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myfictionaldreams · 2 days ago

Note

james/reader or poly! marauders meet the parents? dm me or reply to this with a post if you want more detail! xoxo

⁀➷ Home // Poly!Marauders x F!Reader

Summary: Nothing is as nerve-wrecking as meeting your boyfriend's parents, let alone during such a wholesome time like Christmas.

Requested by: Thank you for sending me the other message with all the specific ideas! Loved writing this fic, lots of Christmasy fluff! Thank you for the request!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, fluff, domestic fluff, comfort, teasing, fingering, orgasms, anxiety

Words: 4.8k

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You’re convinced that the candles that flicker along the walls and ceiling throughout Hogwarts are switched in December to be scented with pumpkin and pine.

The corridors are laced with Christmasy scents, as though the warmth of the enchanted trees from the Great Hall had bled into every drafty corner. Wreaths hung over the archways, some puffing out whisps of snow when you passed beneath them, others produced mistletoe that the boys would drag you beneath at every opportunity.

For now, you’re inside the organised mess that is the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory, flush to James’ side. He’d taken over the end of the magically enlarged bed, folding jumpers into near squares that Sirius ruined every time he reached across to grab something.

“Pads,” James huffed for the fifth time, plucking the scarf Sirius had just rumpled and smoothing it out again, “stop touching her clothes.”

Sirius was sprawled across the blanket in his favourite longing position, long legs crossed at the ankles, one arm propping him up while the other reached lazily for anything within his orbit. “I’m just making sure she’s packing for all eventualities, " he said with a grin that promised mischief. “You never know when you’ll need a short skirt in the snow.”

“Or gloves,” Remus suggests mildly from his perch on the windowsill. His jumper sleeves were pushed to his elbows, mug of tea cradled between long scarred fingers. “Which you still haven’t packed.”

Your mouth opens to insist you had, only to feel Remus’ gaze flick to the half-empty trunk, and you know you were wrong. He didn't even have to get up; a small gesture toward the wardrobe was enough to have you fetching them while Sirius smirked at the domestic choreography.

When you crouched back down, James’ hand slid over yours briefly, warm and grounding. “Almost done, love. Mum’s going to spoil you rotten, you know. Sirius’ll be jealous.”

“Jealous? I thrive on it,” Sirius muses, hooking his chin over James’ shoulder and deliberately pressing his cold nose to his neck just to make him squirm. James elbows him away, grinning, but didn't break the casual touch; his other hand had already found your knee in absent affection.

The wind bit the moment you stepped outside. Snow was still falling in lazy spirals, layering the lawns in fresh white and frosting the trees. Your breath clouded in front of you, and James immediately unwound his scarf to wrap around your neck, ignoring your protests.

“It’s not even that cold-”

“It suits you better,” James says casually, tucking the ends into your coat with a gentle finality. Sirius caught the whole exchange with a raised brow and a smirk before striding ahead to kick a clump of snow at James’ boots.

Remus kept to your other side, one hand light on your lower back as you picked your way down the slushy path to the gates.

Every so often, he would angle his body to block the worst of the wind from you, though he pretended it was so he could hear you better over Sirius and James’ bickering.

At the station, steam from the train curled into the cold air, smelling faintly of oil and metal. James handled your luggage without asking, swinging it easily up the steps. You found yourself ushered into the middle of their little group, Sirius in front with that loose-limbed confidence, Remus at your back, and James practically glowing with holiday energy beside you.

They found an empty compartment halfway down the train. Sirius claimed the entire length of one bench in the space of a heartbeat, stretching his long limbs out with a dramatic sigh.

James settled beside you on the opposite bench, arm draped over your shoulders so casually it might have been a habit, whilst Remus sat to your other side, his knee brushing yours.

Outside the frosted window, the platform bustled with students and floating trunks.

Inside, it was warm, the cushions smelling faintly of fur and wool. James launched into excited talk about the Potter’s Christmas traditions, his mum's spiced biscuits, and the way Sirius always ended up in the snowbank at least once every holiday.

“And then Mum puts this charmed mistletoe in the doorway between the kitchen and the sitting room,” James was saying, hands moving animatedly as he messes with his hair. “Which sounds sweet, until you realise you can't get through without someone kissing you. Pads got stuck there for ten minutes last year before I saved him.”

Sirius smirked lazily from his sprawled position. “Worth it. Don’t forget about Christmas Day Quidditch. Pretty sure I won last year.”

You laughed under your breath, but James caught the subtle shake of your head. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing, it's just that I’ve never had Christmas like this before. My family doesn’t really celebrate anything at home.” You tried ot make it sound casual, but it felt strange admitting it out loud.

Remus’ expression softened, leaning into your side. “Same. The orphanage didn’t do much. A bit of tinsel if we are lucky. Usually spent the day with my nose in a book, pretending the noise was cheerful.”

Sirius lifted his head, propping it on his hand. “I didn’t celebrate either. The Black family Christmas was more shouting than hugs. The decorations were all dark green and silver and cursed to bite you if you touched them. Very festive.”

You smiled faintly, imagining it and feeling sorry for Sirius that he had such an awful upbringing.

He seemed to read your mind, because he leaned forward, catching your chin between his fingers for just a second, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Potter’s Christmas is different, though. It's full of food, and presents, and you’ll just love Mrs Potter.”

“Euphemia, Pads,” James said automatically, reminding him for the fifteenth time today to call his mum by her first name.

“Right, sorry. Euphemia,” Sirius said, grinning like he wasn’t sorry at all, but the tips of his ears went faintly pink. “She's going to fawn over you. They both will.”

James gave your knee a gentle squeeze. “Told you, they’ll be over the moon to have you there.”

Remus’ gaze lingered on you a moment longer before he leaned back, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “You got three of us this year. That's already three times better than any Christmas you’ve had before.”

Their comforting words helped you to relax momentarily into the seat as the train began to move from the platform at Hogwarts.

Hours later, after many sweets, the countryside was already sliding past in a blur of white and grey when you realise the compartment had gone quiet.

James’ voice had faded into background warmth, Sirius was idly flicking his gaze between you and the window, and Remus had that look again. The one where he tilted his head like he was listening to something only he could hear.

“You’re fidgeting,” he said quietly to you.

You blinked down at your hands, which were indeed worrying the edge of your sleeve, “Just thinking about stuff.”

“About what?” James’ tone was light, but his arm had tightened slightly around your shoulders.

You shrugged. “Meeting your parents. Staying at your house. What if they hate me?”

Sirius scoffs, “They’ll love you,” Sirius stated matter-of-factly, as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I’m telling you, it's impossible not to.”

Your laugh came out thin, and Remu’s eyes softened. “You’re shaking,” he noticed, and before you could deny it, James was already sliding his hand down to lace his fingers with yours.

“You’ve got us,” James said, squeezing gently. “Always, love.”

“And maybe,” Sirius added with a slow smile, “we could prove it to you right now.”

Sirius sat up for the first time since entering the compartment and flicked his wand to the compartment door, it clicking shut and the windows turning black as ink so that you were unable to see into the corridor of the train.

James kissed your temple before pulling back just far enough to look you in the eye. “We’re not leaving your side,” he said, voice low and certain. “Not on the train, not at the Potter’s, not anywhere.”

Remus’ knees pressed against yours as he leaned forward, his big hands warm on your thighs. “Let us take care of you for a bit. Distract you.”

Your nod was barely there before James’ mouth was on yours, warm and coaxing, whilst Sirius’ hands slid to your hips, thumbs stroking over the fabric of your skirt. Remus stayed closed, his presence steady, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Up,” he said gently, and the three of them helped manoeuvre you so you were straddling James’ lap, knees pressed into the bench on either side of him.

James kept kissing you like he had all the time in the world, murmuring little praises between breaths. Sirius moved behind you, hair brushing your neck as he tugged your scarf loose, lips grazing the skin there.

“Beautiful,” he praised.

Remus’s hands slipped up your thighs, pushing your skirt until the air met the heat between your legs. One hand stayed firm on your hip while the other trailed up, knuckles brushing you through your panties until you let out a soft, startled sound.

“That’s it,” James encouraged against your lips, smiling at the way you shivered and your fingers dug into his shoulders.

Sirius’ mouth was at your ear now, teeth just grazing the lobe. “You dn’t need to think about anything except us.”

The first slide of Remus’ fingers under the thin fabric made you jolt, your forehead dropping to James’ shoulder. He hummed in approval, lips finding the curve of your jaw, while Sirius’s hand came to rest over your collarbone, his palm warm against your racing pulse.

Remus kept his pace slow and careful, his thumb brushing over your clit until your hips started to move without thinking.

“Good girl,” he said, and you felt James’ arm tighten around your waist at the words.

It was James next who kissed your temple and coaxed your chin up, his eyes full of fondness. “Let him make you feel good,” he said softly as you melt into his hold.

When Remus finally pushed two thick fingers inside, Sirius’s hand slid to cup your jaw, turning your face enough for him to kiss you, more claiming that James had. Remus, as always, knew your body well, curling his fingers perfectly as his other hand pressed down on your clit.

Your hips rolled with the movements, taking him deeper as wetness squelched with each thrust.

“Let go for us,” Sirius's low voice demanded at your ear. Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up, the heat in your belly snapping as you clenched around Remus’ fingers.

James’ hands kept you steady, Sirius’ mouth on yours swallowed your shaky breaths, and Remus didn’t stop until every tremor eased.

They stayed closed afterwards. James’ cheek pressed to yours, Sirius’ hand rubbing slow circles over your abdomen and Remus’ palm still warm over your hip. The touch and comfort felt like being wrapped in a warm blanket as you slumped into their hold.

The blacked-out windows cleared with a slow shimmer, sunlight flashing across your eyes. Somewhere down the carriage, the whistle blew, a long, low note that seemed to pull you back into the world, beyond the little cocoon you'd just been wrapped in.

James helped you to sit back on the bench from his lap, smoothing your skirt and tucking your fingers between his large palms.

Sirius straightened his coat, running a hand through his hair with that lazy confidence, though his eyes flicked over you in a quick once-over to make sure you were steady.

Remus reached past him to grab your bag from the rack, slinging it over his shoulder without asking.

The cold hit as soon as the compartment door opened, even on the warmed platform, nice and three-quarters. The noise was immediate: students calling to each other, parents calling out names, trunks thumping onto the ground.

James spotted them before you did. His whole posture changed, shoulders squaring, grunt splitting wide, his free hand shooting up in a wave. “Mum! Dad!”

You saw them a moment later. Euphemia Potter, wrapped in a deep burgundy cloak, had dark hair swept up nearly under her fur-lined hood. Fleamony, moustache immaculate, eyes behind wire-rimmed spectacles. Both wore the kind of smiles that made you feel like they'd been waiting all year just for this moment.

“Oh, darling,” Euphemia gasped, and before you could react, she’d moved past the boys and was sweeping you into a hug that smelled like wool and cinnamon. She didn't just pat your back, she squeezed one hand cupping the back of your head like she'd known you forever. “James has told us so much about you.”

“Mum,” James groaned, though his eyes were sparkling.

Fleamont clasped your hand warmly in both of his, giving it a firm, reassuring squeeze. “It’s lovely to meet you finally. We’ve been looking forward to it.”

Behind you, Sirius grinned at them both, already leaning in for Euphemia’s Kiss on the cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world, like his parents were only feet away with Regulus, their backs turned and ignoring their eldest son. “Monty, Eddie, you’re still far too good-looking for parents.”

“You’re still far too cheeky,” Euphemia said, smiling fondly before turning to Remus. “And you, Remus, have you been eating properly? You’re thinner than last time. And where is your coat? You must be freezing. Fleamont, give him your jacket.”

Remus endured her fussing with a faint smile, glancing at you in a way that said, see?

James’ hand grounded yours again, fingers curling tight. “Told you, " he whispered low enough for only you to hear. “You're part of this now.”

As the Potters gathered everyone’s bags and started shepherding you toward the exit waiting at the end of the platform, you caught yourself exhaling. The nervous flutter in your chest had eased, replaced by a slow warmth that had nothing to do with the scarf still wrapped snugly around your neck.

Euphemia led you all through the bustle, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder as if to tether you in place.

Instead of heading for a carriage, she steered everyone toward a side corridor that led to a small brick-walled antechamber. Quester, save for the occasional whoosh of emerald flame. A single wrought-iron grate housed a crackling fire at its centre, though the flames didn't seem to burn the hearth.

“Floo’s quicker than taking the carriage all the way back home,” Fleamont explained, setting down one of the trunks with an easy motion. “And warmer.”

James was already stepping forward, eyes bright. “I’ll go first, to meet you in the parlour.”

