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bby-grl-4-bucky · 3 months ago

Note

hii, a little request. could we get sum eurovision singer!reader with joost?? maybe after their endless flirting they end up having a one night stand in their hotel room😵‍💫 and after eurovision ends reader is caught by some fans attending joost’s concert in vancouver or they are seen attending a club together and being all cozy😫 sorry if it’s to much, feel free to decline🫶🏻

i got you! 💙

Little Stars

You’re Joost’s favorite girl at Eurovision

nsfw: smut, some fluff

The entire competition served more as an ego boost than as a popularity boost to your career. You were always an extrovert. As a child, you always got the same cliché comments that you’d either be a great lawyer or a performer, and you decided to choose the option that wouldn’t cause you to have a lifetime of boredom. It certainly helped that your parents stuck you in every extracurricular activity, dance, gymnastics, volleyball, to have an outlet for your energy and love for being the center of attention.

You’d discovered your singing talents from your father, who was an amateur singer. On weekend mornings, when the morning dew would still be on the plants, pale golden sunlight illuminating the streets of your city you’d rush down the stairs to join him when you heard the gentle strumming of his guitar with the song of the morning birds.

You two would sing a song together, the neighbors always taking a moment to listen from the windows or their doorsteps, people walking by smiling at you or taking a moment to talk. Your parents were adamant that you were born to be on stage, your family and neighbors nicknamed you their little star.

You first gained popularity after posting a few covers on YouTube when you were a teenager. It wasn’t much in terms of internet fame, a couple of thousand followers, and your most popular video getting a little over 100,000 views but it was surreal to you at the time. You always stuck to ballads, your voice strong and from your high stamina, you could belt out notes that lasted miles. It wasn’t until you showcased your dancing talents that your popularity seemed to ignite.

At first, it scared you a bit, but the attention was overwhelmingly positive besides the few comments from older people in your country who damned the youth and their nerve to have fun. You realized that your singing could only take you so far, millions of other people had nice voices, but few could captivate an audience like you with your stage presence. Before you knew it, you had enough money to hire a manager and move yourself and your parents to a nicer part of town. Your name spread across parts of Europe, and you became somewhat of a celebrity, selling out small venues and playing a few festivals.

You came from truly humble beginnings, and you suspected that was why so many audiences connected with and favored you, and a large reason why your application to Eurovision to represent your country was accepted. You were beautiful, incredibly talented, and had a larger-than-life charisma. In interviews and press conferences, it was the best thing, especially in the unique and rather tense climate of this year’s competition, but backstage was a completely different person.

You quickly gave yourself a reputation of being a flirt. You wore skimpy, bright outfits adorned with glitter and rhinestones with every practice and rehearsal. When you weren’t about to perform, you still wore mini skirts and the tiniest top imaginable. You walked around with your body practically on full display, some parts of your skin being hardly covered with fishnets or tights. You lived up to your nickname as being a star, the other contestants hearing it from your parents, but being grown up and leaning into your sensuality you were more like Venus now, your presence scorching, bright, and exigent.

Beside you in the sky of stars was Joost. If you had been a little star, he was the sun itself. You two had taken a liking to each other almost immediately and nearly became attached at the hip. It was far from platonic, but you found yourself amused at how you two could be able to flirt with each other so shamelessly and without constraint without doing more than hugging.

“Hi, baby.” You greeted him in one of the lounge areas for breakfast. It became an inside joke between you to constantly use silly pet names. It was very early morning, and the sun and blue skies were hardly present. “Can I sit with you this morning?” You smiled.

“You already know the answer, honey.” He smiled back. You loved how his smile would take up his entire face, you felt you could never get tired of looking at it. “I can’t wait to see you tonight.”

It was the day of the rehearsal before the finale, and the nerves hadn’t quite gotten to you yet. You nodded, watching as he fixed your plate with your usual breakfast order that he picked up. It was a sweet gesture that warmed your heart, you were beyond thankful to have someone who took you into their arms the way that Joost had.

You two sat down together at a corner table. You watched as sunlight blanketed his features. It reflected into the ridge of his nose and illuminated his eyes, you found yourself staring into them, never seeing eyes that reminded you of the crystal blue waters of the beach you grew up by.

“Your eye contact scares me.” He chuckled, the direct comment making you feel your heart drop to your feet. “It’s ok, gives me an excuse to look at you.”

“You have nice eyes.” You said, ripping a piece of your croissant that Joost had fried in the microwave, despite you asking it to be lightly warmed. “This is super cold, by the way.” You said, pushing the first piece into his mouth.

The bread burned his tongue a bit, but he was able to ignore the pain when he felt your fingers in his mouth. He bravely ran his tongue over the pads of your fingers, sucking down gently all while keeping his eyes set on you. You were speechless for a moment, seeing and feeling his sinfully pink tongue on your fingers before you were able to pull away.

“You drooled on me.” You looked down at your hand, seeing there were still crumbs on your fingers, and pushed them into your mouth. You watched Joost’s eyebrows raise as he stiffened in his seat, feeling himself getting far so excited so early in the morning.

You tasted him in your mouth, the sickeningly sweet syrup from his waffles and the bitterness from his coffee. “There’s crumbs on my fingers.” You said, “You don’t lick your fingers to get food off?”

“No,” He spoke, his tone a bit hushed, “I like to lick my fingers.”

You blushed at his comment, always catching the innuendo but never pushing it further. The two of you sat in silence for a moment to let the tension cool, as you always did when it became too unbearable.

“You’re the only performer who changes your outfits.” Joost was always the first to break the silence. “How short will your skirt be tonight?”

You laughed, “Shorter than last night.” You answered, his dimples giving away his amusement. “Your outfit is one of my favorites though.”

“Ah.” He said happily, “What do you like about it?”

“The color is nice.” You complimented, seeing in his face how much he loved the attention. “Is it hard to take off?”

He withdrew a bit, smiling knowingly but deciding to beat around the bush as you two formed a habit of doing. “Not really.” He said. “It’s very easy, I don’t need any help at all.” His answer was excruciating.

You rolled your eyes, “Well, I need a lot of help with mine.” You began, “There’s so many hooks and zippers, it’s so annoying.”

Joost hummed in absentminded agreement. You saw on the vacant expression on his face, and how he went back to eating his breakfast that you’d give him too vivid of a picture. All he could imagine now was being alone with you in the dressing room, undoing all the hooks and zippers you were talking about. He’d want to rip apart those fishnet stockings you always wore, the thought of seeing the gentle threads snap apart from his hands revealing your soft skin drove him wild. The imagery became too much eventually, and he felt a bit of shame when he saw your gentle, unknowing face across him.

“You know you’re gonna win, right?” You said suddenly, making his expression drop into something deathly serious.

“It would be nice.” He mumbled nervously, his nerves entangling themselves together even tighter than before. “You think so?”

“No, Joost.” You glanced at the clock on your phone, realizing you’d spent too much time at breakfast. “I said I know you’re doing to win.”

The night of the semi-final had solidified Joost’s obsession with you, but he realized he was in a long line of admirers. It was like he was in a trance, your voice like a siren’s, and the way your outfit glittered and reflected onto the bright light, it was surreal. He wanted to congratulate you after, but he saw that a crowd had already formed around you, specifically that the Croatian performer, Baby Lasagne, another favorite, had beaten him to it.

Joost watched from afar, how you smiled constantly and looked so animated talking to him. His hands grazed your bare arm a few times, and every time it felt like it tugged on his heart in a horrible, unfamiliar sensation. It pained him a bit to know that you were known as a flirt, wondering if the way you looked at him and clung by his side meant anything at all or if it was all a part of some game.

He saw you again walking down the hall when he felt a tap at his side. He knew it was you immediately, turning around he couldn’t help but bring you into a hug that left your feet dangling as he rambled on about how well you did.

“Are you kidding?” You said, holding onto his neck before he set you down. “You’re fucking amazing Joost, I loved watching you.”

He scoffed, looking down at you still in your outfit, it was like he was dreaming. He yearned to keep his hands on your waist, but his better senses got the better of him, and his arms returned to his side.

“I think everyone loved watching you more.” He began, remembering how he had to watch another man try to charm you the way he’d been for the past few days. “I don’t have people crowding me after I perform.”

You raised your eyebrows, remembering how the Croatian performer came up to you to talk you up, offering to take you for a drink and inviting him back into his room, an offer that you left to a ‘maybe’ just to keep him hanging. You saw Joost at the end of the hallway, now realizing that he didn’t just happen to be there but he was watching.

“You sound jealous.” You teased, seeing a blush begin on his face, like red wine spilling on pristine sheets. “Anyways, I’ve got to get going.”

Joost hated when you did that, knowing that you had nothing to do but sit in your room, drink obnoxiously expensive liquor, and talk about equally as obnoxious things with your friend. He wished he had it in him to ask to go back with you, but the fear of rejection always struck too hard and quickly for him to take advantage of the moment.

The day of the finale, it didn’t come as a surprise to anyone but Joost that he’d won, and you’d been the runner-up. You didn’t have much of a competitive spirit, the experience of Eurovision alone already felt like a victory in itself. When it was announced that he’d won, you two hugged in front of what felt like a sea of cameras and you were able to sneak a kiss on his cheek before he went up on stage to be awarded. There was far too much commotion directly afterward to see him again, it was physically painful to feel him slipping away from you and realize that this, like all good things, was all finally ending.

Joost found you again in the early hours of the morning, holding flowers at your door dressed down in a simple t-shirt and jeans from his short night out to come to personally congratulate you. He noticed you weren’t at any of the after parties, and even his own which admittedly stung a bit. He had an evening flight the next day, so he could stand to lose a bit of sleep if it meant seeing you one last time.

You answered the door in a robe, from your exposed skin it seemed like nothing else was underneath. You smiled and laughed to conceal the overwhelming feelings that filled your chest from the gesture.

“You’re so sweet, Joost.” You said as you took the small bouquet from him. “I have some champagne in my room if you want to share, it for the winner.”

Joost felt a weight lifted off his shoulders, freeing him from the torturous game you’d forced him to play as he finally was alone with you. Whether or not he’d leave with anything didn’t matter, he just wanted a moment with you that wasn’t in the halls or the lounges.

Your room was serene and surprisingly organized, unlike his with bottles piled on the coffee table and clothes all over the couch. The lights were low, and soft music played in the background, by the look of the skincare products on the vanity it seemed that he’d interrupted your bedtime ritual.

He watched as you poured a sparkling glass of champagne for him, clinking your glasses together before taking a sip. It was a bit sweet for his liking, but it made sense if it was coming from you. He knew you were the type to overindulge, like a child of Dionysus you lived for worldly pleasures and your enjoyment alone. He wondered if he would be a part of those pleasures if you’d fall into him like you did your other vices.

“I’m going to spend a little bit more time here.” You said, “I’ve never been to Sweden before.”

Joost nodded, knowing that you came from a small city and that all this travel was probably the best thing in the world for you. “I leave tomorrow.” His tone was a bit disappointed. “I would’ve liked to stay a little longer though.”

You hummed in agreement, “So,” You began, setting down the half-finished glass of your drink. “You only came to give me flowers?”

He felt his grip tighten on the delicate glass, looking down at you, he noticed that the fabric of the robe had fallen forward a bit, exposing a bit of your naked chest and body. “No.” He confessed, “Just an excuse to see you, the flowers were mine.”

“It’s rude to regift.” He hated your teasing, he hated the ever-present sensuality in your voice. “Alright, well, you saw me.”

You watched as Joost’s eyes widened at you, a desperate look on his face from how insufferable you had become. He knew that you had seen right through him this entire time, and he felt that you were now making a mockery of him. Even if he was the one with the dishonest motives, if he was the one staring down your robe, he felt that he was completely naked in front of you.

“You’re too much.” He mumbled, fumbling with the intricate buckle of his belt and swirling the champagne in his cup. “You don’t even come to my fucking party.”

You smiled at him, but not like you had been doing before, “Is that belt bothering you?” You asked before reaching over, your hands gently moving his away. “Let me help you.”

You undid his belt with a bit of a struggle, finally pulling it off and letting it fall to the floor. Joost felt his breath get caught in his throat, looking down at you as you undid the button to his jeans that now felt suffocating and pulled down the zipper. The sound of his clothing coming off echoed in his mind and made him grow rigid. He tried to relax, trying to see you for what you were, someone who was just as crazy for him as he was for you, instead of someone who had the upper hand.

You couldn’t bear to deny yourself anymore, the tension finally snapping loose as your fingers dipped underneath the waistband of his underwear and pulled them down in one desperate, fluid motion. Joost began to step away so that he’d be able to sit down on the chair across from you, his pants and underwear pooling at his ankles as you followed shamelessly.

You mused at his size, wrapping your hand around the base you couldn’t help but take it all in. Joost was pretty, all of him was so fucking pretty. His dick looked perfect in your hands, just big enough that you knew it would hurt and prove itself to be a challenge that you were eager to take on. His skin radiated warmth, it was softer than any other man you’d touched. You nearly salivated the longer you pumped him in your hand, drawing out soft groans before you finally took him into your mouth.

It was as if you were a groupie how enthusiastic and sloppy you were. He watched through half-lidded eyes as you took all you could, your hands pumping at the base of what you struggled to fit. Your tongue was sinful, swirling around his shaft and sensitive tip, sucking him off so well he began to lose all rationality, wondering how crazy it would be if he asked you to be his girlfriend after all of this.

Joost grabbed the glass of champagne and began drinking again, the rush of sweetness on his tongue paired with getting head from his new favorite girl was heavenly. His ego had completely taken over, he was a winner and deserved to feel like it. He wanted to have you for as long as he could. He didn’t want to finish like this, so he poured himself another glass and pulled your head away gently so that you’d face him.

“Kiss it.” He said, the glass sparkling and bubbling alongside his eyes that now were drowned out by his pupils. “Look at me while you do it.”

Your body grew numb at his request, seeing him rip the control that you once had as he sat in your room, drinking your champagne with his fingers tangled in your hair telling him to kiss his dick for him. He knew you liked to put on a show, using it to his advantage he watched from above, glass to his lips before you listened.

You felt passionate desire pour out of you as you mindlessly kissed and licked on his dick. You pressed sloppy, wet kisses all over, sucking down gently on the tip as he watched quietly, suppressing his moans and taking sips of his drink. The only sounds were coming from you, you moaned from the pleasure it gave you to be touching him, and how much you loved the feeling of your saliva and his pre cum dripping all over your face.

Your lips were plush and greedy against him, the sight itself better than the sensation. When he’d finally had enough, he pulled you up so that you’d be sitting on his lap, your face was a bit too messy, so he took a makeup wipe from your vanity and gently cleaned your face.

“Here,” Joost offered the last sip of champagne from his glass, “Wash your mouth.”

He pressed the cool glass to your lips and watched as you drank until there was nothing left. He finally pulled you into an impatient kiss, but it was much softer than you expected. He kissed you tenderly, his arms holding your body taut, so much that you felt his heartbeat against yours. You could tell even if this was all unintended and in the heat of the moment, the feelings you shared underneath were all genuine.

You held his face in your hands, his stubble rough against your palms. You wished you could stay like that forever, but the ache in between your legs would never allow you. You lowered one hand so that you could untie the knot on your silky robe and let it fall off your shoulders. Joost felt the shift in the fabric and moved one hand up to cup your breast and squeezed down, pulling away from the kiss to look at you.

He left a trail of kisses on your neck, sucking down on the sensitive skin before leaving a mark right below your ear so that he’d give you something to remember him properly. It was crimson, deep, and loving, you wished that he’d even left more. You loved the feeling, and you let him know with the way you squirmed in his thigh and whined with every kiss.

As much as he enjoyed moving slowly, the time was passing by too quickly and he was animalistic in his desire to fuck you. It felt as if he’d been putting out for a lifetime, his better judgment was non-existent. He paid just enough attention to your breasts, he’d hate to neglect something so perfect, kissing them lovingly, before kissing down your stomach down to your thighs.

Joost kissed in between your thighs slowly. His lips lingered too closely to where they should’ve been teasing you to the point it felt cruel. As you watched his languid motions, how much intention and care he put into every touch, you could tell how crazy he was for you, how your flirting had driven him to this madness. Your hand ran through his hair as he continued to press soft kisses against your skin, making him look up at you with a pleading expression,

“Can I?” He asked in a strained whisper, you blushed a bit seeing him soften so much and ask the most obvious question.

“Please.” You could hardly speak seeing him like that, he was unrecognizable from the man you’d known before. “I’m yours.”

He wondered if you could peer into his mind into his deepest desires. Joost ate you out as his thoughts raced, somehow without the overt focus it felt so much more natural and perfect for you. He was operating on pure instinct now, his mind elsewhere, thinking ahead to when he’d get to fuck you as his mouth preoccupied itself. He moaned against you, his warm tongue lapping against your clit desperately. The sounds you made only made him more determined, so much so that he couldn’t feel the ache in his jaw and weakness in his tongue.

His thoughts then floated to the image of when he’d make you cum. The taste of you was addicting, better than an ice-cold shot of his favorite liquor and the first cigarette out of a fresh box. The taste of you dripped down his chin like biting into an overly ripe peach, messy, sticky but inexplicably perfect. He kept your trembling thighs apart with his strong hands, like the skin of a fruit as delicate as a peach he was careful not to hurt you, but you seemed to become more beautifully vocal when his fingers would dig down into your flesh.

“I’m close.” You mumbled, not wanting to lose your high, the feeling of your orgasm building steadily in the bottom of your stomach. “Please don’t stop Joost.”

He forced himself to listen, if time wasn’t against him he would’ve edged you to the point of tears until you would be coming undone, ripping at the seams for a well-deserved orgasm rather than one so easily given. His soft lips pressed down on your clit, sucking down gently he knew you weren’t going to last too long, but just to make sure he traced your entrance with two long fingers and fucked your desperate, soaked pussy.

You lost yourself in the bliss that washed over you. You’d never felt anything quite like it, it was ecstasy in its purest form. He fucked you through it, gentle whispers guiding you back to reality as you clenched and writhed against his hand to ride out your orgasm.

“That’s it, dotje.” His voice was so delicate and comforting against the intensity that overcame your senses. “I’ve got you.”

You felt tears in your eyes from how tightly they’d been shut. Looking down as the feeling subsided into a nearly sedated, dreamy sensation you watched as Joost withdrew his hand from you. Wincing at the loss of his fingers, desperately needing something inside of you again you watched as his two fingers, completely drenched in your slick arousal went into his mouth.

You wished you had it in you to tease him and remind him about the time you’d had breakfast together, but it was all a distant, meaningless memory now. You were entranced watching him lick his fingers clean, he stared you down as he did it, his tongue swirling around to taste every last bit of you.

“You taste so good.” His voice too was unrecognizable, his lust for you so apparent that you found yourself feeling much more bare than just in the literal sense. “Open your mouth.”

His fingers were warm, you’d finally returned the favor and sucked down to taste yourself like he wanted. After he was satisfied, he wiped his hand against his torso carelessly, reaching into the pocket of his jeans that were tossed on the floor to pull out his wallet. He always kept condoms, although he hadn’t acclimated himself to a rock star lifestyle yet he was glad that he’d made a habit of always carrying some.

“Can I go on top?” You asked sweetly, only for him to shake his head with a smile.

“No.” He said plainly, tearing open the holographic packaging. “I want to be romantic.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Joost made you feel at ease, he was undoubtedly a special person who would always have a small piece of your heart. You wished that he didn’t make you feel so warm inside, a fling and one nightstand should’ve made you feel nothing but lust.

Even if he had been joking, it had been romantic. He laid atop of you, kissing you just slow and deep as he fucked you. He filled you up so perfectly that you could do nothing but hold him close and moan into the never-ending kiss. You tensed a bit at first, but he was gentle, touching you sweetly to relax your body so that he could bottom you out.

Joost lasted a bit longer than you anticipated, you even grew a bit sore from how much he stretched you out and your body soon became weighed down with a drunken feeling. The champagne had long worn off, but nothing was comparable to getting fucked by such a man who wasn’t only gorgeous, but completely on top of the world.

It made you feel a bit shallow, wrapping your legs around him as he began to kiss your neck to give your lips a break. You tugged on the longer part of his hair possessively, eliciting a low groan from him. Just like you’d boosted his ego, he was now doing the same for you. Even if you didn’t win the competition, you’d have the person who did wrapped around your finger.

He came inside you without any verbal warning, but his body gave him away. You felt entranced by it, the way he panted and moaned Dutch praises tangled with English ones. His cock twitched when he finished, a bit disappointed you couldn’t enjoy it fully and all you felt was the warmth.

What followed was a bit disappointing. Your head was a wreck for the days after, thinking of how Joost left in the later morning hours after spending what was left of the night cuddling with you. Your remaining time in Sweden was beautiful with your friend, but you’d promised to fly back to Vancouver to see her family so that they could give you proper congratulations.

