruit.” You tsk.

Natasha busies herself with filling glasses with juice and iced coffee. “I don’t think you’re gonna win this one, Mr. L/n.”

You snicker, grabbing your bag to follow Nat. “Just eat your breakfast, dad, then you can go fish, or whatever.”

You step out onto the deck, squinting as the first rays of sunlight hit your skin. The rest of the men stand by the steps leading into the ocean, leaning against the railing as they sip on their coffee.

You snag a large chunk of watermelon off the large table that stretches across the sundeck, littered with plates of food. You pop it in your mouth, humming as the juice spreads over your tongue.

Your wandering gaze flickers over to where Bucky leans over the railing to get a view of fish swimming past. You look away quickly as your dad steps outside, fishing gear in hand.

“Can you get my back?” Natasha shakes her sunscreen at you.

You swallow hard and snag the bottle from her hand. “Turn,” you flick the cap open.

As the sun climbs higher, you find yourself distracted by the beautiful open ocean.

You laugh over breakfast on the deck- fruit, pastries, and maybe something savory- then both you and Nat stretch out, feeling the warmth of the morning sun sink into your skin.

As the first sheen of sweat begins to stick to your skin, you drag Nat from her cushioned lounge chair. Your step-mother films you both as you dive off the stern, splashing into icy water. You release an undignified shriek when you pierce the surface, a chill zips down your spine.

Natasha curses, shivering as she rakes her hair back.

You laugh like kids, splashing and floating along the surface- only taking strides back to the stern when the waves pull you out.

The sea is refreshing, cradling you in its endless embrace. Around you, the yacht bobs gently, anchored on open water with no one else in sight. The water is unbelievably clear, glowing turquoise near the surface and fading to a deep sapphire below. Sunlight dances on the waves like scattered glass.

A soft breeze brushes your shoulders, the sun warms your face. Your laughter carries across the water, mixing with the sound of waves against the hull and a distant seagull’s cry.

When you get tired, you lounge on the floating mat tethered to the back of the boat, bobbing gently, talking about anything and everything.

You stare up at the blue, cloudless sky, Natasha's voice mixing with the sounds of waves, and gentle music floating from the deck speakers.

Above you, you hear your father shouting laughter with his friends.

You abandon Natasha on the float as you roll back into the water, finding your own blow up to aid you as you flutter your feet.

You glance up to find sharp blue eyes tracking you.

Bucky leans against the yacht railing, watching you with a smirk as he sips from his beer. You try not to writhe beneath his weighted gaze. Try to focus on swimming with your friend, enjoying the sun, and snacking on fruit.

But something about that smirk, those sharp blue eyes, the grays spotting his hair. God, he set you on fire.

Your dad was busy on the other side of the boat, patiently struggling with the fish. He decided to fish at a distance for safety reasons, of course, as you and Nat swam.

But you were more thankful because it gave you the ability to freely stare at Bucky.

Natasha floats, her chunky sunglasses protecting her eyes. “If something tries to bite me, please stab it.”

“Thanks for the reminder, I’ll just get my harpoon.” You chuckle, leaning over your float as you gently kick your legs.

“Just put your man on watch,” Nat slides her sunglasses up.

You flinch, sending a splash her way. She snickers quietly, steering her float further out. You glance back up to find Bucky still watching you, his head tilted slightly.

You can barely remember your original plans for this trip. Probably soaking in the sun, reading on the deck, and dancing to overly loud music before bed. But now, all you want to do is huddle up in Bucky’s room and drool on his cock.

You slowly swim over to the stern, only a few feet away from where Bucky stands. “Gonna get in, or ‘re you just gonna stare?”

He takes a slow swig of his beer. “I’m feelin’ pretty good just staring.”

You bite back a grin. “Creep.”

He lifts a brow, a slow smirk spreading across his lips. “Watch it.”

“Why? Whatcha gonna do?” You rest your head against the gently bobbing deck, salt water sticking to your skin.

Just as he opens his mouth to respond, your father shouts his name from across the boat. He sighs, shrugging. “Just keep guessing.” He mutters, pushing off the railing.

You huff in disappointment as you're figuratively blue balled by your dad.

“You’re a dirty freak,” Natasha shouts from where she’s floating.

You snicker, pushing off from the dock. “Oh, I know.”

The sun has just dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a sky streaked with soft orange and pink. The ship is anchored in calm water, and warm lights glow along the deck. Dinner has just wrapped up- plates pushed aside, half-eaten desserts, and cocktails still in hand. The smell of grilled seafood and lemon lingers in the air.

“Bullshit!” You slap your cards down on the table, groaning loudly. “This game sucks.”

“You need to learn to play poker, hun.” Your dad chuckles, peeking at his cards before picking at his plate.

“Sorry I don’t have thirty years of experience.” You huff, sitting back in your seat.

Bruce glances over Everett’s shoulder at his cards. “I’m with your kid, pick a new game.” He mutters, squinting at his little deck. Everett elbows the man in the side.

Bucky chuckles at the men as they bicker, his gaze shifting to yours over his cards.

“I’ve been trying to teach you for years, hon. You never wanna come over for game nights,” your dad complains around his mouthful of food.

You roll your eyes. “Because your game nights are game nights. I don’t wanna sit there while you and your boys shout at the tv. Besides, I’m usually working.” You laugh, picking a cherry from your cocktail.

“I thought restaurant schedules were flexible!” He crossed his arms.

You chuckled, sipping from your fruity drink as the gentle breeze rocked through the air. “They are, but you still have to request your days off.”

“You’re a server?” Bucky’s voice cuts through the lighthearted banter, making your stomach drop. He takes a long swig of beer, watching you over the bottle.

You swallow, a flush rising up your neck as you nod. “Mhm, for two years. Nat and I work together.”

“Do you like it?” He tilts his head, his usually intense gaze softer now as he watches you.

You shrug, your gaze nervously darting away from his. “I do, kinda.”

“I keep telling her to go back to school, but I think she’s too scared.” Your dad butts in.

You flinch, your wide eyes snapping to your father. “Dad, that is not true-”

“Kinda is,” Natasha mutters from behind you, where she’s picking through dinner in the kitchen.

“Quit eavesdropping and just join the conversation like a normal person, please.” You shout, avoiding Bucky’s gaze as he watches you.

“So you never went to school, or you left school?” Bucky asks, resting his beer bottle against his inner thigh. You intentionally force yourself to not look at the delicious way he man-spreads.

“I dropped out-” you cringe, blinking up at him.

“She panicked.”

“Dad-” you groan.

“What? You did- you had a whole thing and dropped out. It’s normal,” he shrugs.

You turn back to Bucky, his patient gaze making you flush. “I didn’t have a whole thing, I just wasn’t sure if I was going down the right path. Now can we stop talking about college? I left so I didn’t have to think about it.”

Bucky smiles gently at the frown that curls at the corner of your lips. “It’s fine,” he chuckles. “There’s nothing wrong with rethinking things.”

You glance back up at him through your lashes, chewing at your cheek. “Yeah?”

He nods silently, tilting his head at you, like he wants to hear more.

“Well-” you swallow, “I like what I’m doing now. So that’s what matters.”

“Hey,” your dad throws up his hands. “I never said that was a bad thing. I just think it’s never too late to go for a degree.”

You roll your eyes at him, downing the rest of your drink. You couldn’t say his insistence was wrong. He came from an experienced point of view- he spent years on his degree, then climbed the corporate ladder until he got where he was. And where he was, was on his own yacht.

It wasn’t a bad deal.

It just wasn’t for you.

“Your age is for exploring new things,” Bucky shrugs at you, sipping his drink.

You lift a subtle brow at him, your stomach turning. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm,” he nods, smothering his smirk. “I tried all sorts of things when I was your age.” He rolls his neck, wincing when it pops.

Your dad groans, waving his hand at Bucky. “Don’t encourage her- nothing you got up to is something I want her exploring.”

You have to press your lips to a thin line to keep yourself from laughing. Something vaguely smug flashes behind Bucky’s eyes. He tosses his hands up in defense.

You dad smacks a kiss to the top of your head, his arm looped around Claire's waist. “Goodnight, honey.” He sings, following his wife inside. You wave, watching them go.

Dinner and games led into drinks, which led to your dad singing on a table. And after an awful three songs, your step mother dragged him off to bed. Everyone retreated inside after that, as the sun sank below the earth, submerging the ocean in a chill.

But you stayed.

So, curled up on the sofa, you stare out at the sea. It's difficult to tell where the water ends and the sky begins, without the bright sun casting its rays.

But the cold moon illuminates the night with a silver glow, making the waves sparkle like stars.

The water is darker than you thought possible- inky, deep, and alive in its own way. Sometimes it’s perfectly still, like black glass. Other times it ripples with silver where the moonlight touches it. Fish darts just below the surface, like shadows scattering.

A gentle breeze rustles your hair, racing shivers down your spine as you pull your knees to your chest. You listen to the soft waves rock against the hull in a gentle rhythm. Like the sea was breathing, beating like a heart.

A thin blanket drops around your shoulders, making you jump. You look to the right to find Bucky rounding the couch, then plop down beside you.

“Hey,” you pull the blanket around your body, shielding your skin from the chill.

“Hi,” he smiles, propping his arm up behind you. You blink at him for a nervous moment, feeling at a loss for words every time you’re alone with him. He just sighs, his fingers brushing your cheek to tuck your hair behind your ear.

You gulp, hugging your knees tighter to your chest. You instinctively glance back to the cabin, where a single light glows in the kitchen. “Someone could see…” You whisper.

“They’re all in bed. Natasha’s the only one roaming the kitchen,” he hums without tearing his gaze from your face.

“Are you sure?” You glance back up at him, your cheeks dusting a warm pink as his knuckle strokes your jaw.

“Mhm, I had to help Claire tuck your dad in.” He chuckles softly.

You chew at your lip, nodding faintly. “Ah.”

“Not ready to turn in yet?” he tilts his head at you.

You shrug, looking back out at the water. “Nah, I wanted to look at the stars for a bit. My favorite part of being on a boat is seeing the sky at night.”

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head back to look up at the moon. “It’s pretty.” He mutters quietly.

You take a second to stare at his profile, quiet except for the gentle waves. “Mhm.”

“I was lookin’ forward to this trip for the same reason.” He counts the brightest stars. “Sure wasn’t expecting you, though.” He glances at you with a smile.

You huff, looking away from him. “That’s for sure.” You shook your head. “How did you two even meet?”

“I met your dad when I was movin’ into the neighborhood,” he chuckles, his fingers playing with your hair. “He came by and invited me for a barbeque.” You listened silently, shivering when he lightly scratched your scalp. “He started tellin’ me how he wanted to get in shape, so I invited him to join me on my jogs before work. That was about three years ago, now.”

You roll your head to look at him, biting back a smirk. “Speaking of work, my dad lives in a nice ass neighborhood. What do you do?”

“Mechanical engineer,” he hums, his gaze tracing your features.

You gape at him, shaking your head lightly. “Jesus, so you design machines, and stuff?”

“Mechanical systems.” He nods. “Trains, mostly,” his thumb grazes your nape.

“Damn,” you whisper, self consciousness prickling at your skin.

“It’s nothin’ special.” He tilts his head at you. “Tell me about you.” His blunt words make you shiver.

“You heard earlier that I’m a server,” you huff, looking out at the water. “There’s not much else I’m doing…”

“I doubt that,” He makes a face, his lips slightly pouty. He leans in, pressing into your space. “Tell me more,” he whispers, brushing his palm over your hair. “I wanna know.”

Your breath hitches in your chest. You glance back at the cabin in paranoia. “Bucky-” He gently pushes you until you rest on your back, your knees bent.

Bucky leans over you, tenderly brushing the hair from your face. “What?” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “I only know one way to open you up.” He kisses between your breasts, his lips trailing over your bikini top to your stomach. “Tell me more.”

You swallow, your legs making way for his body as he trails down to your hips. “I um-” You stammer, glancing down at him as he unties your bathing suit bottoms.

“Tell me about college,” he tugs the last tie free, letting your bottoms fall open. You suck in a tight breath, your knees instinctively wanting to close. He nudges them open.

“I dropped out,” you gulp, dropping your head back against the cushions.

“Why?” He presses a soft kiss to your core, his stubble making your shiver.

“I didn’t know what was doing-” He spreads you open with two fingers. “I didn’t even know if I liked what I was studying anymore-” you gasp when he licks a stripe from your cunt to your clit with the flat of his tongue. “And I was just sick of school…”

“Mhm,” he hums, stroking his tongue through your folds. “So what do you want?” He mutters against you.

“I don’t-” Your lashes flutter as he sucks gently on your clit. “I don’t know-” you gasp. “I like serving, for now…”

“Why do they think you’re scared?” Bucky’s voice is muffled as he kisses your soaked entrance.

“Because I am- a little…” You try to roll your hips into him, but he keeps you pinned down. This is his game. “I’m scared I’ll choose the wrong path and it’ll be too late. Or that I’ll realize down the line-” His tongue dips into your soaked cunt, fluttering slowly. You groan quietly. “-Realize down the line that I wanna do something else,” you continue breathlessly.

“Mm,” he hums quietly. He releases your clit from his lips, pulling back with a slick pop. “There’s no ‘too late,’ sweetheart. You can always change your mind about things,” he looks up at you, watching your face as he strokes circles over your clit with his thumb. “Use this time to explore different jobs,” he kisses your inner thigh gently. “Then go back to school.”

You nod shakily. “Yeah,” you pant. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking…maybe I’ll just start with taking a few classes…”

“There you go,” he whispers, pressing a wet kiss to your pussy. You pant as he strokes his tongue through your folds, dipping inside your entrance, then humming against your clit.

Your hands find his hair, needily tugging at the strands as he continues his slow pace, and eager interrogation. You answer every small question about yourself, eyes closed and toes curled. You feel him smile against you, like a cheeky bastard.

When your thighs finally twitch around his head, from where he folded your legs over his shoulders, he slides his hand up to cover your mouth.

You cling to his arm, panting roughly against his palm as he silences you. Your orgasm washes over you silently, sparks flying behind your vision. Bucky guides you through it, sucking on your clit with gentle pressure.

When you’re finally too sensitive to continue, he presses a soft kiss to your cunt, then pulls back. You’re left gasping for breath, staring at the sparkling sky.

Bucky chuckles to himself as he sits up, carefully tying your bottoms back up. He leans back against the couch, rolling his neck as he drags your legs to rest over his lap. You shiver when you hear the man lick his lips.

“This is fucking crazy…” You huff, a lazy grin on your lips.

“I know,” he chuckles, tracing slow lines along your knee.

You swallow around your heavy tongue. “Think it’s a bad idea?”

He shrugs, his thumb rubbing over an old scar on your thigh. “I don’t really care.”

“Me neither...” You snicker.

From the moment you roll out of bed, the day starts bathed in warmth. It feels like summer as a child, unhurried, with excitement hanging around every corner.

Natasha left you at breakfast, reading on the bridge-deck with her headphones in. You didn’t mind, though, since your dad made it clear he wanted to spend the day with you.

So as the sun climbs higher in the sky, your dad drags two paddle boards down from their mounts, and begs you to follow him into the water.

You launch from the stern with a splash of enthusiasm, your bodies slick with sunscreen as you straddle the boards. The boards glide easily over the surface, and soon it’s just the two of you, standing tall, paddles dipping rhythmically into the sea.

You paddle side by side, sometimes drifting apart, then regrouping. There's light conversation and long stretches of companionable silence- just the sound of the paddles in the water and the occasional seabird overhead.

At one point your dad loses balance and topples into the depths. He doesn’t allow you to laugh for long, though, when he tips your board and forces you to fall in after him.

Later, you both take a break, lying flat on your boards, drifting under the sun, arms trailing in the cool water. You talk about old vacations, future plans, and share quiet thoughts that only seem to come out when the world slows down.

Eventually, you head back toward the yacht, feeling sun-warmed and a little tired in the best way. Bruce helps your dad load the boards back onto the ship while you go to find Nat for food.

Cold drinks and a light dinner wait on the deck- fresh fruit, grilled skewers, and icy bubbling drinks.

When you finally sink into a seat on the bridge deck, a towel hugging your body, your stomach is rolling with hunger. Loud voices chatter over one another as everyone joins the table.

You feel a warm tingle at the base of your spine when Bucky pulls out the seat beside you. He’s distracted in bickering conversation with Bruce, throwing sarcastic remarks back and forth.

You can’t even tell if he meant to sit beside you.

“Honestly, the best part of this trip is the food- our kitchen back home still smells like charcoal from the last time Y/n tried to cook.” Natasha snickers, loading up her plate.

“Okay-” You roll your eyes. “I burnt something one time and you won’t let it go.”

“I don’t know, I’m with Natty on this one,” your father grins, biting grilled shrimp from his skewer. “Remember when you torched Claire's new pans when you visited for thanksgiving last year?”

Your eyes bulge from your head. “That wasn’t even me!” You argue, looking at your stepmother. “And I apologized for that-”

Your words die on your tongue as Bucky’s deep laughter drifts beside you. The low timber of the sound makes your skin feel heated.

“Sure it wasn’t you, man?” Everett squints from the end of the table. “You always find someone else to blame when your barbeques go awry.”

Your father scoffs dramatically. You tune out of the conversation as you watch Bucky take a long swig from his beer in your peripheral. Natasha watches you two with a smug look. You suck in a sharp breath, steadying yourself.

“I’m telling you, dad’s the one that ruined those pans.” You force a laugh, stifling a shiver as Bucky lowers his drink to the table, the back of his hand nudging yours.

“Maybe the both of you can’t cook.” Bucky suggests, looking to Claire for evidence. She nods with a cheeky smile.

You barely hear it. Bucky presses his glass bottle against your knuckles. You swallow, your stomach turning as you slip your fingers around the glass. The perspiration feels slick against your palm.

You watch your father bicker with his friends as you carefully pull Bucky’s beer from his hand. You take a slow swig, your stomach turning at the absurdity of how dangerous this feels.

You swallow the cold liquid, your tongue swiping over the rim when you spill a drop. Bucky’s knee presses to yours beneath the table, the pressure steady and heavy.

Your free hand slips beneath the table to tug at his swim trunks, as a warning or plea, you don’t know. He doesn't retract his knee. In fact, he presses closer, sitting up a little further in his seat to pick at some fruit.

“If I can’t cook, it’s because of dad.” You chime in finally, setting the beer back on the glossed table.

Bucky easily plays nonchalant, barely acknowledging your fingers' gentle trail along his thigh.

Your father rolls his eyes with a groan, waving his hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah.”

You chuckle, finally dragging food onto your plate. You withdraw your hand and let your towel drop behind you, salt still scenting your skin.

As dinner continues, the sun finally dips just below the horizon, casting a warm afterglow across the deck. Lanterns and soft string lights flicker to life above the dining table, and a gentle breeze carries the scent of the sea mixed with grilled herbs and citrus.

Everyone’s gathered around the table on the aft deck- sun-kissed and slightly salty from the day’s swimming and laughter.

As cool air settles over the ocean, your father suggests settling in for a movie in the lounge. A murmur of agreement spreads through the table, and soon everyone’s rising. You take one last long sip from your fruity drink and stand.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom, but I’ll meet you in there,” you mutter to Nat, letting her take your towel as she heads inside.

The nearest bathroom is on the upper deck, so you jog upstairs and go about your business. After drying your hands, you barely crack the door open before someone’s pushing inside.

“What-” You stumble back, your words fizzling to silence once Bucky clicks the door shut behind him. “Oh-” you whisper, gasping quietly as his hands slide down your waist.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he mutters, lifting you onto the polished counter. Your knees fall open on instinct as he steps into your space. Your head spins from his sudden actions. “Did ya have fun today?” He leans in, carefully pushing your wet hair back.

“Uh-” You gasp, barely able to catch your breath as Bucky drags a soft kiss over your lips. You sigh into him, squirming beneath needy hands. “I did-” you roll your head back against the mirror, your fingers pressing into the firm muscle of his shoulders.