He took a pinch of glittering Floo powder from the jar mounted on the wall, tossing it into the flames. They roared green instantly, casting his face in strange light. “Potter Manor!” he called, voice clear and confident, before stepping into the fire and vanishing in a whirl of sparks.

Sirius was next, of course, smirking at you as he passed. “Don’t be nervous. Landing is the tricky part, and I’ll be there to catch you,” he winked and disappeared into the flames.

Remus stayed with you, his palm rushing over the small of your back. “Want me to go ahead, or come after?”

You hesitated, glancing between James’ parents' encouraging smile and the swirling green fire. “With me,” you decided.

“Alright,” his voice was steady, the warmth of his hand anchoring you as Euphemia passed you a pinch of Floo powder. Together, you stepped up to the grate, the heat licking at your shins without burning.

“Potter Manor,” you said, trying ot kepe your voice from wavering.

The world spun the second your foot touched the hearth, a wish of wind, the taste of ash, blurred glimpses of other fireplaces whirling past. Then your body landed in the arms of Sirius as you both stumbled forward onto a thick rug, the faint scent of orange and lavender filling your nose.

“Perfect landing,” Sirius mused as he loosened his hold of you.

The living space was warm in a way that went beyond the fire in the grate, deep amber wallpaper patterned with gold, overstuffed armchairs positioned around a coffee table already stacked tall with shortbread biscuits.

James was already sprawled in one of the armchairs, legs over the armrest, while Remus dusted soot from his sleeves. Mr and Mrs Potter appeared behind you, brushing off your shoulders with the kind of gentle fussing that made your throat tighten unexpectedly.

“Welcome home,” she said simply, and something in your chest went soft at the words.

You’re quickly given a tour as warmth seemed to follow you in every direction, your boots sinking into thick rugs pattered in rich colours. The walls were lined with framed wizarding photographs, all moving, all full of smiling Potters.

Fleamont paused now and then to gesture toward a picture, telling a quick story about James as a baby or Sirius’s first Christmas at the Potters.

You didn't notice you'd slowed until James’ hand slipped into yours, tugging you gently onward. “Come on. You've got to see the kitchen.”

The kitchen was, predictably, the heart of the house. A big oak table sat under a wide window overlooking a snowy back garden, every surface laden with something: a plate of cookies, a steaming pot of spiced cider, a load of bread cooling on the counter.

Euphemia was already bustling toward the stone. “Sit, sit. You must be starving after the train.”

Before you could protest, James had guided you into a chair and Siius had dropped into the one beside you, knees brushing yours. Remus took the seat across, the corner of his mouth lifting when Euphemia pressed a mug of cider into your hands.

“Better?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, curling your fingers around the heat. “Better.”

The conversation flowed easily. Felamont teasing Sirius about “stealing” their son’s best broom, James animatedly explaining the elaborate snowball fight rules the Marauders had invented last Christmas, Remus occasionally chiming in with a dry comment that made Euphemia laugh.

You found yourself relaxing into it, the knot of anxiety loosening with each gentle glance from the boys.

Sirius leaned over at one point, bumping his shoulder into yours. “Told you they'd spoil you.”

Later, Euphemia insisted on showing you the guest room, though the term guest didn't feel quite accurate. The bed was enormous, layered in soft quilts, a small armchair sat by the window, and a wave of fresh winter flowers brightened the dresser.

“Made sure it was warm,” she said, adjusting a pillow before turning to you. “And if you need anything, anything at all, you only have to ask, darling.”

It was on the tip of your tongue to say you weren’t used ot people being so attentive. But the words stuck, and instead you just managed a soft, “thank you.”

Back in the hall, James slipped an arm around your waist. “You alright?”

You leaned into him instinctively. “Yeah. Just not used to all of this.”

“Just means you're going to enjoy it even more,” Sirius says from behind you, his voice softer than usual.

The rest of the afternoon blurred into warm, domestic chaos. Sirius was raiding the biscuits until Euphemia swatted him with a tea towel, and Remus settled on the sofa with a book. At the same time, James sprawled across both your laps, Fleamont charming logs into the fireplace until the whole room glowed.

You drifted between them all, always touching one of them, James' hand in yours, Sirius' leg bumping yours, Remus’ arm draped along the back of the sofa.

By the time the sky outside had gone indigo and the fire was burning low, you were curled between James and Remus under a thick blanket, half-listening to Sirius recount a wildly exaggerated story about a Quidditch match.

It was James who sat up first, eyes catching on the frost flittering in the garden. “We should go flying,” he said suddenly, a boyish excitement in his voice.

Sirius perks up immediately. “Finally. I thought you'd never suggest it.”

Remus’ brows lifted. “You're both going to freeze.”

“Worth it,” Sirius said with a grin.

James’ gaze flicked to you, the excitement dimming just a touch. “We won't be long. You sure you’ll be alright?”

Before you could answer, Remus shifted closer, his arm sliding comfortably around your shoulders. “I’ll keep her company,” he said easily. “Go freeze your ears off.”

James bent to kiss your temple, Sirius ruffling your hair on his way past. “DOn’t get too cosy without us,” he said, though there was more donfness than tease in his tone.

And just like that, the front door banged shut behind them, leaving the quiet hum of the fire and Remus’ steady presence beside you.

The manor was noticeably different with James and Sirius outside. Remus hadn’t moved far from where you were curled on the sofa. He’d tucked his ankle over his knee, book balanced in his lap, thought his attention flicked ot you far more than the page. You could feel his haze even when you weren’t looking.

“You’re doing well,” he said eventually.

You turned to him, “What do you mean?”

“I mean. You’re here. You're letting other people look after you. That's not nothing, I’m proud of you.”

Before you could answer, the kitchen doorway filled with Mrs Potter's familiar figure. “Thought I heard voices. Remus, Love, will you be terribly cross if I steal her for a moment?”

Remus shut the book with a soft thump. “Not if you bring her back.”

You followed her into the kitchen, the air immediately richer with the scent of steeping tea and something sweet baking in the oven. She motioned for you to sit at the table, her chair angled toward yours so you weren't sitting stiff across from each other.

“James tells me you’re not much for Christmas,” she said as she poured the two of you a drink.

You hesitated, fingers curling around the edge of your sleeves. “Not at home, no. It’s never really been happy,” you said uncertainly, trying to find the right words.

Euphemia slid a mug toward you and sovered your hand with hers. “Well, this year, it will be. That's a promise.”

It shouldn't have made your throat tighten, but it did. The steam from the tea curled between you, carrying the faint scent of cloves.

“You've got three boys here who think the world of you,” she went on, her tone warm but certain. “And I'm inclined to agree with them. So whatever you're used to, leave it at the door. This is your home as long as you want it.”

You managed a smile, though your chest ached in that unfamiliar way that comes when kindness catches you off guard. “Thank you.”

She patted your hand once before releasing it, just as the back door opened with a gust of cold air sweeping in.

James and Sirius tumbled in, cheeks flushed and hair dusted with snow, arguing about who’d pulled off the better dive. Sirius was already peeling off his gloves and reaching for a cookie, while James leaned down to kiss the top of your head as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“See? Didn’t get too cosy without us,” Sirius grinning, cheeks filled with cookie.