You’d confided to your friend on a drunken night in Stockholm about your night with Joost, which failed to surprise her. As you lay in the living room of her parent's house, watching her nieces and nephews play and talk your ear off about Eurovision you noticed her running into the house.

“Check your phone.” She was far too excited, making you nervously take your phone from the coffee table. “Hurry!”

You looked at her messages to see tickets to a festival, looking at the line your heart nearly sank at seeing Joost’s name. You were silent for a while, your face still and statuesque you’d unintentionally offended your friend.

“Uh,” She began leaning down to look at you. “Do you not want to go or something?”

You shook your head, “Of course I do.” You said quietly, not wanting the kids to butt into the conversation. “I just hope I can see him, not just watch.”

You certainly got what you wanted. After watching the show, it felt like you’d been falling in love for a second time with the way he performed. You loved seeing him get to see him being himself without constraint, even if he was completely out of his element in Canada he was too charming for anyone not to like him.

You found Joost after his show, not needing to say anything, your arms wrapping around his torso as you two stood behind the stage as the next performer went on. You realized you were still in the open for everyone to see, but even if you noticed groups of people slowing down to stare at you two you hadn’t cared.

“There are people taking pictures.” He whispered, nodding over to one of the passing groups, presumably Eurovision fans.

You shook your head, cupping his face for what felt like the last time as the sun-kissed all his features for you. You didn’t want to do anything else but admire him for as long as you could.

410 notes · View notes

bby-grl-4-bucky · 3 months ago

Text

You Smoke?

Word Count: 3.6k

✧ Pairing: Joost Klein x GN!Reader

✧ Summary: You and Joost have been apart of the same friend group for a while now but haven't had the chance to get to know each other. Thats till they both go on a smoke break.

✧ Warnings and tags: pet/nicknames(Sweetheart and star) , smoking(cigarettes), just some fluff, acquaintances to lovers, cursing, alcohol consumption, implied smut , panic attack, fainting, claustrophobia, no pronouns, angst if you squint

✧ Authors note: I've recently gotten into Joost and his music. I'm usually not into blonde men but he flipped a switch for me. Enjoy this thing my brain came up with, i'm very proud of it. If I made any mistakes or missed a warning PLEASE LET ME KNOW. Also, my requests are open so please request something so I have an excuse to post more. ps, MINORS SHOO!

⋆.ೃ࿔*

“Say it!”

“Okay, okay I will”

It's a Tuesday night and everyone is tipsy. You and your friend group had spent the majority of the day helping your friend Joost with a video shoot. You then all came back to Apson’s apartment to relax and have a couple drinks. A couple drinks then turned into a bunch of shots. Now you're all sharing stories, obviously extremely dramatized due to the liquor in your system.

“So I bring this girl home after a gig at Bolwerk” Joost starts

When Joost talks, everyone in the room listens. He is constantly the center of attention. He commands a room.

“We get to my place; getting in the mood.. I leave her on the couch so I can get a rubber, but when I get back this girl is passed out!”

“What did you do after?” Apson questioned

“Opzouten! I went to bed and put her in a cab in the morning”

The group laughed and went into separate conversations. Joost stood up from his seat and grabbed his bag.

“Alright, i’m gonna go have a smoke”

“Mind if I come too?” You speak up

He nods towards the balcony and steps out. You follow and close the sliding door behind you. You admire the city as you learn over the railing. Joost looked through his small bag. He let out a sigh and cursed to himself.

“You got a lighter?” he questioned

You nodded and passed him the lighter that was in your pocket. He pulled out two cigarettes , placing one between his lips and handing you the other. He lit his, taking a drag to ensure an even burn. He inhaled then blew out the remaining smoke. He held the cigarette in between his lips and leaned over towards you. You placed the cigarette between your lips and looked up at him. He cupped one of his hands to the side of the cig and turned the lighter on. You scanned his focused face but your attention was stolen by him eyeing you. You took a pull and watched as Joost moved away, still never peeling his eyes from you. You leaned over the railing and watched cars pass below you.

“I had no idea you smoked” Joost broke the silence

“Well we don’t speak much to know anything about each other”

“Which is odd since we hang out so often”

“You hangout with the group often, we don’t hangout at all” You corrected

He chuckled at your snarkiness and finally looked away from you. He admired the skyline and took a drag from his cig. He turned back to you again.

“I know everyone in the group pretty well, besides you”

“What are you getting at?”

“Maybe, we could get some drinks or go out to eat or something”

“You’re making it sound like a date, Klein”

“You’re the one whos thinking of it like that”

⋆.ೃ࿔*

You agreed to hangout with Joost but tried to find something that didn’t seem so ‘datey’. You decided on going to a local venue where a few underground hardstyle artists were playing. You knew you both had a love for music so you made your plans based on that.

You stood in front of the barricade as you watched people trickle in. You quickly took notice of a familiar blonde haired man walking in, dawning a pair of shades and an ushanka. He searched the crowd till his eyes finally landed on you. A smile pasted itself on to his face and he sped to you.

“Hallo!” He greeted

“Hey.. what's with the shades?”

“I didn’t want anyone to notice me”

“Yea, because no one is going to recognize that bright mullet and your very.. Distinctive style”

He gave you a sarcastic laugh before taking his spot at the barricade. He looked around and took in the venue.

“So do you know anyone in the line up?”

“Nee, but it's always good to support new artist”

You nodded in agreement

“I remember when I was in their position, it always feels good to know that people who are bigger in the scene are interested in your art” He continued

“Enough about me, tell me why you chose this spot”

“Well, I always come to shows like these. It's such a fun atmosphere.. Plus I know how passionate you are about music so I figured it was the perfect way to bring both of our likes together”

“You're very smart”

The comment slightly threw you off but you ignored it and tried to get back into small talk. Before you could even get a word in, the show started. The speakers immediately started blasting music and the room was now lit up by the stage lights above. Joost noticed the crowd begin to get rowdy so he quickly stood behind you and placed his arms on either side of you, hands gripping the barricade. You looked up at him and gave him a thankful smile. You turned back to the front of the stage and moved your body to the beat of the music. Joost looked down at you, ensuring you were comfortable and safe. He eventually let loose and enjoyed the music along with you. The bass and the volume of the music made it extremely difficult to communicate but you did what you could.

“Joost!.. JOOST!” You attempted to grab his attention

“Yea! What do you need?”

“Can you get me a drink?”

“You’ll be good on your own?” He questioned, you gave him a sly look and rolled your eyes

“I am a grown woman, I can handle myself”

He nodded and pushed through the crowd so he could get to the bar in the back. Once he left, you attempted to assimilate yourself with the crowd. Unfortunately, The crowd was getting even more hyped and seemed to lose any sense of awareness for others. Before you knew it, you were pushed into the center of the pit. You were being heavily shoved around and elbowed painfully. You tried to push your way out but the more you struggled, the more it became harder to get out. You’ve been in pits before but only when you intend to; you had never been forced into one. The large amounts of people and the pushing began to make you hyperventilate. Your chest was heaving and your heart was racing. There was a sudden ringing in your ear and before you knew it, black.

You weren’t sure how long you were out but you woke up to a bright light in your face and feeling insanely sweaty. You sat up and the light was moved from your face. The first person you saw was Joost, looking insanely worried. This was the first time you’ve seen him with any other reaction but happy. Once he realized you were awake, he quickly rushed to check on you, looking all around for any marks on you or any signs you needed to be rushed to a hospital. The medics urged him to give you some space but he ignored them.

“Holy shit, are you okay?”

“Like I would fucking know.. What happened?”

“You passed out in the pit, Why the fuck would you do that after I left?”

“First of all, I got pushed into the pit.. Second of all, I don’t need your constant protection”

He donned an amused smile and looked up at the medics, ushering them away. He tucked his arm under your armpit and slowly helped you get up.

“Still just as independent as you were before you went out.. Come on i’m taking you home”

“No it’s fine, I’ll get a cab”

“I brought my car. Turn off your ego for a second and let me do something for you”

⋆.ೃ࿔*

Joost pulled up to the front of your apartment building and put his car in park.

“Do you need me to take you upstairs or?”

‘I’ll be fine but thank you”

He nodded and stepped out of the car. Right as you were about to open your own door, he quickly swung it open.

“As the gentleman I am, I should be opening doors for you”

“Joost stop making it weird”

You stepped out of the car and shut the door, snatching it from him. He rolls his eyes and walks you to the door.

“Let's do that again”

“Maybe not THAT.. I think we should just get coffee next time” He joked

You nodded and stopped at your building's front door. Before you opened it, you turned back to Joost and placed a quick peck on his cheek. You gave him a soft smile and opened the door.

“Thank you.. Text me so we can figure out the next time we can hang out”

Joost just stood there, frozen in place. No matter what you said he would just nod in agreement.

⋆.ೃ࿔*

You had spent the last week texting back and forth with Joost. It first started off with him checking in on you after what happened at the concert. It then turned into him just talking to you randomly. Now you two can’t go a few hours without talking. After being in the same group for so long, you finally feel like you’re actually getting close to him.

Star: I just finished all my paperwork

Moon: You’ve been working on that stuff for 2 days straight

Star: Yea but its finally over

Moon: Good good

Star: I am really bored right now though

Moon: I’m at the studio right now finishing a project

All the guys just left so it's just me right now

Star: Are you asking me to pull up to the studio?

Moon: Maybe

Star: I’ll see you in 15

⋆.ೃ࿔*

You knocked on the door of the studio and waited for Joost to open. He wasted no time; he practically swung the door off its hinges. He greeted you with a wide smile and ushered you inside. You greeted him with a nod and walked in. You spun around, giving yourself a mini tour of the studio. It was decorated with LED lights and had few plants in the corners. You looked at one of the walls which had a comfy looking brown couch against it. Joost sat down in his chair in front of the control panel. He patted the chair next to him, signaling you to sit. You plopped down in the chair and watched him as he quickly opened his music program on his laptop.

“Listen to this and tell me what you think”

You nodded and followed his every move. He placed the laptop on the desk in front of him and quickly pressed the spacebar, causing the music to play. The song was slower than what you were used to with his music. His voice was very soft, following the beat. The lyrics were extremely heartfelt. Full of love and passion. It was very enjoyable, arguably one of his best songs. He leaned forward in his chair and watched your facial expressions. The song came to a stop and he immediately bombarded you with questions about your opinion.

“It's a very beautiful song.. I love it”

“You don’t think it's missing something, though?”

You shook your head and leaned back in your chair. Joost rubbed the back off his head, thinking. Suddenly something clicked in him. He grabbed your hand and forced you out of your seat. He opened the door to the booth.

“I need you to go into the booth and record something for me, please”

“Fine but you owe me”

He gave you an excited nod and rushed back to his seat. You walked into the booth and shut the door behind you. You looked out the window and spotted Joost ushering you to put on the headphones. Once you did, he spoke through the intercom.

“Okay, so what I want you to do is say ‘Joost, take me to the moon’ but in a soft voice.. Not a whisper though”

You giggled at his specific instructions and gave him an understanding nod. You got up to the mic and gave Joost a thumbs up, signaling that you were ready. A red light turned on above the mic, showing that it was on and recording. You gave yourself an assuring breathe before continuing with the phrase.

“Joost, take me to the moon” You attempted to put on your most calming yet slightly sensual voice

You looked over at him through the window, He just sat there staring at his laptop with an earbud in. He nodded to himself and waved for you to come back out. You hung the headphones back up and walked out of the booth.

“How was it?” You asked

“Fucking perfect.. It was exactly what the song needed”

You smiled to yourself, excited by the praise. He packed up his stuff and grabbed yours as well. He shut off the lights in the studio, The only light in the room being an LED lamp he has on the desk next to all the tech. He stood for a second just admiring the silhouette of your features. Weirdly enough, you did the same. You took notice of the way his nose buttons out and how he constantly had a dimple peeking. Though you couldn’t really see them, you felt his eyes meet yours. The two of you moved together ever so slightly. You two were already so close, if you kept going at this pace you would be directly on top of each other. He placed his hand on your hip and the other on the small of your back. You turned your head to the side and dared to lean your face closer. Right when your lips were going to slightly touch, his ringtone loudly filled the room. He let you go and rushed to grab his phone from his pocket, it was Aspon.

“Shit.. Hallo?” He answered the phone and walked to the other side of the room

You huffed and turned away from him, attempting to snap yourself out of this flustered state. He said goodbye to Aspon and turned back to you.

“Let’s get going”

You nodded in agreement and opened the door. You made your way downstairs and waited for Joost to lead you to the car. The car ride was pretty quiet besides you helping him with directions. You didn’t once acknowledge what happened upstairs. He pulled up in front of your apartment building and put the car in parked. He got out of the car and walked over to the other side, opening the door for you. You stepped out and walked with him to the front door.

“See you soon?”

“Yea, i’ll text you when i’m home.. Okay star?”

You nodded and headed back inside.

⋆.ೃ࿔*

He didn’t

He hasn’t spoken to you in a week. He hasn’t even made any plans to meet with the friend group. You haven’t heard a single thing about Joost. You knew it was kinda awkward after what happened but you didn’t think it was that bad. You spent day and night last week waiting for any sign of him. The more time that went by with no contact, the more time you began to gave up. That was till you actually gave up. You no longer spent your mornings trying to get pretty in case he wanted to hang out. You no longer tried looking for new ideas of things you could do together. You just stopped trying all together. You had no interest in putting so much effort into someone who obviously didn't care much for you.

You laid in your bed on your laptop, doom scrolling. You hadn’t found a way to stop until your phone chimed. You turned your head to the device and saw a text from someone you haven’t spoken to in a while.

Moon: You busy?

You stared at the text and contemplated whether you should answer or not. It was like his words were a spell, pushing you to respond. You picked up your phone and quickly got to typing.

Star: No

Why?

Moon: I’m having a get together for the release of my new song

Star: Okay

Moon: And I was wondering if you’d like to come

Star: Where is it and when?

Moon: At my place

Tonight at 8

Star: I’ll see

He sent you one last text but you didn’t bother to check. You wondered how he had the balls to contact you after leaving you in the dark for so long. You also wondered how he had so much control over you to make you give in so easily.

⋆.ೃ࿔*

You knocked on Joost's apartment door. You had only been here once before for a get together that Ski had invited your group to. You don’t really remember it much because you started drinking as soon as you got there.

Joost opened the door. A slight smile creeped onto his face. It immediately dropped when he realized you weren’t as happy to see him as he was you. You walked straight inside and looked around to see if you recognized anyone. To your surprise, no one was even there. You turned to him with a confused yet slightly confused face.

“Where did everyone go?” you questioned

“You’re the first one to arrive”

You scoff and walk further into the apartment. You spot the bottles of alcohol and mixers on his dining room table. You grab a cup and begin to fill your cup with a mix of vodka and cranberry juice. You took a sip, making a face at the taste of liquor. You turned back around and trailed to the couch. You plopped down and leaned against the arm of the seat. Joost walked towards you and gently sat down onto the cushion next to you. There was a moment of awkward silence before he finally decided to break it.

“I’m sorry”

“About?”

“The other night..”

“Are you really sorry about the other night or are you sorry about going ghost?”

“Both?”

“What exactly are you sorry for?”

“Um..”

There was a moment of silence again. You watched him as he fidgeted and bit the inside of his cheek. He finally turned to you. His cheeks were a light shade of pink and his eyes were slightly wider. You sat on your legs and leaned closer to him.

“Are you sorry or do you just regret something”

“Maybe I do have some regrets”

“Was it not kissing me?” You said boldly

He kept quiet but his eyes kept flickering to your lips. You leaned closer, practically being pulled towards him. He let out a desperate sigh and leaned into you. Your lips brushed against each other. You closed your eyes, preparing yourself to finally get to kiss him. Then the bell rang. You pulled away and threw your hands up in defeat. Joost got up to answer the door. You grabbed your cup and walked out to the balcony. After that, there wasn’t a moment where the door was closed. The apartment was now full. Everyone was packed in like sardines yet everyone was still having a great time. Joost pushed through the crowd and rushed to you.

“I’m about to release the song, come!”

You stood up from your chair and followed after him. The two of you stood with your group of friends. He grabbed his laptop and pressed the upload button. Once it was up, he pressed play and allowed his song to fill the room. It was a slow and sweet melody. Everything you said in the studio stood to be true. It was a perfectly beautiful song. It was full of love and passion. The song was coming to an end, a part you had never heard.

jij bent het mooiste waar ik mijn ogen op heb gericht, mijn ster

(you're the most beautiful thing I have laid my eyes on, My star)

Your mind went cloudy. The name took you by surprise. To anyone else it would seem like a random nickname, but to you it meant so much more. In the background you heard your voice closing out the song.

Joost, Take me to the moon

Everyone clapped and cheered for Joost. You turned to him with a dreamy expression on your face. He was just smiling down at you, tuning out the entire room. He made your blank expression turn into a wide smile.

⋆.ೃ࿔*

Joost said goodbye to the last few guests and turned to you. You stood directly behind him with a huge smile on your face that hasn’t gone away since he revealed the song. You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him into a long awaited kiss. His eyes fluttered shut as he melted into the kiss. He placed one of his hands onto the small of your back and the other on the back of your head. You reached your hand up and combed through the blonde’s mullet. He took a sharp breath in through his nose whilst pulling away. He gave you a goofy love struck smile. You panted as you attempted to catch your breath. You giggled at the sight of the very red Joost.

“So is that why you didn’t speak to me all week?”

“Yea.. I just got so caught up in making it perfect for you, Schat”

You pulled him back into the kiss, this time it was even more heated and passionate. He trailed his hands down and placed them on the back of your thighs. He tapped on your skin, signaling you to jump up. You did as you were instructed and wrapped your legs around his waist. He held onto you and walked you over to his room, never once breaking the kiss.

⋆.ೃ࿔*

joostklein

The Netherlands

♡ ❍ ➣

205,750 likes

joostklein “Love letter to a star” Out Now! ✨

View all 1,200 comments

June 15

bbnomula: I LOVE JOOST KLEIN

nelib0st: who’s the song about

yungpepsi: Omg is joost dating some1

missharli: Beautiful

ticetip: JOOST LET ME BE YOUR STAR

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bby-grl-4-bucky · 3 months ago

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p ❁ rn links 🤍🤍🤍

❁ thighriding joost…it started off with you wanting to sit on his lap while he was editing a video, but you were just too needy and he’d been so busy all day :((((

❁ joost tries to be as gentle as possible when he’s about to pound into you, even though you still get so so sensitive and so shaky from just foreplay :<

❁ you’re so horny yet so sensitive in the mornings, being on joosts lap on the couch, only his hands touching you and you’re already shaking

❁ it’s the finger tats mmhhh, the hand placement too, the romantic energy to it overall

❁ he’s been gone for months on tour so of course he’s gonna be so pent up and frustrated! those facetime calls and videos and pictures of you were all he had while he was gone, but nothing ever beats the real feeling of having you against him.

❁ early morning sex 😵‍💫 you may or may not have fallen asleep in your lingerie the previous night waiting for joost to get back home so you could surprise him, but that doesn’t mean you can’t try again in the morning!

❁ he can be so romantic with the way he eats you out, kissing all on your thighs, soft slow licks before sucking on your clit <33

❁ orrrr he can be like this, eating you out like a man starved. acting as if he hasn’t had access to food in days. he loves to hear your little squeals and feeling you try to close your thighs around his head as he keeps dragging out those orgasms from you

❁ the size difference when she holds his hand 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 he lovesss getting those breathy little shy moans outta you, he’ll defo be fucking you with a grin on his face and praising you for taking him so well

❁ again, he can’t help it, he loves watching you squirm, moaning into the mattress as you turn into putty because of his hand. saying shit like: “you wanna give me one more? yeah, you can handle one more?”

❁ him doing this while teasing tf outta you, also in a way of asking if you’re alright like “you okay, you’re moving around a lot?” “what it is? you too sensitive, liefje?”

bonus!

❁ this gif makes me think of him, he may be a boob man, but oh how he loves grabbing your ass

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bby-grl-4-bucky · 3 months ago

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Feral Masterlist

Joel Miller x Feral Reader/OFC

(You’ve all lovingly named this character Feral Reader, but she’s referenced as Starshine or Red sometimes in the stories.)

Warning: Explicit Content, Graphic Violence, Trauma, PTSD

✨Series Spotify Playlist✨

(Put in order of story timeline)

Tumbling After One-Shot | (18+ Minors DNI) | 3rd POV | AO3 All the fear Joel feels at the fact she’s no longer expendable, that it’s not just sex, and the only way he knows how to cope with it.

Smile Drabble| 3rd POV | He was starting to see glimpses of the girl buried underneath the sharp teeth and raised hackles. Crossword Snippet | 3rd POV | AO3 It’s the first time their group has been split up and Joel definitely isn’t waiting for you at the gates.

Daisies Drabble | 3rd POV | AO3 The women of Jackson have their eyes set on Joel Miller.