He smiles, dragging his knuckles down your waist. “Mhm?” He drags you closer to the edge of the counter, pulling your body against his. You groan as Bucky presses his hips forward, the tent in his shorts dragging over your inner thigh.

“Jesus-” You whine, submitting to the rough kiss he plants on your lips.

You barely saw him throughout the day, busy swimming and indulging in the open waters. You could barely catch your breath enough to ask what had gotten him so worked up.

You pant into Bucky’s mouth, sucking his tongue into yours. Your wandering hands slide down his stomach. You slip a hand into his trunks.

“Fuck-” he groans, his forehead knocking to yours as you wrap your fingers around his erection.

“Yeah?” You swallow, swiping a drop of precum from his flushed tip.

He rolls his hips into your hand, pressing bruising kisses to your lips. “C’mon,” he pants, urging you to continue.

You greedily fist his cock, squeezing on the upstroke, his slick head leaking against your palm. He moans against your lips, dragging you closer to the edge of the counter. You swallow his choked sounds as you stroke his throbbing length.

He huffs, dropping his head to your shoulder. “That’s it,” he groans, his fists white knuckling the counter. “Just like that-”

“Yeah?” You whisper, your warm breath fanning his flushed ear. You pull your hand out for a second, spit in your palm, then slip back into his pants. He sinks his teeth into your shoulder to muffle his aroused whine, his cock twitching as his abs flutter.

Your spit slicked palm slides back over his erection, your thumb digging gently into his slit.

“Fuck-” he groans, his hips twitching into your fist. “We don’t have much time-”

“I know,” you gasp, fisting the swollen head of his cock. “I’ve got you, James.” You whisper, biting back a laugh when Bucky chokes.

“Shit-” he presses his nails into your hip.

He lifts his head, moaning into your mouth as he smothers you in a kiss. You nip gently at his lip, stroking your tongue over his. He swallows a choked whine as you roll your thumb over his tip. You pump his cock in quick strokes, maintaining a steady pace as his length twitches.

His stomach clenches as the coil twists tight. He groans against your tongue as he spills over your knuckles, rutting his hips into your fist. You continue to slowly stroke his twitching cock, spreading his cum over the length.

He sighs in contentment, his lashes fluttering as you guide him into familiar overstimulation. He whines against your lips, his breath hitching as he rides the wave into pain.

You only release him when his hips instinctually twitch back.

You pull your hand from his pants, your searching gaze finding his. He blinks up at you, licking over his lips as he leans back enough to see you.

“‘Did so good,” he whispers, dragging his knuckles down your cheek. You smile pleasantly, leaning back against the mirror.

“Yeah?” You wipe your hand off on the embroidered towel hanging from the wall.

“Mhm,” he pecks your jaw gently. He pulls back after a second of peppering kisses along your neck. You watch him yank the small towel down to clean himself up. “Thank you,” he whispers against your lips, dropping a gentle kiss to them.

You shiver, arching into him needly. “No problem…”

He drops the hand towel into the trash by the toilet. His calloused fingers slide around your waist, his arms locking around your back. You stare up at him silently for a moment, your urgency dying as you settle in his hold.

“What got you so worked up?” You whisper, your cheeks dusting pink as he strokes your spine with practiced ease. As if this was normal. As if this was something he could get used to.

“You look good walking away,” he mutters with a smirk.

You roll your eyes, dropping your head to his shoulder in embarrassment. “There's no way we’re not getting caught…”

“Not with that attitude,” he chuckles, lifting you off the counter. He sets you back on the ground, slowly releasing you. You sigh, pulling back from him. With only a hint of shame, you turn your back to him and wash your hands again.

He watches you fondly in the mirror, though you don’t notice, too busy trying to hide your face.

“You go out first,” he tells you, nodding to the door.

You slip out of the bathroom and make your way unsteadily towards the lounge. Everyone seems to still be settling in when you get there, arguing over snacks and movie choices.

You sink onto a sofa beside Nat, curling beneath the blanket. Natasha stares holes into the side of your head, a sly smirk twitching at her lip.

“Are you serious?” She whispers into your hair.

You roll your lip between your teeth, watching as Bucky enters the room silently. He glances at you once before settling beside Bruce on the sofa parallel to yours.

“Don’t.” You huff, embarrassed by your own depraved actions.

“Jesus, you’re barely gonna be walking by the time we dock.” She whispers, nudging you roughly.

You whip your head to the side, wordlessly telling her to shut up. She snickers at you as the movie begins.

The next night you find yourself back at Bucky’s door.

After a long day of lazing in the sun, you feel bone tired and relaxed. But that didn’t stop the itch beneath your skin, like a craving. You felt his eyes on you throughout the day, careful and watching. You felt the weight, the unspoken words.

You watched him from the sun deck, where you lounged with a sunscreen stained book, as he dived off the stern of the ship. You watched the muscles ripple in his back as he took long strokes.

You watched the water drip and collect in the dips of his muscles, streaking down his chest. You couldn’t help but feel like a dirty voyeur. But every time he looked up and caught your gaze, you knew he thrived beneath your watchful eye.

So now you stand in the hall, knocking gently at his door.

And when he finally opens the door and pulls you inside, you know you’re in for it.

“Fuck-” you sob, your spine arching off the bed as you writhe in overstimulation. You yank helplessly at dark locks of hair, your thighs twitching around Bucky’s head. “I can’t- I can’t…” You gasp, tears sliding down your cheeks.

You don’t know how much time has passed. It doesn’t matter. You’re lost in him.

Bucky groans throatily between your legs, his tongue lazily stroking over your clit. His rough hands press gently over your lower stomach, his large arms locked around your thighs.

Your nails drag roughly over his scalp. Your feet kick helplessly over the man's shoulders. “Please-” you tremble, your hips squirming against the sheets.

Bucky laughs at you, making you sob harder, as he sucks softly on your clit.

Your eyes roll back as he drags another torturous orgasm out of you. Your toes curl so tight your leg starts to cramp. You nearly choke as your lungs refuse to expand, too breathless, too lost. “Bucky please-”

Bucky finally pulls back with a slick pop, his hot breath coasting over your sensitive core as he catches his breath. “Keep still, sweetheart.”

You shudder, your eyes rolling open as you blink down at him. Your whole body tremors beneath his touch, goosebumps trailing over your skin. “Bucky-” you pant, your fingers tight around locks of his hair.

He chuckles at your loss of words, his lips dragging carefully over your inner thigh. “You’re doin’ such a good job, baby.” He whispers, his tongue soothing over old bitemarks.

You shake your head helplessly, letting it roll back against the pillows. “I can’t take any more…” Your voice is raw and dry, rough from smothering your own moans for the past several hours.

“Mm,” he hums, gently kissing your cunt. “I think you can.”

You sob, your thighs clenching in an attempt to close around his head. He pets a large hand over your stomach, the touch traveling down your hip and thigh.

His finger taps your hip, wordlessly telling you to look at him. You blink through tears, staring down at him. “Do you need to stop?” His warm blue eyes stare straight through you. “‘F it’s too much, we can stop, doll.”

You groan throatily at his easy care, at the way he so sweetly takes care of you. You let his words sink in, but you already know your answer.

You shake your head.

“Words, sweetheart.” He whispers.

Your stomach flutters painfully. “I’m okay,” your voice cracks.

Bucky smiles up at you, his large palm stroking over your stomach in appreciation. “That’s my girl,” he kisses your thigh.

You choke on an overwhelmed sob, your trembling hands tightening in his hair.

He taps your thigh slowly. “Open,” his tone is soothing, but carries a commanding undertone. You slowly let your thighs loosen up from where they clench around his shoulders. “Keep your eyes on me, okay?”

You nod, shakily wiping tears from your cheek.

“Words, baby.”

“Okay,” you choke.

Bucky smirks and lowers his head once more, his tongue making slow work of circling your cunt, before dipping inside. You make a broken sound as your walls flutter around him, your stomach clenching pitifully.

Your vision blurs as you obediently watch him, tears slipping down your cheeks when he looks up to meet your gaze. He smirks against your pussy, his lips wrapping around your clit to gently suck.

Your spine arches as your body begs for reprieve, but you know there’s no end in sight.

Bucky’s determined to drag you through orgasm after orgasm, his tongue dragging lazily through your sensitive folds.

He seems at home, happily indulging in you, listening to your broken sounds. He grinds his aching cock into the mattress, his hips rolling in slow circles as rolls his tongue over your cunt.

You lose yourself in the feeling, your heels dig into his back, his lips drag sloppy kisses over your core.

You’ve never felt this way before. So worshiped. So devoured. You’ve never felt so helpless to pleasure.

But Bucky makes you feel it. He guides you through it. He takes you apart, piece by piece, until there's nothing left. Nothing but your stuttering breath and trembling body.

And to your deep shock, he seems just as lost as you. His fingers press bruises into your skin as he clings to you. Rough, throaty sounds rumble in his chest, spilling out between slow licks. His stubble scrapes deliciously against your sensitive flesh, sharp and slick at the same time.

You watch him through blurry vision, your jaw loose as you whimper. You know you need to be quiet. You know you have to keep this secret. But you just can’t.

You’re aching, trembling, and so deeply overwhelmed.

It’s the kind of sensitivity that hurts and throbs but you just can’t stop.

Even when your body is screaming at you that you can’t go on. You make room for it, because you’ve never felt anything like this.

You’ve never felt so fucking alive.

As Bucky guides you through another quivering orgasm, you start to see stars spot your vision. Bucky finally pulls back with a slick smack of his lips- the sound makes tears slide down your cheeks. From humiliation or arousal, you don’t know.

Bucky slowly climbs up your body, caging you in. You shudder when he leans down, dragging his tongue over your cheek to lick up your tears. You let him, your eyes rolling back as you sigh.

“You did so well, sweet girl,” he whispers, peppering gentle kisses to the curve of your cheek bone. His strong hands stroke up your outer thighs in a comforting motion. “You always take it so well for me, don’t you?”

You whine, tilting your head up to kiss him. He smiled against your lips, pulling back just slightly.

“I asked you something,” he whispers.

You shiver and nod your head. “Yeah- yes…” your voice cracks, dry and rough.

He grins, finally capturing your lips in a messy kiss. You moan quietly, tasting yourself on his tongue.

Bucky presses his hips forward, his cock dragging over your slick center. You gasp, your eyes fluttering open to meet his. “If you’re too tired, I can take care of myself,” he mutters, his knuckles tracing lines down your jaw.

You blink, dumbfounded. “That was all foreplay?”

Bucky snickers silently at the look on your face. “Mhm,” he pecks a kiss to your drying tear streaks. “Why don’t you just lay back and watch? Hm? I don’t wanna overwork you,” his pecks your jaw.

You shake your head stubbornly, your tongue swiping over your dry lips. He pulls back to look at you, brow raised. “I-I want to.” You pant, sucking in thin gasps. Your trembling legs slowly wrap around his waist, your ankles locking. “I wanna take care of you too.”

Bucky groans shamelessly, his head dropping to your shoulder. You stroke your nails down his spine, trying to gather yourself. You feel like jelly. You feel broken. You feel healed.

You feel so good, you could pass out.

Cold blue moonlight streams from the window, flickering against the black ocean. Bucky plants a soft kiss on your shoulder, and when he raises his head, the light makes his eyes shine silver.

“Okay,” he whispers, his thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Just lay back, baby,” his lips curl in a familiar smile. “I’ll make you feel good.”

And he makes good on his promise.

He always does.

When he finally sinks into you, his hips pressed to yours, you struggle to breathe. You barely hold back overwhelmed tears as he gently grinds into you.

Bucky holds you close, almost intimately, as his arms wrap around you. He pins you in place, his hands petting you as he silently rolls his hips into yours.

You make a punch out little sound when his cock pulls out, then sinks back in. Bucky shushes you, cooing as he pets your hair.

After that, everything becomes fuzzy. Blurry. A mess of tears and choked off moans, and delicious pleasure.

The next morning, Bucky wakes first.

He curls deeper around your body, clinging to your warmth as the pesky sunlight blinds him. He sighs heavily into your shoulder, already feeling the ache from last night sinking into his bones.

He buries his face a little deeper in your hair, smelling the salt that lingers.

He can’t help but smile to himself when you huff in your sleep.

Bucky eventually pulls back and rolls out of bed, stretching out his sore muscles. He tugs the sheets back over you, where you’re curled up in his bed.

When he checks the time, it’s nearly 11am.

He rakes his hair back and tugs something on. He’s quiet as he gets ready, letting you sleep. When he steps into the hall, he can already smell breakfast.

Climbing up to the deck, barefoot and still a little groggy, he’s met with a breeze that smells of salt and coffee. The sky is wide and impossibly blue, the ocean calm, stretching out like a silk sheet all around him. Someone’s already laid out breakfast on the table under the shade of the upper deck.

The food has lost its warmth by now, but he still builds up a hefty plate.

The coffee is strong and earthy, still steaming in its carafe, and someone’s poured fresh orange juice into thick glasses beaded with condensation.

The others are lounging nearby, barefoot, sun-kissed, quiet in that contented, slow-morning kind of way. A few pages of a discarded book flutter in the breeze. The water laps gently at the hull.

“Finally, you’re up-” your father huffs as he approaches Bucky, his hands waving. “The girls are still asleep,” he complains, “but I want to go diving.”

Bucky squints up at him, chuckling as he sips on his warm coffee. “Better ask Everette. I’m goin’ back to bed,” he mutters, already turning his back.

Your father groans at him, shaking his fist. “You have the entire ocean around you, and you’re choosing to sleep.”

“Mhm,” Bucky grins, already moving down the steps. “What can I say, these are nice beds.” He grins.

He listens to your father grumble behind him as he descends the stairs. He knows your dad’s a little right, that he’s wasting time indoors when he could be swimming.

But he’d rather go back to his room, where he’ll find you bathed in the warmth of his sheets.

He slips back into the room, shutting the door with a soft click. He finds you still out cold, curled around a pillow, your hair scattered and knotted. He sets the plate of foot on the nightstand, then crouches at your bedside.

He tilts his head at you, his fingers carefully brushing locks of tangled hair from your face. Your brows pinch together as you huff, pressing your face into the pillow. He carefully strokes your cheek, his thumb tapping against your chin.

Your eyes twitch open, squinting up at him.

“Morning,” he whispers.

He watches the moment recognition sparks, the moment your cheeks dust a soft pink. “Hey,” you swallow, your voice coming out rough.

“Brought breakfast,” he nods to the plate. “You hungry?”

You nod, the sheets ruffle against your cheek. Bucky’s lips twitch in a fond smile. He pulls his hand back and moves to sit on the edge of the bed. You roll back to make room for him, dragging the sheets with you.

You groan quietly, your body aching as you stretch. “Fuck…”

“Sore?” He smirks, grabbing his coffee.

You roll your eyes, pushing up to sit. Your lower back twinges, making you shiver. “You’re too smug,” you croak. Bucky holds his mug out to you, letting you take it. You take a slow sip, sighing as the warm liquid soothes its way down your throat.

Bucky shrugs, taking a dramatic bite of bacon. “Maybe.”

You chuckle, leaning closer to pick at the plate. “What time is it?” You pop a chunk of scrambled egg in your mouth.

Bucky glanced down at his phone. “11:27pm.” He reads. “Your friend’s still asleep, your dad thinks you're still passed out with her.”

You nod, stealing the bacon from his fingers. “She’s probably up, just covering for me. My dad won’t try to go and wake me up if he thinks she’s sleeping too.”

Bucky hums in understanding, tugging his mug of coffee from where it sat between your knees. “How sweet,” he smiles.

You lower your head, hiding your blush as you chew a square of fruit. “Mhm.”

Bucky watches you with a tilted head, aware of the effect he has on you. “Do you feel okay? Anything hurt?” His kind blue eyes trail down your body, still mostly hidden by the sheet.

“I’m fine,” you shake your head. “Sore, definitely, but fine.” You huff, rolling your shoulders. “The good kind of sore.”

He smiles, his crows feet curling at the corners of his eyes. “Mkay,” he mutters, reaching out to tuck your knotted hair behind your ear.

You gulp, your gaze flickering back down to the plate. Oddly enough, the sex is what comes easy to you. All the parts in between, the care, the conversations, the sweet way he handles you, that's what makes you nervous. What catches you off guard.

You still have no idea what you're doing.

“Is my dad expecting you- I don’t want him to-”

“It’s fine, I told him I was going back to bed.” He cuts you off, easily shrugging. He pushes the coffee back into your hand as he lifts off the bed. “We have time.”

You watch him move over to his pile of clothes on the small sofa. He pulls out a black shirt and tosses it to the mattress. He turns his back, as if wordlessly telling you to put it on. You obey, your stomach twisting in knots as you tug it over your head. When you pop your head through, you find your panties dangling from Bucky’s fingers.

Your face heats as you snatch them quickly. He snickers, his head still turned.

“So you’re making excuses to spend more time with me?” You attempt to tease him.

“Mhm,” Bucky turns back to face you, flopping onto the bed once you’re dressed. “Absolutely.”

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” You groan, wrapping your arms around your body. “I don’t think my body can take any more.”

He grins, the grays in his facial hair shadowed by his smile lines. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll leave you be.” He picks a chunk of watermelon from the plate. “For now.”

You use the mug of coffee to hide your blushing grin. “I think I’ve gotten laid more in this past week than I have in my entire life.”

Bucky laughs, wiping a hand down his face. “Jesus,” he groans, his free hand dropping to your bare ankle. “I’ll take that as a good thing.”

“Oh, for sure.” You lift a brow at him. “Not to feed your ego, or anything, but I don’t regret a thing.”

His cheeky grin softens slightly. “Good.”

You stare at him for a moment, your stomach fluttering with nervous butterflies. “So…” you clear your throat. “Two more days until we dock.” You roll your cheek between your teeth. “What now?”

Bucky rolls his head to the side, his knuckles sweeping up and down your bare leg. “Well, we have options.”

“Do tell,” you sip at the coffee.

Bucky rudely plucks the mug from your hand and sets it on the nightstand. You frown softly, your gaze finding his. He leans closer, looming into your space. “We could keep seeing each other,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over yours in a gentle kiss.

You smile into it, a giddy feeling swirling in your veins.

He slowly pulls back, his fingertips tracing a slow line down your cheek. “Or we could go our separate ways.” He hums, bright blue eyes flickering to yours. “What do you want?”

You gulp, your fists curling in the large shirt you wore. “Do you want to keep seeing me?”

He smiles, sweet and warm. “Of course I do, doll.” His words make you want to slap your hands over your face and giggle like a schoolgirl.

“Yeah?”

His lip rolls between his teeth, failing to suppress his smile. “Mhm.”

“Me too,” you confess, subconsciously leaning forward.

“Good,” he cups your cheek in his large hand. He pulls you into him, capturing your lips in a soft, but possessive kiss. You sigh into him, allowing him to guide you with a hand on your neck.

He pulls back slowly, leaving only a few inches between you.

“When we get home, I wanna take you out.” He mutters, his calloused fingers dragging down your jaw. You shiver. “For real.”

“Really?” You whisper, disbelief and nerves mixing together in your stomach.

“Oh yeah,” he nods. “‘Wanna see you all dressed up. Take you to dinner.” He kisses your jaw. “Fuck you in my bed,” his warm breath ghosts over your skin.

You swallow, your lashes fluttering shut. “Okay…”

He smiles, pecking your lips. “Okay.”

So for the first time in your life, you found yourself wishing for vacation to be over.

A/N: Hi....ahaha...just utter filth. I hope you guys like it, I had a lot of fun writing this version of Bucky. I love older man Bucky. Anyways, requests are always open. Comment and let me know what you think!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT IN ANYWAY.

If you have no age in your bio and you comment or message me, I WILL BLOCK YOU.