Remus appeared in the doorway, one brow arched. ��That depends on how you define cosy.”

~~~~~

The manor was quiet in the deep hours of the night. The heavy silence was broken only by the occasional groan of the old creak of the building in the wind.

Your room, warm under Euphemia’s layered quilts, had begun to smell faintly of the soap you’d use in your evening bath, and your body was sinking toward sleep when the door creaked open.

You didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Sirius slipped inside, shutting the door with deliberate care. His hair was loose, falling into his handsome face, and he was wearing only a soft, worn jumper and pyjama bottoms.

He grinned when your head lifted from the pillow. “Miss me?” he whispered.

“You saw me an hour ago," you responded, voice thick with tiredness, though the warmth in your chest was already excited.

He padded across the rug in bare feet, not even pretending to hesitate before sliding under the covers. The bed dips, quilts shifting as his arm wrapped around your middle, pulling you in until your nose was pressed to his warm chest.

“The hour was too long,” he said simply, kissing the top of your head.

It started with little things, his thumb stroking the curve of your hip through the fabric of your nightshirt, his lips brushing your hairline. You curled into him without thinking, knees knocking his, your cheek pressed against the steady beat of his heart.

When his mouth found yours, it was unhurried, tasting faintly of toothpaste and the cocoa you’d all shared earlier. Sirius kissed you as if he had no intention of stopping. Slow, coiling drags of his soft lips that melted into each other, broken only by the quiet hums you both made when you shifted closer.

“I’m gonna kiss you all night, you taste so good,” he whispered against your mouth before kissing you deeply once more.

You smile into the touch, letting his hand slide lower over your thigh, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch.

The door creaked again.

Sirius didn’t glance up; he just grinned into the kiss as Remus slipped inside, shutting the door behind him.

“Couldn’t resist, could you?" Sirius teased.

Remus didn't answer. He only shook his head with a faint smile and crossed to the bed, climbing on your other side. His body was warm from the shower, his hair still slightly damp as he pressed in, his long arm snaking over both you and Sirius.

“Thought I was just keeping an eye on her,” Remus explained, mouth brushing your temple. “But then I missed both of you.”

The three of you lay tangled for a long moment, your body cradled between theirs, Sirius’ fingers tracing lazy shapes over your hip while Remus’ hand slides along your thigh under the blanket. You could feel the heat of them through the thin cotton of your nightshirt, their quiet breathing syncing with yours.

Another creek.

Sirius huffed a laugh before the door even opened fully.

James leaned in the doorway, hair mussed from sleep, wearing that familiar expression of long-suffering fondness. “I should’ve known you two couldn’t stay away.”

“Join us then,” Sirius said easily, like it was inevitable.

James sighted, more for show than anything, and padded over, climbing in beside Sirius so the four of you were pressed together in a warm, breathing knot.

It began almost by accident, a kiss between you and Sirius deepening, your leg slipping over his hip. Remus’ hand followed the movement, smoothing up the inside of your thigh with a gentleness that made your pulse race. James shifted closer, his fingers brushing your jaw as he kissed you over Sirius’ shoulder, his lips sweet and slow.

The blankets became a cocoon, holding in the heat as bodies shifted. Sirius’ mouth left yours to trail down your neck, the scrape of his teeth softened by a kiss. Remus’ fingers slipped under your nightshirt, spreading over your stomach before easing lower, his palm cupping you with gentleness.

James’ hand was in Sirius’ hair now, pulling him into a kiss that you felt more than saw. Sirius made a low sound, his hand finding James’ hip under the covers, their bodies pressing together as they kissed.

You turned into Remus’ chest with a quiet gasp when his fingers slid beneath your panties, stroking in slow circles. He kissed the top of your head, “Easy, love. We’ve got you.”

The pace stayed unhurried, Sirius’ mouth finding yours again, James kissing along your shoulder, Remus working you open with careful, deliverable motions. When you moaned, Sirius swallowed it with a grin, his hand drifting down to cover Remus, guiding him in deeper.

The three of them moved around you like you’re all in sync. Each touch and kiss flows into the next.

James’s lips met Remus's over your head, Sirius's hand stroking along James’s thigh, your fingers curling into Sirius’s jumper.

When you came, quiet and trembling between them, they kept you close, lips brushing whatever skin they could reach, their hands smoothing over you.

You lay tangled in their warmth, the brady rhythm of three heartbeats surrounding you, the quiet weight of their limbs draped over yours.

Outside, the winter wind rattled against the windows, but here, in this bed, in this house, you’re in a safety cocoon.

You’d never been more thankful for your lovers before; of this new family you’d found and welcomed you in with open arms. You were theirs and they were yours.

#poly!marauders #the marauders #the marauders x reader #the marauders smut #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black smut #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter smut #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #hp smut #mine*#request

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myfictionaldreams · 6 days ago

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Hello lovelies, just a polite reminder that my requests are closed and I'm going to be turning off anon for a little bit as people continue to send me requests, despite it saying "requests closed" everywhere!

#*#requests

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myfictionaldreams · 6 days ago

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Hello! I’m not sure if you are taking requests, but if you are may I please have a Stucky (not Mafia!Stucky) reaction to you getting really badly sunburnt and taking care of you after? Just got back from an all day fishing trip and OMG the pain in my burnt face, shoulders and arms is starting to set in 😭. Was curious how they would take care of reader going through the same thing. Love your works! But if you’re not taking requests no worries!

Honeyyy, it's been so long since you sent this (im so sorry for the delay), but I hope you've recovered from your sunburn! This ended up being more a drabble than anything ~ I hope thats ok <3

The trip was supposed to be a holiday. A few days at the coast, toes in the sand, pretending you were just another couple instead of two men who could clear a room with a single glance.

You’d wandered down the beach, with the breeze brushing your cheeks and the salty scent of the ocean surrounding you, as they “watched the boats.” Aka, they were watching for the importing of goods that had been whispered about through the black market. They weren’t watching to stop it, but to interfere and take the goods themselves.

By the time you padded back up the boardwalk, sand clinging to your calves and sun kissing your skin, Bucky nearly dropped his bottle of beer.

“Doll.” his brows shot up, mouth tugging into that half-smile that usually preceded a teasing quip. “What did you do? Fall asleep out there? You’re glowing, and I don’t mean that in a positive way. Did you forget sunscreen?”

Your composure breaks, shoulders slumping as you hide your flushed face, groaning, “I applied plenty of sunscreen! You helped me with my back! It’s not that bad of a burn, right?”

Steve looked over then, and the humour drained right out of him. He set the binoculars aside, coming over to brush the back of his knuckles against your bare shoulder. You hissed at the immediate burn as he gave you the look.

“Sunburn,” he stated, disappointed, as if you could have helped the way your skin reacted to the beaming rays of the sun. His hand moved to your lower back, careful not to press too hard as you flinched at the touch, as more of your skin revealed to have been burnt, as he moved you towards the villa you were staying in.

Bucky trailed behind, chuckling. “We leave you alone for a couple of hours, and the sun ruins you. How are we supposed to protect you from the sun?! Unrealistic standards for boyfriends these days.”

Even though he was trying to make you laugh, you still felt glum, feel hot, sticky and crisp. “I said I’m fine. I just wanted to go for a walk.”

“Yeah, sweetheart, you always say you’re fine right before you’re not.” Bucky ducked past Steve to open the door, then grinned as he glanced back at you. “At least it’s cute. Kinda. In a fresh lobster kinda way.”

Steve swatted Bucky’s arm as he herded you inside. “Don’t encourage her. She’ll think it’s a joke instead of an injury, Buck.”

Bucky holds his hands up in defence, biting his lip to hold back the smirk, but still flicks a wink in your direction when he catches your eye. That earned him another swat, but by then Steve was already fetching aloe from the bag he’d brought instead of packing.

With you sitting at the end of the bed, he worked the cool gel over your skin in steady, soothing circles while Bucky leaned against the wall, arms crossed and smirking.

“You know,” he drawled, voice full of mock, “if that sun wants to pick a fight, we could take care of that too. Might be a challenge, but I like our odds.”

You laughed despite the sting, and Steve shook his head with a long-suffering sigh. “You’re impossible.”

Bucky winks again. “Nah, just dedicated to my girl.”

And with both of them hovering, one overprotective, the other teasing but no less tender, you let yourself sink into the moment.

#mafia!stucky #mafia au #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #stucky x reader #stucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mafia stucky drabble #drabble #mine*

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myfictionaldreams · 10 days ago

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Chris Evans with glasses during the presstour of his new movie just has me thinking of mafia!Steve sitting in his office, reading some pages while his girl naps in his lap. YOUR INFLUENCE >>>>

⁀➷ Framed in Sin// Mafia!Stucky x F!Reader

Summary: An ordinary morning takes a turn when a new accessory catches the attention of both you and Bucky. And Steve knows exactly how to use it to his advantage.

Requested by: I have been thinking about this request so much (I'm also sorry for the delay!) My god, this ended up taking a mind of its own, but thank youuuu for this request!!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, threesome, douple penetration, cockwarming, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, anal sex, size kink, anal play, rough sex (!), praise kink, glasses kink (obvs)

Words: 4.7k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The morning starts deceptively quiet in the Rogers-Barnes household. Fresh coffee scent fills the air, as early light filters in through the blinds, painting lazy stripes across the kitchen table.

You’re curled in one of the chairs, knees tucked under you, wearing the light summer dress Steve picked out for you last week, pale fabric with thin straps brushing your shoulders.

It’s Steve’s favourite sight, you looking effortlessly beautiful, barefoot and softly comfortable whilst you nibble on a piece of toast.

Bucky’s at the stone, dressed head to toe in black, a fitted tee, dark jeans, boots that thud against the wooden flooring as he moves. His buzz cut is fresh, stubble shadowing his jaw, adding to the sharpness of his features. He’s cooking, flipping pancakes one-handed whilst his metal arm holds the spatula. He’s humming under his breath, all gentle tones to combat with his tough exterior.

Steve is buttoning the cuffs of his navy shirt; the sleeves hug his forearms, the fabric stretched just enough to make it obvious he’s built for far more than boardrooms and meetings. His hair is in that just barely tamed state, long enough to curl at the ends and fall against his forehead when he moves, the type that makes your finger itch to push it back. The beard is neat but thick enough to give him that older, more dangerous edge.

He admires the domestic bliss of his mornings, kissing you in passing whilst resting a possessive hand on the waist of Bucky as he pours himself a coffee, as Dodger, your Rottweiler, circles his legs.

“Need to pick something before the office,” Steve casually announces as he leans back against the countertop, sipping from his black coffee.

Bucky glances over his shoulder, “Yeah, no worries, we’ll leave in 20.”

Breakfast is easy. Steve steals a bite of your toast between scoffing the pancakes made for him. It’s simple and perfect.

As Natasha’s text informs that the convoy is ready, you wrap your bare feet in simple flats, slipping your hand into Steve’s without thinking as he holds the door open for you. Then you giggle as you watch the passive-aggressive grunts between Bucky and Sam as they both fight for who opens the backseat door for you.

Bucky wins.

The SUV is cool and shadowed inside. Sam takes the back seat beside you, scanning the street through tinted windows. Bucky climbs into the passenger seat, sprawling back slightly, one arm over the backrest and the other draped casually over his thigh.

You can see the edge of his shoulder holster under his shirt, the black fabric stretched tight over muscle.

It’s not a long ride for Steve to drive to the shop as he parks outside a narrow storefront with frosted glass windows, kills the engine, and gets out without another word.

The moment the door shuts, you ask Sam and Bucky, “So what is this place?”

Sam snorts, “It’s the opticians.”

“I didn’t even realise he had any trouble with his eyesight,” you muse.

Bucky turns in his seat to face you directly with a grin, “I have. He squints at every report he reads now, always complaining of a headache at the end of a long day of reading. It’s safe to say our man is getting older and needs some reading glasses. Who wants to bet he’s going to come out with these half-moon old man glasses?”

You giggle, unable to imagine Steve Rogers as a big, beefy, Mafia leader, ruthless and protective, with little old man glasses.

Sam shakes his head with a smirk, “Nah. Full frames, going full Professor Rogers vibe. The kind that makes you think he’s going to lecture you.”

Before long, Steve returns to the car, but the seat blocks your view of him as you’re sitting directly behind him.

There’s silence as Bucky turns to Steve in his seat, his eyes fixated on his face.

“What the fuck,” Bucky says in a rush.

Steve’s tone is casual, almost innocent, “What?” Silence follows from Bucky as he continues to stare at his boyfriend with his mouth slightly agape. Then Steve chuckles low, “Are you hard right now?”

Bucky shifts in his seat, grabbing at his crotch in an unconvincing attempt to readjust. “Shut up.”

“Mmhm,” Steve hums, all smug satisfaction.

You can’t wait anymore as you unclip your buckle and lean forward between the seats, and your breath immediately gets stuck in your throat.

Dark, circular frames that sit perfectly along the bridge of his nose, drawing attention to his ice-blue eyes, now sharper and impossibly clear behind the glass. His hair falls just enough to shadow the frames, framing his mouth in a way that makes it hard to look anywhere else.

He’s dangerous without them, but with them? He looks untouchable.

Your hand moves before you can think, fingers brushing his jaw, thumb grazing the cool metal of the glasses’ arm.

“Oh my god. Steve’s you’re…” the words die on your tongue as you bite your lip.

Steve’s lips curve into a slow smirk, “Yeah?”