Beast One-Shot | 18+ Minors DNI for Graphic Violence | 3rd POV | AO3 All she can see is that he’s hurt and she would tear them apart. Left Behind One-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 Settling into life in Jackson wasn’t going so easily and Joel is hit with the possibility she may not be welcomed to stay. Territorial One-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 She never paid attention to the newcomers when they joined Jackson until one of them begins to get close to Joel. Dominant One-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 Jealousy and rationality don’t mix. Hero Worship Drabble | 3rd POV Ellie has a little admirer Your Bury Me One-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 A failed trade, a dress, music, and their own form of confession. Mine Drabble | 3rd POV He doesn’t like other’s attention on her

Consequences One-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 It felt impossible to keep breathing normally but she tried. They were looking for Joel. i.e. Red and Joel meet Abby. Pain One-Shot (Alternate Version) | 3rd POV | AO3 Joel and Ellie went together on patrol that morning. Then the snowstorm, then the panic, then Abby. Love makes us into monsters.

Fatherhood Drabble | 3rd POV Ellie and Dina have something to tell them.

Drabbles:

Reckless: Ellie gets mad at her for being too careless with herself Red’s Personality ***Red Integrating Into Jackson Headcanons ***Red and Joel Headcanons Does Red ever try singing again? ***Tommy x Red Headcanons Tommy after the punch ***Ellie x Red Headcanons ***Joel falling for Red Headcanons Red is Ellie’s Mom Gifts from the Barn Cat The Morning After Bitter Part 2 Joel’s Nightmares ***Moments in Domesticity Headcanons ***Ellie and Red arguement Headcanons

Asks

Where does Red met them in the timeline? TLOU Part 2 Question Sunshine Bestie Red and cheating scenario Romance and Connections Red and Pregnancies Maria and Red’s relationship Ellie’s Adjustment Maria standing up for Red Reds Triggers Red & the baby (More) When Reds Sick Annie’s Birthday Joel Calming Red Down Red’s Trinkets Touching

________________________________ If you would like to be added to a taglist for this series, please reply to this post! Taglist: @alouise20 @faceache111 @hawsx3 @taxidriversainz @iluvbunnyhops @mrfitzdarcyslover @emlovesya @agent007knight @spaacerabbit @namgification @wonwoosthetic @wxnderingthoughts @sagggy @escaping-reality8 @badwolf00593 @themothersmercy @badwolf00593 @mxtokko @happinessinthebeing @taranicristeard @aroacefanenby @barbellpedro @maviee @sgt-morgan @peppesgirl @spideysimpossiblegirl @hreader7 @jackierose902109

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bby-grl-4-bucky · 3 months ago

Text

More Than Honour

Chapter 37: What Is Left To Say?

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Introduction: Some mornings arrive too softly to be kind. The air doesn’t sting, it lingers. The silence doesn’t comfort, it asks questions. And when the guests begin to leave and the ballgowns are put away, the only thing left louder than the stillness… is the weight of everything unsaid.

The morning air was still.

You hadn’t slept much.

Aubrey Hall, once bursting with laughter and lace, now hummed with the soft rustle of carriages being prepared, the occasional echo of footmen exchanging travel times, and the unmistakable hush of things ending. Guests were beginning to leave. Some were already gone.

When you finally rose, there was only one thought pressing in beneath the ache behind your eyes: You hadn’t seen Lucien.

Not since your dance with him. Not since Gregory. Not since Anthony.

And despite the way the night had unraveled, despite the ache still lodged beneath your ribs like a splinter — you hadn’t forgotten.

You’d promised Lucien a second dance.

And you hadn’t returned.

No note. No explanation. Just... absence.

The promise had been real — a soft smile, a quiet squeeze of the hand. You’d meant it when you said it. And then the world shifted — Anthony’s hand, Anthony’s voice, the sting of your own departure like a wound you couldn’t stitch.

And Lucien… he had simply vanished from your awareness, and you hated that.

You dressed quickly, fingers fumbling slightly at the fastenings. You didn’t call for a maid. You didn’t want witnesses to your guilt.

The hallway was still hushed, save for the quiet echo of trunks being wheeled out and doors clicking open across the guest wing. You passed two maids in the corridor who paused to curtsy. You offered a nod, a distracted smile, and continued on toward the east wing — the set of rooms furthest from the family quarters, where Lucien had been placed for privacy.

The light in the hall was soft, diffused through the gauzy curtains that framed the tall windows. You turned a corner, heart hammering a little too fast — and then froze.

Voices.

Two women. Low. Familiar.

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop — but the words stopped you in your tracks.

“I just thought... he might propose during this week.”

Edwina.

There was a pause. Then Kate’s voice, carefully measured:

“He may still, Edwina. We don’t know what today holds.”

Another silence.

Then:

“But he invited us early,” Edwina whispered, “before the rest of the ton. And he was so kind, so attentive. I thought... surely it meant something.”

You pressed your back lightly against the wall — not to hide, but because your knees had gone suddenly weak.

Kate exhaled. “It did mean something. But meaning something is not the same as being certain.”

“But how could I have been so wrong?” Edwina’s voice trembled. “I thought he liked me.”

“He does,” Kate said gently. “But perhaps not... in the way you hoped.”

“I don’t understand,” Edwina said, her voice quiet — but not tearful. Just… tired. “He invited us here early. He sought our company so intentionally. And I truly thought…”

Her words trailed off.

Kate touched her arm. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“But something has changed,” Edwina whispered. “I can feel it. He’s still kind. He still smiles. But it’s like… I’m not enough. Like I never quite reach him.”

There was a silence — long, weighted.

Then Kate’s voice, carefully measured. “Sometimes it isn’t about you at all, Edwina. Sometimes the person we want is already standing in a different story.”

You couldn’t breathe.

Edwina exhaled softly. “It’s silly of me to have hoped. But… I just wanted it to mean something.”

“It did,” Kate said gently. “Even if it doesn’t end where you imagined.”

You stepped back before they could see you, heart twisting.

You had come looking for Lucien.

And now, you carried something else entirely — a different guilt, a different kind of ache.

Edwina didn’t know.

Not really.

She didn’t see the moments in the library. The unspoken. The unforgivable.

She only saw what she was missing — and blamed herself.

And that, more than anything, made you want to disappear all over again.

You backed away slowly, your steps silent over the rug, retreating into another corridor before either of them could emerge and see you there.

The guilt hit harder than you’d expected.

Not just for disappearing on Lucien.

But for the fallout. For the confusion. For the hurt that none of you had wanted to cause, but somehow had anyway.

You stood for a moment in the quiet, one hand pressed to the hollow of your throat.

And then — because you couldn’t undo any of it — you turned back toward the guest wing.

You had to find Lucien. Before he disappeared, too.

Your footsteps turned without thinking, retracing along the runner toward the other end of the hall—past the stairwell, past your room, toward a door you weren’t sure you had the right to knock on anymore.

Lucien’s.

You paused outside it, hand halfway to the wood. Your reflection shimmered faintly in the polished handle—a girl in last night’s gown, a woman who had danced with too many shadows, and didn’t know where her light belonged anymore. Somewhere downstairs, trunks were being loaded. Horses whinnied. Carriage wheels creaked over the gravel.

Everyone was leaving.

But you were still here.

And you owed him this.

And then the door opened.

“Angel.”

The word came out with a small smile, tinged with surprise. Not sarcasm. Not distance. Just…that gentle Lucien kind of warmth.

Lucien stood there.

Shirt sleeves rolled. Waistcoat half-buttoned. Hair damp from a recent wash. And somehow, he still looked every inch the portrait of ease—except for the fact that he wasn’t surprised to see you.

Not even a little.

You blinked. “How did you—”

“I heard you coming,” he said gently, opening the door a little wider. “Your footsteps are lighter than usual. That usually means guilt or mischief.”

A pause.

Then he smiled. “And you already used up your mischief quota this week.”

You swallowed. “I wasn’t sure you’d still be here.”

His gaze softened.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

That stopped you.

Something about the way he said it—no edge, no bitterness. Just…understanding. Quiet, measured, still.

He stepped aside, silent invitation extended.

You entered.

The room was warm, a fire low in the hearth. A few books stacked on the nightstand. The faintest trace of last night’s cologne still lingering in the air. He hadn’t packed yet. Or maybe he had and undone it. Either way, the space still felt like him.

You didn’t sit. Neither did he.

“I didn’t mean to disappear on you,” you said quietly.

Lucien tilted his head slightly. “I know.”

“I promised you another dance.”

His smile curved, just barely. “I got one with Hyacinth instead. She’s fiercer company.”

You exhaled a laugh—faint, but real. “You deserved more than that.”

A beat.

“I should have said something,” you murmured, fingers curling into your skirts. “I should’ve—”

“Hey.” Lucien’s voice was soft, but it cut cleanly through your spiraling.

When you looked up, he had stepped closer. Not too close. Just enough that you could see the worry in his eyes. The quiet calculation.

“You don’t owe me explanations,” he said. “You owe yourself kindness.”

Your throat tightened.

“I know something’s shifting,” he said, and this time there was a deeper note to his voice—something steadier, older, bracing. “I’m not blind. I saw the way he looked at you last night.”

You said nothing.

Lucien didn’t look angry.

He just looked…like someone bracing for a wave he couldn’t stop.

“I don’t want you to choose me because I’m safe,” he added after a pause. “I want you to choose me because you can’t help it.”

This made your chest ache.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” you confessed.

Lucien smiled gently. “That’s alright. You’re allowed to be uncertain.”

You blinked at him, suddenly unsteady again.

And he stepped forward, arms opening—not demanding, not possessive. Just…waiting.

You stepped into them before you could second-guess it.

His arms wrapped around you, warm and careful and steady.

“I’m here,” he murmured into your hair. “Whatever you need. However you need it.”

You nodded against his shoulder, not trusting your voice.

His hand slid up to the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair.

And then—a kiss.

Soft. Reverent. To your forehead.

He didn’t ask for more.

He didn’t lean away and search your eyes for answers.

He just stayed there, arms around you, like a promise with no expiration.

And when you finally stepped back, he let you go without hesitation.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Lucien gave a crooked smile. “Just don’t vanish without saying goodbye again. It’s terribly bad for my ego.”

You managed a laugh—quiet, but real.

And then, as the sun climbed higher and the estate braced for goodbyes, you slipped out of the room.

Still torn.

Still aching.

But held, if only for a moment, by someone who never asked you to be anything more than what you were.

A while later—outside the house…

The last of the carriages had disappeared down the winding path.

The gravel was still settling.

Aubrey Hall stood quieter now. Not silent, but changed. As though it had been holding its breath all week, and now finally dared to exhale.

Anthony stood in the garden near the east hedgerow, sleeves rolled to the elbow, hands on his hips, chest rising and falling in deep, uneven intervals. The midday sun caught the edges of his profile, gliding the sharpness of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders.

Behind him, quiet but purposeful, came footsteps.

Lucien.

He didn’t announce himself.

Anthony didn’t turn around.

For a long moment, neither spoke.

Then Lucien, voice steady and calm. “She was running from you last night.”

Anthony exhaled slowly, but said nothing.

Lucien stopped a few paces behind him, hands in his pockets, gaze distant.

“I told her I’d save her the next dance, after Simon. She never came back,” he continued.

Anthony closed his eyes.

Lucien stepped beside him now, the two of them framed by the arch of trimmed vines and roses.

“I’m not here to start something,” Lucien said. “That would be beneath both of us.”

Anthony let out a humourless breath. “Would it?”

Lucien tilted his head. “She’s not a war to win, Bridgerton. We both know that.”

Silence stretched again.

Then Anthony spoke, quieter this time. “You’re good to her.”

Lucien nodded once. “I try to be.”

Anthony’s jaw flexed. “She laughs around you. I see it. You make it easy for her.”

Lucien didn’t deny it. “She makes it easy to want to.”

A long pause.

Then Lucien asked, almost gently, “Do you love her?”

Anthony didn’t answer at first.

When he did, his voice was stripped bare.

“Yes.”

Lucien looked ahead. Not gloating. Not mourning.

Just listening.

Anthony added, almost to himself, “But I kept trying to be what made sense. And I watched myself become a man who stood still while she walked away.”

Lucien let that settle.

Then—

“She deserves someone who moves with her.”

Anthony turned to him. “And if that’s you?”

Lucien met his gaze.

“Then I’ll be that. Unless you ask me to step aside.”

Anthony blinked. “You would?”

Lucien smiled faintly. “I want her to choose. Not fall into someone’s arms out of timing or obligation.”

Anthony swallowed hard.

Lucien continued, softer now, “She doesn’t need to be protected from you. She needs to be seen by you. All of her. Not the version you think is safest. The version that scares you. The one that sets your world on fire.”

Anthony looked away.

Lucien gave him a moment, then added:

“If you can’t face that version of her, then let her go. And I will be the place she goes when it all gets too heavy.”

He turned then, brushing dust from his cuffs. “But if you can face her—if you really see her—then don’t waste another breath pretending you don’t want to.”

He let that sit.

Then, with a quiet breath, Lucien added, “She’s looking for you, you know. Even when she’s not.”

Lucien walked away without another word.

And Anthony stayed in the garden, staring at the empty space between his feet.

For once, unsure whether he’d just been given a challenge.

Or a gift.

Taglist: @bollzinurmouth @drewstarkeysrightarm @thorins-queen-of-erebor @yearninglustfully @khaleesibeach @ifilwtmfc

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bby-grl-4-bucky · 3 months ago

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Over the Garden Wall - Masterlist

Benedict Bridgerton x Princess!Reader

18+

Summary: The youngest daughter of Queen Charlotte and King George, plagued by the same illness as her father, grows tired of her lonely and isolated existence. When escaping the prison-like castle she has been sequestered in for her entire life, she meets a young man who shares her love for painting and whom she can not stop thinking about. Secrets, betrayal, and love all fight against one another. Which one will win?

Series Warnings: Love at first sight; POV third person; eventual smut; isolation; dramatic/inaccurate depictions of mental illness; thoughts of death; there will be fluff, okay? I swear; potential historical inaccuracies; complex mother/daughter relationship; historical medical practices; SIMP Benedict; idgaf about historical canon; complicated sibling relationships; execution by hanging

Tags specified before each chapter

(Tags will be updated as the story continues)

Last Updated: 03/28/24 (Complete)

*indicates smut

Chapter One - Loathing Boredom

Chapter Two - Ruinous Secrets

Chapter Three - Never is a Promise

Chapter Four - As the Poets Say

Chapter Five - Vagrant Body

Chapter Six - Codes and Clues

Chapter Seven - Dig My Fingers in

Chapter Eight - No Light of My Own

Chapter Nine - This Sweet Plague *

Chapter Ten - Tricked By the Past

Chapter Eleven - No Label, No Name

Chapter Twelve - Keeping Time

Chapter Thirteen - Only You Can Mend

Chapter Fourteen - Not Above Violence

Interlude - Lady Whistledown

Chapter Fifteen - Matching Wounds

Chapter Sixteen - Go Along to Be With You

Chapter Seventeen - Balanced on Desire

Interlude - Marietta

Chapter Eighteen - Oh, My One

Chapter Nineteen - Like Fuel to Fire *

Chapter Twenty - If I Send for You

Interlude - Honeymoon *

Chapter Twenty One - An Atom and a Star

Chapter Twenty Two - The Bed I Was Born In *

Chapter Twenty Three - Don't Wait to Understand

Chapter Twenty Four - Fingers Laced a Crown

Chapter Twenty Five - Here to Kingdom Come *

Epilogue - A Moment, A Love

Drabble - Pall Mall Drabble - Picnic Drabble - Like Mother, Like Son Drabble - Jealousy Drabble - More Than a Maid Drabble - Coronation Day Drabble - Second Son Drabble - Number Four Drabble - Reasonably Unreasonable Drabble - Tag, You're It Drabble - Sisters Drabble - Spoiled Drabble - Opal of the Season Drabble - Fit for Family Drabble - Garden in Bloom * (smut adjacent) Drabble - What if? AU

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bby-grl-4-bucky · 3 months ago

Text

Over the Garden Wall - Masterlist

Benedict Bridgerton x Princess!Reader

18+

Tags specified before each chapter

(Tags will be updated as the story continues)

Last Updated: 03/28/24 (Complete)

*indicates smut

Chapter One - Loathing Boredom

Chapter Two - Ruinous Secrets

Chapter Three - Never is a Promise

Chapter Four - As the Poets Say

Chapter Five - Vagrant Body

Chapter Six - Codes and Clues

Chapter Seven - Dig My Fingers in

Chapter Eight - No Light of My Own

Chapter Nine - This Sweet Plague *

Chapter Ten - Tricked By the Past

Chapter Eleven - No Label, No Name

Chapter Twelve - Keeping Time

Chapter Thirteen - Only You Can Mend

Chapter Fourteen - Not Above Violence

Interlude - Lady Whistledown

Chapter Fifteen - Matching Wounds

Chapter Sixteen - Go Along to Be With You

Chapter Seventeen - Balanced on Desire

Interlude - Marietta

Chapter Eighteen - Oh, My One

Chapter Nineteen - Like Fuel to Fire *

Chapter Twenty - If I Send for You

Interlude - Honeymoon *

Chapter Twenty One - An Atom and a Star

Chapter Twenty Two - The Bed I Was Born In *

Chapter Twenty Three - Don't Wait to Understand

Chapter Twenty Four - Fingers Laced a Crown

Chapter Twenty Five - Here to Kingdom Come *

Epilogue - A Moment, A Love

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bby-grl-4-bucky · 3 months ago

Text

Joel Miller - Masterlist

Below are works done for everyone’s fave dusty dad! It will be updated as things are posted!

Main Masterlist

Request Guidelines

* = Explicit

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Stubborn

Scared

Before

Injured

After All this Time

May I Have this Dance?

Hey Kid

Don’t be Afraid

Happy Birthday

Protector

Truck Sex*

It Must Be Exhausting

Hurt

Bookish

Safe & Sound

Jealous

Together Again

Intent

He Loves You

Lavender Haze

I Like You Soft

Catch Up

Jealous

Swim Lessons

Through the Storm

Grumpy Meets Sunshine

Are You Sure?

5 + 1 Kisses

Protective

Welcome to the Neighborhood

Nightmares

Tell

Clumsy Old Man

Rights & Wrongs

Weak

Good as New

Touch

Gone But Never Forgotten

Next Halloween

High

Grump

Perfection

A Late Return

Too Sweet

Trouble

Salty

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bby-grl-4-bucky · 3 months ago

Text

Even When She Had Noone | Brother!Bucky x Sister!Reader (Smut, mild Angst, mild Fluff)

Category: Smut, mild Angst, mild Fluff (Mandatory) Age: 18+ Trigger Warnings: Incest, sex pollen, dub-con, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), intercourse Ship: Brother!Bucky x Sister!Reader Summary: It was a simple in-and-out mission, but she ingests something that might kill her, the cure being something a little more than simple Request: N/A Contains Spoilers for: N/A Word Count: 6.3k

This work is absolutely fictional and I am not gonna tolerate hate on it. If you're not interested then just don't read. <3

---

Even when she had no-one, she had Bucky.

And even when he had no-one, he had (Y/N).

Even when the whole Universe was against them, they still had each other.

HYDRA didn’t even separate them. They were too powerful together to do that.

Let alone the fact that Bucky would kill anyone who dared try to take his little sister away from him.

Skip to modern-day. Nothing is different. Not really.

They’re still inseparable, but they’re now trying to save the Universe instead of trying to destroy it for the likes of HYDRA.

“How’s it looking, baby doll?” Bucky asks down the comms as he continues his path down the South of the building they’re infiltrating.

“Full of people trying to piss me the fuck off.” (Y/N)’s sarcastic tone prompts the soldier to chuckle as he shoots the enemies in his way.

“Language, sweetheart.”

“You trying to push my buttons or what, Barnes?”

He simply grins and shakes his head, continuing to head toward the vault that he and his sister are hoping to remove a number of substances from.

“Nice hair.” The soldier comments as they meet up in the centre of the huge building. She reckons it’s an old hospital.

“James, do you want me to kill you or what? You could’ve just asked if you were that desperate.” (Y/N) asks, quirking a brow as she sets up some small bombs on the lock of the vault door.

“Mm, perhaps another time, we’re a bit busy right now, no?”

Another roll of her eyes.

This is the usual banter between the two siblings who have been through more than enough together.

“Keep an eye out whilst I sort out these vials, will you?” She asks as they get through, (Y/N) mentally counting up how many there are, some holding a pale blue liquid, others a dark green, a couple with more of a pinkish tinge.

“Yes, ma’am.” He mock-salutes before scouting the hallways around the huge metal box in the wall.

“Good boy.”

The briefcase she has to hold the vials is already heavy, so she’s not looking forward to when it’s full. With quick, nimble fingers, (Y/N) quickly kneels down and migrates the glass tubes into the sponge-insulated case, occasionally glancing toward the door when she hears gunfire.