425 notes · View notes

leriexoxo · 2 days ago

Text

Fashion Week Secret

Idol! Felix x Manager! Reader

Tags: smut, slow burn to explosive tension, voyeurism(ish), semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, deep voice kink, dom!Felix, full body worship, mutual obsession, overstimulation, aftercare, power shifts, minors DNI

Word count: 4k

Summary: An overseas fashion week trip. One hotel suite. Shared walls, flirty tension, and a deep voice you’ve been trying not to dream about. But when Felix catches you moaning his name with your hand between your thighs… he finally stops pretending.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

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You should’ve known better than to get so comfortable.

The hotel suite was quiet, too quiet—just the low hum of city lights filtering in through the drawn curtains and the occasional muffled sound of traffic several floors below. Felix’s bedroom door had been shut for nearly an hour, and after a long day of fittings, rehearsals, and a red carpet appearance, you were sure he was out cold.

You were his stylist, after all. You knew the toll it took on his body. And Felix? He’d barely kept his eyes open on the ride back.

So you let yourself relax. Just a little.

Your legs were folded on the plush hotel couch in the shared living area— The company had gotten a conjoined suite for you and Felix because you were the only staff aside the body guards that went with him to London. You had a wine glass half-full beside you, and your tablet dimly lit in your lap. You weren’t watching anything—not really. The book you’d downloaded earlier had taken a turn. A very explicit turn.

One page became two. Then five. Then… your hand started to drift.

Just beneath your loose sleep shorts. Just under the hem of your oversized tee. You weren’t even really thinking about it at first—just absentminded touching, grazing over already sensitive skin as the filthy descriptions poured across the screen.

Your lips parted, breath shallow. It was a slow build, not frantic, not rushed—just heat curling low in your belly as you circled your clit with lazy fingers, imagining a pair of hands that weren’t yours. Imagining lips, a tongue. Imagining a voice—

His voice.

That deep, soft rasp Felix used when no one else was around. The way he’d murmur, “You’re working too hard again,” when you fussed too long with his hair. Or the quiet chuckle he let out when you made some offhand comment and pretended it didn’t fluster you when he bit his lip in response.

That voice had been haunting you for months.

So it was only natural—maybe even inevitable—that your thoughts wandered where they shouldn’t. That your fingers moved faster now, hips tilting slightly as you stifled a moan behind your teeth. You imagined him between your legs. Whispering in that voice—

“…You really shouldn’t be doing that out here.”

You froze.

Fuck.

Your heart slammed against your ribs. Your fingers yanked back instantly as you scrambled to yank the throw blanket across your lap. The tablet slipped to the floor with a soft thud.

You turned your head slowly, your throat dry.

Felix stood just at the edge of the hallway, half in shadow. His messy blond hair hung in his face, his grey shirt wrinkled from sleep and riding slightly up his toned stomach. One hand was braced on the wall. The other… rubbed the back of his neck like he’d just woken up.

But his eyes?

Wide open.

Focused. Hungry.

“Felix—” you stammered, breath catching. “I thought you were asleep.”

He stepped forward, his voice dipping even lower as his head tilted.

“Clearly.”

There was a pause—thick, electric silence as the air shifted. The kind of moment that cracked open all the tension you’d both been dancing around for months. Every playful tease. Every prolonged glance. Every time he called you “noona” with that coy little smile and eyes that said he knew exactly what he was doing.

And now, he’d caught you touching yourself in the space you shared. Thinking about him.

Felix’s gaze drifted downward—just for a second, just enough to make your stomach flip. Then back to your face.

“You were thinking about someone,” he said quietly. “Gonna tell me who?”

Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. The heat rose fast in your chest, up your neck, blooming on your cheeks. You wanted to deny it. Laugh it off. But your body gave you away—still flushed, still aching.

“I—” you swallowed. “It was… just a book.”

Felix hummed, stepping even closer. He was standing right in front of you now, his hand sliding off the wall and down into the pocket of his sweats.

“I heard your voice,” you whispered, before you could stop yourself. “In my head. The way you talk. That deep voice… it gets to me.”

His lips twitched into something between a smirk and a growl. That voice—the one that already had you soaked—dropped to a rumble.

“You get off to my voice, noona?”

You clenched your thighs, unable to hide it. His eyes caught the movement.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, stepping closer, between your knees now. “You’ve been teasing me for weeks. Letting me flirt. Laughing when I called you pretty. You knew what you were doing.”

His hands were on either side of your hips now, braced on the couch. You were trapped beneath him—not forcibly, just undeniably. His breath tickled your lips. His gaze flicked from your eyes to your mouth and back again.

“You’re gonna let me help you now,” he whispered. “Or do I have to sit back and listen again?”

You swallowed hard. Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

He didn’t touch you—not yet. Just hovered. Eyes burning. That deep voice of his was doing terrible, glorious things to your body. It wasn’t just the sound—it was the control. The way he knew what he was doing. He could see the way you trembled, the way your breath stuttered with every inch he leaned closer.

Felix tilted his head. His voice was softer now. Curious. Teasing.

“Did you say my name when you touched yourself?”

You couldn’t look at him. Your eyes dropped to his chest—his shirt hung loose over lean muscle, collar stretched just enough to expose the curve of his shoulder. You couldn’t answer.

But your silence was the answer.

His breath hitched—subtle, quiet. You would’ve missed it if he weren’t so close. His fingers curled into the cushion at your sides.

Then slowly, he reached down and touched your knee. Just a brush of his fingertips over your bare skin. Your breath caught.

“You were thinking about me like that,” he murmured, trailing his touch higher—inch by inch. “While I was asleep. In the next room.”

“I didn’t think—” you croaked, but his fingers slid to the inside of your thigh and you forgot what you were saying.

“You didn’t think I’d catch you?” he finished, eyes darkening. “Or you didn’t care?”

You couldn’t lie. Not when his hand was so close. Not when your body was betraying you in every way—your hips tilting, your skin flushed, your thighs pressing together like they could hide how wrecked you already were.

Felix didn’t move any closer. He stayed there, fingertips resting right where the inside of your thigh met the edge of your shorts. Waiting.

“I didn’t mean for you to see,” you whispered.

“But you’re not stopping me now.”

Silence. Electric. Heavy.

Then, with the faintest movement, his hand slid higher.

Your breath hitched—you grabbed the throw blanket tighter, trying to keep it together. His fingers brushed just beneath your shorts, knuckles grazing heat.

“You’re so warm,” he said, nearly in awe. His voice was a soft, reverent murmur. “Fuck, you’re wet already.”

Your head dropped back against the cushion as a soft, desperate sound slipped from your lips.

That’s when his free hand slid up your body—slow, confident, not asking. It found your throat. Not squeezing, not rough—just resting there, his thumb against the side of your neck, feeling your pulse thunder beneath your skin.

“Still thinking about the book?” he asked, his mouth hovering just beside your ear now. “Or is it me now?”

You could barely breathe. “You.”

A low hum rumbled in his chest.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.”

He didn’t move fast. He didn’t need to. His fingers moved under your waistband, dragging through slick heat, and his exhale came out shaky this time. Like even he wasn’t prepared for how turned on you really were.

“I’ve thought about this,” he murmured. “Wondered how you’d sound. What your thighs would feel like around my head.”

You gasped, knees jerking, but he held you steady with a quiet command:

“Don’t move.”

Your breath trembled. “Felix…”

“Say it again.”

“…Felix.”

He pulled back slightly just to look at you. His fingers stayed buried between your thighs, barely moving now, just resting there while his other hand still cradled your throat gently. His expression was unreadable—but his eyes were pure fire.

“You wanna cum for me?” he asked, voice like velvet-wrapped sin. “Here, on this couch? Let me hear how you sound when it’s not in your head?”

“I—” You were going to say yes. Desperately. But—

His fingers moved. Barely. Just enough to stroke you once—long, slow, hot.

Then he pulled them out.

You whimpered. Actually whimpered, your thighs twitching from the loss.

He stood, looking wrecked but smug, hand still wet with your arousal. He stared at you for one long, aching second.

Then, with that same maddening calm:

“Get some sleep, noona. Call time’s early.”

And he walked back to his room.

⸻

You didn’t sleep.

Not really.

Even after Felix disappeared into his room, even after you shut off the lights and buried yourself under the hotel blanket, your skin still burned.

The ghost of his touch lingered between your legs. His voice—you get off to my voice, noona?—looped in your ears every time your eyes drifted closed.

And the worst part?

You still wanted more.

You thought morning might bring clarity. Distance. Maybe even an ounce of dignity.

But then he walked out of his room.

Hair damp from the shower, simple black T-shirt clinging to his frame, gold chain catching the morning light—and that look.

That look that said he remembered everything.

You froze at the mini breakfast table, coffee halfway to your lips. He didn’t say good morning. Didn’t smile.

He just looked at you.

His eyes dragged over your face, down your neck, slow and deliberate. No expression. Just… watching.

You looked away first.

The rest of the morning was torture. Silent, simmering torture.

He didn’t bring it up. Not once. But every time you reached for something, his gaze followed. Every time you spoke to someone else, his body leaned just a little closer.

In the car to the venue, you sat beside each other.

He stretched his legs wide.

Your knees touched.

He didn’t move.

You flinched. He smirked—barely.

By the time you were backstage for the event—a fashion week press day and show—you were vibrating with something between shame and arousal.

You could feel it in your skin. The flush that wouldn’t fade. The phantom pressure of his hand on your thigh. The ache in your core that hadn’t gone away.

And Felix? Felix was silent. Calm. But possessive.

He didn’t let you work on anyone else. Every time you tried to adjust another idol’s collar or fix a hem, he’d appear behind you.

Watching. Close.

You’d never realized how much space he took up until he decided to weaponize it.

And when you bent down to grab a safety pin near his feet?

He leaned down too.

Close to your ear.

“Will you read that book again tonight?”

You almost dropped the pin.

That night, after the show, the energy was buzzing. Everyone was high off the crowd, off the cameras, off the compliments. The team wanted drinks. You begged off early. Claimed exhaustion.

The second you reached the hotel suite, you collapsed onto the couch. Face buried in a pillow.

You couldn’t do this.

You couldn’t keep pretending you hadn’t been caught red-handed, soaking your fingers to thoughts of him. That he hadn’t touched you back. That you hadn’t begged with your eyes for him to keep going.

You were still lying there when the door opened.

Your heart jumped.

Felix walked in, quiet as always. Door clicked shut behind him.

You didn’t look up, but you heard him kick off his shoes. Shrug off his coat. You felt it when he stopped right behind the couch.

Then—

“You avoided me all day.”

His voice was low again. Not quite soft. Not quite angry. Just… stating a fact.

You clenched your eyes shut.

“I didn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Your breath caught.

He walked around the couch, coming into view, and you finally looked at him.

Big mistake.

He was still in his event outfit—tailored black pants, tucked-in dress shirt, collar loose, top buttons undone. Hair pushed back from his face. And eyes locked on you like a target.

“Did you touch yourself again last night?” he asked.

Your stomach flipped. “No.”

“No?” he echoed. “Even after I had you dripping with just my fingers?”

Your mouth went dry.

“Felix…”

He moved closer. Slow. Calm. Intentional.

“I could hear you breathing through the wall,” he said, tilting his head. “Thought you were gonna break.”

You swallowed. Couldn’t speak.

“Did you wait for me to fall asleep again?” he asked, now standing in front of you.

“I didn’t,” you whispered.

“No?” he said again, voice dipping dangerously. “So you just laid there. Soaked. Needy. Begging for something I started and didn’t finish.”

Your thighs pressed together on instinct.

And he noticed.

He leaned down. One hand braced on the couch beside you. The other slid slowly up the back of your neck, fingers sinking into your hair.

Then—

“You need me to finish it tonight, don’t you?”

Your breath hitched at the way he said it. Not a question, really. A statement. A dare.

He didn’t wait for an answer this time.

Felix surged forward, hand tightening in your hair as his mouth crashed onto yours—hot, hungry, devastating. Nothing sweet. Nothing soft. Just weeks—months—of teasing and tension unraveling all at once.

You gasped, and his tongue swept in like he owned your mouth.

Because he did.

Right now? He fucking did.

The kiss was messy, punishing, his body crowding yours back against the couch cushions. You barely had time to catch your breath before he was pulling at your oversized sleep shirt—ripping it over your head like it offended him just by existing.

“You think you can sit out here touching yourself like that and walk around pretending nothing happened?” he growled, voice dangerous.

You shook your head, trembling.

He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. His eyes were wild.

“I said—do you?”

“N-no—”

“That’s right. You don’t.”

His hands moved fast now—palming your breasts, dragging his thumbs over your nipples till your back arched, till you were gasping like he hadn’t even started yet.

“Do you know how fucking hard it was watching you today?” he snarled. “Seeing you flinch every time I looked at you? Knowing I’d barely even touched you and you were already ruined?”

You whimpered, and he grinned—sharp, dark.

Then he grabbed your thighs, ripped your shorts down, and dropped to his knees in front of you.

Didn’t say a word. Just stared at your soaked pussy for a moment like it was the best fucking thing he’d ever seen.

Then—

“Spread.”

You obeyed instantly, thighs falling open for him, heart hammering.

He didn’t give a warning.

He dove in, mouth hot and greedy, tongue licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit that made you scream.

“God—Felix—!”

He moaned into you, hands locking tight around your thighs, dragging you to the edge of the couch as he devoured you like he’d been dreaming of it every night.

His tongue was relentless—circling your clit, dipping into your dripping heat, then sucking your clit so hard you saw stars.

And that voice—even like this, he didn’t stop talking.

“So wet for me, fuck, I knew you’d taste like this,” he groaned. “You were made for me, noona. Made to sit on my face and scream.”

You did. Again.

Your fingers dug into his hair, hips bucking, and he just groaned against your cunt like he loved it—like the messier you got, the harder he got.

“I’m gonna fuck you after this,” he said, dragging his tongue flat against you. “You hear me?”

You nodded wildly, already trembling on the edge.

“Beg for it.”

“Felix, please—”

“No,” he said darkly. “Beg like you did last night. Like a needy little slut who couldn’t keep her hands off herself.”

You sobbed.

“Please, Felix—I need it, I need you—need your cock, please—”

He pulled back just enough to look up at you. His mouth and chin were drenched. His eyes were feral.

“Good girl.”

He stood, unbuckling his belt in one smooth motion, pants hitting the floor—and fuck.

He was hard, thick, and already leaking.

“Get on your knees.”

You dropped like you’d been waiting your whole life.

But he didn’t push his cock into your mouth yet.

He just gripped your chin, tilted your head back, and let that filthy voice wreck you.

“You gonna thank me for last night?” he whispered. “For leaving you soaking and untouched like a good little lesson?”

You nodded, tongue out, lips parted.

“Then open wide, noona,” he growled. “Let me fuck that filthy mouth the way you imagined.”

Your lips barely had time to part before Felix was pushing the thick, flushed head of his cock past them—slow, deliberate, hand cradling the back of your head with possessive precision.

“You can take it,” he muttered, voice low and tight. “You’re not shy when you’re alone with your books, are you?”

You moaned, cheeks flushed, tongue lapping eagerly as his cock slid deeper. The taste of him hit your tongue—salty, hot, real—and your thighs clenched together instinctively.

“Fuck,” he hissed through his teeth. “Your mouth feels even better than I dreamed.”

Your eyes widened. You looked up.

He smirked.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “You’re not the only one who’s thought about this.”

He rocked his hips, slow at first—testing your limits—but when you didn’t flinch, when your mouth welcomed him, he let go. His grip tightened in your hair as he fucked into your throat, head thrown back, jaw tense.

“Such a good girl,” he groaned. “Taking my cock like that… look so fucking pretty choking on me.”

You gagged once—he moaned louder.

“Shit—yeah, do that again. Show me how much you like being used.”

You did.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but your pussy was dripping—soaking the floor—and when you reached down to touch yourself, he didn’t stop you.

He watched.

He slowed down, panting, pulling out with a filthy pop and gripping his cock tight in one hand as he knelt to face you. His other hand slid down your stomach, under your panties, and found you instantly.

“Still wet,” he murmured like it was a reward. “Still begging.”

He kissed you then—hard and messy, tasting himself on your tongue—and dragged you back onto the couch, flipping you onto your back, knees spread wide. He stared down at your soaked center, panting like he’d been waiting for this since the day you met.

“You think you’re ready for my cock?” he asked.

“I’ve been ready,” you gasped, hips arching. “Please, Felix—”

He didn’t need more.

He lined himself up, his cock thick and flushed, precum still dripping down the shaft, and then—

He pushed in.

One slow, unrelenting inch at a time.

You both groaned—loud, desperate.

“God, you’re tight,” he panted. “So fucking tight—gripping me like you were made for this.”

You were.

He bottomed out, hips flush against yours, and stayed there for a beat—just feeling. Just breathing.

Then his mouth found your ear.

“Guess what?” he growled. “No more teasing. I own this pussy.”

And then he started to move.

Hard. Deep.

Every thrust knocked the breath out of your lungs, your nails digging into his back as he pounded into you like he meant to break something.

“You gonna cum for me?” he growled, voice wrecked and deep and so goddamn dirty. “Gonna cum on this cock like a good girl”

“Yes—yes, please—”

“You sound so pretty when you beg,” he whispered, sweat dripping down his temple. “Wanna hear you cry for it.”

“Felix—fuck, I’m—!”

He reached down, rubbed tight circles over your clit, and that was it.

You shattered.

Body trembling, back arched, thighs locking around his hips as you sobbed through an orgasm so intense it left you dizzy.

“Good girl,” he growled, voice cracking. “Now take mine—take it, fuck, I’m gonna fill you up—”

With one last brutal thrust, he pulled out and spilled on your stomach—hot, thick, endless. His cock twitched, and he collapsed forward, mouth pressed to your throat, body shaking with the force of it.

⸻

Minutes passed.

You couldn’t move. Could barely think.

And then— He lifted his head.

Kissed your jaw. And whispered, still breathless:

“You’re not done yet.”

He didn’t let you breathe for long.

Still hard—he pulled back, just enough to look down at your flushed, trembling body beneath him.

“Get up,” he murmured, low and commanding, one hand gripping your thigh. “Come here.”

You barely had time to protest before he lifted you—lifted you, like it was nothing—your legs wrapping weakly around his waist as he walked you straight to the floor-to-ceiling window of the hotel suite.

The city glowed behind you, all glittering lights and blurred motion. You couldn’t see a thing—but if someone looked up to the 20th floor?

They’d see everything.

Felix pressed you against the cold glass, forehead to your temple, cock resting against your soaked heat, one hand palming the back of your thigh to hold you open for him.

“Look at you,” he whispered, voice dripping with reverence. “Dripping down your thighs. Skin flushed. Eyes glazed.”

He leaned back just enough to drag his fingers down your collarbone, down to your breasts, and then lower—trailing lazy patterns over your stomach, your hips, your thighs.

“Prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

You moaned, squirming against him. He kissed your jaw, then your neck, then the curve of your shoulder.

Slow. Deliberate.

“You think this is just about getting off?” he muttered. “No, baby. I’m gonna worship every inch of you tonight.”

He set you down—not letting you fall—and turned you gently to face the window.

Then pressed up behind you, his cock sliding back in so deep it stole the air from your lungs.

“Want you to see yourself,” he whispered. “Want you to feel how good you look when I ruin you.”

His hands slid up your front—palming your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers as he began to move.

Slow, deep thrusts.

Measured. Precise.

You sobbed against the glass, forehead resting on your arm.

“You so good like this,” he whispered in your ear. “Every part of you. This body– fuck.”

He kissed your shoulder again. Then your spine. Then lower, fingers curling around your hips like he was holding something precious.

You were precious.

Even now, even when he fucked you so good you couldn’t breathe.

“You’re everything,” he murmured. “So fucking good. So perfect wrapped around me like this.”

You felt the edge building again—tight, hot, overwhelming. And he felt it, too.

He pressed harder, gripped tighter, and his voice dropped into a growl.

“Don’t hold back this time,” he rasped. “I want it loud. I want you to cum with my name in your mouth.”

“Felix—”

“That’s it, baby. Say it again.”