You nod, still touching him, unsure how to verbalise just how good he looks. You can see Bucky continuing to stare at Steve at your side, like you’re both hypnotised by how handsome he is and how much the glasses suit him.

From that moment on, you can’t stop touching him, to the point that Sam has to get out of the car to swap places with Steve so that he could sit in the back, your hand resting on his forearm, leaning forward to press your lips to his jaw at every stoplight.

It’s clear that the reactions are not missed by the SU behind as Natasha’s voice comes through the radio in the front seat, “Barnes looks like he’s about two seconds away from climbing into Rogers’ lap. What the hell did I miss?”

Steve just laughs deeply to himself as you cling to him, not stopping any of your movements. If anything, the faint curl of his mouth says he’s enjoying every second of it. And Bucky? Silent, but his gaze never leaves Steve’s profile, eyes dark, jaw tight, shifting in his seat like the air’s too hot.

The convoy pulls into the secured parking lot of the office. Natasha is already out of her SUV, eyes scanning the perimeter with her usual predator’s ease. Sam helps you out of the car, but you barely notice; your eyes are still hyperfixated on Steve.

The circular frames catch the light as he looks over the day’s schedule Natasha hands him, and it’s unfair. The dark lenses make his eyes sharper, more calculating, but they also soften the edges of his smile when he glances down at you.

You’re supposed to follow Sam to the elevator to head to the office, but instead, you slip in behind Steve, your hand sliding into the crook of his arm.

“You look so handsome,” you say whilst tilting your head to admire the glasses from a different angle.

He hums, a slight smirk playing at his lips as he leans down to kiss your temple. “Do I now?”

“Mmhm.” You reach up, running your fingertip along the side of the frames. “I can’t stop looking at you.”

Steve’s hand finds your waist, pulling you closer as you walk through the storage facility in the basement of the building. However, upstairs, Steve moves with the calm precision of someone who’s built an empire from nothing, guards instantly straightening their postures and firming their grip on their weapons.

His office is a mix of elegance and intimidation, a heavy wood desk, leather chairs and a wall of glass that overlooks the city skyline.

Natasha and Bucky are already waiting, folders spread across the desk. Bucky’s leaning back in one of the chairs, with the lazy posture that only partially hides the tension in his body. He’s flipping through an inventory report, but the second Steve walks in, his eyes track him like a predator sighting prey.

Steve takes his seat behind the desk, and you follow without hesitation, right into his lap. He doesn’t stop you as you straddle his thighs, doesn't even flinch, just opens the first folder Natasha hands him and starts reading. One hand holds the pages steady, the other rests on your thigh under the desk, thumb tracing slow circles on the hem of your dress.

You tilt your head back to study him. “You’re so perfect like this,” you say quietly, almost shyly, as your fingers toy with the buttons of his shirt.

“Like what, baby?” his voice is low, deliberate, without looking up from the papers.

“Wearing these, being all boss mode, in this suit,” you muse, nudging the glasses with your knuckle.

That finally earns a glance, his eyes glinting behind the lenses. “Glad you approve.”

Bucky makes a low noise from across the desk, something between a scoff and a groan. You glance over your shoulder, and your breath catches. He’s spread his knees wider, his dark eans tented in the front. He’s not even trying to hide it.

Steven notices, too, his smirk deepening in confidence. “Problem, Buck?”

Bucky leans forward in his chair, forearm pressed on his thighs, eyes dropping pointedly to the place where your dress has ridden up on Steve’s lap. “Not unless you count sittin’ here wantin' you look like that a problem.”

Natasha sighs and drops another folder onto the desk, utterly unfazed. “Inventory first, then you two can climb him like a tree. We’ve spoken about this.”

You fumble quietly, leaning your body against his front, face on his shoulder as you nuzzle into his neck. He turns his head just enough for you to catch the faint scent of cedar and aftershave, the warm rasp of his beard against your cheek.

Bucky shifts again, adjusting himself without breaking eye contact with Steve. The tension between them sparks in an unspoken challenge you’ve seen many times before.

And Steve? He’s loving every second. His fingers tighten on your thigh, and his smile is pure sin. “Patience,” he orders, though you can’t tell if he’s saying it to you or Bucky.

The meeting drags on, and Steve is infuriatingly composed.

It’s been over an hour, and you’re still straddling his lap. One of Steve’s hands is lazily resting on your thigh while the other turns pages in a ledger Natasha has laid out in front of him. His glasses have your full attention as you see his beautiful gaze flick down to you ever so often.

You can’t see Bucky, but you can hear that he is not doing as well with his composure.

He’s constantly needing to shift in his chair, huffing with great sighs and shuffling his papers with anxious afflictions. Every time you move even slightly in Steve’s lap, his gaze glances down, a nd you can practically feel the heat rolling off him.

Finally, he huffs again, pushing his chair back. “I’m gonna use the bathroom.”

The second the door closes behind him, Steve’s chuckling, the sound vibrating through your chest. “You know what he’s doing?” he asks, tilting his head so his lips brush your ear. “Touching himself.”

Your thighs tighten around him instinctively, the words pooling molten heat in your belly. Steve notices instantly, feeling your core press down harder against his crotch as his fingers squeeze your thigh tighter. “That turn you on, baby girl? Thinking about Bucky fistinghis cock in the bathroom?”

You nod, a slight, helpless sound escaping you. Steve's lips pressed against your forehead, taking a deep breath of you in as he moved his hands to cup your arse, pulling your pussy down harder against him. Eventually, with the grinding of your hips against him, he’s able to feel your wetness soaking through the thin lace underwear you’re wearing and pooling onto his slacks.

“Soaking already,” he hums, almost to himself. “And all I’ve done is talk to you.”

You try to sit still, but his firm hands continue to massage your ass and thighs over your dress, until you feel the sensation of the rough callouses on his palm over your bare thighs, slipping beneath the material. You shift forward slightly, the subtle grind of your hips pressing against the hardness tenting in his trousers.

A deep, satisfied hum leaves Steve’s chest. “Go on,” his breath is hot against your temple. “Take it out.”

It used to embarrass you, being intimate in front of others, as you’re somewhat conscious of the fact that Natasha is still in the room, but with the way Steve loves to be exhibitionist, you’re soon used to being like this with others around.

Easing back in his lap, your fingers slip to his belt, undoing it with urgency and need. As the material of his slacks part, and your fingers slip beneath, you’re welcomed with the him of him first, then the weight of him, thick and heavy in your palm. You lift your hips just enough for him to push the fabric of your dress up and your panties aside.

“Nice and slow for me, sweetheart,” he warns.

And then you’re sinking onto him.

The stretch is instant and overwhelming, even with how soaked you are as you bite your lip hard to keep from crying out. Steve is so big, the blunt head forcing your body to stretch and yield around him, inch by inch. It’s a pressure and fullness that makes your head spin, like he’s splitting you apart from the inside.

By the time you’re seated fully on him, your thighs are trembling. Steve’s grip on your hip is iron, holding you still. “There you go,” he praises, his voice husky and low. “Nice and snug. Feel how deep I am?”

You can only nod, laying your head on his shoulder again, as your nails dig into his arms as Steve returns your dress around your thighs.

When Bucky comes back in, Steve is already flipping to another page in the ledger like nothing’s happened. You’re rigid in his lap, face pressed to his shoulder to hide your flushed cheeks.

Bucky leans back in his chair, stretching and then freezes. His eyes flick down and then back up to Steve’s face, then to yours. His grin spread slowly and wickedly. “Oh, doll,” he drawls. “You cockwarming him?”

You bury your face further into Steve’s neck, embarrassed, but Steve only smirks. “Don’t tease her, Buck. You know you’d be in her position if you could be.”

“You’re not wrong. Bet she’s stuffed, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he says, leaning forward, forearms on the desk.

At this point, Natasha makes an excuse to recheck the stock, leaving the three of you in a room filled with unresolved tension.

Steve’s hand slides a little higher on your thigh, just enough to make your breath hitch. “She’s dripping,” he says, almost conversationally. “And she's gonna sit here nice and quiet until I’m ready to move. Seems she likes the glasses just as much as you do.”

Bucky hums, gaze locked on the side of your face, “How ig does he feel, doll?”

The answer comes out in a shaky whisper as your inner walls clench, “Huge.”

Steve chuckles, his thumb stroking lazy circles into your skin. “Bigger than you can take, really. But she’s such a good girl for me.”

Bucky shifts in his seat again, openly palming himself now, watching the way you squirm in Steve’s lap. “Fuck, look at you. All pretty and full.” He then leans back in his chair, his gaze now locked on Steve as he licks his lips, “You’re just sitting there, letting her squeeze you like that? You’re stronger than me, Stevie.”

Steve’s jaw ticks, his arm circling your waist to pull you tighter to his front. “You wouldn’t last five minutes, Buck.”

Bucky tilts his head, smirking and oozing confidence. “Probably not. But I’d make those five minutes count.”

You can feel it, the subtle shift in Steve’s cock, already thick inside you, swelling even harder at the challenge. His body’s tense beneath you, the air between the two men sparking.

“Talk’s cheap,” Steve says, eyes narrowing behind the lenses. “I’ve got her right where I want her. Warm, tight and soaking. She’s all mine, Barnes.”

“She’s ours,” Bucky corrects.

The words punch low in your stomach. Your hips twitch involuntarily as you push your throbbing clit against his pelvis, your body tightening around Steve’s cock in response. His next breath is a low grunt; you feel the deep throb of him inside you.

“Hear that?” Bucky drawls. She likes it when I remind her.”

That's all it takes for the simmering coil to snap. Your body tightens in bursting waves, heat and wetness soaking through you, overwhelming as you orgasm hard around his cock.

Ao hard in fat that Steve’s words die in his throat as he curses, “-Fuck!” his big hands locking around your hips as if to anchor himself. You feel the way your muscles grip him so tightly he’s nearly forced out of your body, but he keeps your hips down with every twitch of your orgasm, trying to milk him.

Your head falls forward onto his shoulder again, mouth open but soundless, eyes hazy and glassy.

Steve’s breathing hard now, one big hand cupping your jaw to tilt your face up to him. His pupils are blown wide, the sharp glint of his glasses framing the heat in his gaze.

“That good, baby?” he asks gently.

You can’t even speak, just nodding, still fluttering around him.

Steve pushes the chair back from the desk, the scrap of wheels on hardwood loud in the quiet room. You remain in his lap, limp and pliant, your dress rucked up around your hips.

Bucky’s already moving, stalking over with dark eyes, dropping to his knees between Steve’s spread legs. His metal hand brushes your calf before curling around your thigh, pushing it open further.

“Let’s see our girl,” he says, voice rough with arousal.

He fists the hem of your dress and lifts, revealing the soaked scrap of fabric barely clinging to your hips. It’s gone in an instant, ripped away with a single sharp tug that leaves the elastic snapping against your skin.

You gasp, still catching your breath, but Bucky’s focus is already lower. He dips his head, warm breath fanning over your bare skin before his tongue slides along the seam of your body, not at your pussy, but further back, teasing the tight ring of muscle at your ass.

You jolt in Steve’s lap, but his arms band around you, holding you still.

“Easy. Let him work,” he encouraged at your ear, his arms remaining safe and securely around your back.

Bucky hums low, the vibration sinking into you as his tongue flicks over you again. He works you open slowly, alternating licks with the slow push of his finger, the cool slide of metal followed by the warm press of fresh as he switches hands.

All the while, his gaze keeps firmly on Steve’s.

Steve meets it head-on, smirking faintly, adjusting his glasses with one hand while the other strokes your side. “Enjoying yourself down there, Buck?”

“More than you can imagine,” Bucky growls, curling his finger inside you just enough to make you gasp and try to hump back against his face. “Gonna get her ready for me, all while you sit there looking like that.”

Steve chuckles darkly, “You keep staring at me like that, and she's not gonna be the only one getting fucked.”

The tension between them hums like a live current, every word and glance shooting straight through you. You're already trembling again, the fullness of Steve inside you mixing with the slow, decadent invasion from Bucky’s mouth and fingers until you can barely breathe.

Buck's mouth leaves you with a wet, obscene sound, and before you can catch your breath, his hands are on your hips, dragging you forward just enough to line himself up.

The first push is slow, unbearably slow, until the thick head of his cock breaches you. Your whole body jerks in Steve’s lap at the intrusion as you cry out.

It’s too much, you're already so full of Steve you can feel every throb of his pleasure, and now Bucky is stretching you in the opposite direction, filling you where you’ve been worked open just moments ago.

Your hands fly to Steve’s wrists, nails biting into his skin. “It’s too much, “you pant, the words high and shaky.

Steve leans down, lips brushing your ear. “No, baby. It’s perfect.”

Bucky's voice is a growl behind you, “You can take it, hot mama, I know you can.”

He presses forward until his hips are flush with your ass, the stretch stealing the breath from your lungs. Your body’s caught between them, completely pinned, and they hold you there, Steve’s big hands gripping your waist, Bucky’s fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise.

The first thrust is slow and measured, Bucky’s angle limited by the way Steve’s still seated in the leather chair. He’s half kneeling behind you, the low position making his thighs burn as he pushes forward, withdrawing only enough to slam back into you again, each movement forcing you deeper into Steve’s lap.

Stev’s head tilts back against the chair, but his gaze stays locked on Bucky’s/ the glasses frame the icy intensity of his stare, and Bucky meets it without flinching. They lean forward until their foreheads touch, breath mingling, eyes locked while your body rocks between them.

The room is thick with heat, your whimpers layered under the low groans of both men. Steve’s thumb rubs lazy circles into your side, but his grip is iron.

Then Buckys teeth flash, and they're on each other, mouths crashing together in a rough, biting kiss. Steve's hand comes up to the back of Buck's neck, dragging him closer, the sound of it raw and wet. They kiss like they're fighting for ground, licks, eeth and growls, all while they keep fuckigy you, every thrust from Bucky shoving you further down onto Steve’s cock.