“You still alive, Buck?”

“Unfortunately for you, sugar.”

She breathes out a laugh at her brother’s humour before continuing to grab the last few dozen.

She’s not entirely sure how she didn’t notice the sneaky bastard walk up behind her but she’s fast-acting nonetheless.

The man yanks on her ponytail which prompts her grunt before she’s grabbing her knife from her thigh holster and reaching behind her, the blade piercing straight through the side of the man’s leg. Another hesitation from him for her to pull back from his hold and jump to her feet, spinning around and spinning the blade between her fingers.

“You little bitch.”

“Say it again: turns me on.” She remarks, smirking and quirking a brow.

She doesn’t expect the man’s own expression to contort into an entertained grin at the sarcastic response.

He quickly darts forward, shoving her backwards against the metal shelving that holds some more of the vials she’s yet to pack up and take away. They rattle, the sound of small amounts of glass shattering heard from above her, a few of the tubes breaking, making the woman’s brows furrow.

“Can you not damage the goods I’m trying to neatly organise?”

He continues to grin, going to grab the weapon in her hand but she dodges, but he has her wrist pinned against the shelving behind her so it’s useless to try and use it.

“You wanna be turned on? Catch.” She’s confused at his singular word, but with one hand now binding her wrists behind her, he uses the other to force her head backwards.

“What the fuc-”

The liquid drips onto her face from a shelf above. It’s cold. Almost burns but not much.

“Get the hell off me!”

It drips down her cheek and onto her mouth, the small, trickling waterfall of whatever the hell was in the broken vial now pungent on her lips.

The scent is intoxicating. It’s gross, really. Smells like the perfume her grandmother used to cover herself in.

(Y/N)’s legs are kicking up a storm in an attempt to get free from the man but he’s clearly experienced.

“Open that mouth and have a taste, I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

“You’re fucking disgusting.” She spits back but can’t help taste the liquid on her tongue.

“You think I am? Wait until you feel the effects of this nice little number. The boss's favourite. Romance pollen.”

“What the fuck are you going on about?”

He simply smirks and tightens his grip on her face. She winces slightly.

“You’re fucked, little girl.”

“Big talk for a man with no team left.”

The enemy’s head turns from (Y/N) to the new voice in the room, barely having time to react before Bucky pulls the trigger on his gun, watching the man stumble away from the woman and onto the floor.

“You okay?” The super soldier immediately asks, pacing over to his sister and checking her over for any injuries.

“Fine, he didn’t hurt me, just talked a load of shit about whatever the hell this is.” She responds, fingers reaching up to the liquid covering her face. “Tastes quite nice honestly.”

“Don’t fucking drink it, you idiot.” Bucky groans, rolling his eyes.

The woman giggles, having not actively consumed any of the unknown substance, however can taste it at the back of her throat.

“Yeah, yeah. Help me clean the rest of these up and we can go.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

They spend another twenty-five minutes in the building before they make it to the Jet. Only the two of them were sent out for the mission, it was barely a struggle, in and out job with barely fifty soldiers defending the vault.

“Hell, I’m shattered.” Bucky groans as they shut the Jet door, heading toward the front and turning on auto-pilot for the ride home.

“Second that. Might get Nat to give me one of her Godly massages when we’re home.”

“Ooh, there’s an idea.”

She sits the briefcase of vials down securely before using one of her bottles of water to quickly rinse her face of the substance sticking to it.

“I’m gonna nap, we got four hours left before we’re home.” Bucky states, removing most of his gear, leaving him in one of his tight gym shirts and work trousers.

“Sounds like a plan.”

The pair settle down on the two benches aligning each side at the back of the Jet, Bucky throwing his sister his hoodie to use as a pillow - or blanket.

“Thanks, Barnesicle.”

“Please stop calling me that.” The soldier groans as she laughs.

“I’ll think about it.”

The two head off to sleep, but it’s just short of an hour later when the woman wakes up again, brows furrowing.

“What the hell?” She breathes aloud to herself, feeling sweat coat all of her body, head throbbing - amongst other things.

Gulping, the woman sits up and grabs her water bottle, taking a swig, or five, hoping it’ll calm her hyperaware state.

“Friday, what’s going on with me?”

“You have a feverish temperature of forty-degrees Celsius, one-hundred-and-four Fahrenheit, your libido is more heightened than what it usually is. I have identified an unknown substance in your body, I am working on a diagnosis but am currently unsure.”

That fucking drug he let drop onto her face. What the hell was in it?

“Wanna be turned on? Catch.”

“Romance pollen.”

So, what? She’s ingested some type of viagra? Is that it? So she’s slightly horny, no biggy. Pretty sure Sam or Steve will be around to deal with that when she gets home.

God forbid Bucky ever found out about that little secret though.

With a quick splash of water on her face once again, the woman attempts to sleep once more.

Attempts being the keyword.

Fails is more like it.

She keeps trying nonetheless. Eyes closed. Thinking of anything to take her mind off of it. But it all circles back around.

Think of home. Movie nights with the team. Horror movies with Wanda screaming when there’s a jump scare. What was the last horror movie we watched? Ooh, the Conjuring. Sat next to Sam. He held me close so I wouldn’t be so nervous. He kept me distracted by resting his-

Oh. Fuck.

Not helping.

Okay. New thoughts.

Think of the olden times back in the forties. Think of Coney Island with Steve and Buck. Think of how it was nice to get closer with Steve. Which led to him fucking me against the side of the toilet block-

Okay. No. Stop.

A rustling from across the Jet makes the woman’s eyes widen as she looks at her brother who rolls over in his sleep.

Bucky.

There’s a thought to keep her grounded.

The man who’s been there for her no matter what. Through everything. Even when HYDRA was wiping her out, he stopped it. He saved her. Always did.

Even when she was a kid and caught the flu, he was always the one making her soup and nursing her back to full health.

She’s very lucky and very grateful to have the brother she has in her life, despite everything they’ve been through.

Perhaps scaring off any man that entered her life was a little bit too far though. She remembers her first kiss with a boy at a diner in town. Bucky had heard rumours through a friend of a friend and was storming there instantly.

The poor boy never spoke to (Y/N) again after that.

“Bucky, you can’t stop me seeing boys!”

“I can and I will. The only man you ever need in your life is me.”

It was so cliche but she commends her brother for it. He was right. The only man who tolerated her through all their hardships and never loved her any less because of them was Bucky.

The only man you ever need in your life is me.

The throbbing in the woman’s groin makes her eyes widen as she keeps her eyes on her brother’s resting figure.

“What the hell? Ew.” She mutters to herself as she lays on her back once more and stares at the ceiling of the Jet.

The seed of thought was planted now and it simply grew from there.

He’s always been everything any man could’ve been for her. Did everything she’d want any man to do for her.

Trained with her. Danced on the sofa with her to pop songs he didn’t even know. Listened to her story ideas. Drove her around town late at night when she was too scared to sleep. Cuddled her when she woke up from nightmares. Listened to her ramble on about some cute couple she saw in the local cafe. Took her on dinner dates when she wanted some fancy food. Sacrificed his choice on movie night for her. Bought her chocolate and green grapes when she was on her period and wanted to eat nothing else. Ran a bath for her ready for when she got back from a mission.

All of these things that she’d want any decent boyfriend to do for her. Why would she ever need a boyfriend when she has Bucky?

Oh, yeah, because Bucky can’t fuck her into oblivion.

Can he?

NO.

God, no, stop. Ew. Gross.

Is it gross?

There’s no doubt to anyone about whether or not the man’s attractive. I mean, just look at him. Everyone always ogles the man whenever he passes by, whether he’s dressed in his full suit, tux, gear or shirtless. He’s a walking piece of art.

He used to be a charmer with all the ladies back in the forties and she knew it full well. She had to witness as he swooped all the ladies off to dance, leaving her and Steve alone at the bar.

Steve and (Y/N) very rapidly figured out a way to occupy their own time. Not that Bucky ever knew. He’d go ape-shit crazy.

There’s a burning shock that runs through the woman’s body, a twitch and an uncontrollable moan pouring from her lips.

She slams her hand over her mouth with wide eyes, head darting to look at the man across the Jet once more.

Fuck.

He’s still asleep. Okay. That’s good.

His face looks so restful. It’s nice. Good to know he’s finally getting some peace.

His beard could feel so fucking good between-

“Oh my God.” (Y/N) sits up once more, staring aimlessly in front of her as she attempts to stop her thoughts.

The throbbing runs through her body again and it’s pulsating right where the need is. The craving. The desperation. The desire.

She stands up and even that makes her wobble on her feet, despite the jet moving smoothly through the skies.

She realises her lips are parted and her breathing is coming out in heavy pants, hands trembling and saliva building up rapidly.

“Fuck.”

“Agent (L/N), would you like me to turn on the alarms to wake up Sergeant Barnes? It appears you are severely unwell.”

“No. God, no.” Is all she manages, leaning against the two pilot chairs from behind, staring out the front windows at the clouds.

“That doesn’t sound wise, doll.” Her brother’s voice calls from behind her a few seconds later.

Shit.

Did his voice always sound so fucking sexy?

“What’s going on, Friday?”

“NO! No, Friday, don’t say anything.” (Y/N) yells, spinning around to look at her brother.

That’s a mistake.

Bucky’s furrowed brows immediately raise and his eyes widen entirely at the sight of his sister.

Sweaty, red-faced, parted lips, chest heaving for breath.

“(Y/N) what’s wrong?” He asks, quickly standing up but the woman holds her hand out, gesturing for him to remain still.

“Don’t… Don’t move.”

The brunet listens but his concerned expression remains.

“What’s going on, sweetheart? You’re kinda freaking me out here.”

She meets his gaze and feels her body throb with need once more.

“Fuck.” She manages to cover her moan with the curse but she’s still very aware that it sounded ridiculously filthy.

“Talk to me, (Y/N).”

Her head shakes and she can feel just how wobbly her legs are once again.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Talk to me, tell me what’s wrong.”

She remains silent besides her heavy breaths.

“Is it that liquid that fucker put on you? Are you having a bad reaction or something? Are you in pain?”

So many questions, Bucky. So many better ways to use that fucking mouth-

“Oh my God!” She screams at herself as she thinks the absolute filth about her own flesh and blood.

“Friday, tell me what’s going on now.”

She doesn’t have the energy to stop him.

“Agent (L/N) appears to have an unknown substance in her body which I’m attempting to diagnose, it’s currently causing symptoms including an increased temperature of forty-degrees Celsius, one-hundred-and-four degrees Fahrenheit, cramping, weakened bodily strength, and predominantly an enhanced libido.”

Bucky’s eyes widen at the latter fact, now noticing the way his sister is clenching her thighs together.

“Oh, sweetheart…”

“Don’t fucking-” The woman cuts herself off with another wave of throbbing desire. Another moan.

Her legs give way, collapsing to her knees.

“(Y/N)!” Bucky dives forward off of the bench he was sleeping on, dropping to his knees in front of the woman and grabbing her arms.

The touch is like the water to the burning fire going on inside her body. It feels so fucking good.

“Oh fuck.” Another moan.

Bucky tenses slightly at the sound.

“(Y/N), look at me, baby doll.”

The name has always been sweet and endearing but right now it’s like music to her ears.

She does and her brother can visibly see the want in her iris’.

“Oh, fuck,” He mumbles.

“Bucky-” It’s a whimper, her eyes tearing up and reaching out to grip onto him. Anything.

“I’m right here, sweetheart.” He offers, pulling his sister into his lap and holding her close. “I got you, (Y/N), I’m not going anywhere. Talk to me, where does it hurt?”

“Need it to stop, Buck. Hurts so bad.”

“I know, baby, I know, but you gotta tell me where. Let me help.”

He doesn’t know when he started to notice, she doesn’t know when she started doing it, but her hips are grinding on the man’s thighs, her breathing getting heavier and heavier.

“Hurts so bad, Buck; need it to stop. Please- fuck- make it stop.”

The man’s eyes are wide as he acknowledges his sister quite literally getting herself off on him.

“(Y/N), stop, think about what the hell you’re doing.” He attempts but doesn’t push her out of reach. She’s in pain, he won’t let her suffer alone.

“Bucky,” She whispers, their eyes meet once more, her own expression so fucking lust-blown.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

What the hell is he even meant to do in situations like this?

Call Steve? Oh yeah, and ask what? Hey, pal, any advice for when my sister is trying to get herself off on me?

A noise that something between a moan and a scream rips from the woman’s mouth.

“Fuck, (Y/N),”

“Bucky, please, make it stop, it hurts so bad!” She’s sobbing. Her face is bright red and stained with tears that keep flowing.

“Princess, listen to me: I can’t do anything for you right now. We’ve gotta wait til we’re home-”

“Can’t wait, need to cum.”

The brunet’s eyes widen once again at the seriousness in his sibling’s expression.

“Please, James, I’m gonna die.”

He doesn’t know what struck him more, the use of his first name in such context or the fact that his sister just told him she’s going to die.

“I won’t let you die, (Y/N), don’t be stupid.”

“James,” She whimpers, crawling forward into his lap once more and pressing her forehead against his. “Please,”

“Please what, baby?” He whispers, questioning his willpower when she’s staring into his eyes with such wanton need.

“Please touch me.”

The man closes his eyes.

“I can’t do that, doll. You’ve gotta wait til we get home, I’m sure I can ask in a favour from Steve-”

“Steve isn’t you!”

Opening his eyes once more, he can see that she really is in pain.

“Sweetheart, please, I’m your brother.”

She fucking moans at the term.

“Yeah, you’re my big brother, only you can make me feel good. No other man can do anything for me. Don’t need anyone else.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Baby, I’m gonna go over here and you’re gonna try touch yourself to help the pain, alright? You think you can do that for me, (Y/N)?”

She nods her head and is yanking her clothes off immediately. The soldier widens his eyes and quickly turns away, searching through his rucksack in an attempt to find the earphones he thought he packed. Apparently he didn’t.

“Fucks sake.”

“Oh, fuck,” The woman behind him moans, his eyes widening but he doesn't look.

The sound of how fucking wet she is is enough to send the man’s head into overdrive.

This is so very fucking wrong.

“Fuck, James,” Another moan.

Is this really happening? Surely the Universe is playing some sick joke on him right now? Right?

“Oh, fuck, God, I’m gonna cum,”

The man closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to focus on anything else. But her screams and moans aren’t helping him.

The sound of her orgasm crashes into him like nothing else.

“Bucky,” She sobs, his instincts prompting him to spin around in case she’s not okay.

She’s orgasmed now so she’ll be fine, right?

Wrong.

Her legs are spread, soaking wet pussy on full display, her fingers soaked, her mouth tasting herself.

“Fuck me, James.”

He locks eyes with her and he looks scared.

“(Y/N), I need you to think about what you’re saying. You’re not yourself, you’re under the influence of whatever the hell that bastard put on you.”

“I don’t care, James, I just need the pain to go away. Need my big brother to take care of me.” She’s whimpering, fingers sliding back down to the soaking hole.

“Baby girl, you know I’ll always take care of you but I can’t do this to you, sweetheart. I won’t.”

She sobs.

“It hurts so so bad.”

The man swears the pain that HYDRA put him through was nothing compared to this.

She begins crawling toward the man who’s now stood, his eyes cautiously watching her.

“Baby-”

“Shh, Bucky, let me play,”

Her hands slide up his legs, reaching for the top of his work trousers, sliding them down.

The man above her steps backwards.

“Fuck, (Y/N), doll, stop,”

“Need you so bad. I’m gonna die, Jamesy.”

His eyes widen for the nth time at the sudden change in her voice. She sounds genuinely upset. Genuinely scared.

“I don’t wanna die. I just want the pain to go away, need my big brother to take care of me like he always does.”

She crawls forward again, repeating her previous actions and pulling his pants down, his semi-erect cock slipping out and she wastes no time before letting it fill her mouth.

He stops trying to fight it. He wants to, but fuck, she looks like she’s dying. He believes her words.

“Oh fuck,” The man’s head lolls back as he feels the warmth of his mouth.

She wastes no time in forcing the man’s cock down her throat, surpassing her gag reflex and pressing her lips to his pelvis.

“Oh fuck, baby, oh fuck,” He recites the words like a prayer, but no God will save him now.

Her eyes look up and meet his stare.

His mind is reeling with so many thoughts.

Has she always looked this fucking good? How the hell has she learned to take cock so fucking well? Is she a whore? God, he hopes so. He wants to be the only man to ever break her. The only man to ever know what a good little slut she is. For him and him only.

“Look so fucking pretty on your knees for your big brother, baby girl.” Her eyes roll at the praise, pulling back to take a quick breath before working his shaft until he’s grabbing her hair and thrusting into her mouth like he’s been possessed. “That’s a good fucking girl, let me use that filthy mouth.”

His hips are relentless. Abusing the poor girl’s mouth but she has absolutely zero complaints. Her mind is clouded with nothing but lust. She knows nothing but to spread her legs for anyone she can see.

“Fuck me, Bucky,” She whimpers as the man pulls out for a second.

She lays down on her back, spreading her legs once more and staring up at the feral eyes of her brother.

“Fuck my pussy, fill me with cum, Jamesy, please,”

“Fuck, baby,” He groans, reaching down and lifting the woman up.

He lifts her into his arms, her legs wrapping around his hips, arms around his neck.

“Want me to fuck you? Need your big brother to fill your tight little pussy with his cock? Make you feel good, baby doll? Is that what you need?” He growls against her, their lips barely touching.

“YES! Yes, fuck, Bucky, please, fuck me, fuck my pussy.”

Without another ounce of doubt in his mind, the man lines up his fully-erect cock with her pussy and slams it inside her.

“FUCK!”

“BUCKY!”

Their moans are in sync and the forbidden nature of their activity is long-forgotten as the soldier basks in how good she feels around his cock.

“Feel so fucking good, princess. This was you needed? Needed your big brother’s cock to fill you up and take away the pain?”

“Fuck, James, yes, feels so fucking good, don’t stop, don’t stop!”

“I’m not stopping, baby, I’m not stopping til you gush all over my cock like a good little slut.”

The only sound on the Jet is their moans and cries as Bucky rids the woman of all her pain.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum- James, fuck, gonna make me cum on your cock.” (Y/N) all but whines, Bucky turning to slam her body into the nearest wall, using the aid to fuck into her harder. Deeper.

“Yeah, doll? Fucking give it to me, princess. Cum all over your brother’s cock like a good little whore. Let me see how fucking good you can be for me.”

Their eyes lock once more and Bucky can’t help himself from slamming his lips onto hers, tongues invading each others’ mouths as she groans and squeezes him like a vice, gushing all over his shaft as he continues to thrust into her at a relentless pace.

“God, baby, who knew you’d feel so good on my dick?”

Her head holds zero thoughts besides knowing that being sexually relieved will stop the pain. That’s all she knows, and the man in front of her is the only possible candidate and, boy, is he giving her exactly what she needs.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!” She cries, rapidly feeling her third orgasm of the day approaching.

Using the balance of the wall to his advantage, Bucky uses one arm to hold the woman up against it whilst his flesh one leaps to her throat, lightly wrapping around it and squeezing.

“Gonna cum for me, (Y/N)? Such a little whore, can’t stop cumming on her big brother’s cock. Give it to me, baby, give me all of it.”

The words are the harmony to the bass that’s throbbing through her entire body.

“Bucky!” She gasps, sweat-covered foreheads pressed against one another as she’s overcome with euphoria.

The clench of her walls around his dick is overwhelming.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby doll, gonna fill up my little sister’s slutty pussy with all my cum. You want that, baby? Tell me. Tell me you want it.”

“I want it so bad! I need it! Need my big brother’s cum in my pussy, daddy, please!”

The small pet name is all it takes for the man to lose control. His hips thrust into the woman, moaning her name over and over as he fills her as deep as he can.

“Fuck, baby, yes, take daddy’s cum!”

The cry that pours from (Y/N)’s lips is enough for them both to know that the orgasm was most likely enough to knock her out of the sex-craving cloud she’s trapped in.

Bucky’s thighs are trembling as he comes down from his high, (Y/N)’s head resting on the soldier’s shoulder as he does the same to her.

They remain silent, both their heads fuzzy with what the hell just happened.

“Sweetheart?” Bucky is the first to break the silence. (Y/N) hums a response. “You back with me?”

Tears fill the woman’s eyes once more but these ones aren’t due to pleasure.

She hums again and nods against his shoulder.

“Okay, baby.” He whispers, taking a deep breath.

His number one priority right now is making sure his sister is okay.

“I’m gonna pull out, okay, doll?”

She nods again.

With both hands now having returned to holding her up, the brunet slowly slides out of her hole, hating the whimpers that erupt from her lips at the feeling.

“I know, sweetheart, it’s okay, I’ve got you.”

She knows he does. He always does.