“Felix—fuck—!”

And you shattered.

Your body locked up, legs shaking, hands scrambling against the glass as the orgasm crashed through you like a wave. You screamed his name, broke apart for him, because of him—and he chased your high with his own.

“God— you feel too good—gonna cum again—fuck, take it, baby, take it—fuck—”

He spilled inside you a second time, deeper than before, pulsing hot and thick with a broken groan that buzzed in your ears long after the rest of the world faded out.

⸻

You both slid to the floor.

Sticky. Sweaty. Shaking.

Felix stayed wrapped around you, arms tight, hands soothing over your hips as your body trembled in the aftershock.

“You did so good,” he murmured. “So perfect for me.”

He kissed your temple. Your cheek. Your shoulder.

“Let’s clean you up,” he whispered next. “Get you water. Warm bath. My shirt. Then we’ll sleep.”

He tucked your hair behind your ear, eyes soft now. No teasing. No games.

Just him.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

You nodded, eyes full, throat too raw to speak.

He kissed your forehead.

“I’ve got you now, noona,” he murmured.

And he did.

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

Authors note: Hi guys! So there’s a new Felix fic, I’m trying to write more of him, its nit easy writing for ot8 😩 but i LOVE the challenge. You know the deill though, if you enjoyed this one please leave a like and comment, and reblog too! Thank you for 1100+ ❤️

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aureatelys · 15 hours ago

Text

something only you can have

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!reader genre: filthy depraved smut w.c.: 4k a/n: this is a result of peer pressure /j but uhm seriously if you dont like, dont read :)

summary: You and Hotch try something new.

c.w.: 18+ MDNI, PISS KINK/DESPERATION, squirting, newly established relationship, dom/sub elements, no prior kink discussion (dont be like them), fingering, m masturbation, THERES PISS BTW

read below or on ao3 here <3

It all started while you were out on a case.

This unsub was pissing you off. Scratch that, it was pissing you all off.

You had been stuck in Texas for almost two weeks with nearly every single lead falling through spectacularly. You could tell everyone was close to their wit’s end, based off of Spencer nearly biting your head off this morning when you greeted him and Penelope not even giving you a silly nickname when you called her earlier.

But now, finally, you had received an anonymous tip and everyone was scrambling to get strapped up and out the door. The sigh of relief in the room was palpable when Hotch found the tip credible, everyone secretly hoping that this would work out and you guys can finally fucking go home.

Stress was starting to eat away at you as well— with the precinct’s AC breaking down yesterday, you were starting to run out of clean clothes, and you really had to pee.

You already had your vest on, shifting in place while Hotch barked out orders to the other officers. You’re seriously regretting the amount of water you’ve had today, but with the AC out and having had sweat through your shirt within the first hour of arriving at the precinct, you didn’t really have a choice.

“I’m going to go use the restroom real quick,” you whisper into Hotch’s ear, leaning in close enough to get a whiff of his cologne.

You don’t even wait for a response, about to turn on your heel and ready to sprint to the restroom because you’re seconds away from having to squeeze your legs together, when Hotch’s voice stops you.

“Can you hold it?”

You blink up at him, incredulous enough that it almost distracts you from the increasing pressure of your bladder and the sweat dripping down the side of your neck. “What?”

“We need to go now. Do you think you can hold it?”

You want to tell him no, you can’t fucking hold it, but there was something in his voice that has you pausing.

You’re not sure if it’s because you haven’t had time alone with Hotch in weeks, having to be content with light brushes of fingers and lingering looks before saying good night. You’re not sure if it’s because Hotch just looks really good in his vest or if it’s that voice. Stern, low and a bit too similar to the same kind of voice he’s recently started using in the bedroom, eyes dark and calculating.

You’re not sure if the heat or the lack of sleep has gotten to you, but it’s the way his voice tugs at you, low in your stomach in a completely different way, that has you huffing out an exhale and obeying.

“Yeah, I can hold it.”

Hotch raises his eyebrows at you, as if shocked, like he didn’t actually think you were going to listen to him. You don’t blame him, you seldom do.

You’re not exactly sure why you feel nervous, heat crawling up your neck and heart thudding a little bit harder.

Despite this thing between you and Hotch still being… new, it was still comfortable. It was even more comfortable in the bedroom, where you learned that Hotch liked to take control and you liked to give it to him, if only with a little bit of defiant teasing to get him riled up.

But this? Relinquishing this sort of control to him had your mind reeling and the air knocking out of your lungs.

It must show on your face, because suddenly his eyes darken and his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. Heat pools at the pit of your stomach, curling at the edge of your spine, and when you have to squeeze your thighs together, you’re not sure whether you’re trying to stave off your bladder or your arousal. Or both.

You watch as Hotch’s mouth opens, like he’s about to say something, maybe to say that he was just kidding and that you can go to the restroom or another implicit order that would have your knees buckling.

But then Derek’s poking his head through the doorway, eyebrows raised like he knows he’s interrupting something but doesn’t care. “We’re ready to head out whenever you are, Hotch.”

Just like that, Hotch’s face transforms from heated to something more professional, rigid, as if he wasn’t seconds away from pressing you up against the wall. His shoulders tighten, mouth closing and twisting as he trying to formulate a response that didn’t give him away.

“We’ll be right there.”

You deflate a little, arousal still barely humming underneath your skin, as you try to come to terms with the fact that you’re about to barge into an active crime scene with a full bladder.

You two don’t get a chance to talk about it—too caught up in taking down the unsub and then planning who would take charge of the interrogation.

The pressure in your bladder has slightly subsided by the time you had climb into the SUV, adrenaline starting to take over the daze that melts into your brain after you interact with Hotch in that way. He seems to have forgotten as well, based on how engrossed in the road he was while driving.

When you find out that you didn’t have to be involved in the interrogation, you breathe a sigh of relief, muttering a thank fucking god, and then sprint to the restroom.

You’re too busy to notice the curious gaze Hotch wears as he watches you waddle down the hallway.

It’s been several weeks and you’ve nearly completely forgotten about the whole incident.

Until now.

The team had just gotten back from dinner after successfully wrapping up another case. Relief at finally catching the unsub and being able to go back home for a much-needed weekend settled satisfyingly into your bones. It was still hot out, humid enough where your hair was starting to cling to the damp skin of your neck, so you didn’t notice how Hotch kept waving his hand for the waiter to refill your glass of water, that bastard.

Not only that, but he was getting handsy—tracing circles on your thigh with his thumb underneath the table and his palm heavy at the small of your back. It was nice, especially since he usually wasn’t a fan of being so touchy around the rest of the team, but it also provided an inkling of what kind of mood he was in.

You weren’t surprised when he pushed you up against the door as soon as it clicked shut, the drowsy farewells of your teammates fading into the background as Hotch kissed you like he hadn’t seen you in weeks.

His mouth was soft, persistent, as they moved against yours. He takes advantage of the surprised gasp you let out, deepening the kiss further and overwhelming you with the taste of spice from the drink he had at dinner.

He brings an infuriatingly large hand up to cup the back of your neck, tilting your chin up further, while his free hand trailed down your shoulder, down your side, leaving behind trails of heat, until he was grabbing a handful of your ass and pulling you further against him.

You felt the line of his hardening cock against your hip, even through the fabric of your dress pants. It had been torture for you to not fuck your incredibly hot boyfriend/boss during a high-strung case, but it seemed like it was affecting him much more than you thought it was.

When he pulls away, your head still cradled in his palm, the wild glint in his eyes has you smirking. Pupils blown wide, a tinge of pink on his cheeks from both arousal and alcohol, and his hair slowly coming loosened from his hair gel and flopping against his forehead in a way that was starting to become strangely endearing to you.

“Get on the bed,” he orders, voice low, and you quickly obey.

The both of you scramble to tear off your clothes, strangely reminiscent of your teenage years, and then you’re crawling back onto the bed with that youthful kind of giddiness warming up your chest.

You sit back on your elbows and watch with bated breath as Aaron tugs off his boxers, his cock already half-hard and slapping against his stomach, before his dark eyes are set on you. He doesn’t say anything as he kneels onto the edge of the bed as his large hands wrap themselves around your ankles to tug you down.

You let out a squeal as he brings your ass to hang over the edge of the mattress before Aaron leans over you to capture your breathless giggles with a kiss. One of his elbows was digging into the sheets next to your head, the other running up your stomach and to your breasts, and your legs hitched up high around his waist. His mouth was hungry, starving, as he delved into your mouth like he couldn’t get enough of you.

It would be surprising, especially as Aaron didn’t usually prefer to have sex on cases, but you could tell there was something on his mind as his mouth peppers open-mouthed kisses along your jawline and down to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there. It’s nearly desperate, the hurried way he was tasting the sweat off your skin and the way he was squeezing your breasts, his thumbs skimming against your nipple and bringing them to stiff peaks.

You let out a breathless sigh, your arms coming to wrap around his broad shoulders and tangling your fingers with the short strands of hair at the nape of his neck. Heat curls at the pit of your stomach, swirling with the beginning pressure of your bladder threatening to cry out at you. You attempt to push it away to the back of your mind to focus on the warm wet mouth gradually drifting down your chest.

“Been thinking about you all day,” Aaron murmurs, pressing another kiss to the top of your breast before wrapping his lips around your nipple.

“Someone’s impatient,” you attempt to say cockily, however it comes out strangled, your back arching before you could help it to chase the sharp pleasure as he nips at you, soothing the sensitive bud with a swirl of his tongue.

He pulls away and the cold air of the hotel room brushing against your wet nipple has your hips grinding up against him. The hot weight of his cock presses against your inner thigh, desperately close to where you needed him the most.

“You have no idea,” he says, and then he’s moving to suck your other nipple and give it the same attention as the other.

Even if your relationship was still new, Aaron somehow was able to learn your body better and faster than anyone else you had been with—what made your hips squirm, what made you whine into the open air, or what made you feel so good you made no noise, just letting your jaw drop open in ecstasy. He always took his time with you, and his tendency to focus on your pleasure over yours was a breath of fresh air.

You felt the result of his attentiveness now, wetness nearly dripping from your aching pussy and undoubtedly clinging to Aaron’s lower stomach. The tip of his cock would brush against your core every time you canted your hips up, notching against your entrance, and you hoped that he would hurry up and just fuck you already.

He groans every time his cock brushes against your folds, tempted to just slam himself into you. He pulls away, sitting back on his knees as his fingers trace the soft curves of your stomach, your waist, before dragging his fingertips along the apex of your thighs.

“Sweetheart, you’re already so wet,” he coos, briefly dipping his thick fingers between your sopping folds.

You shiver as Aaron makes a show of displaying just how wet you were as he brings his slick fingers up from between your thighs. He separates them, and the both of you watch transfixed as your pearly strings of your arousal clings between them.

“See? She’s practically begging for my cock.”

“Fuck,” you mumble, face growing hot at the filth of his words. He really must be hornier than you thought.

“I have to get her ready first, don’t I?” Aaron says before he’s pushing a thick finger inside of you.

You gasp at the sudden intrusion, because he’s right, he always needs to get you ready first because his cock was always so thick, always felt like he was splitting you open like the very first time.

He’s gentle, slow, despite the fact that you were so wet and ready for him his finger slid right inside.

“Fuck, Aaron…,” you moan, reaching out for him aimlessly until your hand wraps around his wrist, his hand splayed out on your hip.

And then he’s thrusting his finger in and out of you, just as slow, and the lewd squelching of your wetness fills the hotel room as your mouth drops open, your grip on his wrist tightening.

He wordlessly inserts another finger inside, undeniably stretching you even further. It’s intoxicatingly delicious, the difference, because the pathetic whimpers coming from your mouth grows higher in pitch, your blood nearly singing at the pleasure flooding your veins.

“There she is,” Aaron whispers reverently, voice raspy as his eyes drink in the way your pussy swallows his wide fingers and the sheer bliss on your face as you squeeze your eyes shut.

He starts a steady rhythm then, avoiding your clit and plunging in and out of you in a way that he knew wouldn’t get you to come.

And he’s right, he’s always infuriatingly right, however there’s that pressure in your lower stomach, vastly different from white-hot arousal, that’s slowly starting to make itself known.

You try to ignore it, focusing on the weight of his hand against your hip and the way the filthy noises of your wet pussy filtered through your ears, but it was like the faster Aaron fucked you with his fingers, the more that pressure grew.

He must notice your distracted mind, the uncomfortable scrunch on your face, as he slows his fingers. He doesn’t take them out. “Are you okay?”

You blink your eyes open and is met with genuine concern on his face despite the way his eyes continuously drift down to his fingers and then back up to your face.

“Yeah, I just…” you whisper, throat dry. You clear your throat and shift your hips, unsure if you wanted to meet his fingers or scoot away. You pause, unsure how truthful you wanted to be.

It was a normal bodily function, you think, as normal as breathing. You knew Aaron wouldn’t shy away from something as harmless like a bodily fluid like that. “I just really have to go pee.”

A pause. Something unreadable flashes over his face, but it has a strange thrill running up your spine.

And then, he starts moving his fingers in and out of you, slower, curled enough just slightly that had you gasping and your thighs squeezing together around his wrists.

“We haven’t really talked about it,” Aaron says, voice rough. His brown eyes, usually so pretty and gentle around you, were dark and dangerous. “But do you think you can hold it?”

An incredulous laugh escapes you. It’s breathy, and your eyes are threatening to roll back into your head as he begins to increase his rhythm. The way his thick fingers have curled in on you has him nearly brushing that sweet spot inside of you, but also strangely pressing up on your aching bladder.

You’ve squirted before, when you had forgotten to go to the restroom before having sex, but this was a whole different level. It was nearly uncomfortable, having to clench in an effort to refrain from letting go, and your bladder was fuller than ever.

“I don’t know…” you whisper. “I think I really have to go.”

He slowly pulls his fingers out of you and leans over to press his lips to your temple. You whimper at the loss, the pressure at the pit of your stomach increasing without the distraction of his fingers.

“You can do it, sweetheart.” And it’s the low tone of his voice and the way his calloused fingers rub over your puffy folds, wetter than you’ve ever been, that has you legitimately thinking maybe you can hold it. “Do you trust me?”

You slowly realize it actually feels good—not only the added pressure mixing with your arousal, but the sudden desperation you feel, panic clawing its way up your throat, and the small comfort Aaron’s thumb rubbing over your hipbone provides. Somehow, the strain of your bladder just enhanced the pleasure. It was sharper, more intense, and made you feel a bit drunk despite only drinking water all night.

And you do trust him, willing to do anything for him, but not only that, you wanted to be good for him too.

You swallow, meet his eyes, and nod.

He releases a harsh breath against the side of your face, as if in relief, as if he was actually worried that you wouldn’t want to keep going with him and continue exploring your sex life that was slowly becoming a little bit out of your comfort zone. When he leans up a little to capture your lips in a kiss, it’s hungry and frenzied.

When he pulls away to sit back on his knees again, wearing a small, wicked smile on his face that sends your heart doing backflips in your chest, he stops holding back.

He drags the pads of his fingers through your folds, gathering the wetness and smearing it around your pussy, making a noise at the back of his throat. He briefly nudges against your swollen clit, a teasing touch, and it makes your hips jump and mouth drop open in a sharp gasp. He pushes his fingers into your entrance, two at the same time this time, and even though he was just fucking you with them earlier, you let out a low moan at the delicious stretch and being filled up again.

The slow drag of his fingers inside of your pussy has you feeling dazed, your breath escaping your lungs with each thrust. A light sheen of sweat covered your body despite the increased chill of the hotel room. Your nipples were tight and aching, your hips trembling underneath the firm hold Aaron had on you as he curved his fingers inside of you and reaching all of your sensitive spots. All of it felt good, better than good, like you were drowning in white-hot pleasure that was quickly being coaxed out with each thrust.

Despite it all, you couldn’t focus on your orgasm when your desperation to pee grew higher and higher.

“Aaron…,” you whispered, voice strained. Your breaths were growing heavier, the ache in your bladder growing stronger with each second, with each thrust of Aaron’s thick fingers hooked inside of you. The panic climbing up your throat was starting to make itself known again, anxiety at the possibility of not being able to clench and hold off for much longer.

“Just a little bit more, honey. And then you can let go for me.”

When you blink up at him, you’re shocked to realize that there were desperate tears forming at the corner of your eyes and clinging to your lashes. Your thighs were trembling, squeezing together and trapping Aaron’s wrist.

He makes a disappointed noise, and then separates your thighs with his free hand and spreading you open. He keeps your thighs apart with his forearm, his elbow digging into your thigh and his hand grabbing your other knee. He starts fucking into you faster, the filthy squelching of your soaked pussy filling the room.

You moan unabashedly, eyes fixated on the veins protruding in his forearms and the flex of his biceps as he plunges into you. You’re able to see Aaron’s heavy cock bobbing between his thighs, the tip, flushed a pretty pink, wet and leaking with precum so steadily it made your mouth water.

You feel yourself clenching around him, and usually you would be frantically wishing and begging for him to fuck you with his cock, but now you couldn’t think, couldn’t even breathe from the continuous pressure against your fucking bladder.

His hand is a blur between your thighs as he keeps fucking you with his fingers, unwavering in his pace, and your breath stutters, chest growing tight. You squeezed your eyes shut, throwing your head back against the mattress as he didn’t let up. You could feel the beginning tendrils of your orgasm sneaking up your spine, but you didn’t know what would happen if you relaxed and let go.

Before you could even make a decision, you heard rather than felt a gush of liquid coming out of you and the sounds of your pussy getting even wetter. You craned your neck to look down, eyes half-lidded and glassy, and you gasp when you notice actual liquid coming out of you with every thrust of Aaron’s thick fingers and every slap of his palm against your clit.

“There she is,” Aaron growls, gaze fixated on your pussy swallowing up his fingers and the droplets splashing out onto the sheets. “Come on, sweetheart. You can let go.”

You want to argue, tell him that what the fuck do you mean by letting go, but it was as if the more liquid shot out of your pussy, the faster and more intense your orgasm was crawling up your spine. And he doesn’t let up. In fact, it seems like he increases his speed, fucks his fingers into you harder, his palm continuing to slap against your clit, with eyebrows furrowed and lips parted.

A sharp gasp wretches out of you, your arm shooting out to grip his forearm he’s still using to separate your thighs, your muscles tensing and your pussy clenching around his fingers as your orgasm slams into you. You’re distantly aware of more liquid gushing out of you, your release painting your thighs, Aaron’s hands, and the hotel bed sheets.

Aaron lets out a long groan, his fingers slowing but still pushing, pressing and curving against your bladder as if to coax everything out of you. He releases his hold on your knee, letting your legs fall apart while he wraps a large hand around his own cock to bring himself off.

It only takes a couple of strokes before he’s cursing under his breath, voice strained, and then you feel the hot ropes of his come painting your inner thighs and on your stomach and pussy, mixing with your release.

The feeling of warmth against your lower stomach has you clenching again, dazed from your orgasm. The ache of your bladder was slightly alleviated, but it still felt horribly urgent.

Just as you were about to sit up to wobble to the restroom, Aaron stops you with a large hand in the middle of your chest. When you peer up at him, blinking through the tears at the corner of your eyes, he’s trying to catch his breath and his hand was still wrapped around his cock to squeeze the last remnants of his orgasm.

“I said you can let go, didn’t I?”

He slowly takes his fingers out of you before he’s pushing that hand on your lower stomach, pressing on your bladder. You jump, weakly grabbing at his wrist, but you’re still exhausted from your orgasm so your words die in your throat as you felt the beginning trickle coming out of you.

Luckily there’s not a lot, still able to hold some semblance of control, but there’s the unmistakable sound of you pissing on your hotel sheets because your boss wanted you to.

Hot embarrassment floods your face, your ears burning and shame making tears spring up again, but Aaron’s there. He’s watching you, arousal and affection swimming in his dark eyes, as he rubs his thumb back and forth against your hipbone. He’s shushing you, praising you and saying what a good job you did for him, and it provides some comfort that gently washes over you.