When they break apart, you're caught in the middle of it. Steve tilting your face up to kiss you, deep and claiming, while Buckys mouth trails down your neck to your shoulder, before he takes your lips next.

They take turns, passing your breath between them, until you're gasping, your head spinning from the overload.

Bucky pulls back just far enough to look at you, and then Steve again. His voice is hoarse, almost desperate. “It's not enough, I can’t get deep enough.”

Steve doesn't need any further encouragement/ he stands, still buried inside you, and your legs wrap around his waist on instinct. In two long strides, he crosses the room to the couch against the wall, lying back and pulling you with him until you're sprawled against his chest.

Bucky follows immediately, climbing onto the cushions behind you. His knees wedge against the couch back for leverage, and the moment he lines up again, you know this is different; he has more purchase now, more room to move, and his first thrust is deep enough to knock a broken moan from your lips.

“Fuck!” Your hands scramble for something to hold onto, finding Steve’s shirt, bunching the fabric in your fists. Steve’s arms wrap around you, locking you in place as he grinds up into you with each of Bucky’s brutal thrusts.

Bucky's rhythm is merciless now, hips snapping forward without restraint, each thrust of his cock punching the air from your lungs and forcing Steve’s deeper at the same time. You're stretched to the edge of what you can take, caught between the two of them, and every nerve is alive.

It builds before you even realise it's happening, the pace, the weight of them inside you, the heat. Your body's stung so tight it's almost painful, every thrust from Bucky shoving Steve deeper, every grind from Steve shoving Bucky back.

And then it hits.

The orgasm tears through you so violently that it steals your breath, your whole body locking up around it. Your nails dig into Steve’s shoulders hard enough to leave crescents, your legs trembling as your vision goes white.

“Oh my god!

The words break apart in your throat, lost under the sheer force of it. Steve’s voice cuts through, low and steady in your ear. “Breathe, baby. Just breathe for me.”

Buck's hand spreads wide on your stomach, holding you down through the spasms. “That’s it, pretty girl. Let it happen. You’re doing so good for us.”

And you do, you can’t stop it. Liquid warmth floods between you and Steve, soaking his thighs, his suit pants and the couch beneath as you squirt each internal clench. The sound is wet, and the way they both growl at once tells you they know exactly what you've done.

Your body jerks with aftershock, every nerve alive. The pleasure teeters dangerously close to pain, and you flick when Buckys hips roll forward again.

“Too much,” you gasp, turning your face into Steve’s neck.

Bucky freezes instantly, his hands gentle as he eases out of you. “Alright, doll. You did so well. You're perfect, we’ll be careful, ok?”

Steve kisses the top of your head, murmuring softly, “So proud of you, just breathe, we’ll talk when you're able too.”

When you finally open your eyes, you're still slumped against Steve’s chest, his cock heavy and hot inside you. Their air is thick with scents of sex. Buck's gaze flicks to Steve, then back to you over your shoulder. “You want to just watch for a minute?”

Yorulips part, your voice still shaky. “No. I want to keep going, but it’s too much having both of you at the same time. I… I want you to fuck him, while he’s still inside me.”

Steve’s brows lift slightly, that sharp glint in his eyes behind the glasses, but he doesn't argue. Bucky's grin is verging on feral. “Yes, ma’am.”

In a flash, he's ripping the rest of Steve’s soaked trousers down, baring the thick length of him where it disappears inside you. Bucksy's hand works quickly, slick with spit, a couple of practised strokes as he feels between Steve’s legs, but Steve catches his wrist, panting heavily.”

“No, I like it raw, just fuck me already, I’m already so close.”

Bucky grins, kneeling between Steve’s spread legs, “figured you would, handsome.”

The first push has Steve grunting, his teeth gritting as Bucky forces his way in. The strength pulls a sound from Steve’s chest that you've never heard before, deep and rough, and the involuntary thrust it causes drives his cock harder into you.

You gasp, your whole body jolting at the sudden, brutal depth. Steve’s breath is hot against your ear. “Feel that, baby, that's him since me, fucking us both.”

Buck's hands clamp onto your hips, using you as leverage as his pace builds into hard, driving thrusts. Each one forces Steve deeper inside you, the thick length dringing against spots so sensitive it makes your toes curl.

The rhythm is relentless, Bucky using Steve's body to fuck you both, the couch creaking under the force of it. Your cries mix with Steve's low, guttural groans and Bucky's sharp exhales.

The tension coils tight again, far too soon. You're right to the edge, every nerve raw, and you know they are too.

Buck's voice is a rasp as he pants, “Gonna make us all cum, doll.”

Steve’s grip on your hips is bruising now, “Do it, now, Bucky.”

It’s messy and chaotic. Bucky is driving deep into Steve, Steve’s cock shoving into you harder with every push. Your climax crashes into you again, muscles clenching so tight around Steve that his release follows hot and deep.

Buckys' shout is ragged, his final thrusts grinding all three of you together before he spills into Steve, hips jerking through the aftershocks.

When it's over, you all collapse into the couch in a tangle of limbs. Steve's arms wrap around you instinctively, pulling you in against his chest, his breathing still rough. Bucky drops down beside you, one big hand stroking lazy circles into your thigh.

The world feels muted now, only the steady thud of Steve’s heartbeat against your back and the faint press of Bucky's palm ground you in the haze.

Bucky glances up at Steve, eyes catching on the frames that have somehow stayed perfectly in place through all of it. “These stay, every time. It’s non-negotiable.”

Steve huffs a quiet laugh, “noted.”

You hum in soft agreement, too blissed out and bone-deep tired to lift your head from Steve’s chest. “Mm, I love the glasses.”

#mafia!stucky #mafia stucky #mafia au #mafia steve rogers #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #stucky smut #marvel smut #mine*#request

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myfictionaldreams · 10 days ago

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Hiii I was going through aaall your Marvel stories last night and oof - you're massively talented. I've read acotar too so I'm going to dive into them next ;) I was wondering out of all those Stucky stories, do you happen to have a favorite? and do you have something else planned for them?

Much love to you!

hey, sorry for the slow reply, life has suddenly become hectic! Thank you so much for reading lots of my fics ahhh thats so so nice! I also hope you liked the acotar ones, they have a special place in my heart haha

With Mafia!Stucky, I always go back to the first couple of fics as my fav, specifically 'You're mine' and 'Steve's Birthday Wish', just because it was one of the first fics I've written and it just spiralled all of these fics for years (and i just loved possessive steve lmao). Otherwise I liked writing the backstory with "Last Hope", because I felt like I could make reader have more character and individuality. Plus, it felt like it as actually writing my own world and story if that makes sense?

Idk, I love writing, there's always going to be more for stucky and people always send requests for stucky! I massively appreciate all of the support for them!

#mafia au #mafia!stucky #asks*#anon

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myfictionaldreams · 10 days ago

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Would you write Joel x tess x reader?

hey ummm im not really too sure as ive not really been invested in tess as a character therefore not sure i could write her. Sorry! I'd write for joel though x

#asks*#anon #sorry my love

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myfictionaldreams · 11 days ago

Text

JOSEPH QUINN & PEDRO PASCAL The Fantastic Four: First Steps Interview | Jake's Takes

#joseph quinn #pedro pascal

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myfictionaldreams · 12 days ago

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diet pepsi

warnings! age gap. dbf!dean. innocent!reader. female!reader. smut. unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it). graphic language. grammar mistakes.

word count! 1.9k

dean winchester was the forbidden fruit you so desperately craved.

he was your father’s friend. your dad helped him during a hunt when they were younger and in exchange, dean helped your family quit the hunters' life. despite that, he still found a moment to come over from time to time for dinner or other stuff like that.

however, lately, his presence has begun to affect you more and more prominently. every time he’d come over for the annual dinner, you’d be sitting quietly in front of him, your thighs squeezed together as you felt the heat pooling in your core, slowly seeping into your panties and making them stick to your skin. he’d ask you things about college and other stuff and you’d just murmur, digging your food with a fork to distract yourself from the infuriating tension in your body.

you needed him.

badly.

but he was your dad’s friend. and the fact that he was feeding into your desires didn’t help.

he would smirk at you, clearly noticing how hot and bothered you were by his presence and behaviour. at this point he could easily recognize when women were attracted to him and you were just so innocent, trying your best to hide your arousal that it didn’t take him long to pick on the visible clues. so he’d tease you discreetly, right in front of your parents. he was playing a dangerous game and you just fell right into it. but you were just so attractive now that you were all grown up, and he couldn’t control himself around pretty girls.

so, he’d caress your leg from your ankle to your calf under the table, making you shiver. as well as brush his hands against your body while passing by, especially against your ass or hands. and you were eating it up every time, trying to prevent yourself from pouncing on him altogether. your body was going through all these new things that kept building up and you didn’t know how to relieve yourself. but you knew who could help you.

dean fucking winchester.

so when you were leaving back to college and he offered to drop you off at the bus station, you were ecstatic as if you won a lottery or something.

cause honestly? you kind of did.

however, as soon as you found yourself in winchester’s impala, your hands clasped together on your lap, you tried your best not to look at him. you could feel the way his gaze was burning your skin even though he was only stealing glances from the corner of his eye. damn, it was actually kind of intimidating, being with him on your own.

“you know, you grew up real pretty, sweetheart,” he hummed, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the steering wheel.

you looked at him hesitantly, the heat wave striking you ten times harder.

he just complimented you.

“thank you,” you responded with a shy smile, fiddling with your fingers.

he turned his head slightly more towards you and fuck, he just wanted to ravish you. his lower lip was caught between his teeth as he took in a sharp breath, at this point, shamelessly ogling you up and down. it was so weird, cause he knew you since you were a child but now you were a grown woman—a very attractive one on top of that. damn, these curves of yours. only recently did he begin to notice that and it’s been hell ever since. but since he was already there once, what’s there to lose?

he could feel his pants significantly tighten, his dick beginning to stir to life, hardening against the inside of his thigh. he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

i’m just supposed to drop her off at the bus station, he thought to himself when suddenly your voice brought him back to reality.

“you just missed the stop,” you hummed, pointing your finger at the passing parking lot, slightly leaning forward.

dean cursed and turned his head to look at the station now disappearing in the side-view mirror. with a sigh, he turned back towards you, however, he didn’t expect your face to be so close to his. his eyes widened as your lips almost brushed in a kiss. but he quickly pulled away, almost swerving the car off the road. he uttered a short ‘fuck’ under his breath, quickly getting back in the lane and then clearing his throat.

“well, it looks like i’m gonna drop you off myself,” he quickly gave you that cheeky grin and you just nodded your head obediently, a small ‘oh’ escaping your lips as you weren’t sure if you even had it in yourself to protest. after all, that meant more time with him.

and well, it certainly did.

you’re not sure how the situation resolved to you kissing aggressively in the back of his car after he pulled over on the side of the road where cars barely passed. everything up to that point felt as if it was behind a thick fog of lust that clouded your brain and only now was getting released.

“jesus christ, your ass looks so good in those jeans,” he groaned appreciatively, cupping your butt and squeezing it through the denim of your pants that tightly clung to your skin, only accenting your curves. you blushed heavily and hid your face in the crook of his neck, playfully nipping at his skin.

he let out a guttural growl, grabbing your chin and tilting your head back so you were facing him, and then he smashed his lips on yours once again. his other hand was splayed on your hip, holding you tightly as you straddled him, your clothed core rubbing against his hard bulge with every little move you made.

“baby, keep doing that and i won’t be able to control myself anymore. you’re literally my friend’s daughter. what we’re doing now is already bad enough,” he sighed, slightly pulling back so he could stroke your cheek with the pad of his calloused thumb.

“but no one has to know,” you whispered, leaning into his touch.

“baby—” he started but you quickly cut him off.

“please, i need you,” and the way you said it would be enough to kill him. you practically whimpered in such a pleading tone, your hips softly grinding against his erection. at first, he wanted to be strong and resist the temptation, but he simply couldn’t say no to you.

“fine. but not even a word to anyone about it, ‘kay? you’re a big girl, so i trust that you will behave like one too, right?” he hummed, cocking his brow up as he rubbed your lower lip with his thumb.

“yes. i promise,” you nodded eagerly, your eyes immediately lighting up. and the way he smiled at you all proud that you listened to him, was enough to make your pussy ache for his dick.

“good girl. such a good girl,” he whispered breathlessly, pulling you in for another kiss as he turned you around, so you were lying flat on your back, on the backseat.

his hand snaked down between your bodies, easily getting rid of your jeans, and lowering them down enough for him to snuck his fingers onto your panties. he groaned and bit on your lip as his digits were met with a soft fabric dampened with your juices.

“already so wet for me, huh? you were waitin’ for that, baby? waitin’ to be touched like a good little girl?” he chuckled into your lips, the vibration of his voice sending chills through your body and then straight to your core.

he started rubbing your folds with his fingers to which you whimpered, pushing your hips up to meet his hand. however, he stilled your movement, keeping you down with just one hand, his fingers gripping your side and you knew there’d be bruises from them the next day.

“nuh-uh. patience, sweetheart. no rush,” he cooed, slowing the rubbing movement of his fingers.