“M’gonna sit you down on the bench, okay? Gonna clean up between your legs if that’s okay with you?”

She simply hums another acknowledgement of her sibling’s words.

“Give me your words, princess.” She won’t meet his eye when she’s laid down on the bench, Bucky feeling his heart crumble.

“Okay.” It’s barely a whisper.

He doesn’t rush anything right now, simply focuses on looking after his sister who he loves more than life itself.

He grabs some wet wipes from the treatment bag onboard the Jet and begins gently cleaning up the mess coating the woman’s thighs and other regions.

“All done, princess.” He utters, tossing the wipes into the bin across the way.

He helps her redress, as well as himself, before kneeling down in front of her as she’s sat on the bench.

“Can you look at me, baby?”

Her eyes are glued to her lap, fingers fiddling with each other in an attempt to distract herself from everything she just did.

“(Y/N), sweetheart, please,” He begs, taking her hands into his own, eyes desperately trying to capture the attention of her own.

She finally gives in and glances up at her brother.

Brother.

Tears are spilling over in an instant, uncontrollable sobs following suit.

“Oh, baby,” Bucky consoles, leaning forward and letting the woman dive into his arms, clinging onto him as she cries. “It’s okay, sweetheart, shh, it’s okay. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere, okay? We’re gonna be okay.”

She’s gripping at his t-shirt like it’s keeping her held together. Her knuckles are white, Bucky attempting to loosen her grip.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself, doll.”

“So what!?” She breaks, looking up at her brother once again.

His brows furrow.

“I just fucking seduced you into fucking your own sister because of a fucking drug because I wasn’t more fucking careful!” She yells, flinging her arms about in an attempt to express her frustration.

“(Y/N), stop! Calm down and just breathe!” He grabs her wrists and sits them back down in her lap, not releasing them.

“I fucked up.” Her voice drops back down to a mere whisper.

“No you didn’t, sweetheart. First of all, you were under the influence of a drug, second of all, I was the one not under the influence and yet I still let it happen, so if anyone is to blame here, it’s me.”

Her head shakes in disagreement.

“I seduced you.”

“So fucking what? I fucked my own sister when she wasn’t capable of rational thoughts.”

Stating the fact aloud makes him tense up. The daunting realisation of what he just did.

“I’m so sorry. I know sorry isn’t enough, it doesn’t even come close, but I thought you were dying, I just-”

“I was dying! I remember the fucking pain, Bucky, I remember it. You needed to.”

The pair simply rest their foreheads against one another and remain eye to eye as they try and calm each other down.

They crossed the line and should never be crossed between siblings, so what happens now?

She gulps and licks her lips, an action that Bucky’s eyes are immediately drawn to before quickly catching himself in the act.

They’re trying to read each other's minds for any answers of what the hell they’re both thinking.

“(Y/N)-”

“James-”

They start at the same time, both giggling at the action.

“Go on, sweetheart-”

“You first-”

Another round of laughter.

“I’m sorry for what I did but I’m not sorry for how good it felt.” She whispers, his eyes widening ever so slightly. “I know it’s wrong, we can’t and won’t do it again. Once we’re off this Jet we never speak-”

His lips are on hers instantly.

Her eyes widen but she doesn’t stop him. She welcomes him.

“Once we’re off this Jet, right?” He whispers, her own eyes staring at him with a look that asks: are we really doing this? But she nods. “Then what happens on this Jet stays on this Jet, right?”

“Yes, Bucky,”

“Good girl.”

She moans. Truly. Wantonly. With zero regret.

“Bucky, this is wrong.” She mutters between kisses.

“I know, sweetheart, but tell me to stop and I will, no questions asked. Tell me you want it and I’ll take good care of my sweet girl.”

Another moan.

“Tell me to stop.” He notes, lips moving down her neck. His teeth nibble down on the skin before his tongue smooths it over.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” Is the full permission he receives in a gasp from the woman.

“Tell me to stop at any point, baby, and I will without hesitation, okay?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Fuck.” The man all but growls.

His hands are pulling at the t-shirt that adorns her torso, ripping off her bra immediately after. She gasps but it morphs into a pleasant whine when the soldier’s lips wrap around her pebbled nipples.

“Who knew my pretty little girl was hiding such pretty tits, huh?”

“I never hid them-” She whispers, eyes intently watching the man toy with her body, her pussy throbbing with need once again.

His teeth bite down onto her right nipple, hearing her hiss in pain.

“Trust me, sweetheart, I fucking know. You think I don’t notice the tight tops and lingerie you parade around in? You think I don’t know that you’ve been fucking Steve and Sammy-boy behind my back?”

She gasps and widens her eyes.

“Buck, I-”

“Shh, baby girl, don’t worry, I don’t mind, I know they’ll both look after you, but I’m your big brother and no man will ever take care of you the way I will, alright? You and me against the world.”

“Fuck, yes, Bucky!” She screams as his fingers work their way into her trousers.

“That’s my fucking girl.” His fingers are quickly inside her, still soaked, pussy, despite him having cleaned her up. “So fucking wet for me, princess; I only just cleaned you up.”

“James,” She gasps, their eyes locking once again.

“God, you look so fucking beautiful like this. Desperate. Wanting.” He murmurs, pressing his lips to hers once again as he slides two fingers inside her hole.

She whines, biting down on her lip.

“Fuck, doll, I knew you were tight around my cock but you’re even squeezing my fingers.”

Who knew her brother had such a filthy mouth on him?

She would never have known, he’s only ever showered her with love and affection.

There’s a niggling voice in the back of her brain that’s screaming how wrong this is, but when has the life of James and (Y/N) Barnes ever been normal?

She’s pretty sure HYDRA got them to fuck under their control anyway. Something about breeding and getting more super soldiers. It, obviously, didn’t succeed.

Her hips start bucking against his digits, grinding her clit down on his fist.

“Look at the state of you, princess; so pretty and desperate just for my fingers.”

“Don’t stop,” It’s barely a whisper of a plea.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby girl.”

So many pet names. She’s addicted.

Steve barely calls her anything besides her own name in the bedroom, Sam’s a bit better but it doesn’t escalate much further than ‘little girl’.

She feels the coil in her belly tightening once more, and this time she doesn’t feel like she’ll succumb to death’s embrace if she doesn’t let that coil break, but she needs it just as bad.

“Gonna cum, fuck, yes…!” Her eyes roll back with her head.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum all over your big brother’s fingers like a good little slut.”

The words are once again reminding her of the filth she’s partaking in, and with whom, but she can’t stop the orgasm he gives her. Perfect pressure on her g-spot as his thumb puts the perfect amount of pressure on her clit.

She screams and grabs onto the man, nails digging into his minimal clothing in an attempt to ground herself.

“That’s it, sweetheart, that’s it, hold onto daddy. Let me make you feel good. Give me all that cum.”

It’s almost overwhelming.

Her breathing is rapid, mouth almost dry.

“Breathe for me, (Y/N), you’re okay. I’ve got you, doll.” He whispers, slowing down the movements of his fingers and using his other hand to hold his sister close, stroking her head and back in an attempt to calm her.

Tears fill the woman’s eyes once more at Bucky’s words. At the end of the day, even when they’re both mildly deluded and breaking laws and moral codes, he will still protect her.

“Bucky,” She whispers, pulling back and meeting his eyes with her own tearful ones.

“Hey, it’s okay, baby girl, it’s okay.” He sighs, seeing the woman’s tears and wiping them away. “You okay?”

She nods and a large smile etches onto her lips.

“More than okay.”

He chuckles and slides his fingers from her pants, admiring the glistening cum that coats them. The man holds no remorse as he keeps his gaze locked on hers, sliding the digits into his mouth.

“James…” She whispers, admiring the view more than she should.

“Taste like heaven, princess. That’s my girl.”

The whimper that escapes past her closed lips is not intentional. He smirks.

“We’re bad people.” She manages, searching his eyes for any sign of reassurance.

“We became bad people the second HYDRA put their hands on us, sweetheart.”

He’s not wrong.

“What happens now?”

Bucky shrugs, grabbing some more wet wipes and wiping her up once more.

“That’s up to you, angel.”

“We can’t tell anyone, they’ll think we’re insane.”

He chuckles slightly and shakes his head.

“We are insane, doll.”

She can’t help but also giggle at that.

“I love you, Buck.”

“And I you, (Y/N).”

They stare at one another for the nth time, the brunet’s eyes fluttering to his sister’s lips momentarily.

“Kiss me.” She whispers, not missing the glance.

“Dangerous game, sweetheart.”

“We are dangerous, Barnes.”

The grin that takes over his face is contagious.

“That we are, my sweet girl, that we are.” He murmurs, pressing his lips to hers once more.

She didn’t mean to ingest whatever was in that vial.

She didn’t mean to seduce her brother.

But perhaps he’s right, they never really were good people in the first place.

But even when the whole Universe is against them, they still have each other.

Even when he has no-one, he has (Y/N).

And even when she has no-one, she has Bucky.

I'm choosing to not use my usual tag list because I know the topic is of uncommon and risky taste. No hate xoxo

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bby-grl-4-bucky · 3 months ago

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A guiding voice.

Summary : steve guides Bucky on eating your pussy out.

Pairing : nomad husband steve x wife reader . Bucky x reader.

Warning : oral, fingering, lots of dirty talk, filthy talk. Husband steve , post civil war bucky. Sub Bucky, Dom steve . Degradation.18+ minors DNI. This is so filthy, but then I'm 100% sure this is how nomad steve will be.

Steve and you had always been givers when it came to Bucky, he deserved it after everything he'd been through and it calmed him down, having his cock sucked like a lollipop.

You and steve both loved giving him the pleasure, that's how you slowly brought him out of his shell since the accords happened. You steve and bucky , lived in a secluded cottage in Massachusetts, where it was safe and no one could find you, steve would leave for his little missions sometimes when natasha called ,other than that it was just the three of you.

You both took care of Bucky, you knew he was fragile, a little grumpy but still very fragile. Bucky was finally becoming his old charming self, he even asked you to let him eat your pussy, he was quite eager, he needed a little help of course cuz he hasn't done it in a long fucking time.

So you and steve agreed , and thats how you ended up like this, with your legs spread apart by the blonde super soldier's arms, your back against his chest, Bucky was kneeling in front of you waiting for Steve's words. "Go ahead baby boy, lick our pretty girl's pussy."

And bucky did, he was eager giving you messy licks like he would eat his ice cream, you moaned in pleasure.

"give her long licks from the bottom bucky that's what gets her going." Bucky did as steve said, licking ling stripes from your hole . He continued his actions, before steve told him to stop.

He moved you around in his arms a little , before licking pushing his two fingers in your mouth, you liked it coating it with your saliva. "Good girl" the blonde soldier praised you.

"see now is the important part buck" he pressed his fingers to your entrance, Bucky watched closely, "you gotta prep her with your fingers too" he teased your hole with his index finger, before pushing it in, making you moan in pleasure.

"spit on it puppy" steve told Bucky, Bucky looked at him hesitantly. "She likes it babyboy trust me, that pussy likes to be covered in spit, makes her even wetter" . Bucky gathered the saliva in his mouth and spit it on your pussy, steve praised him making him blush. "Good boy, now you can spit in her mouth too, but i assume you already know that , she's a dirty slut, you can use her however you want." Steve saying those things about you turned you on so much, you wanted nothing more than to ride tour husband at this moment, taking his big cock in your bare pussy, but you knew this was meant for bucky, so you remained stoic, except for the moans you left out.

"hear those sounds, you gotta follow em, it'll let you find her sweet spot, just like daddy does when he fingers that ass of yours, our girl had a sweet spot in her pussy too , you'd have stimulated it when you fucked her, but that was probably because your cock is too big for her tiny pussy, but when you eat her out it's very important to find it." Bucky nodded as if taking mental notes of the points steve said, he wanted to please you so badly, make you feel as food as steve, he'd seen steve eat you out so many times, and he wanted to try it..

Steve pulled hsu fingers out of your dripping hole with a pop.

"now put your tongue in her, swirl it around,push it in deeper" bucky put his hot tongue in your hole, doing just as steve instructed him, and og not it felt good . You couldn't control your screams.

"go as deep as you can bucky , she loves it .....see how she's wiggling in my arms. Good now fuck her with it, push your tongues in and out , kick you do with your cock when you fuck her, just like that . Good puppy you're a fast learner " the praises form steve along with your noises made Bucky more eager to please you.

"hnm feels so good bucky uhh" you barely go your words out before you came all over the brunette's face.

Steve seemed disappointed, "tsk tsk, no buck that's not how you do it, you can't let her come so easily" Bucky looked at him with those puppy eyes, he knew he disappointed his captain and he was sad.

"sorry captain, can I try again, makd pretty girl come right this time."

Steve couldn't say no to him of course , "it's okay baby everyone makes mistakes, this is your first time, and i know it's easy to get lost in the noises she makes, but you gotta learn to take control, make her wait for it and then give it to her, let's get again puppy, and again, and again until you get it right, you're gonna be a pro at this , I'll make you. " And oh boy you knew you were in for a long night.

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bby-grl-4-bucky · 4 months ago

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──── JOEL + TOMMY TWITTER P!LINKS ────

*18+ MDNI need to be logged in*

⤷too overstimulated for his fingers

⤷rewarding you with his tongue after a long day of patrol

⤷his good girls are always face down ass up

⤷he likes being rough with your tight hole

⤷ridin'

⤷his fingers make you all wet and dumb

⤷he's an animal the first time yall do it unprotected

⤷testing both your holes

⤷shows his love for you with his mouth

⤷likes it wet and messy

⤷this is how he'd do reader in greasin' the engine shaft

⤷how he'd do it "safely" to not get you pregnant during the outbreak

⤷they love to share

⤷loving them equally

⤷perfect on top

⤷as close as possible

⤷no slowing down

⤷loves his step daughters cute pink thong

⤷the night before he leaves on a mission

⤷he can't help treating his gfs sister better

⤷he's had enough of his whiny patrol partner

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bby-grl-4-bucky · 4 months ago

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—cherry; series masterlist

pairing: joel miller x f!sex worker!reader

summary: Lonely, widowed, Joel seeks company where he knows he shouldn't.

series status: complete

general series warnings, please see each chapter's individual warnings for a complete list: age gap (20s/50s), smut (in most, probably all, chapters), reader is a sex worker, misogyny, smoking (reader and joel), internalized shame, poverty and issues and dangers that come along with that

a/n: this fic is my baby, and I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. I've never preplanned a series and had the parts completed or mostly completed before publishing it before. maybe I was being a little selfish in keeping them to myself. updates every tuesday <3

chapters below the cut:

cherry ; Lonely, widowed, Joel seeks company where he knows he shouldn't.

late nights ; You never expect Joel to come back, let alone to search for you.

offers ; Joel comes back to you like clockwork. He has a proposition for you.

resolve ; Joel gives you a credit card. You're hesitant to use it.

interlude ; Joel grapples with guilt and shame. But there's no quitting you.

even just that ; Joel calls you; you call Joel.

more than, twice as ; Joel is different than all the other men you've slept with. . .Right?

warmth like... ; A promise is fulfilled. Joel takes you horseback riding.

best laid plans ; You attempt quitting with variable results.

only in quotes ; Things can't keep going on as they have, can they?

in effect ; Going it alone isn't easy.

of my own name ; Joel doesn't cope well without you.

belief ; Joel makes sure you get home safely.

the b-side ; There might be a future for you, if you and Joel are brave enough to grab it.

extras:

cherry playlist

how cherry evolved as i wrote her

cherry and joel edit by @yougavemeeverythingandnothing

cherry and joel edit by @totallynotastanacc

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bby-grl-4-bucky · 4 months ago

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Joel Miller - Masterlist

Below are works done for everyone’s fave dusty dad! It will be updated as things are posted!

Main Masterlist

Request Guidelines

* = Explicit

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Stubborn

Scared

Before

Injured

After All this Time

May I Have this Dance?

Hey Kid

Don’t be Afraid

Happy Birthday

Protector

Truck Sex*

It Must Be Exhausting

Hurt

Bookish

Safe & Sound

Jealous

Together Again

Intent

He Loves You

Lavender Haze

I Like You Soft

Catch Up

Jealous

Swim Lessons

Through the Storm

Grumpy Meets Sunshine

Are You Sure?

5 + 1 Kisses

Protective

Welcome to the Neighborhood

Nightmares

Tell

Clumsy Old Man

Rights & Wrongs

Weak

Good as New

Touch

Gone But Never Forgotten

Next Halloween

High

Grump

Perfection

A Late Return

Too Sweet

Trouble

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bby-grl-4-bucky · 4 months ago

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That's a Real Fucking Legacy: Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader (former Tommy Miller x f!reader)

When Tommy disappears in search of a better life with a promise to come back for you, his years of absence and the grief it leaves behind drives you and his brother closer together until the man you're sharing a bed and starting a family with is Joel Miller and not the one you always thought it would be.

Part I - Legacy

Part II - To Leave

Part III - The Lips I Used to Call Home

Part IV - I Chose You

Part V - Burgundy

Part VI - All of You, All of Me

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bby-grl-4-bucky · 8 months ago

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DARKEST DESIRES ― a Boston QZ!Joel oneshot

main masterlist | ao3 pairing: Boston QZ!Joel x f!reader. summary: you promised Joel something he's been thirsting after for a while ― your ass. so you decide to make good on said promise. a/n: am i sick? probably. undoubtedly, really. this is a sequel to A Dark Summon, but it can totally be read independently. this was prompted by this kind ask (love you, nonnie). also, do you remember that post about frankie morales saying "big stretch"? WELL, YEAH (sorry, meant to tag it but i lost it!). anyways, please heed the warnings! comments and reblogs appreciated to keep the thots thotting <3 take care! x warnings: 18+, mdni. sexual roleplay (cnc). mind the hefty age gap (reader is 19, joel is 56, oopsie). pet names (kiddo, daddy's girl, little girl, etc). sir/daddy kink. dom!joel, sub!reader (possibly some ddlg dynamics). slut shaming. unprotected piv. squirting. sleepy blowjob (consensual somno). breath play. sex toys (dildo, butt plug). mention of rimming. joel (the birthday boy) fucks your virginal ass, anal sex (faked painal). reader is a blank slate with no backstory, has hair. dual pov. no use of y/n. w/c: ~5.4k. divider by @\cafekitsune

You were so nervous, your hands were shaking with excitement.

Living in Boston’s QZ was not easy, and trading was even worse. Because you were young―just turned nineteen a couple of months ago―dealers tried to take advantage of you, asking for more than they would to other people. But you were smart and the moment you learnt that dropping Joel’s name in conversation would actually give you a discount, you used that tactic frequently.

Most people in Boston were too preoccupied with life to be gossiping about the age difference between Joel and you, but there were some that would scan you from head to toe several times with disdain. Some with jealousy, others with horror.

“She’s too young, could be his daughter.”

“He’s too old, bet he can’t keep up with her.”

“She’s too young, it’s indecent.”

“He’s too old, I’m sure that little girl can’t satisfy him like I would.”

“She’s too young, no wonder why she’s always cheating on him.”

“He’s too old, I don’t know what he’s seen in her.”

You had heard it all. And you couldn’t care less. Joel, on the other hand, was a bit more sensitive when people criticized you ― like a guard dog protecting its prey. The relationship between the two of you was private, except for the times that you would hook up with a random guy in an alley with Joel attentively spying on you from the shadows.

He liked to watch, and you liked being watched. In your eyes, it was a match made in heaven. It never went further than a hand job, and you never let them touch your pussy ― Joel was extremely possessive of her. He enjoyed the look on their stupid faces whenever you pulled away, leaving them dumbfounded in the brink of an orgasm, and you would run to him, all giddy and ready to finish him off right there and then.

It was lewd, obscene, but you loved it. And so did he. Joel had shown you a whole new world when he took your virginity almost a year ago. Since then, you had been insatiable, too eager to be fucked stupid by your old man. Your daddy.

Every day you would sneak out and come over to his place to be pumped full of his cum, to have him drill you until you forgot your name and your legs wouldn’t keep you upright. And then you would go back home, spent yet satisfied, with your pussy full to the brim and your panties drenched with your mixed arousal.

Today though you were planning on spending the night here. It was Joel’s birthday and you had planned a special surprise for him. One that had cost you, but the price was definitely worth it.

You knew how avid Joel was about fucking your ass ― he almost reminded you daily. He had been preparing you for when the time came, some mild anal play to get you going. Last night, as Joel ate your asshole out, you promised to yourself that you wouldn’t postpone it anymore and today would be the day. What better present for Joel than your virginal ass?

So here you were, all naked and squeaky clean for him. You had draped a red ribbon around your waist. A big, scarlet bow laid low on the small of your back, making it obvious what his gift was. You also had a smaller parcel, all wrapped up with some old newspapers.