You can’t deny the relief you feel either, melting with the aftershocks of your orgasm, and when the flow stops, you softly exhale and drop your head back onto the sheets to stare at the ceiling.

You can’t move, don’t even want to move, but Aaron is there again, taking care of you. He tugs at your hips until you’re laying on a dry spot and wipes a warm wet towel over your thighs, your aching pussy, and even your stomach where some droplets of your release landed.

He’s pressed flushed up against you in the next five minutes, your shoulder pressing into his chest and his hand coming up to brush away the hair that had fallen into your face. He noses along your cheekbone. “Are you okay?”

When you twist your neck to get a good look at him, anxiety prickles at you. You almost expect him to look grossed out, disgusted at you, or even want to break up with you despite this whole thing being his idea.

What you find instead is fondness, as well as concern that he went too far and had made you uncomfortable. His eyebrows are pinched together and he gently cradles your face, his hand smelling like vanilla and lavender. God, you love him.

You lick your lips, still catching your breath, and then you say “It’s your turn next time.”

taglist <3 I AM SO SORRY IF THIS IS NOT SOMETHING UR INTO @kiwriteswords @solardrop @knitmeatardis @mggslover @maeintree @pastelpinkflowerlife @storiesofsvu @actualdeemon @khxna @ssa-writerminds

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader smut #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x female reader #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner fic #mine

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martygraciesversion381 · 3 days ago

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CUT MY HAIR

lando norris x piastri!reader

warnings: angst, enemies to lovers, drunk lando, lando being a little bitch, swearing, mention of smut, smut, oral (m), pnv, choking, spanking (light), rough sex, mean lando, tiny bit of fluff in the end

summary: you're Oscar Piastri's little sister and you and Lando always hated each other. So how did you end up in this weird situation with him? That's what you're asking yourself too

song: cut my hair by tate mcrae

a/n: this will be my first serie!!! i'm so happy to finally write again! THIS IS PURE SMUT GUYS! (but lando's hot so u can't blame me)

requests[closed for now]

masterlist

series masterlist

words: 1.2 k (sorry it's not much)

How did you end up dancing with Lando in a club after his Zandvoort win? No idea. His arms were wrapped around your waist as yours were wrapped around his neck. The usual mean words and glares were replaced by soft smiles and giggles tonight...it must have been the fact that you were both six drinks deep.

You could feel your brother's eyes glaring into your soul but you didn't care less, all that mattered now was lando and the feeling of his arms around you.

You both kept dancing unaware of the cameras filming you and all of the drivers keeping their eyes on the both of you since they were used to your usual harsh words not whatever this was.

You left for the bathroom to readjust your make up and dress, you took a few minutes to yourself to make sense of everything before leaving to go back to the dancefloor.

You had left for long enough and it seemed that Lando had complitely forgotten about you since he was dancing with another girl with his hands cupping her ass as he shoved his tongue down her throat.

That bastard. You weren't a person that let people in easily but when you did, they always ended up taking everything from you and leaving. And you had let Lando in tonight, if only for a few hours, and he had already left.

You went back to the bar to ask for another drink, and another, and another until you found yourself complitely wasted dancing freely. A guy approached you and he wrapped his arms around your waist.

You kept dancing with him and started to grind against him. But what you enjoyed the most was the feeling of Lando's gaze setting you on fire. He was so jealous and you were living for it.

You felt the guy harden against you as he gripped your waist tighter, his hand coming up to your breast. You started to feel uncomfortable, so you decided to go take another drink to get away from him.

Once you reached the bar, you ordered a drink and while you were waiting for him, you felt someone coming to stand next to you...Lando.

"Had fun whoring yourself out with that guy?" He said his words laced with anger.

"What is wrong with you? You're the one who left to do whatever you did with that girl so you don't get to call me a whore!"

Lando looked down at you then he grabbed your hand and dragged you to the bathroom of the club. He checked in all of the stalls before locking the door. He walked over to you and grabbed your hips, turning you around and pressing you against the sinks.

You gasped as you looked into his dark eyes in the mirror.

"W...What are you doing?" you asked shakyly.

He lifted your dress above your hips before he landed a hars slap on your ass making you yelp in pain. He did it a few more times and in the end you had the red mark of his hands on your ass.

"Look at you my little slut" he mumbled in your ear before turning you around and pushing you to your knees.

Your eyes widened as you found yourself face to face with the bulge in his pants and your mouth watered. Fuck he looked huge.

"Get to work" he ordered.

You nodded and fumbled with his belt before shoving his pants down his legs. You came to view of his dick straining inside of his boxers. You ran your hand on him before sqeezing and he let out a moan.

You shoved down his boxers and fuck...he was huge. You felt heat rush between your legs at his size and a proud cocky smirk made its way to his face.

You decided to immediately shut him up by wrapping your lips around his tip and he groaned as you swirled your tongue around it. His hand moved to grab the back of your head as he pushed you down on him, your eyes widened when he hit the back of your throat and you tried not to gag.

You started to bob your head up and down and his grip on your hair tightened as he threw his head back groaning loudly. You were actually good at this even if you were younger than the other girls he used to have like this.

You grabbed his thighs as he twitched in your mouth. You expected him to come in your mouth but he pulled your head back.

"Up" he ordered.

You stood up and he placed you in your earlier position with your stomach against the sink and your dress bunched around your hips. Your make up was ruined but you couldn't care less when Lando pushed your panties to the side and slid a finger in you.

You moaned gripping the sink tighter as your eyes closed. Lando added a second then a third finger and thrust them in and out of you until he thought you were ready for him.

He held your underwear to the side as he pushed all the way inside of you making you cry out but his fingers found their way in your mouth to shut you up. You looked at him in the glass as he started to thrust in an out of you at a rough and fast pace. You could feel him hitting that spot with every movement making you see stars.

The sink digged into your stomach with every thrust but you didn't care because his hand that was in your mouth came down to trace fours on your clit...wait fours? his number? God this man was already claiming you and you loved it.

You felt the knot in your lower stomach tighten and Lando sensed it too with how you were tightening around him.

"Come for me pretty girl...drench my dick" he mumbled in your ear.

Your eyes rolled back as you came all over his dick clenching tightly around him as your whole body shook.

"Fuck...where do you want it?"

"I...in me Lando" you barely managed to get out.

His hips twitched as he held himself inside of you and spilled his load. He grunted in your ear as you both came down from your highs. He helped you cleaned up, waited for you as you bid goodbye to your brother before he drove you back to your hotel room.

You both went to bed together last night, not having another round out of tiredness but sleeping in Lando's arm was enough. God you didn't remember the last time you slept the whole night.

The morning after you were woken up by the sun outside and when you looked up you saw a sleepy Lando starring down at you.

"Morning princess" he said in a groggy voice and fuck he was so hot like this.

"Morning Lan" you answered.

You both took turns to the shower and to say that the moment that followed was awkward was an understatement.

"So um...see you...at the next race yeah?" Lando said rubbing the back of his neck.

You nodded "Yeah...see ya."

He left with a nod and as he closed the door behind him you let yourself fall on the bed.

God what did you do.

tagglist:

@cinderellawithashoe @itzzgillianj27 @motorsportbarbie13 @gorgeusreputation16 @swiftlyconehead @g00d--vibes @linnygirl09 @itsleslie1998 @rd14 @safeplaceholland @f1fantasys @rendezvoushn

a/n (yes a second one): was this smut good? cause i read too much of it but i'm not sure if i'm that good at writing it....btw this chapter is a proof that i can write more than 1k words in two hours...i'm rlly proud!

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #lando norris #lando norris smut #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando imagine #lando x reader #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 smut

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levigarden999 · 2 days ago

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‪♡ quiet, sweaty nights ‪♡ levi x femreader ‪♡

₊✮⊹.₊⋆⭒˚𓇼.‧⋆⊹⋆.✮𓇼✩‧₊˚₊✮⊹.₊⋆⭒˚𓇼.‧⋆⊹⋆.✮𓇼✩‧₊˚₊✮⊹.₊⋆

theme : intimate fluffy smut , sweaty and fulfilling sex with levi warnings : smut , p!v sex , sweat , orgasm , missionary , only 18 and over notes : thank you all for the likes on my previous posts , i'm so happy you've enjoyed my writings ‪♡

₊✮⊹.₊⋆⭒˚𓇼.‧⋆⊹⋆.✮𓇼✩‧₊˚₊✮⊹.₊⋆⭒˚𓇼.‧⋆⊹⋆.✮𓇼✩‧₊˚₊✮⊹.₊⋆

levi wasn’t the biggest fan of intimacy. he was rarely affectionate towards you, it was usually just his delicate fingers lingering on your thigh or the faint feeling of his hand on your lower back. the subtle touches and hidden moments of love were his ways to show you how much he cared for you. but also how much he needed you.

even though levi didn’t get intimate often, it didn’t mean he didn’t want you. he was just so busy and focused on his work as the captain of his squad, not to mention the duty of being the strongest soldier. even though he hated that word, he knew he was important for the army and that he had a mission to fulfill. for humanity. for his loved ones. for you.

when he did get intimate, it was on those quiet nights. those quiet nights when the only sound that could be heard was the rain drops on the roof and the occasional sound coming from the wooden building materials of the hq. the moon would push its’ light in through the gaps between the curtains, illuminating beautiful shimmer against the plank floors and walls. shimmer where the small pieces of dust lingered in the now blue-ish air, as if magic was suddenly real and allowed you two to have this night without worries, stress or pressure.

the moon would cast light on levi’s face as well. there was single glistening drops of sweat on his forehead and a hint of a deep mysterious blue in his normally grey eyes as he moved on top of you. soft pants escaped his slightly open mouth with each thrust he did, the hovering black hairs on his face casting thin shadows on his skin.

”levi…” you panted quietly as you felt him do those deep, torturous strokes inside of you. the faint redness on his pale cheeks reminded you of the same lust, hunger and love your body was filled with right in that moment. you believed he felt the exact same sensations as you did. the skin between his hips and your crotch was wet and sweaty, so he had to move carefully not to make too sloppy sounds. there was a blanket covering you two, which made the situation even more intimate and hot.

sweat dripped down your temples as you laid on the soft mattress and you tightened the grip around his body. you held him close to you, his hot and steamy skin clinging against you. his other arm was wrapped around your thigh and it held your leg spread, allowing a deeper angle and a better position to manhandle you.

”m’ cumming…” you whimpered as you felt the hardness of his cock rub against your embarrassingly wet and plushy walls. you knew you had to be quiet since the others were already asleep in their rooms, so you held onto him tighter. levi looked down at you with a desperate frown between his eyebrows, and his other hand wrapped behind your head and tangled in your moist hair.

the heat of the blanket and his body was nearly overwhelming, but you hadn’t felt this close to him in a very long time. the thought made you yearn for even more.

”i’ll muffle those sweet moans f' you, love”, he cooed you. even though you were a strong woman soldier who slaughtered titans with practiced ease, you never managed to learn how to keep quiet. so levi had to help you.

he crashed his moist, swollen lips against yours and his tongue sunk into your mouth. it twisted and turned to the point it almost reached the back of your mouth, successfully muffling your moans.

”l-levi…!” you whined again, those sweet sounds of pure pleasure making his skin shiver with need to make you clench around him. he continued his deep thrusts even though he fastened his pace a little, hitting against that lovely spot over and over again. your hips began to tremble and soon your whole body squirmed as the sweaty, beautiful and longed orgasm crashed over you. levi’s mouth sucked in all your whines and moans and he fucked you through your orgasm, the slight grip on your hair making sure you didn’t pull away from the kiss.

₊✮⊹.₊⋆⭒˚𓇼.‧⋆⊹⋆.✮𓇼✩‧₊˚₊✮⊹.₊⋆⭒˚𓇼.‧⋆⊹⋆.✮𓇼✩‧₊˚₊✮⊹.₊⋆

#attack on titan #aot #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi #snk #aot fanfiction #aot levi #levi aot #captain levi #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi smut #levi x reader #smut fanfiction #smut fic #snk levi #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x you

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captainpriceslilwife · 14 hours ago

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uuuhhhhhh ruminating on nikolai again and im hormonal and I stalked @quarterlifekitty 's nikolai tag about a hundred times so uhhhhhhh...gross daddy kink with nik 🤗 yay! (18+ nsfw below the cut)

CW: daddy kink (nik brings it out of me....like nasty, so im so sorry), overstimulation, could be perceived as non-con ish but it isn't I promise (he loves you, you love this behavior, everyone is happy) aannnd no aftercare written (only bc i didn't feel like writing it :) but he did take care of you afterwards, i promise) also first time writing smut so bad writing TW

Curled up at Nik's side, your cheek squished up against the dense hair that coats his chest as his fingers work their way into your tight, clenching heat. The little whimpers and mewls that escape from your mouth only serve to spur him on, but when your hips begin to wriggle, he brings his large paw to grip your ass and hold you in place on his fingers.

He chuckles softly at the quiet keen you let out, and he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head to soothe you as he scissors his fingers inside of you. "Shhh, kotenok...you need to sit still for your papochka, hm? So tight...I wouldn't want to hurt my sweet girl just because she can't be patient."

"I am being patient..." You murmur breathlessly, your tone turning slightly petulant as you tilt your head up to press tiny, pleading kisses to his jaw. "I want more, please, daddy. I can take it, I promise."

You feel his voice rather than hear it - his deep, rumbling voice reverberating through his chest and straight to your core as he coos quietly at you. "I know you think you can handle it, but papochka knows what you need, baby. Just be a good little girl for me and take what I give you."

But you just can't listen. You're always so good for him, but you had a really hard day :(, so after a couple more minutes (thirty seconds) you can't help it when you start to grind down on his fingers, groaning softly as you finally get him to punch against that spongey spot inside of you that has you sighing in relief.

He tuts quietly at your disobedience, but he can't help but huff in amusement at the way you bounce yourself on his thick fingers, barely even giving him a thought as you pant against his neck. He's always loved that you felt comfortable enough to push against him and his rules, especially since you were a jumpy little thing when he first got his hands on you - always asking him for directions and doing everything he said to a T. He's finally gotten you to relax enough to take what you need from him, even if it means you end up acting like a brat sometimes. But he's never been the type of man to punish bratty behavior...no, no, no. He loves spoiling his sweet malyshka! So if you want more? He'll give it to you.

No matter what.

And now that you've got your knees pressed next to your ears, feet dangling over his shoulders as he rams his cock into you, your little fists are weakly pushing against his chest as you whine about it being 'too much'.

"Oh, but isn't this what you wanted, malyshka? I thought you could take it, big girl. You promised me." He croons in a condescending tone, pulling one of your hands away from his chest to press a gentle kiss to it as you continue to whimper pathetically. When a tear begins to slip down your cheek, he swoops in and licks it right up, causing you to let out a little whine of discontent and a soft little 'gross' - but he can feel how tightly you clench around him at the action. "Mmh...so sweet, milaya."

And when he's made you cum more times than you can count - battering your poor, squelching cunt to its limit - you try to wriggle away from him. He just lets out a deep, rumbling laugh at your weak attempt to get away, eying you like you're an unruly kitten who doesn't know any better.

"Ah, ah, ah..." He tuts gently at you, tugging your hips back to slam you down on the bed so he can work his cock back inside of you. "No running, kotenok. You don't go anywhere until I say so. Come on, listen to your daddy."

You're nearly blacked out by the time he finally stops. Your trembling hands reach down between your legs to guard your throbbing pussy even though you know he's done - he's already rolled over to reach for his cigarettes and lighter, pulling you tight to his side as he flicks his thumb until the end of his stick glows orange.

He tosses the lighter off to the side before taking a deep drag and tilting your chin up to look at him. He blows his smoke out of the corner of his mouth to 'not ruin your pretty lungs', as he always says - but you're not sure how much good it does when he uses the same hand that holds the cigarette to trace his thumb over your cheek, catching the tears that still slip from your eyes.

"Say 'thank you, papochka' " He grunts in that sweet, patronizing voice that always turns you on more than you care to admit. When you stay silent, too fucked-out to even bring yourself to think, he brings one of his hands up to squeeze the fat of your cheeks, forcing your lips into a pout and pulling a soft gasp out of you. "Go on. Say it, little girl."

You choke out something between a moan and a sob, and it takes you a second to form the words "th-thank you, papochka" before your resigned back to a panting, sweaty mess as he pats your cheek affectionately.

"Ah, good. So you can listen."

nsfw (p!link) visual for the first position he's got you in (full cred to @codnasties for the vid even though its for price)

#releasing my drafts into the wild #sorry you guys are my victims #of course my first smut is with nikolai #cod x reader #nikolai cod x reader #nikolai x reader #nikolai cod #nikolai smut #captainpriceslilwife #cod imagine #nikolai cod smut #cod smut #guys why is this scary #guys im scared #smut is scary :/#can you tell im a virgin #call of duty x reader #call of duty smut

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costinxtwice · 2 days ago

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Scent of a Woman: Idol Erotica - Jihyo

Male Reader x Jihyo

Genre: Smut

Words: 1.3K

The curtains are opened slightly, exposing the harsh sunlight that drowns the room in its brightness. Within this hotel room sits a large bed, the white sheets messy under the weight of your girlfriend Jihyo who lays on it, exhausted and sweaty from your recent kickboxing and Muay Thai workout.

She’s wearing blue satin Muay Thai shorts with an olive-colored shirt tucked into it, her hair still tied up as it was in the gym so it wouldn’t get into her face as she threw her jabs and teeps.

“Uh, it’s so hot. Baby, please turn on the AC.”

“I already did, Ji. Give it a second.”

She just groans in response, adorably kicking her legs on the bed as you sit next to her, chuckling at her cuteness. She hasn’t showered yet. Neither have you. You see the way her shirt clings to her body, the red flush of her skin damp with sweat, and that’s not all. Not even close.

Even on the way to the hotel you could smell it. Now that you’re right next to her in this room already hot with humidity, it’s clearer. Her natural scent. The scent of her after an intense workout, not covered with clean lotions or fancy perfumes.

It’s subtle in the air, but with each shift of her legs you can’t help but get just that much more curious. And just like that, you begin to move.

“Let me help you relax, love,” you whisper, moving toward the end of the bed as your hands lightly trail her thighs before gently massaging her feet that sit at the end of the bed. She doesn’t even look over, her eyes closed as her head rests on the pillow.

“Oh, and how’s that?”

You smile to yourself as you kiss at her knee, moving slowly upward until you reach the inseam of her shorts, the faint scent of her sweaty heat hitting you with its muskiness as she opens up her legs lightly.

“Oh, this is what you had in mind.”

You reach the satin fight shorts that hug her waist perfectly, grabbing them by the waistband before pulling them down, revealing low-rise compression shorts underneath. You catch the faint scent of sweat and musk in the air; it only grows stronger as you bring yourself closer to the center of the fabric, nose resting directly where her heat remains covered.

One inhale of her natural musk and you immediately stiffen a groan as Jihyo’s thighs shake slightly, a laugh escaping her lips. “You’re insane for this.”

“You’re insane for smelling like this,” you fire back. The sweaty compression shorts cling tight, just barely revealing the lips that sit beneath them. Without another word your hands go to her waistbands again, this time to pull down the compression shorts which stick to her skin.

You can’t look away as the soaked fabric peels off, inch by inch, revealing her glistening cunt that shines through with a mixture of arousal and sweat.

“You’re killin’ me here…” you barely groan out as a breathless laugh escapes her lips, her hands instinctively lowering to cover herself.

“C’mon, no need to be shy here.”

“Y/N, I just did an intense workout and haven’t showered, and you’re staring down there like you haven’t eaten all day,” she says, deadpan.

“I have, this is just dessert.”

With that, your hands remove hers gently before you lower yourself once more, taking in her raw scent again. Her thighs twitch instinctively as your breath ghosts over her folds, like she’s trying not to clench around nothing.