you huffed out an annoyed breath but nodded, submitting yourself to his will. he grinned and moved his thumb through your slit, stopping on your clit. he pressed on the sensitive bud, making you let out a soft moan. you closed your eyes and bit your lower lip, letting out a needy whimper. dean quickly pulled your panties to the side and while his thumb kept skillfully working you up at your clit, his other hand moved to his hard cock.

he unbuckled his belt smoothly and tugged his pants down along with his boxers, freeing his throbbing length. it hit his stomach, precum already leaking from the tip. you widened your eyes and basically felt your mouth water at the sight of his massive dick. before you could even say anything, he rubbed the head of it against your folds, spreading them apart as he slowly gathered your juices. you panted heavily, holding onto his shoulders as he nudged the head of his cock at your entrance.

and it hit you at that moment—you were about to lose your innocence.

but then again, why did it feel so exciting and your stomach was fluttering so funny?

as soon as he entered your tight passage, you almost screamed, jolting up. dean slowly eased his way inside your wet pussy as it squelched around him, cradling the back of your head as he pulled you close.

“shh, baby. shh, it’s fine. just relax. it’ll feel good,” he soothed you, stopping for a second so you could get used to his thick cock practically splitting you open.

and soon, you relaxed, your muscles giving in and familiarising themselves with each vein that throbbed, deliciously caressing your heat, only making you more aroused.

when he finally started moving, you were making sounds out of the adult movies, windows beginning to fog up with how hard both of you were breathing. at first, dean was slowly rocking his hips back and forth, not really pulling out that much, so you’d get used to how it felt. but as soon as he saw you enjoying yourself, he picked up the pace and started thrusting into your pussy more vigorously, his muscles flexing as he supported himself on one hand, the other holding you close to his body as your cunt sucked him inside eagerly.

“so fuckin’ tight, baby. just for me. you’re such a dirty girl, letting your dad’s friend fuck you in the back of his car. shit, you’re a desperate little thing. but i like it,” he panted and chuckled, leaning down to bury his face in the crook of your neck, his beard tickling your skin as he nipped at it, making sure to leave hickeys and mark you properly.

as soon as he felt your walls began to clamp down on him, he picked up his pace intending to make you cum on his cock.

“dean, i—”

“i know, baby. i know. just let it go. come for me,” he reassured, connecting your lips in a kiss and soon, your pussy squeezed him tightly as your body shuddered, convulsing in an overwhelming pleasure accompanied by your loud moan.

dean groaned and pressed his forehead against yours as his thrusts grew sloppier. he wanted to help you come down from your high, but when he felt the coil in his stomach tighten, he quickly pulled out and came on your stomach, painting it white with his scorching hot and pearly cum.

“fuckin’ christ. that was so good, sweetheart,” he praised, chuckling breathlessly as he kissed your lips again. “and remember…”

“...don’t tell anybody,” you finished, trying to catch your breath.

“good girl,” he smiled and moved a strand of hair out of your sweat-covered forehead.

a/n: dedicated to my lovely and amazing girlie @titsout4nicholas mwah !!

a/n2: lets ignore the diet coke in the picture i couldn’t find aesthetically pleasing one with pepsi💀

༄♡tags: @frosttbitessam @beausling @deanswidow @titsout4nicholas @a1ecmcdowell @figthoughts @deansbite @aileenunfiltered @fitxgrld @angelicp0etry @hrtsoldierboy @artyandink @10ava01 @abellmunsonmovie

#dean winchester #supernatural #t age gap #t dbf #t innocence

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myfictionaldreams · 13 days ago

Text

Steve Harrington x fem!reader x Eddie Munson [2K]

18+ TW: somnophilia

It was his lips on your bare shoulder that woke you.

An open mouthed kiss and the tickle of his curls on your skin as you shifted, the sheets crumpled under your naked frame as you lay on your stomach. You woke up a little more, blinking into the navy darkness, sleep making your eyes blurry.

The bedroom was a mess, kicked pillows and shoved aside blankets creating grey lumps in the dark, the barely there glow of the street lights that shone through the blinds telling you it was definitely not near morning. Everything still smelled like sex and cologne, a heady mix with your perfume underneath it all and you weren’t sure where your clothes were for the life of you.

It was cosy nonetheless, window just cracked to let some of the summer air inside, a faint breeze that only really added to the warmth. A bubble of still air and bare skin, very touch heightened from how sensitive you’d already been made to feel that night.

You made a soft sound into your pillow, fingers curling into the sheets as someone - Eddie - knelt between your spread legs. He was running a hand across your ass, pushing and squeezing at the plush skin, humming happily when he realised you were stirring. His cock was hard, already nudging at your entrance and you knew from the way you throbbed that he’d been touching you for a while.

“Eddie,” you whined in a pretty, raspy voice that made his cock jump. You were still hoarse from earlier, when you’d cried into your pillow, biting down on the feathers as you were pounded from behind. “S’good.”

The boy leaned in again, soothing you with kisses up and down your spine, his cock sliding in easily as he nudged forward. You whined as he filled you up, your cunt still slick and warm from before. You felt boneless, body laid bare for him to play with but he just growled as you clenched around him, happy to feel your heat.

“Always good for me, sweetheart,” he praised and his voice was as broken as yours. He sounded dirty, grunting every time you pulsed around his cock, his palms grabbing handfuls of your ass to keep you from wriggling away. “Jus’ stay like that, yeah?” He whispered. “Gonna make you feel real nice, baby.”

You nodded, pouting even though he couldn’t see. But you almost cried out into the dark room when you felt the Eddie spread your ass cheeks, a thin line of spit hitting your hole. You could practically sense his grin when you jumped a little at the feel of his thumb, not doing much else but putting pressure on you, getting you wet enough to want more.

You squealed, the noise muffled by your pillow and Eddie snickered, leaning down with his hands on either side of your head. It pushed him deeper into your pussy, your legs spreading on instinct to give him more room. His hips were flush against the swell of your ass when Eddie ducked his head down, nose at your cheek and his voice was downright sinful when he whispered.

“You gonna wake him up, hmm?” A kiss, just below your ear. “You know he loves it when you put on a show for him. Go on, be a good girl, yeah?”

So you reached out, breath already hitching as your hand travelled across the bed, seeking out the warmth beneath the sheets. You found an arm, strong and curled partially under a pillow, a broad back with lean muscles, tanned skin freckled and bed warm. You tugged on the hand that had been used to keep you pinned to the bed early as the owner ate you out, whimpering softly as Eddie started his slow, lazy thrusts again.

“Steve,” you murmured.

Nothing.

“Gotta be a bit louder, sweetheart,” Eddie coaxed. “You know he sleeps like the dead.” He gave your ass a swift tap, grinning at the squeak you made. “Especially when you sucked his cock like you did.”

The reminder made your eyes roll, your lips still puffy and swollen from both of the boy’s kisses and the way you insisted on letting Steve’s cock nudge at the back of your throat for almost too long. So you reached out again, pulling at Steve’s fingers until you could bring them to your lips, already half gone on Eddie’s cock as you let your tongue peel out to touch the tips of them, Steve stirring as you whined his name again.

He appeared from the sheets, legs tangled with them and hair mussed, a pillow crease along on freckled cheek and he blinked at you in the dim light. Steve could just make out Eddie kneeling behind you, leaning back on his ankles as he spread your legs with his hands, keeping your stomach pressed to the bed as he let the head of his cock push in and out of your folds. His eyes found yours, bright and glassy in the glow of the light from the window and realisation hit him at the same time his cock twitched.

“Shit,” he groaned, sleep making his voice thick and rough. He sounded good, so sweet, his movements slow as he shuffled towards you, the smell of his shampoo and aftershave surrounding your sense as he leaned in. “Shit, baby, you guys goin’ again, huh?”

“Couldn’t resist her,” Eddie grunted, the slick sounds of your pussy hugging his cock filling the spaces between his words. “You know what she’s like when she’s sleepin’.”

Steve smiled, sleep warm and still soft, brushing the bridge of his nose against yours as he took his hand from your lips to your jaw. His forehead rested against your own and your eyes fluttered shut, completely surrendering to both men.

“Yeah?” He sounded more awake now but he whispered still, his thumb smoothing underneath your ear. He was so warm, too easy to squirm closer to and Eddie tutted as you tried to wriggle away. “All spread out for him, honey? Putting yourself on show for Eddie, huh?”

You probably had been, unconsciously or not. Still naked and slick from how they’d left you, bites and bruises on your bare skin, bone tired and one leg hitched up to show off every part of you. Playing with each other until you woke was something that had been long discussed, a secret fantasy of yours that you’d finally indulged after three years of being together and two bottles of wine.

“Ass like a fuckin’ peach,” Eddie agreed, his voice breathier now that he was sinking his cock deeper into you. He gave your behind a soft snack, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as the fat jiggled, your cunt clenching around him. “She wants to give you a show, Steve.”

Steve grinned, nudging at your chin until you resurfaced from his neck and he could give you a kiss. He kept it soft and light - too light. Tiny little pecks that had you screwing up your features in protest, one hand fisting at his hair. “Yeah, honey? S’that right?”

You nodded, still gasping against his lips as Eddie rolled his hips into yours. You could feel him nudging deep inside of you, his cock hitting that spot over and over again, a dirty grind more than anything else. You really wanted Steve to kiss you.

“You’re so sweet,” Steve cooed and he was still being so soft, so quiet, his hands tracing down between your breasts, fingers trailing over the dip in your spine. “You wanted me to see how pretty you look when you take Eddie’s cock?”

His words did just as much to Eddie as they did you, Eddie growling under his breath as he raised your hips up, letting the front of your thighs rest on top of his, your cheek pressed flat to the mattress now. He kept up the tiny thrusts of his hips, his cock fully seated inside of you. But now, there was space underneath of your frame, a gap between you and the bed that allowed Steve to snake his hand into.

His fingers found your clit, your folds soaked. You watched his lips make a small ‘o’, surprise and delight in his gaze. “Shit, honey, you’re all worked up.”

You couldn’t say much, just small, gasping “uh, uh, uh’s” falling from your mouth as Eddie fucked you through it. He leaned over your to smooth a hand up your spine, pressing his palm between your shoulder blades as his pace picked up just slightly. Steve matched it, pinching at your clit between rubbing small circles and he finally, finally leaned in to kiss you.

It was slow and lazy like the night had been, like your boy’s were treating you. A languid thing that made your yous curl and your breath hitch, his tongue licking over yours in a filthy, filthy way. He bit at your lip when he pulled away, rubbing your clit a little harder when he saw your eyes screw shut.

“She’s gonna come,” he told Eddie, his own cock pressed hard into your hip. “Oh, oh baby, you’re gonna come real hard, aren’t you?”

You nodded, pulling him closer by the nape of the neck as Eddie leaned back down to blanket himself over you, his hips pressed to your ass as he groaned at the feel of you getting even tighter, his cock twitching in anticipation.

“Please,” you whispered, the plea slurred and muffled as you pressed your face to Steve’s cheek, the need for closeness overwhelming.

“I know,” Steve cooed. “We’ve got you, Eddie’s gonna make you come real fuckin’ good, honey.”

Eddie’s hand curled around the back of your neck then, gentle but firm as he brought you out of hiding, his thumb soothing down the front of your throat. He made you look at Steve as he fucked you, your lips parted, your eyes glassy.

“That’s it, sweetheart, fuck,” Eddie grunted, “lookit Steve, yeah?”

Steve nodded, his free hand that wasn’t teasing your clit joining Eddie’s, wrapping around your throat until his fingers overlapped the other man’s. “Let me see you come, show me what you woke me up for.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things

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myfictionaldreams · 14 days ago

Text

Feeling a little burnt out lately, but I couldn't resist doing one more post with my favorite poly couple. They just have my whole heart. Rowaelin x reader

This was going to be your thirteenth reason —the final, undeniable proof— that you were absolutely, one hundred percent justified in considering throwing yourself off the battlements next time Aelin or Rowan so much as breathed too loudly in your direction.

It had started that morning. A sniffle. A slight ache behind your eyes. Maybe a little nausea. Minor. Manageable. Nothing worth worrying about, let alone worth the King of Terrasen turning into a hulking, overbearing, mother-hen of a male who hadn't let you out of his sight for more than a few minutes.

And gods, if Rowan's pacing didn't drive you mad first, Aelin's dramatics were sure to finish the job.

"Go away," you rasped from the center of the massive bed you were currently buried under, your voice coming out more of a pathetic wheeze than the fierce snarl you'd intended. You coughed once, squeezing your eyes shut as if that alone would ward them off. "I'm fine."

"You’re not fine," Rowan said without even looking at you. His tone was pure command, flat and emotionless to the untrained ear, but you knew him too well. The steel in it was only a thin veil over the worry thrumming through every inch of him.

Before you could summon the strength to argue, another voice chimed in, light and wickedly amused.

"Yeah, maybe we want to get sick too, just so we can stay in bed with you," Aelin drawled from across the room, where she had just abandoned her chair and the book she’d been half-heartedly pretending to read.

You barely cracked an eye open in time to see her grin. That wicked, golden grin that could unravel kingdoms. You didn’t even have the energy to be properly suspicious of it as she crossed the floor toward you with far too much intent for someone claiming casual concern.

Your brow lifted weakly as Aelin, without so much as asking, climbed up onto the bed and crawled over the covers until she flopped dramatically at your side. Her hair fanned across the pillows, a gleaming river of gold that seemed to catch every beam of light from the window.

"You’re going to get sick," you said flatly, though your heart wasn’t in it. Your body was already sagging toward hers instinctively, seeking the warmth you knew she’d give without question.

"If I get sick, I fully expect royal treatment," Aelin sniffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder with a theatrical air that would have made any courtier weep in envy. "Breakfast in bed. Daily foot rubs. A personal bard singing me to sleep. The works."