The moment you heard the front door creak, your heart jolted with anticipation and your stomach flipped. Turning around to face away from him, you dropped to your knees and leaned forward until your forehead rested on the floor and your knees touched your chest ― your ass on full display for him.

“Kiddo?” he called.

Joel’s brows furrowed deeper when he didn’t hear a reply. He knew you were here, your recognisable scent betraying your presence. Confused, he walked the small hallway and entered the living room.

His eyes immediately fell to where you were positioned, and a rush of hot blood coursed through his veins like liquid fire, all the way down to his groin. You had knelt and bent over, your perky ass up in the air for him to admire. A red bow topped your ass cheeks, the meaning of all this becoming instantly clear.

With a sly grin, Joel rubbed his palms together, taking a step forward.

“You’ve not forgotten about my birthday, have you, sugar?” he croaked, raspy and hoarse.

“No, sir, I haven’t,” you murmured, wiggling your ass a bit for him.

Joel groaned, the tension in his pants growing tighter, while he knelt behind you. The offer was irresistible, the way your flesh jiggled commended him to smack both of your buttocks. You whimpered, your back arching some more and your crack pulling further apart.

His fingers twitched with need, grabbing a handful of your meat. Joel was mesmerised by the view ― your puckered entrance so very inviting, and your beautiful seam glistening with slick right below.

Unable to refrain himself, his index dipped in the warmth of your damp pussy, tracing it entirely until the pad caught on your beating clit. You sighed heavily, melting under his digit.

“Why are you all wet already? Have you been playing with yourself?” he questioned, voice laced with lustful anger.

“Yes, sorry, sir. I was thinking about you, about what is gonna happen tonight, and… mhmm…” you hiccupped when he flicked your clit, “I did finger myself, but I didn’t come, I promise.”

Joel’s chest rumbled, frustrated. His orders were clear ― no touching yourself, nothing at all, even if you were horny. He wanted you needy and ready to take his cock when he came home from a rough day of patrol.

“How many fingers?” he barked, pinching your hooded clit between his index and middle fingers. You wailed in mild pain, your hips bucking up and away from his touch, but Joel didn’t release your thudding button.

“Just the one. Just the pinky, I swear. I know you like my pussy tight and unstretched, sir,” your sob transformed into a moan when his thumb found your trapped clit.

“Attagirl,” Joel rasped. “I don’t want your cunt all used and loose, you’re too young to feel like an old hag around my cock.” His thumb pressed tight circles on your pebbled nub before he removed his hand from your pussy. “I will let it slide. This one time.”

The warning in his tone made you nod vehemently, as you looked over your shoulder to him. Your bottom lip was trembling, your doe eyes pleading.

“Do you forgive me, sir?”

Joel gave you a stern look before he slapped your ass cheek, and you winced in response.

“I’ll think about it, kiddo,” he already had, but wouldn’t tell you yet.

“What can I do to help you make up your mind, sir?” a single tear skidded through your cheek, bottom lip still quivering.

Joel loved how easy you would tear up, you were a natural when it came to acting.

“There’s this one thing I have in mind,” Joel muttered, his thumb ghosting your butthole. “So clean, sugar. Can’t fucking wait to dive in.”

“I washed myself really well for you, sir. I used an enema too,” you whispered, averting your eyes shyly.

“So no messy sex?” Joel almost sounded disappointed, but he was just toying with you.

“No, I couldn’t, sir,” you bit down your bottom lip, eyes shut and the apples of your face burning with shame, when the pad of his thumb gently pressed the tight ring in your crack. “Oh…”

“You like that, don’t you? All this time denying me my right to fuck your ass, and now look at ya, begging to have your butthole impaled. Did rimming your tight ass yesterday change your mind?”

You shook your head yes eagerly and pushed your hips backwards until your ass was resting on his lap, thumb still stroking you right where you needed. You rubbed your buttocks against his jeans, your weeping seam sliding on his zipper.

“I-I loved it. I’m s-so ready now, sir,” you stuttered, pouting when he stood up.

“You poor little thing. Let’s break this seal then, shall we? But I need you to work me hard first.”

Joel moved towards the couch, and you followed him, walking on all fours behind him as if you were his little doggy. Next time, he would get you a collar and a leash, he thought as he sat down, and the old cushion gave way under him.

He coaxed his legs apart to make room for you between his thighs. You didn’t need any further instructions: you were already unbuckling his belt, your tiny hand dipping in his underwear to release his flaccid cock. His dick was still soft, just started to harden a few minutes ago.

Leaning forward, you pulled back the skin on his shaft and kissed the reddened tip. Then your tongue twirled around his cockhead, slurping sloppily as you bobbed your head down his length. Joel felt his dick growing harder, bigger in your warm mouth, and he groaned with satisfaction.

You loved how Joel’s soft cock would slowly stiffen between your lips, how his weight would grow heavier on your tongue as you sucked him off. Although you played to be submissive to him, this was a reminder of the actual power you held over him. Not only a reminder to yourself, but also to him. Despite being fifty-six, you were able to work Joel hard in a couple of minutes with the brush of your tongue and the seal of your plump lips. You were proud of it.

“What’s all this?” Joel asked as he leaned over, his chest pushing your throat further down on his now throbbing cock.

Your partner grabbed the box you had wrapped from the coffee table, along with the ashtray and a cigar you almost had to sell your soul for.

“Your other present, sir,” you managed to mumble, mouth full of his hard erection.

Your saliva skidded down his veiny shaft, pooling on the thick, dark curls at the base of his cock.

“I didn’t say stop. Keep sucking, kiddo,” his reproach scolded you, and quickly resumed your job.

You heard him lighting the cigar and then tearing the newspaper apart, while you took in as many inches as you could. Now that you had felt a few cocks on the palm of your hand, Joel’s had no rival. He was so gifted, and you felt lucky you were the one getting it all for yourself.

He’d been training you to swallow him whole, and practice made perfect. So after a couple more dives, your lips reached the base as the underside of his cock dragged easily along your tongue.

Your eyes welled up due to the strain and you suppressed the gag reflex, the fluttering of your throat around his girth making Joel moan. His left hand landed on the back of your head, pushing you down.

“Your mouth was made for me, sugar,” he praised you and you revelled in his compliment, swaying your hips sideways.

He placed the box on your back and opened it. You couldn’t see him but knew his face expression would light up with a sinful smirk.

Joel cackled and smacked one of your round globes, careful of not messing up the cute bow.

“Oh, you dirty slut.”

Joel pulled you off his erection by tugging at your hair. By the way his brown eyes took you in, you had to be a pretty picture ― messy hair and makeup, swollen lips, your skin glistening from your nose down to your chin with his precum and your spit.

One of his hands was holding a small butt plug. It was made of black silicone, pointier and ridged. It had four inches of insertable length, and the diameter was one inch thick.

Joel let out a whistle.

“You traded for this?” you nodded, batting your eyelashes at him. “Good fucking girl.”

He leaned forward to kiss you, his lips demanding and fierce. Your tangled tongues fought with each other, but Joel always won, subduing you quickly.

Both his hands roamed your bare body, rough calloused palms caressing your cold skin, which bristled under his touch. Joel traced your underboob, then suddenly pinched both of your taut nipples and pulled.

You flinched, a thunder of pain radiating from your tits all the way down to your pussy. Wet, sticky heat pooled between your thighs, clit pulsing and hole clenching around nothing. How could pain turn you on so fucking much?

“Move your pretty ass to the bedroom, kiddo,” Joel commanded.

Springing to your feet, you obeyed, leading the way to his bed. The room was dark and bare, with no personal items anywhere to be seen. Joel kept to himself, sharing little snippets of his life when he felt like it. You never pushed for information, knowing that he would open up at his own pace.

Putting on your best innocent gaze, you turned around to face him once you were at the foot of the bed.

“Can we play rough… daddy, please?” the term slipped from your tongue accidentally.

You covered your mouth at the realisation ― you’d never called him daddy, not out loud. In your mind you had done so several times, but you were not able to gauge how Joel would react if you did.

You were about to find out.

Joel growled at you, one broad hand wrapping around your throat ― his fingers dug on the sides of your neck. Tilting your chin up, you gasped, your hips lurching forward until they pressed against his erect dick.

“Who’s your daddy, kiddo?” Joel groaned, grazing your chin with his teeth.

“Y-you, daddy,” you replied, slowly understanding that despite his aggressive reaction, he actually liked it. “Joel Miller is my daddy.”

“Damn right I am,” he snarled like an animal. He hovered the anal plug over your mouth, “Open.” Joel slotted it between your lips. “Suck on it, daddy’s girl needs her pacifier for what’s to come. Don’t want the neighbours coming over to check if I’ve killed someone.”

When he turned you around and pushed you towards the bed, you knew the game was on. Your shins hit the metal bedframe; with another push from Joel on your shoulders, you fell face first on the unkempt bed.

“No, daddy, please, no,” you began whimpering around the plug, squirming as he sank a knee into the mattress.

Joel grabbed both of your wrists with the span of one broad hand and pressed them onto the small of your back. He tilted forward, his weeping glans gliding on your sticky slit a few times. He tapped your clit four times with his cockhead, the last tap harsher than the others, and then he stabbed your clenching hole.

You writhed under him, audibly crying now, when the tip of his cock kissed your cervix. You forced tears to fall down your cheeks and mouthed a scream around the butt plug in your mouth.

“It hurts!” you feigned a painful wail, when in reality your pussy was fluttering around his gifted circumference with delight.

Joel groaned above you, buried down to the hilt, and placed his free hand on the back of your head. Then he pushed your skull down into the mattress, almost smothering you as you tried to gasp for air.

“Shut up, you bitch. Take it,” his hips snapped back, cock almost sliding out of your cunt, and then forced his way into your pussy again.

Your old man picked up a relentless pace, the nasty, sucking sound of your wetness reverberating in the room as Joel fucked you stupid, drilling you into the bed like a man possessed.

Joel freed your wrists for his left thumb to find your empty rimmed hole. He started stroking it slowly again, and you squeezed your sphincter at the touch. Unhurriedly, he worked your butthole until your muscles relaxed, then took the opportunity to ploddingly insert the first phalange in your ass.

Seeing stars behind your eyes, your hips involuntarily jerked up, swallowing the second phalange of his thumb. When Joel began pumping your tight ass with his digit, your pussy palpitated around his cock.

“You like that, don’tcha? Nasty, stupid little girl,” Joel groaned, his thrusts unforgiving whilst his thick finger twirled inside you.

You hummed loudly around the butt plug, feeling lightheaded and dizzy due to the lack of oxygen, but also to the intense pleasure, one you had not felt before.

“Mhm-mm-mhmmm-mhmmmmm,” the crescendo in your mumbling plea peaked, your lungs now burning.

Then Joel released his purchase on your hair, and your neck snapped back as you mouthed for air. Your heartrate spiked, even feeling it in your gums. Joel’s unabating shoves along with his devilish thumb finally sent you over the edge and you jumped off the cliff of your pleasure blindly. Your throbbing pussy clamped around his cock like a vice, the wave of your climax drowning you as Joel fucked you through it.

With toes curling, eyes glassy and drool falling off the corners of your busy mouth, all your muscles went suddenly limp. Your spent cunt still quivered around Joel’s dick, who hadn’t stopped jackhammering into you with renewed vigour.

Hastily, Joel pulled back and out of the heat of your tight pussy, digging up his thumb in the process too. One more second and he would have spilt inside. While he was sure he could have another erection, even at fifty-six, he rather not risk it.

His rough hand wrapped around his cockhead, reining in the need to come.

“Fuck, you almost got me there, sugar,” he cackled, running his hand down his face.

You didn’t reply. You were sprawled across his bedsheets like a fuck toy, your thighs still trembling with the aftershock of your orgasm. Joel was sure that even without the butt plug in your mouth, you would not have been able to string two coherent words together.

His lustful eyes lingered on the red bow crowning the swell of your buttocks. He was dying to untie it, to unwrap his most precious present and make good use of it. But first he needed you ready.

“Gimme that,” he uncurled his hand in front of your mouth, and you spat out the butt plug.

Standing firm behind you, he teased your pursed hole with the silicone tip. You stirred at the touch but were so out of tune with your own body, you didn’t fight him. He twisted the plug around, circling in your orifice. Slowly it went in, and when it bottomed out, your eyes snapped open, and you grizzled.

“Stay put,” he ordered you, stepping back.

Joel admired how the handle stuck out, peeking between your round globes. With a huff, he stroked his length as he walked towards the nightstand. Opened the drawer and pulled out your favourite pink dildo. It was slim and slightly curved ― you loved how the tip always hit the right spot inside your pussy.

He retraced his steps back to the foot of the bed and slid the toy between your clammy flaps, wetting it with your juices. You squirmed at the cold touch but relaxed when you realised what it was.

“Gonna have both holes full to the fucking brim, babydoll,” he mocked you sneeringly, wedging the dildo in your crying pussy until it snugly sat inside. “She’s so greedy.”

“Daddy, please, I can’t. I’m hurting,” you pleaded, sobbed even.

“I don’t fucking care. I’ll fuck your ass through the pain. A gift is a gift, kiddo,” he mumbled darkly.

Joel followed along and would not stop unless you said, “you piece of shit.” That was the agreement, the safe words you would use if you really started feeling insufferable pain. So far, you hadn’t spoken the words, giving him free rein to do with you as he pleased.

Looking at you with your perky ass up with the satin bow on top, a dildo in your weeping cunt and the butt plug poking out of your asshole, he knew himself a lucky bastard. How you fully trusted him, giving in to his darkest desires and coming up with your own. The last year had been a revelation for both of you ― you matched his freak so well.

To hell with what people thought, you were everything he had been looking for.

Fisting the base of his thudding cock, he slowly removed the anal plug, the pop sound enticing. Joel watched your open hole squeezing again until it puckered in your fold. He was mesmerised imagining how your walls would feel around him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, biting down his bottom lip.

Hypnotised, Joel pushed the plug back in your butt, slowly and steadily, watching eagerly how your rimmed entrance swallowed the beads.

“No, daddy, it hurts. Please, take it out,” you begged him with a small, breathless voice.

“Shut the fuck up,” he warned you.

With one hand he pumped the dildo, dragging the pointy tip along your anterior wall to hit the spongy spot of your pleasure, and the other performed similar motions with the butt plug.

You mewled like a kitten, your passion ringing in his ears like he was high on drugs. Seeing you like this, all pliable and surrendered, had him on the brink of coming ― teetering on the edge, precum sliding down his shaft.

When you started humping the bedsheets, causing friction in your unattended clit, Joel knew you were close to another climax. Feeling considerate, he let you chase your own high, both of his hands working the sex toys in your holes.

“I― Good fucking lord, I’m… com… I’m coming, daddy. C-can I…?” you asked for his permission, his chest swelling at your request.

“Yeah, kiddo. Come for daddy,” he rasped, feeling drunk on your ecstasy.

You finally let go again, your whole body quivering like a leaf falling off a tree. He saw your inner labia squeezing the dildo and for a second Joel regretted it wasn’t his cock ― how good it would feel to have your fluttering pussy hug him tight.

But he had to persevere. The gift was worth it.

As your body still adjusted to the aftermath, Joel pulled out the butt plug carefully. The toy slid out easily, and he watched again how your hole stretched back to its normal size.

Throwing the plug to one side on the bed, Joel untied the red, satin bow on your lower back with steady fingers, taking in the moment. He felt like a mayor inaugurating a new building, presenting it to the press. This building was only his to dilapidate. The ribbon fell through his fingers.

Joel slipped one hand between your thighs, caressing around the dildo to gather some of your slick and gently buttering it into your rimmed opening. You said nothing ― eyes shut and mouth agape, it was almost as if you were peacefully sleeping.

He repeated the process a few times, but felt it wasn’t enough. Bending down, he spat in your ass until his mouth was dry. Then positioned his weeping cock right in the fold of your ass and pressed your buttocks together to hump your butt crack. Again, you didn’t react, your drool pooling on the bedsheets.

“What a fucking sight,” he said under his breath, the tip of his girthy dick finally hitching in your asshole.

Slowly he pushed the glans in, then back out, then back in, testing the waters. You squirmed a little, your brows furrowing innocently and your nose scrunching.

“Biiiiig stretch, kiddo,” he managed to groan between gritted teeth, jaw painfully clenched as his cock finally burrowed in your puckered entrance.

That was when your glassy eyes snapped open, and both your hands fisted the bedsheets.

“DADDY!” you screamed at the top of your lungs.

It was hot and tight inside, very soft too, sweat gathering on his brow in concentration. Your sphincter crushed his hard cock and Joel felt like losing control over his own actions.

Another piercing shriek from you brought him back, his hips slowly working your hole with his length. He was only halfway in, you still had a few inches to take.

“You pie― Ohhhh, ah, mhmm…” his hand was quick to find the pebbled nub in your slit, petting it gently, pressing tight circles.

The distraction worked, because soon enough his dick was fully sitting in your ass. Joel pulled back, then back in, guiding your movements by pressing his free hand on your belly, holding your waist up and moving you with him. His right ring and middle fingers stroked your pearly clit relentlessly ― you were melting again.

This was heaven. Fucking heaven, he thought. How the muscles in your ass contracted around him, making him feel woozy. How you keened. How he just knew your pussy was fluttering around your pink dildo. How your clit was extremely wet, his fingers almost slipping on your velvety skin, almost unable to catch on your button.

It wasn’t painful, it was extremely overwhelming. Your mind felt like a spongy cloud, completely blissed out. Your soul had literally left your body, that was how empty your brain was. You were so full ― the dildo cozily inside you, Joel’s girthy cock blasting your entrails without a pause. Having him fully seated in your asshole was the most euphoric experience you had ever lived ― your pulse adjusted to his, two hearts beating as one.

It was too much, but it could be even more. Slithering one hand between your body and the bed, you found the dildo. Slowly you rocked it in and out of your damp pussy ― when Joel pulled out, you pushed in.

Elated, little, pathetic sobs escaped your mouth ― real, blissful tears wetting your cheeks, whimpering as your puffy lips wolfed down the pink toy. Your clit felt on fucking fire, Joel’s fingers fondling it to a point where you thought you might actually die.

You were coming again ― Joel could fucking feel it in his bones. Only this time, you squirted all over him, the warm liquid running down his thighs like a cascade whilst your whole body quaked uncontrollably.

“Oh my! Daddy! DADDY!” you wailed as he fucked you through it, hips almost stuttering now. “I can feel you in my guts! OH, FUCKING HELL!”

That was fucking it. With a guttural groan, Joel finally came, thick, sticky ropes spilling in your ass, painting your walls white. For a minute, he kept on filling you with his cum, cock maddingly twitching inside you. He closed his eyes and heavily sighed, as if the biggest weight had been taken off his shoulders.

By the time he was done, Joel was heaving, his chest rising in quick succession. That had been the best sex he’d ever had, and he was no novice like you. God, even his legs were trembling with effort.

Joel smacked both your ass cheeks as you plummeted onto the bed, a stupid grin curling the corners of your sinful mouth. You rolled to your side to look at him ― a fucked-out expression, your eyes hazy, sweaty hair sticking to your face.

The way you lazily smiled at him made his heart skip a beat.

“That was… something else,” you whispered, half asleep, totally spent.

Joel couldn’t help but chortle.

“I told you, kiddo,” he said, manoeuvring you back onto your belly so he could watch his semen gushing out your ass. “Squeeze your butthole for me, babydoll. Get it all out.”

You obeyed, all his cum slowly trickling out until your ass was empty.

“Good girl,” he praised you.

He admired the view for a hot minute ― you were a dewy mess, tangled in his bedsheets, with the pink dildo still poking out your sweet pussy. So tight, he thought, your slick cunt wouldn’t release it even when he gently tugged at it. Joel didn’t have the heart to take such comfort away from you yet, so he left the dildo in.

Joel disappeared into the bathroom after that to shower quickly. Then grabbed some wet towels and went back to the bedroom, naked as you were, to find you soundly asleep in an odd position.

He cleaned you up ― first your sweaty face, then your upper body. Joel coaxed your legs apart and couldn’t resist the urge to bow down and press a sweet kiss to your clit, slowly extracting the dildo from your pussy.

You hummed in your sleep, jaw slack and snoring lightly.

“The best daddy’s girl one could ask for,” he purred before resuming the task of rubbing your cunt and your ass clean. Joel was extremely diligent with your hygiene and care.

There was a big puddle on his bedsheets, right where your pussy had been leaking all along. He’d deal with that in the morning, didn’t want to wake you up now ― you needed the rest.

Joel sauntered towards the living room, seizing the forgotten cigar and the ashtray. Then returned to bed, and dragged your body up the bed until your head was resting on his lap. You unconsciously nuzzled his soft dick, your hot breath fanning the thick curls at the base.

Joel raked his fingers through your hair as he took a puff, the cigar crackling.

“You’re gonna be the end of me, kiddo.”

In your sleep, you stirred ― your plump, cherry lips caressing his base. Joel’s head slacked back against the headboard as he smoked.