What hits you first is the bitter, somewhat salty scent emanating from the top of her cunt; humid and close, like heat trapped in a sauna towel. This comes through strongest in the crease of her groin. Once your mouth and nose sit on her core, the smell changes ever so slightly to a more tangy, slightly fermented scent that’s warm and earthy.

Your tongue grazes her slit and the taste hits like licking salt on sun-warmed skin; bitter, sharp, and a little sour. You groan into her as her legs tighten around your head, the weight of her workout poured right into your mouth.

“Ah~, you’re so good at this,” she laughs into a moan as you let your tongue continue to move, switching between a few light yet lingering licks to her clit before leading to some heavy yet rapid licks to her lips.

“I mean, that’s because you taste so good underneath me,” you groan out between licks, holding her thighs steady as you let yourself drown in her taste and scent.

You drag your tongue lower, tracing the flushed, soaked seam between her folds and her tightest hole which is hot, humid, and twitching beneath you. The smell makes your eyes slightly water; rank, primal, the kind of smell that makes your brain split between reluctance and hunger. Like your mouth doesn’t instinctively want it, but your cock can’t think of anything else.

You moan into it, tasting every inch as she gasps hard, fingers twisting in your hair as you graze the slick skin just above her ass, her hips jolting with the shock of sensation.

Your cock throbs untouched. Mind blank. All that exists is her, her taste, her scent, the steam rising off her asshole like she was built to be devoured.

Her knees press back toward her chest, staying pinned as her thighs tremble; everything wet, twitching, exposed. The angle is perfect. Your mouth moves lower, trailing past her cunt, over that slick seam of flushed skin, until your tongue finds her ass, and she gasps like you’ve taken her breath with it.

You slip two fingers inside her without warning, and she lets out a sharp gasp, her back lifting off the sheets as your knuckles press deep. She’s soaked; so wet that your fingers glide in with no resistance, swallowed whole by her clenching heat.

Your mouth doesn’t leave her.

As your fingers begin to curl and pump slowly inside her, your tongue returns to the mess you just worshipped; licking along that seam slick with sweat, spit, and the thick, raw scent of her.

You mouth over her taint, flicking it gently before dropping your tongue lower again, swirling it against her tightest hole while your fingers work her pussy from the inside.

Her asshole clenches instinctively around the tip of your tongue; tight and twitching, trying to push you out and pull you in all at once. The taste here is darker. Bitter. Fermented. Like sweat sealed in heat. You moan into it, and the vibration makes her jolt again, legs twitching around your head.

She moans loud now, nothing delicate. It’s a wet, filthy sound, her chest rising with each breath as her hips rock helplessly against your face. The scent is everywhere; salt, sweat, the musky reek of her ass. It clings to your lips, coats your tongue, stains your brain with every breath.

“Fuck, fuck—baby, I—” she cries out, her voice cracking. “You’re gonna make me—”

You thrust your fingers deeper, curling them upward against that swollen spot that makes her whole body seize, while your tongue flattens against her asshole, licking her like it’s something sacred in its filth.

She clamps down around your fingers and your mouth at the same time; her cunt squeezing so hard you feel it in your wrist, her asshole twitching like it’s trying to keep your tongue inside forever. She cums hard; loud, sudden, unrestrained. Her whole body locks up and shakes, and all the while your face stays buried, lapping at the center of her filth like a man possessed.

Even as she trembles, as her body shakes from the aftershocks, you don’t stop. You moan into her again, loud and low, your nose pressed into the slick space between her pussy and her ass, where the scent is strongest; ripe and real, like you could still taste her orgasm sweating through her skin.

You pull your mouth away only when she starts twitching too hard to hold still, your fingers slipping from her cunt with a wet pop as she pants, hair plastered to her forehead, face flushed and dazed.

Her voice is hoarse when she finally speaks.

“That was… intense…” she murmurs, smiling, eyes barely open.

“And that,” you whisper against her thigh, “was just the start.”

#male reader #male reader smut #twice smut #twice jihyo smut #female idol smut #jihyo smut

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mywritersmind · 10 hours ago

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WIN FOR ME - OP81

summary : In which, you start to realize how much your boyfriend really does respond to praise and test his limits on multiple occasions

listen up : a sweet and sexy request <3 smut!! p in v. praise kink duh! some smau!! hot texts from a hot man. my first oscar fic wowza i hope u like

words : 777

⋆｡‧˚⋆

It started off simple, congratulating Oscar on little things, complimenting his haircut or his shirt… completely normal things for a girlfriend to say.

You noticed his mood shift after a particularly steamy night. Muttering the words, “So good for me…” while you looked up at him from between his legs. He came right then and right there, flushing immediately when he realized the amount of time he lasted.

Oscar thought it was embarrassing, you found it hot.

The second time was when things started to really heat up. You both sat in his drivers room, watching him change with a little too much excitement, knowing he had to go out and drive so soon.

“You've gotten bigger.” Oscar practically falls on his face when you say it, standing up quickly, his fireproof half on.

“Sorry?” He chokes out.

You nod innocently, “Your back. All that time in the gym is paying off.”

He turns to the mirror, flexing his back which is faced towards you as if you’re not already wet. “You think?” He slides his fireproof down, covering the skin you want to mark so badly.

“Yeah. It’s hot.”

He’s on you in seconds, his mouth against yours and his hands grasping at any sliver of exposed skin on your body.

You weren’t lying when you said he was big, he towers over you, your hands grabbing the back of his neck as if your life depends on it.

He holds your hips tightly, pulling you closer to feel him against you. “Fuck Osc- You’re so perfect.” You mumble into the kiss, bringing out a whine from him that goes straight to your core.

You grin against him while he kisses you harder. Oh this will be fun.

⋆༺

He’s in a suit, you’re in a dress. You’re by far the most good looking couple in here. ‘Here’ as in the giant theater where opera performers prance around the stage.

Oscar had been invited and at the time, it felt rude to say no. Now, when the man who invited him disappeared across the room, you felt less bad about distracting your terribly bored boyfriend.

It’s been a few weeks since you started intentionally playing into Oscar’s praise kink and… wow. He’s always been great in bed but shit- it’s like you switched something in him.

Slipping your hand onto his shoulder and leaning in close you whisper, “I can’t stop thinking about last night.”

“Y/n…” He whispers back, not turning his head to look at you.

“I’m still sore.” You bite your lip when you see his jaw clench. “Just couldn’t stop, huh?” He’s still silent, besides his breathing growing heavier. Your hand slips to his upper thigh, covered in fabric more expensive than your rent. “That’s fine. You make it easy to go again with.”

“I know what you’re doing.” He bites out just as a satisfied smile breaks across your face and your palm meets his groin.

“Yeah and you like it.” He grabs your hand and in a second, you’re both exiting the row with no regard for the people you pass.

Oscar looks on, his hand gripping your wrist tighter as you exit the theater. The first bathroom he sees is the one he drags you into.

“Excuse me there’s only one allowe-” a poor worker tries to stop you two but the lock sounds behind you and the feeling of the cold door meets your back.

Before you know it, your dress is bunched around your waist and his hand is down your panties. He loves getting you off, the look on your face when his fingers curl into you is engraved into his memory.

You make that same face now, your head tilting back as you let out a moan. “Osc- I need you. Now.”

“You’re so beautiful.” He kisses your neck while you unzip his pants, “This dress- I knew I wouldn’t make it through the night.”

“Thank god for that.” You say just as he aligns himself with you, pushing in without a second thought. You both moan this time, not caring about your surroundings, just the feeling of skin against skin. “So big-”

“So tight.” He mumbles, moving slowly at first. “Mmm…”

“Please.” You groan as he picks up his pace, his head falling onto your shoulder as he breathes heavily. Nail scratching against his back, your panties ripping, Oscar slamming his hand against the door before moving you to the sink… it’s a blur of pure adrenaline and sex, one that ends with lace in his pocket and you practically limping out of that bathroom.

⋆༺

#formula 1 fanfic #fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader

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its-luna-noel · 3 days ago

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puppy chronicles

05. the useless puppy | toji x reader

The JJK men are gifted a hybrid puppy. ...wait, that kind of puppy? alpha!human!jjk men x omega!hybrid!reader

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, hybrid!au, omegaverse, hybrid!reader, omega!reader, pet play, collars/leashes, smut, heat/rut, knots, oral (f! receiving), spitting, toji's a little nasty, anal fingering

word count: 3.9k next: the naughty puppy | sukuna x reader

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: hi there! sorry it's been a while, but here's toji's puppy chronicle! i hope you all enjoy <3 next up is sukuna!

Toji finally made his lucky break; he just won a race.

When he makes his way to the winner’s box, expecting a handsome cash reward for his bets, enough to make sure he won’t have to work for at least a few months, he’s disappointed – almost angry – to find you instead.

You’re dressed in a satin romper, something decent enough to show on live television as he comes to collect his winnings, but with enough lace trim to make you look desirable. Your fluffy tail wags from side to side, and your big puppy eyes gaze up at him adoringly. Your new master–

“Tch,” he huffs, turning towards the announcer just as they turn off the cameras, returning coverage to the winning jockey. “What the hell? I didn’t sign up for this.”

“Technically, sir,” says the announcer, smoothing out his suit jacket, “you did. By placing your bets–”

“I don’t want to look after some mutt!” Toji snaps, green eyes narrowing, and your heart sinks at his expression and words. Your tail no longer wags. “I signed up for a cash prize, not some stupid hybrid.”

The announcer shrugs, adjusting his cuffs. “Resell her, then. I’m sure you can find someone to take her. Just get her out of here before we get back on air.”

Toji snarls but snatches the leather leash from your handler. It’s a lot of extra work, but he supposes he can put you up for auction or something to have you gone by the end of the week – and more importantly, have his money by then.

He marches out of the winner’s box with a scowl on his face, dragging you behind him on your hands and knees. You follow as fast as you can, ripping up the palms of your hands as you move with him across the concrete.

When he gets you back to his car, he opens the backseat door. “Get in,” he says gruffly, eyes on the sky instead of on you, like he can’t even bear the sight of you.

Your heart breaks a little, but you follow his instructions, climbing into the back of the car and letting him shut the door behind you. You sit in silence as he moves around to the driver’s seat and starts the engine with a low rumble.

The car’s a piece of shit, you have to admit.

But it runs, so you suppose you shouldn’t be complaining as he drives you to whatever motel he’s staying in for now. He comes to let you out of the car, and when you emerge, you look up at him shyly.

You ask, “Can…I walk?”

“Don’t give a shit, doll. You do what you want. You’re gonna be gone soon anyway.”

You think, for a moment, you might sit down in the unpaved parking lot and weep.

But you don’t; you keep a strong facade as you follow him, on your bare feet this time, to save your hands and knees the rough treatment of crawling. He leads you past the front desk, and the receptionist gives you a curious look, eyes locking on the leash and collar you’re adorned with.

Once he’s in the room, he unclips the leash and gestures towards the bed. “Lay there if you want.” He, instead of lying beside you, goes to the old laptop on the desk and pries it open.

It’s quiet between you as he clicks away at the keyboard, bringing up a puppy auction site. You curl up on the bed, ears pinned back against your head as you watch him offer you away like you’re nothing.

You suppose, to him, you are nothing.

He sets up the profile, adding your description to it almost clinically. Then, when it calls for a picture for insurance that he really does have a puppy like you, he sighs loudly.

“Come ‘ere, puppy,” he calls, patting his lap without looking at you. “Need a picture.”

So you crawl out of bed, your hands and knees still raw. You look at him questioningly for a moment, silently asking what he wanted you to do, before he pats his lap one more time. “Don’t make me ask again, doll. Sit.”

You settle on his lap, resting lightly on his strong thighs, feeling the hard muscles beneath your own soft legs. He wraps an arm around you and pulls you close until your back hits his broad chest, your legs falling to the side so both of his are between yours. Your ass is now firmly against his crotch, and even soft you can feel the imprint of him through his loose sweatpants.

He puts his scarred lips to your ear and whispers, “Smile.”

You fight to swallow before offering a shaky smile to the webcam.

He clicks the capture button, and then he’s patting your thigh to get you off. “Alright, pup, that’s it.”

He goes back to what he was doing without another look, like he’s unaffected by your presence, your touch, your body against his. Putting you up for auction without any regrets. You go back to what you were doing, lying there watching him sign your life away for the second time that day.

Once Toji puts up the profile, he leans back in his chair, eyes on the screen as he waits for something to happen. Waits to see if anyone will take you.

Someone puts in a bid on you within ninety seconds.

Toji watches, sea glass eyes widening and practically reflecting dollar signs, as the bid amount goes up, and up, and up.

By the time the final price is locked in, it’s at millions of yen.

Toji leans back in his chair, hands locked behind his hands with a smug expression on his face. Those bastards at the race were right; people were desperate for a pretty puppy like you, especially one that was publicized on television for anyone to see and lust over.

He sighs happily and glances over at you, standing from his seat. He’s in a much better mood now. He comes over to pet your ears, rubbing them lightly. “You’re going to a good home, pup,” he tells you, even though he can’t be sure of that, and doesn’t care to even try. You’re just a stepping stone between him and millions of yen.

So that night he climbs into bed beside you, lying an arms length away from your curled up body, and he tries to think of all the money he’ll earn when he finally hands you over. Sure, he’ll just blow all that money on betting again, but hey, the more he bets, the more he could win – and hopefully this time it won’t be a stupid puppy.

He’s imagining all the money he’ll make when all of a sudden it hits – a sweetness, almost sickeningly sweet, sweeping quickly across the room and drowning him in its intensity.

Toji stiffens beside you, and you whimper, starting to scoot away on the bed. “I’m sorry,” you rush out, trying to put as much distance between you and him as possible. “I’m sorry, they picked me for the race because my heat was coming soon. I didn’t know it would be tonight though, I-I-I thought I would be gone before it came–”

Toji growls, snatching you up and dragging you back towards him, making your romper ride up your thighs. He leans into the crook of your neck and sniffs, long and punctuated with a soft groan at the end. “Fuck, doll,” he rumbles, parting his lips to bare his teeth, “you smell so goddamn good. So fucking sweet.” He grazes his teeth over your scent gland.

You whimper, shifting in his arms, aching. “M-Mr. Fushiguro–”

He lets out a sharp laugh, pulling back to fix his eyes on you. “I’m not ‘Mr.’ anything, pup. Call me Toji when I fuck you.”

You shiver at his words. “Y-y-you’re gonna…?”

He repeats the words right in your ear, “Fuck you? Yeah, doll, I’m gonna fuck you. Gonna put my dick so deep inside you it’ll come out your damn mouth. Now, lay down before I make you.” Then he licks the shell of your ear, his breath making you shiver.

You lie back against the sheets, and he follows you down, his broad body covering yours. He presses his face into the crook of your neck again, nipping at your throat above and below your leather collar. His teeth sink into the flesh over your scent gland, and the cloying sweetness only permeates the room further, almost drowning in it, almost tasting it.

He pulls aside the neckline of your satin romper, giving him more space to leave imprints of his teeth. With every bite you moan, the sound lewd, almost pornographic. You just can’t believe how fucking good it feels to have him touching you.

You’ve had other partners, but you haven’t had an alpha treat you like his omega before.

He makes his way lower and lower, pulling the sleeves of your lingerie down your shoulders, slowly revealing your perfect chest to his eyes. Your nipples are already pert, with the sensation of his teeth on you, and he chuckles, looking up through dark lashes.

“You’re so good, pup,” he whispers, his mouth moving slowly down to the top of your breast. He sucks a mark there, before moving to the other. “Almost regret putting you up for auction now. If only I’d known you were so goddamn sweet.”

You’re panting, gazing down at him with pupils blown wide with desire. You watch as he lowers his mouth, eyes on yours the entire time, and finally wraps his lips around your nipple, flicking his tongue against it.

Your head falls back in pleasure, eyes closing as you mewl quietly. At the sight, he reaches up and grabs your jaw, forcing your head back up. “Keep your eyes on me, doll,” he drawls, lazily swiping his tongue over your nipple, like it’s automatic, like he’s not even thinking about the action. “Or I’ll stop.”

And you don’t want that – god, you don’t. So you keep your eyes on his, watching his pink lips suck lightly on your nipple before kissing his way over to your other breast, taking that nipple in his mouth in turn.

You’re moaning softly, lashes fluttering as you fight to keep your eyes open.

Then, once he’s grown tired of playing with your sensitive nipples, he tightens his hand on your jaw and leans up to kiss you.

It’s messy, it’s sloppy, it’s everything.

His tongue swipes against yours, hot and commanding. He forces his way into your mouth, exploring every inch, and you realize that you don’t want to kiss anyone else, don’t want to be given away. You want to stay with this alpha, want him to mark you, knot you, make you his.

You don’t want to be sold off, and your heart sinks with the thought that after this, things will go right back to normal.

As he kisses you, he slides the romper the rest of the way off. He pulls the fabric down your legs, then knocks your knees aside to open you up for his body to fit between your thighs.

It’s like heaven, feeling the warmth of your naked body against every hard line of his.

He chucks the satin across the room, the piece already forgotten as he wraps his arms around your thighs and tugs, pulling you closer to his mouth. He’s practically salivating for it, drooling for your wet pussy, like a dog himself. He’s sure if he was the one with the tail, it would be wagging so hard he’d get happy tail. Instead, he dives in, spitting on your clit and watching the wad of saliva slowly drip down between your lips, soaking right into your tight little pussy.

He growls at the sight.

He reaches one hand down and slowly brushes the pads of his fingers over your cunt, spreading them into a “V” so he can look at just how pretty it is, like petals on the most beautiful flower he’s ever fucking seen. His spit is still there, leaking down towards the curve of your ass now, and he watches it for a moment longer before slowly leaning in.

He looks up at you at the last second, watching you. You’re panting, your lips parted in anticipation of what’s to come, your eyes wide and taking in the sight. When he stops, you whimper quietly, but you don’t move.

He grins up at you and whispers, “Say please.”

“Oh, please,” you beg, so prettily.

And then his mouth is on you.

He slathers your pussy with spit, brushing the flat of his tongue against your clit. Your hips jump at the sensation, but he’s got such a tight hold on you that you can’t run away even if you wanted to, which you don’t. You want to stay here, in his arms, in this piece of heaven, forever. You want him to eat you out for hours, if he so pleases, just in order for him to touch you like this over and over and over again, to never let you go.

You wanna be good for him.

He laps at your clit like he’s possessed, like it’s his one mission in life. As he does, he humps his hips into the mattress, groaning right into your pussy at the stimulation.

It’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

Then his long, dextrous tongue slips inside your waiting pussy, and your back rises off the bed, your head falling back against the pillows. You cry out, and Toji grins again as he fucks his tongue into you, reaching down with his thumb to gently rub your clit.

It’s embarrassing how fast you cum.

Your thighs shake around his head, and he’s still holding you tightly in place as your hips threaten to buck off the bed, chasing the sensations. But he’s got complete control over you, and he won’t let it go so easily, so he holds you down and fucks you with his tongue, his thumb still rubbing light little circles on your swollen clit.

He doesn’t stop after just one orgasm, or even two. He chases a third, until you’re babbling his name and erotic mixtures of “please” and “oh god.”

Then finally, when he pulls away, after your pussy clenches around his tongue for the third time, his lips and chin are covered in your sweet, decadent slick.

He lets go of your legs, letting them fall open so he can crawl up your body. And then he’s grabbing your jaw, squeezing until your lips part, and he’s forcing his tongue into your mouth, letting you taste yourself on him. When he pulls away, keeping his hold on your jaw, he spits in your mouth, making you taste everything he took from you on your tongue.

“Swallow,” he says, and you do. Then he shifts again, rising up on his knees and reaching for you once more.

He manhandles you, grabbing you by the hips and shoving you onto your belly, where he crushes you against the bed, the imprint of his massive length hard against your ass. He grinds down, rubbing his dick into the plush flesh there. He grunts, fingers digging into your hips. “Fuck, doll. You’re so soft. Bet your pussy would feel just as soft, huh? Soft and warm.” He hums, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “Can’t wait to fuck you.”