You let out a weak laugh, your chest rattling slightly with the effort, and shook your head. "You’re the worst patient in the world."

"And you love me for it," she said smugly, resting her head lightly against your shoulder. Her hand found yours under the blankets, fingers twining with easy familiarity. You thought you might’ve had a clever retort when the bed dipped again on your other side, and the mattress shifted with a heavier weight.

There was the faint scent of pine and snow—Rowan. Large, calloused hands, so careful for all their strength, brushed over your forehead. Checking for fever. Again. You grumbled weakly and batted at him, your effort about as effective as a leaf fighting the wind.

"I’m not a fledgling," you muttered, glaring up at him.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t smile. He simply pressed the back of his hand to your cheek again, his face carved into that same hard, merciless mask he wore on the battlefield, but the worry slipped through the cracks.

"You’re warm," he said quietly, the words rough against the otherwise soft hush of the room. "Warmer than this morning."

"I’m fine," you repeated stubbornly, though it was clear none of them believed you.

"And stubborn," Aelin added brightly, squeezing your hand for emphasis.

You rolled your eyes, or you tried. Everything felt heavy. Hot. You hated feeling weak. Hated that you couldn’t just will yourself better and put an end to the worried looks being traded above your head.

"You’re both idiots," you grumbled hoarsely, burrowing deeper into the blankets despite yourself.

"And you’re ours," she said, softer this time. She pressed a kiss to your temple, feather-light, the scent of lavender clinging to her hair.

Rowan shifted closer too, pulling the covers higher up your body, tucking them in tightly around you with infuriating tenderness. His hand lingered against the crown of your head, his thumb stroking once, a quiet touch.

"Rest," he murmured, his voice little more than a breath against your burning skin. "We’re not going anywhere."

It was easier to let yourself sink with them there. To surrender to the pull of sleep.

Maybe later, when you weren’t feeling like death warmed over, you’d yell at them for being ridiculous. For hovering like your mere breathing was something fragile and precious.

But for now, you let yourself drift, knowing that if the world dared so much as breathe wrong in your direction, Rowan and Aelin would burn it down before it ever touched you.

#tog #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius

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myfictionaldreams · 15 days ago

Text

Girl, Interrupted

summary: Eddie crashes by your home when you least expected, but everything happens for a reason, right?

wc: 1.8k

cw: PURE SMUT (MDNI 18+), basically no plot, friends to fwb?, oral (f receiving), Eddie is a tease, fairly bold reader lol, fingering, talk of p in v sex, hair pulling, orgasms idk let me know what else

a/n: my bestie bought me slutty pajamas for my birthday, and since I'm a hypothetical whore, this has been on my mind nonstop. Finally took a break from my spn series to write this down. This is the filthiest thing I've written to date but definitely short and sweet

Eddie’s jaw fell slack as the door opened before him. He knew he shouldn’t have shown up to your place uninvited. Sure, you were his best friend, and of course, you had said he could come over whenever, but that never truly meant unannounced. He was already kicking himself for showing up as late as he did when you opened the door.

Your oh so short pajama shorts were the first thing that caught his eye, how your thighs spilled out beneath them, the cotton begging for relief. His eyes trailed higher to your tank top one size too small. The hem rested just above your midriff, the outline of your hips more prominent than he had ever seen. Your face was flush, pinks and reds lining your cheeks. He fought the urge to pinch himself, scared that he was dreaming, scared that he’d wake up to the absence of you and very real feelings emerging.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?” you asked, your arms crossing over your chest. “I thought you had a date.”

Date, what date? Eddie’s mind was going numb. His brain was flatlining at the mere sight of you, more exposed to him than he’d ever seen you. Fight or flight kicked in, debating on whether to say something or just turn around and leave. He was almost sure he was not supposed to see you in this state.

“I—uhh—it didn’t go well, so I cut it short. But I know you love the place, so I figured I’d bring over the leftovers.”

“Oh, sweet. Thank you.”

Eddie hesitated, scared to ask, but his interest piqued. “Is someone—you’re alone right now, right?”

Your eyebrows pinched together. You exhaled a dry laugh. “Please, I’m always alone. Come in. Tell me about your date.”

You ushered Eddie inside and settled into your couch. You pulled a blanket over you, and Eddie released a sigh. He couldn’t believe the hold you suddenly had on him. It was like he was in high school again, ready to combust at the sight of a shoulder. At least with your legs covered, he was less inclined to think about spreading them.

“Was it really that bad?” you asked, drawing Eddie from his thoughts.

“She was just so boring,” Eddie complained. “Like, there’s nothing wrong with her, but it was like we were from different planets! She didn’t know Metallica! How am I supposed to bond with someone when there’s nothing to relate to?”

“Did you think of showing her?”

“Showing her what?”

“Metallica!” you laughed. “Wouldn’t that be kind of romantic, you know, to introduce that to her? Maybe tell her you’re in a band? It’d be like showing her a whole new world. And maybe you’d get a groupie out of it.”

Eddie swatted at the air. “It’s not worth it. We were both bored. And it was clear she wasn’t looking to rock with a guitarist.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“You didn’t meet her. She’s pristine, a Chrissy Cunningham type. Meant to be with a lawyer or some shit.”

You leaned in closer to Eddie, your blanket sliding down your thighs. “Those are the girls who fantasize about guys like you the most. Those girls on the straight and narrow, the ones who seemed destined to be sweet stay-at-home moms or perfect career women, those are the ones who dream of just one night doing something they never thought they could. Something so wild that when they’re taking their kids to soccer practice, or their ‘perfect husband’ is asleep on the recliner while they're doing the dishes, they can think back to that wild night when they fucked a rockstar.”

Eddie’s lip trembled as chills coursed through his body. You leaned back against the couch and shrugged like what you said was nothing. You had to be on something, he decided. Never had you been so frank when the topic of sex came up. Your face was still flushed with color, and you couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position on the couch, shifting yourself from one side to the other to no specific rhythm. Heat radiated off of you, though you weren’t known to be the furnace between the two of you. Something struck Eddie as so foreign but so familiar as he took you in.

“Would you fuck a rockstar?” Eddie found himself saying.

Heat rose to your cheeks. “Do I seem like one of those straight-and-narrow girls to you?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Eddie said, a newfound confidence overtaking him. “You came up with that way too fast to act like you don’t think of it, too. So, would you fuck a rockstar?”

You bit your lip and shifted in your seat. You huffed into the couch. “Wouldn’t anyone?”

“Why so shy all of a sudden?” Eddie asked, egging you on. “You’ve been squirming since I got here, sweetheart. Is something on your mind?”

Your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Tonight is not the night to ask me that.”

“Why is that?” Eddie chuckled. “Were you in the middle of something? Was something left unfinished when I so rudely interrupted? And now all you can think about is the ache between your legs?”

You shuddered at his words. “Eddie,” you said, your voice shaking.

“I could help you.” Eddie leaned closer, his words almost a whisper. “Because I may not be a rockstar, but I’m sure I could give you the night of your life.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Don’t tease me. It’s not funny.”

“No one’s laughing.” Eddie pulled the blanket back, his hands resting on your thighs. Your legs slightly opened on instinct. “What kind of friend would I be, huh? If I didn’t at least offer?”

Eddie didn’t know where this bravado came from, but he didn’t care. All he knew was the longer you looked at him like that, the harder he got.

You grabbed him by his shirt and forced his lips on yours. Nothing soft or sweet came from your lips. You were needy and desperate, clinging to him like he was the air in your lungs.

The urgency shocked Eddie, but he quickly found your rhythm. He smirked against your lips as he pulled his jacket off. His hands snaked from your thighs to your hips to your ass, lifting you onto his lap. You groaned into his mouth as he rolled you against him.

He was sure he was dreaming now. Only there did he ever picture you above him, grinding your hips into his. Only there did he imagine you moaning from his touch. But never were his dreams this vivid, this real, this fucking good.

He pulled you from him and pushed you back onto the couch. You whined at the loss of contact. He’d never seen your eyes so dark, so lustful, so hungry for him.

He slid down to the floor onto his knees and pulled you to the edge of the couch. “You still want my help, sweetheart?”

You nodded emphatically.

“I need to hear you, baby. Say it.”

“Please help me, Eddie. I need you. Please.”

“Atta girl.”

You lifted yourself up as Eddie pulled your shorts down your legs. Eddie’s cock jumped at the sight of you. He bit his lip to maintain what little composure he had left.

“Aww, your poor little pussy’s just as needy as you, isn’t she?” He spread your knees apart, the cold metal on his fingers sending chills up your spine. The throbbing between your legs only intensified, a small whimper escaping your lips.

Eddie couldn’t wait any longer. There was no time for teasing, no time to explore. You needed him, and he was going to deliver.

He dove into your aching pussy like a man starved. You jumped at the contact, your hands flying to his hair. His tongue worked overtime, kitten-licking your clit before diving in for more.

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he said, smiling against you. You moaned in response, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him closer.

Your sounds turned him on even more, searching for his own release as he rubbed himself against the couch. His mind was in a daze, in utter disbelief that anyone could look so perfect for him with your legs spread and your back arched. Your chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his tongue, and your lips formed a perfect ‘o’. Oh, how Eddie wanted to feel your lips around his cock. How you’d sink down on him, your perfect innocent mouth being completely sinful just for him.

He placed a finger at your entrance and pumped in and out, his thumb now circling your clit. Your head fell back. “God, yes, Eddie. Just like that.”

“I need you to do something for me, baby,” Eddie said as he added a second finger.

“Wha—what’s that?” you asked, breathless.

“I need you to tell me what you think of when you get off. Tell me what you were thinking of before I showed up at your door.”

“I—I oh god,” you shouted as Eddie’s lips found your clit. “I—I thought about you on your fucking date.”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groaned into your pussy, the vibrations shooting up your spine.

“I pictured you fucking her from behind, her skirt hiked up to her hips, her panties to the side as you fucked her in front of the bathroom mirror.”

“Fucking C—Christ,” Eddie stuttered, his hips rutting into the couch faster. “Keep going.”

“Then it was me you were fucking. You grabbed me by the hair, so I could watch what you were doing to me,” you said, your voice shaking with every word. “Eddie, please. I’m close. Please.”

“Come on, baby. You can do it. Tell me what I was doing to you.” He was past dreaming at this point. He was sure this was heaven. Hearing your words had him reeling. He didn’t want to stop, didn't know how to stop. He just knew he needed to see you come.

Your lip trembled. “Your hands were all over me, playing with my tits, your lips on my neck, and—and your big cock pounding into me over and oh-ver and—and Fuck! Eddie, don’t stop! Please, please, please!”

Your orgasm crashed down on you, expletives and Eddie’s name on your lips. Eddie continued to pump his fingers in and out of you like a madman as he lapped up your cum.

“Oh god, oh fuck!” he moaned against you.

You pushed his head off of you and caught your breath. Eddie took a breath, too, leaning back against his heels. You pulled him back up to you and kissed him, tasting yourself on your lips.

“That… was so hot,” Eddie said, releasing a breath.

“Can it be my turn to help you?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Eddie’s cheeks rouged slightly, his eyes trailing to the growing wet spot on his jeans. “I had a turn already,” he said, guilt painting his words. He leaned in toward you, a devilish smirk joining his features. “But I’m not done with you. Not yet.”

#eddie munson #stranger things #t oral #t fingering #t hair pulling

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myfictionaldreams · 16 days ago

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Couch rut

Pairings: Joel miller x fem!reader

Content warnings: Explicit sexual content 18+, Dom/sub dynamics, age gap (50s/20s), daddy kink, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, cockwarming, degration/praise, breast worship, power outages imbalance, mild overstimulation, marking/biting, aftercare 🎀

Summary: A quiet night at home turns into something more intense when you in Joel's lap during a movie.

Word count: 1.700

Joel's arm circles instinctively around your waist. On the screen informt of you,some late night action movie plays, loud and cheap, flickering over both of your faces, giving you cover for what you're doing

The couch creaks softly as you shift, moving from your corner of cushions into Joel's lap like it's the most natural thing g in the world. You barely look at him when you do it, just scoot sideways, settle your weight across his thighs andtuck your legs up under your body. Like you're just getting cozy. Like it isn't anything at all.

Which is: moving.

Just a little. Barely-there rolls of your hips, slow and innocent. Rocking your body against him like you don't know what's beneath you. Like you dot feel the shape of him thick under his sweatpants. Like you don't feel the way it twitches when you drag yourself forward with a gentle grind. Joel's chest shifts under our cheek. You feel his body tense and then stay quiet. "You comfortable?" He mutters low, voice a little gravelled from the beer he had earlier. His fingers squeeze onc at your waist.

"Mhm," you hum.

"You sure?"

You pause. Smile against his shirt. "You're warm..

That makes him huff. But he doesn't move out. Dosent push you off, either..

So you keep going.

A slow grind here, a slight arch there. Your thin cotton shorts don't hide anything, and neither does the way Joel's thigh flexes under your ass when he starts to get hard. You sigh, soft and content, eyes still on the tv like you're not intentionally torturing him.

He growls.

"Don't do that."

You blink up at him, wide-eyed. "Do what?"

"Don't play dumb, darlin'."

You rock your hips again, slower this time, dragging your clothed pussy against the buldge under his sweats. A moan curls in your throat, too quiet for the screen to catch. "Just getting comfortable." Joel's grip on your waist tightwns. Then his hand slides down slow, firm, fingers slipping the hem of your shorts, tracing along your panties, barely brushing where you're already warm and soaked. "Christ," he mutters, jaw tight. "You're already wet." You smile. "I've been wet."