“Fuck,” he cursed himself, feeling his dick harden again.

You were giving him no option ― there was nothing worse than going to bed with a hard-on. Joel knew you wouldn’t want that for him.

His fingers left your scalp, took one more puff and placed the cigar down on the ashtray. Joel cupped your chin, tilting your head up and back, while his other hand guided the slick tip of his cock to your lips. The moment your mouth was in contact with his dick, instinctually you suckled on his pearly glans.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Joel gritted, voice gravelly. “That’s it, be a good little girl for daddy.”

Joel gently rocked his hips under you, only the tip disappearing between your sinful lips ― he didn’t want to wake you, not when you looked like an angel right now.

This was a recurrent dream of yours. Most nights, you found yourself drifting away and thinking about your old man’s beautiful dick. It was soothing when you latched onto his glans, just like you were doing right now ― unbeknownst to you.

In your dream, your tongue pressed against the slit on his throbbing cockhead while your lips would seal around it to suck on it. Then his underside would slide along your tongue, kissing your palate gently. Sometimes you would stop, glans sitting warmly in your mouth, and the hand resting on his thigh would find the soft balls underneath to massage them delicately. Then your tongue would resume its petting.

Heat peaked inside your mouth, and that made you scowled slightly. Smacking your lips together, sleepily, you realised that there was something warm and sticky pooling in your mouth.

Your eyes fluttered open, still drowsy, and found Joel’s darkened ones. Your head was resting on his lap, the palm of his hand caressing your cheek while his thumb stroked your chin. Sluggishly, you smiled at him, rubbing one eye with the back of your hand.

“Sorry to wake you,” he apologised before he took a drag of the cigar. “Swallow daddy’s gift, sugar.”

His words made you realise that what you had in your mouth was his cum. Your grin grew wider as the tasty seed of Joel slid down your throat. You liked it when he took what was his without asking.

“Attagirl. Now back to sleep, kiddo. It’s past your bedtime,” he commended you, and you nodded absentmindedly.

Nudging his dick and tucking your hands under his thigh, you pressed a soft kiss on his cockhead, then closed your eyes.

“Thank you,” you sighed contently, to both Joel and his dick.

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bby-grl-4-bucky · 8 months ago

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Love in Bloom: B. Bridgerton Masterlist

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader status: complete

You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You're struggling to find someone you're as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

Takes place the year after season 1/book 1, but the events of season 2/book 2 don't actually take place.

Family Tree (sort of) Chapter 1 - the story starts when it was hot and it was summer and... Chapter 2 - they tell you that you're lucky but you're so confused Chapter 3 - best believe I'm still bejeweled Chapter 4 - the more that you say, the less I know Chapter 5 - I don't want you like a best friend Chapter 6 - you had to kill me, but it killed you just the same Chapter 7 - you search in every maiden's bed for something greater Chapter 8 - no one wanted to play with me as a little kid Chapter 9 - I'm never gonna love again Chapter 10 - writing letters addressed to the fire Chapter 11 - if my wishes came true, it would've been you Chapter 12 - did you wish you'd put up more of a fight? Chapter 13 - it's never too late to come back to my side Chapter 14 - in a box beneath my bed is a letter that you never read Chapter 15 - three times 'cause I've waited my whole life Epilogue - quiet my fears with the touch of your hand

Alternate Ending - I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs

Drabbles: I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

navi tags: love in bloom (everything related to the fic) love in bloom: writing (only full length chapters) love in bloom: rambles (me talking ab the fic) love in bloom: asks (asks related to the fic) buy me a ko-fi!

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bby-grl-4-bucky · 8 months ago

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𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

𝒐𝒏𝒆, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮...

₊° - 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧!𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

₊° - 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: As the first preparations for the new season start, Elladine is filled with dread at the prospect of having to enter the beau monde and say goodbye to her childhood to welcome in the world of London's high society.

(this story goes slightly off-canon to fit the storyline)

masterlist (soon), read the introduction that started it all

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗽𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀. 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 <3

My dearest gentle readers, a new flock of eagerly anticipating young women, yearning to make an impression on the Ton, will soon step foot and enter the world of the beau monde, hopefully tightly clutching the arms of their new husbands in a few weeks time. Reflecting on the last two seasons, this author will wait patiently to see if Dowager Viscountess Violet Bridgerton will succeed once more in finding one of her children a suitable match. The bar certainly is set high, seeing as her first daughter landed the attention of both a Duke and a Prince during her debut season and her firstborn seems as happy as ever. Will she succeed, or will she have to vie for a lord to pay attention to her daughters like Lady Featherington has done for years? And will Miss Featherington ever be freed from the horrible clothing she is put in? I, dear readers, surely cannot wait to see what this season has in store for us. I will watch with a keen eye to see how well our favourite Viscount and his Viscountess have fared over the year. I eagerly await their return to the beau monde now that they have to find Miss Eloise and, how else, following the Bridgerton’s alphabetic name tradition, her twin sister Miss Elladine, a husband. Exciting times, my dearest readers, but we can only sit tight and wait until the first ball of the season, where we will be shown exactly what kind of year this will shape to be. This author will keep her eyes and ears open to all that will happen in our beloved Ton.

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, APRIL 1816

Violet exhaled sharply through her nose when she read the words on the small pamphlet in her hands. The season hadn’t even started, and yet, Lady Whistledown had managed to speak of her and her family already. She had ploughed her way through the rumours and ill words directed to her, her family and her children once with Daphne’s debut, then again with the debacle Anthony had put himself in, but she already held her breath for the kind of things Eloise and Elladine would manage to get themselves into. Knowing her daughters well, she knew something was bound to happen. For now, she worried more about Eloise than Elladine. Although her precious daughters were both equal head-and-heart girls, they still held the fire each Bridgerton had, and they had been raised by one strong woman, not to forget. They had been less willing to bend and mend to the standards of the beau monde than she had hoped, and although at times it gave her evenings full of headache, she could not help but love the strength in her daughter’s characters. Eloise had made it clear time and time again, even before it had been her time to debut, how much she detested the prospect of what would be asked of her, the prospect of not having a choice in the matter either. She'd started throwing fusses whenever the subject had come up, she'd been blatantly rude to avoid having to talk to any man wanting a chat and she had even gone as far to escape social occasions more than once. Where Eloise’s protest had been loud and clear, Elladine’s true feelings about having to find herself a man had been less outspoken. Each time the subject would be brought up, she would visibly recoil and turn quiet, her eyes filling with a glassy melancholic look, the light in them no longer there. She had worn the dresses, learned the customaries and the dances and even done her best to entertain any man wanting to talk or dance with her, but Violet could see the intent was not there. Violet had then vowed to find a perfect suitor to make the light in her daughter’s eyes return again, to have her shine as bright as she deserved. She knew it was possible, as she’d seen it happen to Daphne and Anthony. There was a person for everyone out there, Elladine would be no exception. She deserved to know how euphoric love could be and Violet was going to help her daughter realise that.

“Has she written about our ridiculous order of names again, mama?” Elladine sighed from behind the easel, eyes not leaving her canvas.

“Of course, it is only tradition,” Eloise teased, knowing exactly how the famed writer usually picked her words. She stopped flitting through her book and sat up to watch her twin sister focus on the canvas before her.

Despite being born mere minutes apart, the two couldn’t look more different from each other. Sure, they both had the thick familiar chestnut Bridgerton hair and the same soft button nose, but they differed in the rest. Where Eloise’s eyes were an earthy green, Elladine’s eyes were as sharp and light blue as those of her mother. No matter if a room was lit by merely a handful of candles or if she stood outside on Grosvenor Square in the harsh sunlight, her eyes would always be a strikingly aquamarine. Her doe eyes had been one of her most adorable features when she had been young, and they made many a head turn ever since she’d turned of age.

“She is getting rather boring and repetitive lately, don’t you think?” Eloise shrugged, not realising the foreboding irony her words would hold in a few weeks.

Violet’s head immediately snapped up, “Do not give the Lord any ideas on how to enliven her ridiculous paper.”

“Fine, I take it back.” Eloise softly muttered under her breath as she looked up to the ceiling in exasperation, where a group of painted angels draped around vines stared down at her.

Now it was Elladine’s time to snort as she looked at her sister while smoothing out a thick blob of paint on her canvas. It was supposed to be the start of a bush full of red camellia, the flower that represented the painful yearning for love, something she had learned in a book from their library. She often looked for inspiration there, seeing as it was hard for her to venture out into the world as a young aristocratic woman, to experience things herself.

Their head of servants announced himself as he stepped into the drawing-room, “I have post for Lady Eloise and Lady Elladine,” He announced and carefully placed the two ivory envelopes on the table before taking his leave.

“It’s from Daphne,” Violet announced after seeing their names scribbled onto the paper in her daughter's familiar curly handwriting.

Elladine’s ears perked up at the mention of her oldest sister. Daphne had been their rock after their father had passed and their mother had isolated in her grief for a while. Like a true big sister, she had stepped up wherever she could, consoled the little ones, taken care of them with the help of the maids, let them cuddle up to her in bed and helped distract them together with Colin by playing music and putting on silly performances for the little ones in their drawing room. Daphne had been an everpresent tangible anchor for Elladine, something to ground her and help her practice her resilience in hard times with kind affirmations. The day Daphne had left the Bridgerton house, had been one of the worst days so far, together with her father passing. And, well... maybe also when that dreaded letter had arrived to invite her for her debut. Elladine had looked up to Dapne all her life until her oldest sister had seemed so content being married off to a mere stranger and seeming to love the prospect of being a doting wife— all the things that made Elladine’s skin itch.

“Ella, dear, do wipe your hands before you come and open it.” Her mother pointed at the green and white smears of paint scattered on her palms. Despite being elegant most times, when she was painting, she no longer seemed to care about making a mess as she let her creativity take over.

Elladine held her hands away from her dress and quickly grabbed a cloth to wipe them off, knowing she would likely lose her head if her mother caught her with paint on one of her newest dresses.

“You know, I think your dress is a bit too maiden-white, a bit of green would liven it up.” Eloise grinned to her sister and plucked the envelope out of her mother's hands.

The two sisters exchanged a knowing grin, especially when they saw their mother’s head shoot up at the suggestion. It had always been a bit like that— Eloise being the instigator and Elladine joining close in pursuit. But where Eloise had chaos rumbling closely beneath her chest, Elladine was usually more collected and aware of situations and repercussions. Elladine would let her thoughts ponder before letting them out, but Eloise had always been good at blurting out the next best thing on her mind. Even that simple knowledge was why Violet had known since childhood that Eloise would be the biggest handful. Then again, where Eloise went, Elladine followed, what Elladine did, Eloise wanted to do, and vice versa. They’d been like this ever since birth, as was only normal for twin sisters, Violet had presumed. She adored it, though. But now, Lady Whistledown had mockingly practically placed them on the highest pedestal for all the Ton to watch and observe this season. Violet started to fan her face even thinking about what was to come and how her daughters would fare with that much attention on them...especially knowing how much they hated it.

Elladine excitedly snatched the letter away, tore the Duke’s seal apart and hastily opened the letter. The twins quickly let their eyes scan across the parchment.

“Ah, it’s one of those.” Eloise spoke with a mouth full of distaste.

“Whatever are you talking about?” Elladine tried to take a peek at her sister’s letter, confused, as her letter had started off kindly with words about her nephew and the news of a renovation project of their estate.

Eloise rolled her eyes, “At least that means she did not just plainly copy them.”

“She wouldn’t, she knows us too well to realise we would open and read them together.”

“Well, what did she write?” Violet watched the two, a fondness in her eyes, something that would always be present whenever she looked at her twins. To be blessed with one child was one thing, but to be blessed with two at once was something else entirely. And to have nine healthy children in total had simply been the greatest gift on the planet.

“That she wishes us a splendid season and that she hopes we will find our life as married women accommodating and that we will walk off into the sunset with the second best man we can find.”

“She did no such thing-” Violet all but tried to snatch the letter out of Eloise’s hands. At the mention of her older sister’s supposed well-wishes for their debut, Elladine fell quiet once more, like she had done so plenty of times already when the subject had been brought up. She didn’t want to read the rest of her letter anymore, afraid Daphne's sentences would eventually lead to the one thing she tried to forget about.

“I would rather become a spinster than ever make my debut.” Elladine snarked, voicing her disinterest out loud for once as she fumbled the letter back into its envelope and discarded it on the table with little care.

Violet looked at her through squinted eyes, “I don’t like your tone, Elladine.”

She withheld an eye roll at her mother’s usual reply whenever one of her children went a little out of line. But while she would have giggled or grinned at it on any other occasion, it made her look at the floor and let her shoulders fall. Her mother was right. Daphne had written a kind letter in support of her debut that was fast approaching, probably knowing very well how her little sister was feeling and trying her best to help her lift her spirits, and Elladine hadn't even taken the time to read it through to the end.

“I know it is a prospect you do not feel anything for, but know that all I wish for you is to be loved, adored and cared for. You two deserve to live as happy as I have. I won’t be around forever, and I do not wish you to be alone when I'm gone.” Although her words were soft-spoken and well-meant, her two bad-humoured daughters standing before her could not yet appreciate the intent of her words.

“Oh, we won’t be alone. We’ll have each other.” Eloise linked arms with Elladine, giving her a conspiratorial grin, “First, we will go to University, to hell with those small-minded egotistical men who think it is no place for us. Then we will travel the world and inspire other like-minded women to break free from their shackles. Then we'll make a fortune and settle down somewhere and spend our days writing and making music." Her eyes had a playful glint to them before she turned serious and sighed in vexation, "We do not wish to be married, we will have each other, Mama.”

Elladine pulled her arm away from Eloise, “That’s what you want, why does it always have to be what you want?"

Violet's fingers fell to pinch the bridge of her nose. No matter how well her twins went along, they could bicker like an elderly couple over who would take the last scone. Those quarrels generally barely ever lasted longer than a minute, though.

"I thought we wanted the same thing?!" Eloise huffed, "What do you want?" Eloise softened upon seeing the distant look in her sister's eyes, "Teaching children how to play and read music, that was what you once said, right?"

Elladine fell silent, she realised she hadn't really dared to dream of her future when the only future she thought she could have, would be one she hated. And what kind of self-torture would it be to allow herself to daydream of a life she could never get anyway?

Even if it had been only momentarily, she could feel herself slip away into her worries again. She swallowed, "Um, I suppose so. I want to paint and play music... share that joy with others... upkeep my own garden and live somewhere far away without the rules and obligations of the Ton and..." Her large inhale made her chest double in size and her dress pushed back in protest before she let the breath escape in a sigh, "-to just be me.”

Eloise scrunched up her nose at that, ready to butt in and voice how boring it sounded compared to her ideal life.

“Girls.” Violet’s tone was a message in itself, but Elladine took it to heart and huffed before leaving the salon, ignoring the pleas of her mother to settle the matter and make amends. She headed directly to the greenhouse at the edge of their estate, knowing her mother would never follow her there. It was the one place that had her father written all over it, the one place too painful for her mother to step foot in. Edmund, with his love for nature, had always complained about the lack thereof in the city of London. So, with the help of a flock of gardeners, he'd set up a gigantic greenhouse near the edge of their garden, tucked behind a large chestnut tree. The same one he'd take the children to each Fall to collect chestnuts and help them with their crafts to turn their collected chestnuts into spiders, stick figures or other figurines. The greenhouse was more of a fancy conservatory from the outside, but when it was time to plant a plethora of flower bulbs, it was a combined mess of dirt, tools, pots of fertilisers and waste of the flowers from the previous season. And her father would often be there, right in the centre of it all. It was the place where he would teach them about herbs, tell them about certain medical properties of a few of them, let them rub their tiny fingers over leaves to smell them and where he could pretend he wasn't trying to run away from the pile of papers waiting for him on his desk.

Elladine strode across the garden with haste to make it there in time so that her tears could finally fall. God forbid she let them fall outside in the world where she could no longer feel her father's safe embrace, albeit figuratively.

Even if Eloise was the only one who could ever get remotely close to understanding how she felt, she still would never get it. No one would. The conversation she'd just had only further proved her point. Elladine wasn’t opposed to being loved, adored and cared for, to not be alone but to live with her person by her side, it was just… Well, what was it exactly? Why was there such a big push and pull whenever she thought of love? Why was something inside of her so opposed to the entire idea when she should feel happy and have some healthy nerves, like all the other girls starting their debut? And why, at the same time, could she not stop daydreaming about her perfect someone out there, right now, hopefully thinking about her as well?

She balled her fists when she felt the familiar ache in her heart that no one would ever understand. Hells, she wasn’t even sure if she would ever understand the reason behind the pulling heartache. It wasn't like she could ask her family about it either, no matter how close they were. No, this felt like something she had to battle by herself.

Elladine walked over the the circular space in the right wing of the greenhouse. Ivy had covered most of the glass after Edmund hadn't been there to care for it, and while Violet did hire gardeners to plant new flowers every year, that was about the only thing she let them do. They weren't to take out Edmund's old flowers to plant new ones, or rearrange the pattern of different coloured tulips he'd carefully planted. But she hadn't let the entire greenhouse go forgotten.

In the circular open space, stood a vacated easel next to a bench, something she'd made sure was brought there after the entire family had lost Elladine for almost a whole day. No one had thought to look in the greenhouse now that Edmund was no longer among them. Francesca had found her older sister there after wandering outside for the third time, knowing they shared a love for quietness and having a gut feeling she'd been close to finding her before. With red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks, a young Elladine had accepted her sister's gentle embrace as Francesca had tucked her into her side and brought her back to the house. Upon hearing Elladine's teary mumbles, Violine's stomach dropped when she realised the child had worried they had forgotten about their father since everyone seemed to steer clear of talking about him and, when they did, they had turned quiet. Even if Elladine had only been young, she'd been observant, and she'd seen what she thought was visible proof of her fear of his remembrance in the abandonment of her father's conservatory. After that, Violet had vowed to keep it as well-kept as she could, and had let Elladine claim it as her safe space.

Edmund's death had taken a toll on the entire family, plaguing each of her children and herself in a different way. Some turned rebellious, others had turned stoic, others had acted as if nothing had happened at all, but Elladine would often disappear. Well, it wasn't so much disappearing now that they knew where she was, especially as they could hear her music echo through the garden, but it was worrying nonetheless. Violet had tried multiple things to lure her out, but it wasn't until she'd seen her daughter try and tend to Edmund's indoor garden with the few rusty tools that still lay around, that she had made the decision. Violet had bought new tools, new fertiliser, new bulbs and seeds from all over and had tried her best to make the space that was once her husband's, as accommodating to her daughter as she could. If she could tend to her daughter's heartbreak that way, then she would do it.

Elladine had loved watching the gardeners get to work and she'd sat around them the entire week they were over, carefully watching their every move with interest. When one of the men had glanced at her over his shoulder, with a soft smile on his face, he'd beckoned her to him and had placed a bulb in her hands. 'Tulips', he'd said, 'from Holland'. It had seemed to be the three magic words she'd needed, because she had gotten onto her knees and pushed it into the soil, not caring that dirt had gotten stuck under her fingernails. It felt a little defying, to get dirty and get on her knees to knee through the dirt, something unflattering for a lady, but it had felt freeing all the same. But most of all, she'd never felt as close to her father as that day. Their home on Grosvenor Square, in the middle of Mayfair and in the heart of London, wasn't surrounded by much nature for Elladine to ease her heart and soul. The greenhouse was her sanctuary, the only place where she could hide and recharge and be completely by herself, aside from the occasional but welcome visit of one of her siblings. It was her escape when her thoughts became a little too overwhelming. Well, she also loved to furiously paint away with no clear vision in mind or play sonata upon sonata on her violin until the strings left painful marks on her fingers, so long that it drove everyone mad, but those weren’t options when all she wanted and needed to do was to flee their home. Sometimes she wished she was a simple girl who didn’t need a chaperone to accompany her whenever she wanted to step so much as even one foot out the door. It was just the life she was born into, and unfortunately for Elladine, that meant she had to make the biggest sacrifice of her life— to give up her life’s true happiness and be wedded off like cattle like any other aristocratic girl, just to appease their so beloved Ton.

Elladine grabbed a pair of garden clippers and went to the bush of lilac that, after all these years, had climbed its way up to the top of the greenhouse. As soon as she cut a few branches off, a welcome smell whirled around her. She hoped that taking care of her flowers would soothe the fast hammering of her heart against her chest. She was so angry, furious even, as she clipped away, but it was nothing the flowers could do anything about. She let the flowers fall into the basket on the side, trying to imagine them and their smell in her room within a few hours, but even that did not seem to make the tension in her body vanish.