You whine softly, tilting your hips to press your ass back against his pelvis. “Fuck me, then,” you beg.

He chuckles lightly, swatting your ass with a loud thwack! “Impatient little thing, huh? Are you that desperate?” he asks, watching your ass jiggle as he smacks it again.

You nod, still whimpering.

“Use your words, doll, don’t make me put you over my knee. Answer me when I ask you a question.”

“Y-yes Toji,” you gasp, stuttering it out as he grabs your cheeks in each hand and spreads them, his eyes feasting on your quivering holes. “I’m that desperate.”

“Good girl,” he praises, leaning down to spit again, and it feels filthy as his saliva starts to drip down, mixing with your slick.

Then he pulls away, and you whine at the loss of his touch. “T-Toji!” you bleat.

Smack! Another spank, this one harder than the previous two, less playful and more punishing. “Be patient, pup, or I really will put you over my knee.”

You turn over your shoulder to watch him, gripping the sheets until your knuckles turn white. He grabs the back of his t-shirt and tugs it over his head, revealing his muscular chest and abdomen to your eyes. Then, before you can even fully take in the sight, he runs one hand down his belly, fingers brushing the hair below his navel, leading down under the waistband of his joggers. He slowly pulls those down, then, letting you watch as his cock springs free from its confines.

He’s not wearing underwear.

Your mouth waters at the sight, and your tail wags wickedly from side to side. You want to suck him dry, but you don’t dare ask out of turn. Instead, your eyes lift to meet his, and he grins at you, a cocky smirk crooking his scarred lips. It’s clear he knows he’s gorgeous, and he uses it to his advantage.

Then he takes his cock in hand, the head blushed a pretty pink, and starts slowly, teasingly, rubbing it up and down your slit.

You whimper, aching to not rock your hips back and force him inside. Instead you wait, like a good girl, because maybe if you behave he’ll keep you longer, he’ll wait to hand you over to your new owner.

Maybe he won’t give you away at all.

Then, with one soft slap to your swollen clit that makes your hips jump, he slowly pushes inside, inch by aching inch.

As he does, he spits again, and this time, using his saliva as lubricant, he pushes his thumb against the tight rim of muscle at your asshole, right beneath where your tail sits.

You jump at the sensation; no one’s ever touched you there, somewhere so intimate, even more than your weeping pussy. Toji clearly notices, and he grins, humming deep in his chest as he lets the tip of his thick finger slide into your hole while he slowly fills your pussy with his cock.

Your lips fall open, stunned at just how fucking full you feel. He pushes his thumb slowly deeper, even as he slowly fucks your dripping cunt, your pussy slobbering all over his dick with slick. He groans when you clench around him, and his other hand moves to your collar, feeling the smooth leather beneath his fingers.

Then he grabs your collar and tugs backwards, and you make a soft whine as he uses the leather to choke you, cutting off your air supply. Your eyes roll back in ecstasy at the sensation of oxygen leaving your messy, sloppy, drunken brain, and it only makes you wetter, the sounds of him fucking you echoing in the motel room.

He chuckles darkly, tightening his hold on you. “Yeah, pup? You like that? Like how I’m in charge of everything, even your fucking breathing?” When you nod, he tsks playfully. “Fuck, pretty, I can tell. You’re clamped so hard around my dick, it’s like you’re tryna milk me dry. That's what you’re doing, huh? You tryna take my knot?”

You nod desperately, head starting to drop weakly at the lack of air. He eases his hold on you, letting you take a few deep breaths before he tightens his grip once more.

He groans again. “Fuck, baby, so fucking tight. Like you’re choking my dick. I’ll give it to you, pup, I’ll give you my knot, ‘kay? Gonna have my fucking puppies, gonna breed this perfect fucking cunt.”

He lets his grip lighten again, allowing you to respond to what he’s asking, what he’s telling you. You whine loudly, feeling him fuck you even harder. “Toji!” you cry, your voice hoarse as your hips cant backwards into his, driving his dick further into your pussy and his thumb deeper into your ass. At this angle, he hits your g-spot perfectly, the tip of his cock rubbing against it at the bottom of every thrust.

You can feel the base of his cock swelling, threatening to plug you full.

Toji’s breaths start to come a little faster, a little more ragged. “Oh, fuck, pretty puppy, I’m close. I’m gonna cum right in your fucking womb, fill you up with my puppies. Get ready, baby, it’s coming– Oh, f-fuck–”

And then, with one last violent thrust, his knot shoves inside your waiting pussy, and you cry out at the mixture of pleasure and white-hot pain at the tight plug.

Toji cums, and cums, and cums, and it’s almost incessant, how much seed he spills into you. You almost feel swollen with it already, feeling it slosh around against your cervix.

He holds your hips there, groaning into the back of your shoulder as his hips stutter into yours. And then, when he falls quiet and still, you both breathe a sigh of relief.

You stay like that for several minutes, locked in place by his knot. Once, you try to move, to let the arch of your back fall straight, but that just pulls at the knot and makes you yelp and whimper in pain.

His big hand comes to smooth your hair, soothing you, like any alpha should. “It’s okay, pup,” he says, voice gruff. “Just a few more minutes and you can relax.”

You whimper again, but you trust him to know what he’s talking about. So you stay still as he slowly softens and as the swelling of his knot slowly goes down. Then, only once he’s pulled out and leaves you empty do you sag, boneless, into the mattress.

He chuckles breathlessly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and dragging you into position, right at his side, chest to chest. He lets you lie against him, your face pressed into his shoulder, and his fingers trace up and down your spine, sending a shiver through your sore body.

You didn’t expect him, so brash and brutal, to be good at aftercare. Yet here he is, holding you close, letting you come down from his rough treatment of you.

And then, in the quiet of the room, he says gruffly, “Fuck that guy. I’m not selling you to him.”

Your body goes still, and you pull back to look at him, blinking. His expression is serious, almost a little challenging, like he expects you to fight him.

“Sorry, pup,” he says, staring into your eyes. “You’re stuck with me.”

At that you can’t help but giggle. Why does he think you ever wanted to leave? He gives you an incredulous look. “Fuck you laughing at?” Then he pinches your hip, shaking his head and grumbling, “Little brat.”

But despite his words, he holds you close for the rest of the night, and every night after.

thanks for reading! -luna xx next: the naughty puppy

#banners by cafekitsune #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #fanfiction #hybrid au #omegaverse #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #fushiguro toji #toji zenin #jjk men

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melwnst · 18 hours ago

Text

────── ⋆⋅☆ CLOSE, D.W

summary. although Dean acts like it’s a nightmare, one bed instead of two might not be the worst thing ever.

now playing ↬ Close-Nick Jonas & Tove Lo

⭑.ᐟ Oh hello! I’m back with some dean content🤭ONE BED TROPE I REPEAT ONE BED TROPE! slight mention of smut but none really! He drives me insane?!!!! Interact and send requests if u have any:) let me know if you’d like a part two w fluff!!!

word count. 798

Supernatural masterlist/full masterlist

──────────୨ৎ──────────

‘You’ve got to be kidding me’ are the first words to leave dean’s mouth the second you both enter the room.

You look up at him in disbelief, surely sharing a bed with you isn’t the worst thing ever, right?

‘Don’t sound too excited, jeez’ you mumble under your breath enough for Dean to hear as you lay your bags on the floor, still staring at the single bed sitting in the middle of this cold, dark room.

You don’t see it, but you know Dean enough to know he’s just rolled his eyes.

‘I’ll go check with them if they can change the room.’ Dean leaves before you have a chance to answer.

He might just be the most confusing man you’ve ever met.

Because he was all over you just a couple of days ago. His hand laid on your thigh the whole ride making you grow hot only for him to retract it when he felt the heat.

There’s no in between with Dean. Either he wants it, or he doesn’t, and sometimes you’re not really sure where he stands.

You sit in silence as you unpack, pretty sure that if they gave you this room, it’s because none other was available.

The moment the door opens and you hear a deep, loud sigh from behind you, you know you’re right.

Dean doesn’t speak. Instead of speaking, he walks directly into the bathroom, barely laying an eye on you as if you don’t exist.

It’s quick before you get under the covers, your mind slipping between consciousness and slumber. Your eyes open for what feels like the thousandth time when the door of the bathroom creeks open, his footsteps getting closer.

You feel his eyes on you for the first time.

Your back faces him, your eyes barely move, your breath still as if you’re scared he’ll know you’re awake the moment he hears you breathe.

There’s another sigh, then he slouches on the bed, you can almost hear his heartbeat.

When Dean turns the lights off and lays down next to you, the world is still. He hasn’t said a word, neither have you. You’re scared you might break if you dare to speak up, he might too.

It feels like a lifetime before Dean speak up.

‘Are you asleep?’ His voice is deep. His voice sounds like he hasn’t spoken in years. Like he’s scared to say another word.

It’s a couple seconds before you find the courage to turn around instead of answering. Dean’s on his back, he still doesn’t look at you.

‘I’m an asshole,aren’t I?’ He questions, although you’re not sure if it’s rhetorical, you answer.

‘I mean, yeah. Maybe a little.’

Only then does he look at you. He sees the little smirk tugging at your lips, and he lets out a laugh before going back to staring at the ceiling.

‘Why won’t you let me in?’

You regret it the moment it comes out. Maybe because you don’t want to know the actual answer. Or maybe because you know he might go back to giving you the silent treatment.

He doesn’t.

‘I’m scared, I think.’

Your eyes grow bigger, because you never expected him to admit something like that.

Dean doesn’t do feelings, and he certainly doesn’t talk about them.

You stare at him almost in shock, maybe waiting for him to say something else.

You stare at him until eventually he turns to his side to face you.

His hand hesitantly drags itself to your hip, as if gravity doesn’t want it there, but he does.

‘I’m sorry.’ It’s barely audible but you’re almost sure you heard a crack in his voice.

‘I know.’ you slide closer to him, your legs stick to his, your chest feels the warmth of his. Your hands move up to his cheeks and before you know it, it’s stronger than the both of you, your lips attach.

Your lips move in synch like you’ve been starving for years.

Like he hasn’t touched you in years.

You’re hungry, you upset, your core’s suddenly hotter than ever while thinking about how he was inside you less than a week ago.

‘I love you.’ He tries to mumble in between kisses, his hands travel up, they travel down, they explore as if they’ve never been there before.

‘You have no idea what you do to me.’ His words echo in your mind like fire burning. Like sparks colliding causing massive heatwaves. Your body’s already shaking begging for him.

All of him.

Your mind should probably wander to how messed up he is. How much he’s hurt you already, but there’s this tiny bit of hope that maybe this is the last time he pushes you away.

This time he’ll really let you in.

He’ll really care.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Taglist: @tinas111 @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @l0v33-rey @mostlymarvelgirl @that-stanford-girlie @sunnyteume @bohoooitsme @beelzebzb (comment to be added!)

Guys please English is not my first language and although I’m a bilingual queen sometimes I have sentences that come out when I write and I look at them when I’m done I’m like what the fuck does that mean?? But I leave them anyway cuz they sound good are some of these weird be honest thanks love u 😭(wtf does ‘His words echo in your mind like fire burning. Like sparks colliding causing massive heatwaves’ mean dude)

#imagine #fanfic #dean winchester #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #dean x reader #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fanfiction #dean smut #dean winchester fic #dean fanfiction #dean supernatural

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lefteagleblizzard · 2 days ago

Text

𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔦𝔪 Joel Miller x male reader

Summary: Joel sees you dancing with someone else. He doesn’t say a word, rather he later shows you exactly what that did to him.

Tags: Set in The Last of Us Part 2 during that dance scene. Male reader. He/him pronouns are used towards the reader. Angst. Jealousy. Protective Joel Miller. Feral Joel Miller. Age gap. Tommy Miller acting like all little brothers do. Smut. Gay smut. Top Joel Miller. Handjob (r receaving) Size difference. Anal sex.

ℳ𝒶𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

Words count: 5000

Warm music soaked Jackson, that old slow-dance tempo thudding soft against the ribs of everyone packed into the place. Lights hung low from the beams, flickering gold on raised glasses.

Ellie was out there. She hadn’t seen you watching, didn’t need to. That was part of the peace you felt seeing her out in the open, letting herself smile without biting it back, her shoulders loose together with Dina as they laughed.

Joel watched it all, flannel stretched across his forearms, sleeves rolled up. He wasn’t observing with resentment or that protective bristle he’d had years ago with her. He watched proud and quietly, a warmth too big for his ribcage.

He sure wasn’t the only one there quietly soaking in the sight of Ellie free and happy.

You stood near the back, close to the wood stove’s heat to feel it through your sleeves, arms folded but not tense. Not sulking, just watching the dance floor.

You tapped your fingers lightly on your thigh to the beat, eyes on Ellie, mouth open into this little smile. A flash of pride, the quiet joy you only get when watching someone you’ve protected, bled for, do something beautiful and be themselves.

You were family to him and her, someone who’d bled beside her when the world didn’t want her to live past Salt Lake. He’d seen you watch her with that smile, that ache of affection that made something inside Joel twisted sharp.

You hadn’t turned to him but he watched you looking, your jaw soft and relaxed, head tilted slightly with the weight of memory and Joel imagined too easily how your head would feel pressed against his neck just like that.

Right there on that goddamn dance floor, slow and lazy like the music wanted, the two of you swaying with your fingers curled into the back of his shirt, your head resting on his shoulder, hair brushing his beard and arms lazily looped behind his neck while his big hands settled low on your waist, maybe daring to edge a thumb just under the hem of your shirt.

He’d be whispering something into your ear about your timing being off or how you didn’t know how to let someone else lead, but really, he’d be saying it just to feel the warm puff of your laughter against his neck.

He swallowed thickly and ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. You deserved better than someone who’s got blood under every fingernail.

He was so deep with the memory of your laugh during some forgotten stop on the road years back, that he didn’t hear Tommy come up until the younger Miller’s hand slapped his shoulder.

“Jesus, Joel. If you were starin’ any harder, you’d start a fire. What’s got you so hypnotized?” Tommy followed his gaze back across the barn. First to Ellie, then—

“Ah.”

Joel scowled. “Don’t start.”

“Start what? I didn’t say anythin’.”

“You’re sayin’ plenty.”

Tommy had that shit-eating grin only a younger brother could perfect. Maria was beside him, her arm linked with his and smiled knowingly, gaze following Joel’s earlier trail across the room but she thankfully remained silent.

She knew when a conversation was fraternal territory and she walked off towards some friends but not before squeezing her husband’s shoulder one time to quietly leave alert him.

Tommy grinned wider. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with admirin’, you know. I did a fair bit of that myself watchin’ my girl from the sidelines before I grew a spine and got off my ass.”

Joel didn’t answer. Just grunted, sucked in a breath through his teeth and cut his eyes away, jaw twitching like he’d been caught stealing. “You talk too much, Tommy.”

They both stood there in silence, watching the crowd in front of them dance.

Tommy leaned besides him, boot tapping absently against wood, arms folded. That kind of silence that only happened between brothers, one where everything unspoken had already been said a hundred times over and now it was just waiting for someone to pull the pin again.

“Y’know, Maria said somethin’ funny today. Thought you two were a thing.”

Joel scoffs. “We ain’t.” Dry, flat and dismissive.

Tommy turned toward him, eyebrows raised, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t say you were. Just that it looked like maybe… you wanted to be.”

That got Joel’s attention. Barely, but it did something. He shifted his weight, jaw flexing, eyes narrowing to suggest irritation, or discomfort. Or both.

“Look, man… after all the shit we’ve done—all the blood— if somethin’ good comes your way, you really gonna walk past it? ’Cause what? You think you don’t deserve it?”

Joel ground his molars, a tension that worked up from his jaw into the back of his neck, slow and tight.

“It’s not simple.” The words were low. Not defensive or angry, just worn-out, hollow around the edges.

“Don’t gotta be complicated, either.” Tommy leaned forward slightly, elbows braced on his knees, voice calm but steady. “You think someone follows you across a fuckin’ country, watches you kill, kills for you, and still sticks around?”

“Quit it.” His voice wasn’t raised, but it had that gravel-laced edge that meant he wasn’t asking.

Tommy didn’t react much, just snorted softly and tipped the bottle, draining the last bitter inch of beer. He knew his older brother was too damn stubborn and scared of doing something that might make him feel good. But the seed was in, watered and sunlit, already showing signs of rooting.

The bartender drifted over, sleeves rolled to the elbow and the black shirt he wore marked with the small, unassuming Tipsy Bison logo at the collar. His hands, big-knuckled and callused but precise, were wiping the last glass behind the bar as he moved over, eyes on Tommy.

“You want one more for the road?” His voice was easy and familiar, used to Tommy’s presence. “Still got a little of the good rye left.”

Tommy shook his head. “Nah, I’m done. Don’t need Maria draggin’ my ass outta here again. We got patrol rotation in the mornin’. Better if half the town doesn’t wake up hungover.”

The bartender gave a crooked smile. “Fair. You’re the last of the troublemakers, anyway.”

Tommy gestured to the bar. “You too, man. You can call it a night. Ain’t nobody left who’s gonna need drinkin’ this late, if they do, they shouldn’t.”

A quick laugh. “You kickin’ me outta my own bar?”

“I’m sayin’ relax, unwind a little. You’re what—off shift now?”

The man nodded. “Technically done twenty minutes ago.”

“Go enjoy yourself, son. You got somethin’ planned?” It was polite, meant to be dismissive, not curious. Joel knew his brother’s tone too well, there was no real interest.

“Nothin’ solid,” he said with a shrug. His gaze didn’t scan the crowd but pinpointed, fixed somewhere near the far end of the room and Joel didn’t need to follow it to know where it landed, much like a predator when someone stepped into its territory.

“Just sayin’ hi,” the man muttered before walking off, not even really to Tommy, just as a loose explanation.

A spark struck in Joel’s gut and ignited something primal. His jaw was locked so tight the veins in his neck stood out, thick ropes beneath skin weathered by age. The rough scrape of his teeth clenching could’ve set sparks if they’d been steel. He didn’t even realize his hands had curled into fists on the table until he felt the bite of his own knuckles pressing hard against the wood.

The man reached you, a bold and easy smile as he extended his hand to invite you.

Joel could see your brows rose, a small huff of a laugh with head tilted, as though caught off-guard by the offer but not offended. Your body leaned back just slightly, shoulders loose, mouth curling faint at the corner, a gesture that screamed amused and a little coy.

Joel’s chest was hollow as you raised your hand to take the offered one. No resistance or reluctance, maybe a playful roll of your eyes, sure, but your fingers still slid into his.

“Aw, hell,” Tommy murmured beside him, voice light but cautious, as if trying to downplay the coiling tension radiating from Joel’s frame.

He pulled you onto the floor, placing his other hand carefully at your waist gently.

There was no way of controlling it, Joel’s gaze kept slipping, one sideways glance at a time, always pulled toward the same pair of figures amid the slow-dancing crowd.

You were laughing again as the bastard said something and whatever it was, it had you leaning in, your fingers tightening lightly on his forearm.

The lines around Joel’s eyes deepened. His thick and callused fingers coiled tighter around the pint glass in front of him, the pads of his fingertips turning white with pressure.

“C’mon, brother. Don’t do this to yourself.” Tommy let out a slow breath after mumbling those words.

Joel didn’t look at him. The taut lines of restraint, the hard set of his mouth and slight twitch at the corner of his eye gave Tommy all he needed to know. Every piece of his body screamed tightly-coiled fury wearing a mask of indifference and it was only by sheer force of habit that he hadn’t already gotten up, marched across the room and shoved the boy’s hand clean off you.

His mouth was a flat, grim line, lips drawn so tight they barely looked like they could part again.

Tommy smirked a little, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, studying his brother’s expression like he was gauging the range of a bomb just before it went off.

“He’s just messin’ around, nothin’ serious from what I see,” he said after a long pause.

“You’re not mad at me, though, right? I mean, how was I supposed to know he was aimin’ his sights that way?”

Nothing.

The man was closer now, leaning in and whispering something in your ear and you smiled up at him.

The one that used to be reserved for Joel only and that he’d earned, again and again, when you found something to laugh about even shaking hands, or when you managed to get a clean kill with a rifle after weeks of struggling and looked back at him for approval. The one you gave him after patching him up, eyes crinkling at the corners as you muttered, ‘Tough old bastard, ain’t you?’

The venom was bleeding from his eyes even as he clung to that brittle mask of indifference. No words, just a low rasp rumbled from deep in his chest, loud enough to be acknowledged and alert his unwillingness to talk.

The man had tortured monsters with less fury than what simmered now in the marrow of his bones.

Those hands slid lower on your waist, fingertips edging past the hem of your shirt. His mouth tilted toward your ear again and you leaned into him with eagerness.

The glass beneath Joel’s hand creaked, the ridge of it left a red indent across his fingers.

The need to close them around something softer, more breakable than glass— a certain someone’s throat— boiled to the surface. He already imagined wrapping his hand around it, squeezing and watching the smirk vanish, replaced by panic, a flailing attempt to retreat.

It shouldn’t have felt good, but it did anyway.

Tommy exhaled next to him as he watched sidelong, voice softer now, maybe worried of Joel possibly about to gut the unaware man. “Jesus, Joel. We do still need people for patrol. Save the murder face for the clickers.”

The legs of the chair scraped back across the floorboards as he rose, stiff and sharp.

"Joel." Tommy stood halfway up, but he didn't reach out, not really. He knew better.

The older Miller said nothing. He didn't even glance at his brother as he walked away.

The night air hit him dry and bitter, cold in the lungs as he exhaled like he was trying to burn something out from inside. The door creaked shut behind him, muffling the laughter, the music.

He’d never known what to do with that quiet, gnawing and helpless kind of want. Especially not when the thing he wanted looked so happy in someone else’s arms.

Joel kept his head down while walking until he reached the steps of his porch.

Three creaking boards, weathered smooth from time and boots, and then dropped himself down into the chair, tired bones and thoughts that wouldn’t quit.

Propped beside the chair was his guitar, old and soft in the way Joel handled it. He reached for it without thinking like muscle memory. His right arm cradled the body, fingers falling into place near the strings while the left hand found the neck, fingertips rough but careful as they curled over the frets.

The strings buzzed under his calloused fingers with the first light touch, thumb drawing down in a slow drag, testing the tension.

The first few notes were soft, a mournful hum of old wood and wire, warm tones that spilled out into the cold air. It kept bleeding from the guitar, slow and mournful, but Joel didn’t lift his eyes.

Not even when your boots thudded gently on the steps and the boards creaked beneath your weight.

Because that’s how you always were. Steps as soft as a falling leaf, but every bit as deadly as a lone wolf trailing its prey through snow.

He kept playing, jaw tight, eyes still trained on that empty stretch of street ahead of him, body slack in a way it never was when people were around. His hands moved still, but his mind wasn’t on the frets anymore.

The song dipped low again before he stopped mid-line. The final chord left hanging, incomplete as the strings quivered under his hand.

He wasn’t surprised to see you standing there when his eyes were lifted.

You leaned on the porch rail, arms crossed lazily over the wood, a moderate grin tugging at the edge of your mouth. Curiosity and amusement dancing on your features. Maybe even a little amused but not mocking.

“What’re you doin’ here? Thought you were havin’ a fine enough time back there.” His voice didn’t carry a note of invitation. Rough around the edges and colder than the bite in the air.

You tilted your head slightly, caught off guard only for a second before your expression settled into something easier.

“I could ask you the same,” you said, voice warm despite the cold shoulder, despite the way he never looked up. “Didn’t exactly slip out unnoticed, y’know.”

Joel didn’t flinch, didn’t stop plucking at the guitar. But the line of his jaw flexed. That confirmation that you’d been watching him too set heavier on his chest than he liked to admit.

Joel finally muttered, “You and Ellie seem just fine without me.”

The words were stiff. His fingers fumbled over a chord, striking a sharp note that buzzed dissonant and sour before fading out.

You exhaled, barely. That old weight in your chest curled tighter. “Sure, but I would’ve liked it a hell of a lot better if someone else had been there for me instead.”

You wet your lips, heart threatening to kick straight through your ribs. “Someone older, quiet. A little mean and looks like he’s never smiled once in his life. Someone that makes me feel safer than anyone else ever has.”

He exhaled through his nose like a bull staring down a red flag, the fingers holding the guitar twitched but his gaze kept sealed down.

Joel could wound with silence better than most people could with words. You’d spent enough years beside him to figure out when Joel was using distance like a shield.

He’d never been the type to sugar-coat what didn’t need saying. The fact that he hadn’t told you to get lost yet spoke louder than anything else.

The creak of the porch beneath your boot was barely audible as you got closer to him under the soft music still drifting through the town, even if muffled now by distance and walls, the warm hum from the hall you’d left behind.

He was handsome in the same way old forest trees are. Impossibly strong, dark, scarred and stoic, thick-knuckled hands calloused with time. His face was all edges and earth, lit by the orange glow of the lantern beside the door. Beard now more salt than pepper and jaw set with that same quiet power you remembered from the first time you saw him gun down a man without blinking.

When you reached him, your hands extended slowly into his line of vision, fingers open in a silent offer.

Joel finally looked up. Brows drawn low, eyes shadowed and narrowed, mouth in a flat line that promised nothing good for your evening.

A terrifying glare that warned anyone who could see it.

You knew it by heart at this point and, even if it made your heartbeat spike up significantly, your grin widened, easy, soft and cocky.

“Wanna move a bit?”

Joel’s brow ticked up and the look in his eyes was incredulous in a way that made something twist low in your belly.

“…Boy,” he muttered, voice soaked in that Texas drawl like a blade dipped in bourbon, “I swear t’God I’ll smash this guitar over your goddamn head if you don’t get off my porch with that shit.”

You raised both hands in surrender, laughing, but didn’t move more than a step back.

“Alright, alright,” you said, smirk still stretching your mouth. “Guess I’ll just ask that fella to teach me a few more of those spins. He was great, you know? Real patient—”

The guitar went still in Joel’s fingers as he settled it down decisively and rose from the chair with a low grunt, towering, his shoulders squaring as he turned fully toward you.

A dark grumble rolled out of his chest as big and rough palms settled on your waist, yanking you in with zero hesitation and effort until the only thing separating the two of you was the inch of air between your lips.

Your chest slammed lightly against his, the thick warmth of his body flooding through you in one heavy wall of man. Calloused fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt, hips locked close, so close your belt brushed his.

Your heart slammed against your ribs like it might leap into your throat and confess everything for you. You swallowed hard, kept your chin up, but goddamn if it wasn’t obvious.

He saw the twitch in your mouth and that flicker of breath you held for half a second too long. There was a twitch of his lips, a flare of satisfaction before his mouth set back in a tight line.

That scarred brow heavy, eyes watching the ground past your shoulder like he was seeing something no one else could. There was no joy in his expression, no ease, only that distant, haunted vacancy that always sat behind his eyes when he was too far inside his own thoughts.

You leaned forward, the space between you vanishing when your head rested gently in the crook of his neck, breath brushing the coarse hairs at his throat. His coffee and pine scent invaded your lungs with a softness that made your eyes want to close.

Joel went still for a second before his hands adjusted. One moved up slightly along your back, his palm flattening under your shoulder blade, fingers splayed wide. The other at your waist, holding you firmer now.

“Ellie talked to me yesterday.” You felt the small hitch of breath in his chest against yours, followed by a low grunt deep in his throat, the sound of curiosity coated in dust. His thumb flexed where it rested at your back, an invitation to go on.

You smiled into his neck as you mumbled against his skin. “She hadn’t said a damn word to me since… y’know. After she found out.”

You didn’t say Salt Lake nor mentioned the Fireflies. He knew it already. That decision was etched into his spine.

“Months of nothing, just head nods and avoidance. Wouldn’t even share a patrol route if her life depended on it.”

You laughed softly. Joel didn’t, but he was listening.

“Then yesterday, just as I’m settin’ out with boots half-laced, still gnawin’ on a cold biscuit, she greets me.”

Joel’s brow twitched and you grinned into his neck. “Swear to God, Joel. She said ‘Hey.’ Hey. That’s a fuckin’ royal invitation comin’ from her.”

He let out a puff of air, almost a laugh. His hand at your back moved slightly, circling your spine now.

“Then, like she wasn’t already tearin’ down every wall between us, she asks me for tips on Dina. Like— I’m sittin’ there with my mouth open like a damn trout outta water and this little punk laughs in my face, even try to hide it like she’s still too cool for feelings.”

Joel’s chest shook barely, but he was smiling while he held you now, a little closer, a little firmer.

“I think she’s comin’ around,” you murmured. “She might never say it, but that wall’s got cracks now and that’s somethin’.”

Joel didn’t answer, you pulled back to look at him and he was already looking at you. Those dark eyes made your breath get caught behind your teeth, the air between you tightened like a snare.

“You’re the best thing that’s happened to her… and to me. Whether I deserve it or not.” Tone hoarse and dangerously low, warm breath making contact with your lips from how close he was.

All that emerged from your throat were shallow and shaking breaths. Your chest rose with it, tight with pressure you couldn’t name.

“I ain’t a good man. If you’re gonna stay by me…” His voice dipped, dark and sure. “You better be ready to bleed.”

Your brows twitched upward, subtle but visible in surrender, mouth slack with stunned hunger and eyes pleading, head tilted just slightly toward the heat of his breath.

When his gaze flicked down to your lips, it was less invitation than inevitability as his mouth went after yours.

Not gentle, all teeth, tongue and years of restraint collapsing into seconds of desperate, feral need. Lips parted wide and rough, your gasp swallowed whole by him.

Those broad and scarred hands clamped down on your waist with force, beard scraping your jaw in hard strokes, each pass leaving a trace of burn, an afterglow of possession. Your arms winded around his neck until your fingers plunged into the thick salt-and-pepper strands at the nape. He groaned into your mouth at the contact, dragging you deeper against him, chest to chest, all heat and muscle and God, he was so fuckin’ solid.

The longer he kissed you, the more control slipped. You could feel it in the way his hands flexed, the way he growled softly when your teeth grazed his bottom lip in a desperate attempt to catch your breath.

The porch behind you groaned under the sudden shift of weight as he pushed you into the wood with his body, all of him pressing forward heavily.

And still he didn’t stop devouring kissing you.

One of your hands flew up, grabbing the beam behind you for balance as Joel’s thigh slid forward, pressing between your legs. His mouth dropped to your jaw, kissing, biting and dragging sharp lines of heat across your throat.

His teeth scraped a vicious trail from your earlobe to the hinge of your jaw and you shivered. “Y’sure you wanna—”

“Yes,” you choked out before the words even fully left his mouth. “Fuck, Joel—yes.”

He bent, caught your thighs to lift you up, strong and big biceps locking under your legs, and the impact of your body against his chest forced a stunned sound out of you. He turned fast, grunted as his shoulder crashed into the door to make it swing open and pull you inside.

A solid thud came when your back was pressed against the nearby wall, the pictures rattling in their frames from the force. His body a wall of heat and tension as he crowed you there, pressing you up to let his mouth on your throat again with no warning.

You jolted against him as he bit hard, hips bucking up, and Joel groaned into your neck, teeth still clenched.

He answered that reaction by thrusting his thigh higher between yours and you gasped. The flex of muscle under denim hit you right where you needed and you felt the thick line of his bulge grinding between your legs with every roll of his hips, heavy and thick through the jeans.

Joel’s teeth were at your collarbone now, dragging heat down to your chest as he pulled your shirt up with one hand. The other slid beneath, those ruined callused fingers dragging rough over your ribs.

When his thumb grazed your nipple, your whole body arched. He shifted to let his hands drop suddenly. One hooked into the back of your thigh, pulling you tighter, the other already at your belt, undoing it while chuckling breathlessly at your reaction. His breath hitched as the metal clinked, fingers fumbling only once before freeing the buckle, yanking the waistband down enough to grip you.

You shoved his jacket back, dragging it off his shoulders completely, nails scraping down the ridges of his back to feel the thick line of muscle under the flannel. He rocked into you hard, mouth returning to yours, and this time he bit your lip when his hand was stroking you, dragging his thumb up over the head until your forehead collapsed into his shoulder.

“Jesus—Joel—”

He didn’t slow, every buckle of your hips, every low whimper you gave him, he chased, finding the rhythm that had your thighs trembling around his hips and then doubling down.

You fumbled for his belt, desperate to return the favor, but the moment your hand brushed the front of his bulge, he caught your wrist, pinning your hand on top of your hand while his own kept moving, now even faster.

His teeth sank into your shoulder as you came hard, legs buckling until your weight settled forward into him.

Trembling from the high end you reached, heart pounding so loud it thudded against Joel’s chest with every exhausted breath. The wall behind you was your only anchor, knees weak, mind scattered, skin fevered under the press of his body. Joel shifted his weight back half a step to look at you, brow furrowed, eyes drinking you in like you were something half-starved and holy as he walked with you towards the couch.

Your warmer than usual body sank in the soft material as he placed you there as gently as he could, settling himself between your wide open legs. It took nothing for him to put one of yours on his broad shoulder.

Barely managing to raise your head, the feeling of his hands, wet with you, drifted lower. Soon, slick fingers were pressed against your rim and a half-formed noise torn from your throat, legs twitching against his side. His other hand came to your hip to hold you still and those dark and hungry eyes held not a trace of hesitation, just the simmering heat of a man who’d made his decision hours ago and was now taking his goddamn time savoring it.

The first thick rigid breached past the tight ring of muscle, heat blooming sharp across your spine.

Joel’s lips were at your jaw now, breath hot against your skin. “Gotta get you ready,” he rasped, tone like smoke and grit. “Ain’t gonna fit otherwise.”

You tilted your head against his, almost immediately feeling the rough and patchy material of his beard against your own. He huffed a breath against your ear, halfway between a groan and a laugh.

“You thinkin’ ‘bout him now?” he murmured, voice pitched low like a secret.

You blinked, confused. “Wh—”

His fingers scissored, two now, stretching you slowly, rhythm picking up and feeling punishing. The pressure dragged a hiss from your throat and cut your answer off completely.

His free hand curled tight around your jaw, forcing your face to stay tipped up toward his while he loomed over, all bulk and heat, breath hot against your lips but not giving you a single inch more than he wanted.

“You were watchin’ and kept teasin’ me? Wanted to see if I’d do somethin’ about it?” Voice rasped straight from the pit of his chest, wrecked from arousal and anger.

His mouth hovered beside your ear, lips brushing your skin to let you feel the heat of every syllable as he spoke low. “I’ll break anyone’s fuckin’ fingers,” Joel said, low and deadly quiet. “Twist ’em ‘til they scream if they ever try to touch you.” He growled, two fingers buried in you to the knuckle, curling as he scissored you open wider.

“Ain’t gonna let you forget this.” He groaned right into the hinge of your jaw, breath searing hot as his hips pressed forward, that thick cock grinding against your bare hole, still trapped behind the denim.

Three fingers now that made your hips arch forward, hand clawing uselessly at his arms as he kept working them in. His free hand came up again, pressing to your abdomen and holding you still.

“‘S alright,” he muttered. “Breathe. Stay still and let me do the work.”

You could barely breathe, chest heaving, mouth open in panting silence as he twisted his fingers deep, dragging across that spot that had your thighs jolting.

You tried to grind down and meet the rhythm but he held you tight. That sliver of Joel that liked seeing you break emerging but hidden well.

Even with your body twitching, he didn’t rush when his fingers slipped out, hole soaked and stretched while you panted his name like a prayer tangled in sin.

The soft clink of the metal made your spine arch. He pressed a kiss on your jaw, then higher to your cheek as he stood momentarily, the sound of a zipper dragged low, followed by rustle of denim.

He leaned in again, brushing the leaking head of his cock against your rim, thick and heavy. He wrapped one hand around it and gave it one lazy stroke, a bead of precum slicked the slit as the tip nudged you.

“Joel,” you gasped, voice cracking. “Please—” His teeth sank into the muscle at the base of your neck, right over your pulse, claiming.

A guttural grunt tore out of him, vibrating straight through his chest and into yours while you whimpered beneath him, your hands flying up to clutch at his arms, his biceps like steel as they flexed above you, holding himself aloft with terrifying control.

Joel shifted his hips forward for that flushed crown to pop inside, a hot, burning push that made your mouth drop open and your knees jerk up around his ribs in instinct. Your hands flew from his arms to the back of his neck, clutching tight, like anchoring yourself to him would stop you from breaking apart.

“God,” you gasped. “Joel—f-fuck—”

He pushed in another inch and groaned, punched out of him after being trapped behind his ribs. His head dropped again, his forehead falling to your shoulder, sweat already damp at his hairline.

“You’re tight as hell.” He rasped into your skin while working another inch inside. Joel shifted his weight onto one elbow so his free hand could slide down your side, palm splaying over your ribs, then your stomach, pressing flat to the center of your abdomen.

When he pushed in deeper, he pressed hard while you stretched to accommodate how deep he was as he bottomed out, cock pressed deep, thick base snug against your rim.

The heat of his breath on your skin overlapped with the scraping on your shoulder made by his beard and you clenched involuntarily around him.

His whole body shuddered above you while he stayed there, buried to the hilt, panting hard against your neck.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low and raw, gentler now, but only just. “Breathe, c’mon. Gimme that breath.”

Barely capable of even acknowledging his voice, you offered a faint nod to him and he waited until your muscles stopped clenching and your breath evened.

The first drag out was agonizingly slow with the intension to let you feel every damn ridge and vein scraping your insides, dragging across that swollen, tender spot deep inside as your whole body jolted, a gasp catching in your throat, choked back in as he slammed back in.

He started fucking you with heavy, measured pace of a man who knew exactly what he was doing. Brutal thrusts that knocked the air out of you, your cock untouched and twitching, leaking between you both.

His hands tightening on your thighs until you were sure bruises would bloom there by morning, hips stuttering for half a second as he pressed in deep, grinding hard and slow.

“Ffffuck, Joel—” your hisses were met with no reply back, just barely audible grunts while his now pale knuckle slipped up your back, curling behind your neck and held you to him while he rutted deep.

He bit down on your neck, grunting like a wild thing, muffling a ragged moan into your shoulder as his pace grew frantic. He gasped there on your skin, one last thrust before you felt it spilling deep inside you, hot and thick.

Joel’s whole body trembled and he crushed down onto you, buried as deep as you could take him while thick pulses of come flooded you full, warmth spreading inside in hot, slow waves.

The silence that followed couldn’t really be classified as it. A mixture of your pulse hammering in your ears, Joel’s chest pressed firm to yours, both of you slick with sweat and trembling breath.

He finally drew his hips back, slow and careful every drag of his softening cock slipped out, the slick mess of his spend leaking down the backs of your thighs. The emptiness left behind was hard to sustain.

One strong arm stayed around your lower back, keeping you cradled against him while his free hand cupped the back of your neck. He stood there with his forehead resting against yours, his breath mixing with yours in that small space between mouths.

You leaned over, kissed the corner of his mouth. He didn’t kiss back immediately, but he didn’t pull away either.

Eventually, Joel stood, reached for a blanket draped over the back of the chair. Without a word, he pulled it down and handed it to you, then crossed the room and disappeared for a moment, returning with a damp cloth. He knelt again between your legs, the heat of him brushing your thighs as he cleaned you up with surprising care.

He glanced up, eyes meeting yours as he gave a low, almost reluctant grunt. “…C’mon.”

He stood again, reached out and this time he didn’t wait. Just took your hand, fingers rough and calloused but steady as they wrapped around yours.

“Bed’s warmer,” he said, voice low.

Joel didn’t say anything else. Just turned and walked slowly down the hall, not glancing back, but you didn’t need him to.

The quiet truth of a man who’d never been able to promise much but somehow, in his silence, had just promised everything.

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