Elladine didn’t care about dirtying her dress, and in protest even smeared the dirt and dust down her sides to clean her hands. Her mother would be furious, but so was she. It would be a fair exchange. And maybe, if she didn't have any dresses to wear, she could hide in her room some more. At least Eloise was an expert in openly speaking her mind, even having done so in front of the Queen last season, but Elladine didn’t have that type of forthright bravery. She often went about things a little more discreet. Instead, she showed her disdain on the matter through actions instead of Eloise's blurted words, and more often than not rebelled in ways that made her brothers chuckle and her mother sigh. Though Violet loved how all her children had a mind and character of their own, she also disliked how that meant they only influenced one another in that regard. Elladine was to be a fine example for her younger siblings, as Daphne had been for her- well, to a certain extent- she knew that, but it was so hard when her heart and her life were on the line.

The door behind her creaked open, and a soft breeze made its way into the greenhouse.

“I would have preferred green above brown, but it’s a nice touch anyway.” Eloise pointed at the streaks of earthy dust on her sister's dress and approached, albeit hesitantly. She seemed embarrassed, a little nervous even, wringing her hands like she hoped the apology she'd thought of would land well.

Eloise would never immediately outright apologise, despite being so fiercely outspoken. Still, she knew she had hurt her sister, even if she hadn’t known the true depths of her words.

When no reply followed from her sister, Eloise shrunk, “I apologise… for putting words in your mouth… again.”

Elladine's fingertips softly brushed against a deep red rose to their left. It was truly impressive how her sister had made the space come to life with newly picked-out flowers and herbs, while still maintaining the feel of their father's touch all around them.

“Ella?”

The girl beside her sighed. There was one thing Eloise and Elladine were good at besides complementing each other— making up after a fight. Even if their fights were never really fights, only mere bickers or a couple of eye rolls after a disagreement- because yes, those did happen often- they could never be mad at each other for more than an hour.

“I’m not mad at you.”

Eloise let out a visible sigh and her posture relaxed immediately. Elladine didn’t have to speak it out loud, for Eloise knew perfectly well what her sister was truly mad at.

“I know Daphne means well, but it just upsets me so.”

“She does. And I know it does.” Eloise nodded, knowing their older sister held them in her highest regard and would never write the things she had just to spite them or remind them of their awaiting hell.

“Why is it so hard for people to realise that their dream isn’t ours? Far from it, actually.”

“It’s the patriarchy that's keeping us bound, I am telling you.”

Elladine gave her sister a look. Not unkindly, she muttered, “It’s always the patriarchy in your eyes, El.”

“Because... it just always is!” Eloise spluttered, "They have spoken their beliefs and spread them like an epidemic, and now the world knows no better than the way it is! Look-” She pulled her sister away from the bush so her attention was solely focused on her, “We will just… stick together. Through it all. I promise to not walk out on you even if I would rather watch paint dry than spend one second at one of those balls.” Eloise grinned when she saw her sister’s expression soften.

“Watching paint dry is sometimes a necessary trajectory of painting," Elladine matched her twin's grin, showing Eloise that whatever had been said before, had been forgotten.

But Eloise needed Elladine to know the severity of her words. She grabbed her hands into her own and squeezed, "I will even agree to burp at least once each night to scare off any onlooker wanting to take us for a dance. I'll.... I'll smother my face in cake to keep them at bay... I'll embarrass myself so badly that they won't even want to approach you simply by association.”

Elladine softly shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips, “No, El, you know it would hurt mama. And taint our name. Again.”

Eloise turned quiet, and then her eyes glossed over, something she rarely found herself doing anymore, “But else it would hurt you.”

The twins looked at one another. So much was said in the exchange of their soft stares and the squeezing of their hands, that words weren't necessary. It was them, together, from the beginning until the end.

Eloise let her mind wander to her future for a split second. Of a married life to some Lord or Sir far away... far away from Elladine. Never spending time together anymore, not having someone around who she could tolerate even during her darkest moods, no longer giggling behind their hands at one of their secret jokes, not having someone there who could read the thought in her eyes before it had even transpired, and no longer feeling part of something that she had been one half of ever since she was born. Feeling herself get too vulnerable and choked up, Eloise suddenly cracked a laugh, “Of course, I also can’t imagine a life without you by my side, and marrying means we would not see each other for long periods of time.”

“Ah, so in the end, it’s an entirely selfish reason?”

“It appears so.”

They grinned at each other with innocent mischief in their eyes. Elladine wiped the lone tear from her nose that she hadn’t realised had fallen from her eye until it had tickled her.

“Although you will have to face Mama on your own or she will likely blame me for that hideous stain on your dress.”

“I thought you liked it?”

“Meh.”

Elladine made a face at her as Eloise pulled her out of the greenhouse and gave her an encouraging push towards the house.

“She’s still in the drawing room.” Eloise spoke from behind her, "But mind you, she's been pacing ever since you left. I'll be at Pen's until I'm certain her mood's subsided." She nodded to herself, seeming content, before quickly taking her leave and disappearing behind the hedge that hid the garden gates.

With her head held high, Elladine entered the drawing room again minutes later. She was never one to admit defeat easily, nor show her true emotions. She couldn’t afford to show what was truly within, not if she wanted to stop her mother from worrying. She already had too many children to worry about. And even if she didn't have to worry about Daphne and Anthony anymore, Elladine knew she still would. It was a mother's curse. To worry even when things are all right. Being a mother was not something temporary, nor was the feeling of responsibility over them or their happiness.

Violet stood with Daphne’s letter behind the canvas when Elladine approached, taking in the swipes and colours she'd painted on there mere moments before. Violet looked up and smiled softly at her daughter when the door opened, and opened her arms,

“Elladine, come, my dear.”

Elladine walked over and let herself get pulled into her mother’s safe embrace, the place that could always comfort her.

Violet knew of her daughter’s variety of talents, as she had been the one behind the pursuit of most of them, but the vision of this current project was lost on her. She tried her best to mask her confusion when she spoke, “Do tell me what your newest painting will be?”

“It will be a field filled with camellias, like the ones back at Aubrey Hall during summer.” Violet’s eyes twinkled and the apples of her cheeks lifted up into a warm smile at the memory of the place where she spent some of her happiest memories with her husband, until it had become the place of his demise. At least she could separate the two sentiments after all this time. Elladine continued, “I found an encyclopaedia in the library and used reference pictures, since I didn't have space for them to plant them here this season, and I haven't studied them enough last summer to go off memory.” Knowing what conversation was to come next, Elladine quickly continued talking, “I shall clean up now. I don’t think I will be able to put much more work in before dinner anyway.” Not knowing what to say next, she peered at the letter in her mother’s hands. Daphne’s letter to her. “She said that Auggie’s speaking his first few words. Daphne thinks he might even be able to say the first part of my name next time he brings him around... since my full name has three syllables and that might be a little too difficult for now.”

Violet smiled kindly, but knew her daughter was stalling. She pulled the both of them on the couch, “It will be lovely, and I'm sure Auggie will learn to say your name within the blink of an eye. Come, sit.” But then she gasped when she saw the ruined dress come into view.

“Elladine Bridgerton-” She started, knowing very well that this was another one of her rebellious outbursts.

“I went to the conservatory. The lilac bush is beautiful.” Was all Elladine said, downplaying her actions with innocence.

Violet held the bridge of her nose. Her children were a handful, but she couldn’t deny that she loved every second of still having them around.

“No matter, we’ll talk of this later, but first I want to talk about something else. It’s been inevitable.”

“Do we have to, mama?” Elladine whined softly and sat back in the couch.

“It is important I tell you this, my love.”

Elladine looked at her, but her eyes held a certain kind of rebellious spirit in them that Violet couldn’t help but grin at— she often recognised her younger self in her daughter. She pushed a fallen lock of hair behind her daughter's ear before lovingly cupping her cheeks,

“You are my everything, Elladine, all nine of you have my whole heart, which is why it is so deeply important for me to know you will be fine should I no longer be around, to see you happy, to rest assured knowing you are taken care of, that you are adored and loved.”

Elladine opened her mouth to say something, but Violet gave her a look to let her continue,

“Your protests haven’t gone unnoticed, but don’t you ever for a second think that I am willingly putting you through what you see as pure torment.” Violet grazed her daughter’s cheeks with her thumbs before dropping her hands back to her lap. So young, so innocent, yet so full of fire, determination and bravery, despite not having a single clue of the real world out there. Her children were growing up, but she couldn’t help but realise that even if the Ton found them the right age, they weren't ready yet. She too hated how her children couldn’t slowly learn to live their lives and then stumble upon their great love along the way, instead of having to find a match with the pressure of the society weighing them down. But that was just the way it was, how it always had been, and how she had found her dear Edmund as well. Their offspring were visible proof that it was possible. Violet had managed to get Eloise to debut the year before, because, in her daughter’s words, it was best to just get it done and over with. Elladine had refused to hear anything about it then, rejecting Eloise's plea to take the plunge together in such a dramatic way, that she'd fallen bedridden with a horrible flu for a week. But even Elladine now knew it had to happen eventually. And, if Violet waited too long to let Elladine debut, she knew her daughter's chances would grow slimmer each year they'd stall. She was nine-and-ten now, her twentieth fast approaching at the end of April. No, Elladine's debut this year was inevitable. There was no other option, but maybe she could slowly ease her way into the Ton. Maybe her perfect husband would find his way to her in her second season after her debut, or the third, maybe even the fourth. Whichever year it happened, Violet hoped Elladine would soon be more at peace and grow into her role of an aristocratic lady. At least her twins would have each other this year, although that also worried her immensely.

“I know it’s scary and I know you feel pushed into a corner, but I can assure you that one day, someone will come knocking on your door and you will want to let them in. Someone who knows the strings of your heart and who'll want to listen or create harmony together. But don’t fear, my love, I found your father, Anthony found his lovely Kate and Daphne found her doting Simon. You will find your happy ever after as well with a husband made just for you, I can assure you.”

Elladine was silent for a while, letting her mother’s words hit and giving them a place in her head, “But I don’t want to, mama.”

In that moment, with the slight quiver of her lips, furrowed brows and big blues looking up at her, Violet couldn’t help but see a four-year-old Elladine sit in front of her, hands clawing at her mother to not leave her in her cot for a nap.

She pulled her in her arms and planted a kiss on her daughter’s hair, “Oh, my darling girl.”

The disappearance of the light in Elladine’s eyes as of late hadn’t gone unnoticed, and neither had the mood shifts and her rebellious behaviour, but Violet made herself a promise then and there, that she would do everything to ensure her daughter’s happiness. After all, there was a perfect person out there for everyone.

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“Miss Elladine?” Her maid entered her bedroom, where Elladine had been playing her violin for three hours straight up until this interruption. The London weather had shifted, as it always did, and the constant unrelenting force of rain pelting against the glass of the greenhouse had made it hard to hear her music over the noise. And so, she'd moved to her bedroom. She was grateful that her family had let her this time around. The weather had cleared after the first hour already and rays of sun had fallen through her curtains, but she'd been so engrossed in her current piece, that she didn't want to cut her focus and go back outside. “Pardon me, but your friend Lady Lillian is here.”

Elladine dropped the violin to her lap. She knew Lillian would never visit on a Wednesday afternoon, for she would always take a stroll with her siblings through Kensington Gardens. This had her mother written all over.

“There she is.” Lillian’s voice echoed through the Bridgerton hall as Elladine walked down the stairs to her best friend. Although Eloise and Elladine were as thick as thieves, they did not share the same friends. Where Eloise had found a friend in their neighbour Penelope, happily chatting about the latest books they'd read, Elladine had gravitated towards Lillian, whose mother was a close friend of Violet. They were close in age, with Lillian just two years older than herself. Lillian had long undergone the first steps into the Ton and had married during her first season. Now she happily lived with her lord husband in Kensington, together with their two pomeranians and their newborn son. Lillian had flourished from a young, insecure girl into a woman of status. Though she didn’t quite grasp what there wasn’t to love about marrying a loving lord and having his children, she did feel sympathy whenever she saw how deeply Elladine was affected by it all.

“I feel like we should make use of the few rays of sun and take a nice stroll around Hyde Park, do you not?” She grasped her friend’s hands and gave them an encouraging squeeze, trying to turn Elladine’s frown upside down.

“But what of your family?”

Lillian only waved her off, “They see me all day long, having to miss me for an hour or two should not be the end of the world. Besides, I want to steal you away one last time before all the bachelors of the Ton will.”

Elladine gave her a look which Lillian brushed off by dragging her friend outside, their two maids following suit as they walked onto Grosvenor Square. The sunlight blinded Elladine, and the sudden hustle and bustle of the street rammed into her head like a carriage. Lillian had her arm linked with hers within a second as she led the two west, to Hyde Park, where it would no doubt be swarming now that the sun was out.

“Did Mama write to you this week?” Elladine wondered, looking up at her friend to gauge her reaction. Lillian only side-eyed her, her face unreadable, before her eyebrows dropped and a guilty expression took over.

“You know I cannot lie to you. Yes, she did.”

Elladine groaned, “About how pathetic I have been lately, I’m sure.”

Lillian laughed, “Well, she used kinder words, but yes. She did mention you might need some fresh air or go for an afternoon tea with a friend. And I think she might have been right.”

Elladine gasped at her friend’s jest and bumped her hip, almost making Lillian collide with the nearest bystander. They both started grinning as the old man dipped his hat in recognition of the giggling girls.

“How’s little Oliver?”

“Growing heavy, but very healthy.”

"I'm sure the two are one and the same."

"You say that now, wait until he grows out a fattening belly and rips through all his clothes."

They came to a stop on Park Lane, letting the carriages pass through before crossing the curb and entering Hyde Park.

Lillian continued, eyes flitting across the many women walking with their young children or pushing their strollers, “It’s all going so fast. It feels like it was ages ago when we were only young girls."

"We still are." Elladine quietly muttered but kept further thoughts to herself when she saw the dreamy look on her friend's face when Lillian eyed a family of six walking by.

"I hope I'll be blessed with a big family one day.” Lillian glanced at her, chuckling, "Maybe not as big as yours, I'm not sure my husband could handle such chaos. As soon as Ollie starts throwing a fuss, he leaves the room and lets the maids tend to him." Lillian chuckled, but she quieted down at her own confession.

Elladine patted her friend’s hand and tugged her closer, not knowing how else to comfort her than with some well-meant words, “You are a wonderful mother, and I’m sure you will be blessed with more healthy heavy children in the future.”

A wickedly broad smile took over Lillian’s face as she pulled Elladine back to come to a stop. Elladine eyed her friend, confused, then watched as Lillian slowly rested her hands on her belly.

Elladine stopped and gaped at her like a fish, her look mixed with shock, fear and glee.

“No!”

“Yes!”

Perplexed, Elladine put her hands to her mouth. Lillian laughed and let herself be wrapped in her friend's arms.

“But Ollie is merely a few months old!”

“I know! We’re both over the moon we got blessed so soon again! Best to be blessed now than when I'm old enough to have the extra baby weight be stored to my waistline,” She joked, keeping the conversation light, desperately wanting to stray away from the topic of how it was possible, since she'd seen the confusion and fear in Elladine's eyes the second it had appeared.

“Lillian!” Elladine gasped again, head still not fully registering it all, “But how... so quickly again? My siblings and I are all at least a year apart.”

“Oh, sweet girl,” Lillian sighed, knowing Elladine would find out on her own one day, "It is a woman's wonder!" She only said as she hooked her arm around Elladine's again and continued their stroll, their maids still following along behind them, chaperoning them. But Elladine was still stuck on her friend's words. The term of endearment had felt patronising in a way, and it had made her feel too stupid to continue their conversation on the matter and risk making an even bigger fool of herself.

They walked for half an hour in the shade of the many trees, before circling back around and exiting the park near Constitutional Hill— the road that led to where the Queen’s newest palace was being built, and what would lead you to her current one when you followed The Mall— St. Jame’s Palace, the awful place that would kickstart her entire nightmare on the day saved for the debutantes.

Right as the women were about to cross the road, people started to gasp, yell, wave, stop and stare. People started to crowd around them on the curb and the two young women could only stop and stare, watching as a cavalry guided the Queen's familiar golden coach through the streets. The clattering of the hooves on the cobblestones mixed together with the amazement of the folk standing around them.

Royal guards sat atop their stallions, but even if people called out to greet their Queen, it was not Queen Charlotte who Elladine saw in a flitted glance through the reflection of the glass. It was a young girl who sat caged inside the coach, looking at the world outside of it. Just then, Elladine could have sworn that the girl's eyes landed on those of her own, but before she could make that claim, the coach had passed them already.

Apparently, Lillian had also realised it wasn’t Queen Charlotte that the carriage was transporting. She grabbed her friend's arms and shook her with an unnecessary amount of enthusiasm, “A royal visit at the dawn of a new season? I bet you it’s another Prince or Princess wanting to see the finest ware in London."

Elladine smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. She barely reacted, for it was another blow to her heart to remind her of the one thing she was desperately trying to forget— the season was about to start.

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The drawing room was filled with an aroma of scalding tea and the cook’s latest pastries to properly welcome their guests. Madame Delacroix hurried through the room with dresses in her hand and held them up to Elladine’s chest.

“Non, too yellow.” Then she tried the other, “Non, too dark. Hmm, but this one brings out your complexion so perfectly, Mademoiselle Bridgerton.”

“Oh, yes.” Violet immediately agreed and nodded approvingly, loving how her daughter’s chestnut hair matched with the pastel green. Elladine’s eyes flashed to those of Daphne and Eloise, who sat beside her on the couch, one with an unamused glint on her face, the other with eyes full of pride.

“It’s a wonderful colour, Ella. I love it with your eyes.” Daphne complimented, glad she had travelled to London to witness it all.

Madame Delacroix kept the dress up to the girl's chest, expectantly. Elladine cleared her throat, “Yes, I prefer this one over the yellow one.”

Kate, who sat beside Violet nodded in agreement and took a sip of her tea, grinning slightly as she saw Eloise try to make her twin laugh by mocking Madame Delacroix and the heap of dresses in her short arms.

“And how about this one-” The modiste hurried back to her coffers and pulled out a deep blue dress. “I was not sure if it would be too dark for your fair skin, but blue is the Bridgerton colour, non? Let’s see-” She mumbled and pulled it up to Elladine's figure, which had gone from a scrawny girl to a blossoming-looking woman with curves and shapes in all the right places. Elladine hadn't felt too alienated by the changes in her body, since they had happened too gradually to notice, but now that she looked down at herself and saw the swell of her chest keeping up the fabric of the dress, she wondered how it had ever happened without her noticing.

A few gasps were heard.

“My, Ella, you look like a wonderful lady in that one.”

"I like that one," Hyacinth blurted out through a mouthful of whatever pastry she'd been able to snatch.

“C’est magnifique. Mysterious too, non?”

Elladine’s eyes glanced at herself in the mirror, before they landed on Eloise, who sat slouched on the couch, wishing she were anywhere but here— she would be up next.

“Yes, perfect,” Eloise added absentmindedly after being nudged by Daphne. She sat up straight with a sigh, realising Elladine needed a little more confirmation from her, “Both are great, but the light green one makes you look young, whereas the deep blue one feels more mature. Either way, you look beautiful in both.”

Violin looked greatly surprised at the genuine reply, but quickly turned pleased— it seemed that Eloise's attempt to comfort her sister had worked.

“If I might have a say-” Kate leaned forward and touched the fabric in Madame Delacroix’s hands, “Start with the light green one. A soft shade is easy on the eyes and is a nice symbolic shade to start off the season. Yes, you want to stand out, but doing so on the first nights might not be exactly what you’re looking for. It's a little too forthcoming.” She hinted at the dark colour of the dress, knowing most debutantes stayed with light pastel colours to mirror their innocence, “Wear the deep blue one once you’ve established your place and feel more at ease. Besides, it is quite mysterious, it might make your suitors take the last leap.” She smiled heartedly, with a naughty glint in her eyes.

Everyone looked to Elladine for the final answer.

“Then I’ll take both on top of the others we liked.”

“Perfect, Lady Bridgerton, I’ll start adjusting them right away. Now, for the casual gowns-” She opened another set of coffers. Elladine loved getting new dresses, but not when she knew she had to wear these to a ball she didn’t want to go to and wear them for a man she never wanted to impress.

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Dear readers, it seems that our season is off to a magnificent start with the arrival of Spanish Crown Prince Felipe and his equally beloved twin sister Princess Graciela. Though our monarchy has never been too tight with the Spanish monarchy, it seems that Queen Charlotte deemed this as good a time as any to renounce the estrangement. It can only be assumed that His Grace is looking for a possible suitor for his future throne, seeing that he has reached the acquired age for a betrothal and his otherwise rather unusual timing to visit the Ton. Now we can only wonder who will turn his head. But before we lose ourselves to the speculation of the matter, all eyes will first be focused on this year's debutantes. Who will be the Ton’s newest Diamond? And will the Prince agree with the Queen’s decision?

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, APRIL 1816

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☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆* tagged: @alohastitch0626 @crimeshowjunkie @thatgirljas13 @hauntedfictionland

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