That does it.

Joel loves fast, both hands grabbing your hips,.lifting you enough so he can shove your shorts down to your knees and pull your panties aside with two fingers voice low and hard in your ear.

"You start shit like that on my lap, you better be ready to take what comes next."

Then he shifts beneath you, cock springing free from his sweats thick, hot, already leaking and lines himself up with your dripping slit without ceremony. The movie still plays. Some loud car chase scene in the background..the flicker of the tv lights your skin in flashes.

And Joel pushes in.

Slow.

Thick. Stretching you open like it's the first time.

You gasp, one hand flying to his shoulder, the other clutching his forearm where it wraps around your waist.. his breath is not at your neck as he graosn into your skin. "Fuck, baby. So tight already."

You tremble in his lap.

He bottoms out,.cock buried deep, still holding you in place with one arm locked around your stomach, not letting you move. "Feel that?" He breathes into your throat. "That's what you wanted?" You can only nod, mouth open, already desperate for more. But Joel stays still. "Not so smug now, huh?" He mutters. "Big girl when you're grindin' on daddy's lap, but now you're quiet."

You whimper. Clench around him. And that, makes him smile. His hand moves to your throat, fingers under your jaw, tilting your head back so you have no choice but to look at him.

"You gonna be good now?"

"Y-Yes, daddy."

"Then ride me slow," he growls.

"Nice and easy. Just like started."

You start to love, slow, uneven, grinding yourself down on his cock until the thighs tremble and your eyes roll back. He's thick inside you, heavy and so deep, the strech burning in the sweetest way. You clench around him with each little roll of your hips, breath coming in gasps. Joel groans into your neck, his voice gravvely and low. "That's it, baby. That's my girl." He palms your wasit, guiding you in lazy, dragging strokes,.not letting you move too fast. "Ride it nice," he breathes. "Make it messy."

You roll your hips in a tight, needy circle, moaning into the warm spice between his neck and shoulder. Your slick coats his cock, wet and stickey where he disappears inside you again and again.

"F-Fuck- joel-"

He pulls back slightly just to glare up at you, beard damp with sweat, jaw clenched tight.

"What'd you call me?"

"....Daddy," you whisper, breath catching.

He smirks. Satisfied.

"There she is."

Joel let's one hand slide up your spine, slow and warm, until it cups the back of your neck, holding you, grounding you. His other hand moves lower, down your chest, over your ribcage, until he's cupping your breast. He groans in his throat. "Fuckin' love these pretty tits." He brings his mouth to one, latching onto your nipple with a hot, slow suck. His tongue flicks against it before he sucks harder, groaning like you're the sweetest thing he's ever tasted.

You whimper, riding him slower now, grinding down and fewiing every inch of drag inside you. "Can't get enough of you," he growls. "God, look at this fuckin' body, drippin' for me." You moan when he nips at your breasts, just enough to make you cry out, just enough to make your walls flutter around him.

"You like that?" He mutters, licking back over the mark he left. "Like me suckin' on these pretty fuckin' tits while you ride daddy's cock?"

"Y-Yeah- yes- fuck, Joel-"

"Daddy," he growls again. "Don't make me tell you twice."

"Daddy," you sob, hips stuttering, thighs shaking.

He drops his head back to the couch, eyes on you now. Watching you fall apart. "Jesus," he groans. "Look at this. Look at you," your skin grows in the dim light of the tv. Breasts bouncing as you ride , cunt gripping him wet and tight. His cock is so deep inside toy, pressing against every sensitive spot. "You're so fuckin' pretty like this, babygirl." He whispers. "So fucked out already and I ain't even finished with you."

You gasp when his hands slides back to your hips, gripping hard, helping you move. Your rhythm falters, legs trembling. "Fuck- daddt- I'm close!"

He nods, jaw tight.

"Yeah I feel it. Pussy's squeezin' me so damn right. You're gonna come for me, huh?"

You nod, frantically, moaning loud now. "Say thank you," he grits, fucking up into you slow and hard. "Th-Thank you daddy- thank you for your cock-" Joel growls and grabs your ass, slamming you down on him once, twice, deep and you snap. You come with a cry, thighs shaking around him, your whole body clenching deep as he fucks you through it, still deep, still slow, grinding into your pulsing walls.

"Shit- fuck there you go- ride it out... Fuckin' good girl-"

You're gasping, drolling onto his shoulder and Joel grips you tighter. "Gonna fill you now," he rasps. "Gonna come so deep in this pussy you'll be leakin' all night." You moan for him, pussy still flattering, overstimulated and soaked.

"Do it, daddy... Please- want it- fill me..."

He groans, thrusting up hard. "Gonna fuckin' breed you," he pants, cock twitching, "gonna fill this tight little cunt with everytning I got-" and then he comes, deep inside you, thick and not, moaning into your mouth as his cock jerks, buried in your soaked stretched walls.

You both breath heavy against each other, unmoving, trembling, still connected. His come pooling inside you while the movie plays on like nothing happened.

Your breathing is still ragged when you.feel his arms wrap tighter around your waist, not letting you move, not letting you even try to lift yourself off of him. Joel's cock still rests deep inside you, softening now but thick and warm and still filling you with the last waves to his come.

Your thighs twitch.

"Stay there," he murmurs into your hair. "Don't fuckin' move."

You melt into his chest with a soft whimper, your cheek pressed against his shoulder, body buzzing from the after shocks. You can feel it, the slow drip of his seed inside you,.thick and warm and the way your body pulses around him clenching on instinct.

The movie's still playing in the background, but neither of you are paying attention anymore. He lets out a quiet breath then tilts your chin up with two fingers, you blink up at him,.and he looks at you like he's already regretting how rough he was, like he needs to see that you're okay.

"You alright, babygirl?"

You nod. Your lips apart, eyes half-lidded. "I'm good. Sore..."

Joel hums, brushing his lips against your jaw.

"I know I know. You were so good for me"

A soft kiss lands beneath your ear. Then one on your temple. Another over the bite mark on your neck from earlier. Gentle, apologetic. His hands start to roam again, this time slow, sweet. He cups your breast, thumb brushing lazily over your nipple, not with hunger now but reverence.

"Love these," he murmurs. "Could spend all night takin' care of "em,"

You laugh breathily, still trembling. "You did."

Joel grins and finally, slowly lifts you off of him. Both of of you jiss at the mess, the strech, the slick warmth leaking from between your thighs. His come trickles out of you in a slow, sticky line as you collapse onto your side beside him, legs weak.

"Jesus," he mutters, staring between your legs like it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He's off the couch in a second, grabbing an old shirt from the basket of clean laundry and returning to kneel Infront of you.

"Open for me, sweetheart."

You part your thighs, dazed and loose and Joel gentle starts to wipe you clean. Careful, focused, like you're something precious.

"I made a mess of you," he says softly.

You.hum. "worth it."

He kisses your inner thigh before tugging your shorts back up your legs and then pulls you into his lap again, this time just to hold. Pressed against his chest, warm and clean and wrapped in his arms, you feel it. The protectiveness. The softness underneath the edge. Like now that the storm has passed, he's right there to hold you through the quiet.

"I got you," he whispers. "Always."

#joel miller #tlou #t sub dom #t age gap #t daddy kink #t creampie #t breeding #t cockwarming #t degradation #t praise kink #t marking

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myfictionaldreams · 17 days ago

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Sleep little one

a/n;; Mostly Aelin x reader, but is a Rowaelin x reader fic.

Warnings;; None, just fluff.

She sits by the window watching the raindrops hit the glass.

A melody that calms her mind and soothes the ache in her heart.

She watches as people run to their houses to hide from the fury of the storm.

A thunder tears the world into two. But she never lifts the head from her lap, her hands hugging her knees as if she could remember those arms that had hugged her that morning.

The book she had been reading was forgotten on the floor, because the view from the window was more captivating than the words on the paper.

She heard someone opening the door and walked softly to her. A soft kiss was placed on her hair and two hands started massaging her shoulders.

She let a pleasure groan leave her mouth, those hands making her tense muscles relax.

“You should come to bed. You know, Rowan misses you and I miss you”

She looked at her mate and a soft smile appeared on her face. Aelin’s hair was tidied up into a messy bun and she was wearing one of Rowan’s shirts, in fact, she was wearing one too. The scent of her mate embracing her like a second skin. She had gotten used to stealing their clothes, mostly shirts and some pants.

She finally stood up from her seat at the window roll and Aelin hugged her by the waist. Her arms found a comfortable place on her shoulders and her hands played with the hair that was loose from the bun.

“I want something first” Aelin brought her face closer to her, both their noses touching.

“And… what is what you want, sweetheart?”

“You know exactly what I want”

Aelin rolled her eyes, not wanting to have a silly little fight with her mate, so she kissed her.

Softly. Lovingly. Just how she knew she liked when she was feeling tired and the only thing her mate wants are cuddles and kisses.

She broke the kiss and giggled when Aelin lifted her as if she weighed nothing, and just like that, they made their way to their bedroom.

Noticing them, Rowan opened the door with a cold breeze. Still carrying her, Aelin placed her in the middle of the bed, between her and Rowan. He turned so he was watching her. Eyes heavy with sleep but still, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Aelin got into the bed and placed an arm around her waist. She left a kiss on her cheek and Rowan kissed her lips.

By the time they finished getting ready to sleep, she was already sleeping peacefully and deeply, and Aelin was the next one to fall asleep.

So Rowan watched his mates sleep peacefully, knowing that he would fight anyone and anything for them.

🏷️;; @loneliestluvr @danikamariewrites @thehighladywrites @vanserrasswife @amara-moonlight @throneofsapphics @cadiawrites @shadowdaddies @claireswritingcorner

#rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #rowaelin #tog

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myfictionaldreams · 18 days ago

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James Potter Fic Recs

back to main navigation

james potter fic recs (pt.2)

one-shots

5 people james didn’t mean to kiss (and one he did) by @g1rld1ary

about you by @mischiefmoons

all i wanted was you by @daintyys

be stupid somewhere else by @wingedhallows

best not to cry over spilled milk by @wreckofawriter

cause you weren’t mine to lose by @hoaxriot

cause you’re kinda cute by @wingedhallows

Coach P. by @soupandsimple

darling, i fancy you by @moonlightspencie

dizzy by @moonstruckme

down bad by @prongsiepotter

Elevator by @knapptapp

game night by @thewriterghost

Gold Rush by @pretty-little-mind33

invisible string by @pretty-little-mind33

i peeled my orange today by @14thgalerie

i want to be loved first by @livinginshambles

is it chill that you’re in my head? by @boneblushed

kiss his face with an uppercut by @mischiefmoons

Late night snacks by @shiftermia

like lovers do by @kquil

Love Letters by @amiableness

lover four by @theemporium

lucky charm by @wreckofawriter

maroon by @pretty-little-mind33

My Fuzzy little Problem by @revwatts

obsessed by @lucyrose191

only like you can by @moonlightspencie

Pictures for my crush by @maraudersmyloves

pretty boy @alwaysmoncheri

Say Don’t Go by @pretty-little-mind33

So High School by @pretty-little-mind33

Speak now by @ur-local-anti-hero

Stumble by @writtenbymoonflower

teacher by @wasteddmoondust

what letters? by @patrophthia

what was i made for? by @once-upon-an-imagine

wildest dreams by @pretty-little-mind33

you are in love by @pretty-little-mind33

you don’t really like me, you just think you do by @perpetuallydaydreaming

series & multi-parts

hope by @fourmoony

I’ve got plans, sorry by @livinginshambles

I needed to hear you say it by @livinginshambles

I thought you’d be different by @livinginshambles

runaway by @pizzapottah

Sunday by @dearharriet

Talk To Me by @myfictionaldreams

til forever falls apart! by @priniya

You’ll never compare to her by @livinginshambles

you’re losing me by @astonishment

#thanks my love #**#james potter

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myfictionaldreams · 19 days ago

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Stiff

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: At fifty-nine, Joel isn’t sure his dick can keep up with every day it’s going to take to get you pregnant. He seeks help from Jackson’s local apothecary and gets more than bargained for when that little blue pill kicks in.

Or, your old man wants to knock you up. Viagra helps.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v (obviously 😵‍💫🤙🏼). Breeding kink. Age gap. Peepaw Joel. Blue Pill Joel. Post-apocalyptic-Viagra-dosage-gone-horribly-wrong-and-now-his-dick-won’t-deflate-for-a-day…but it’s OK!

Note: This is the crackfic counterpart/sequel to ‘Make It Stick’

Word count: 2.9k

Forty-five minutes.

Forty-five minutes until his fate was sealed for the night. His pulse would quicken. His head would start to swim, and any last sliver of rational thought would be lost to the ether or the cold, snowy air around him. Joel Miller had to hurry now, because that bite-sized blue pill he’d just taken was in his belly, and if his dick didn’t find its way in you, he was fucked. Or at least huge and swollen and leaking out beads of hot desire the size of golf balls.

Well, maybe that was just his cock.

Joel looked down, scanning his pants.

Yeah…definitely just cock. He walked faster.

At home, he knew he’d find you curled up on the couch, nose in a book. What to Expect When You’re Expecting, if he had to guess. Then, sure enough, you’d lift your eyes and smile—‘Thank goodness you’re back, daddy’—and lift the hem of your night dress just slightly. Spread your legs and beckon him in. It was a nightly routine by now.

You wanted to be knocked up as fast as possible, after all

At almost sixty years old, Joel couldn’t believe he was actually saying these words aloud. But here he was—crawling overtop you on the couch, situating himself between your legs, and pulling his cock out, mumbling:

“Gonna let me put a baby in you tonight?”

You nodded sweetly—eagerly—every time.

Joel knew he could never resist that look. He was as good as finished the first second you let him sink inside your tight, weeping hole, and when he stretched it, he could already tell this was all he would ever want to do. Make you happy, fill you up, give you lots and lots of him.

It was why he’d stopped by the apothecary tonight. Why he’d hesitated only a moment before clearing his throat and asking for a pill like Viagra—Joel knew that the man behind the counter would flash him a wry, knowing grin.

Trouble keepin’ up with that sweet young thing’a yours?

David was a dick.

He wasn’t entirely wrong, either.

Ever since agreeing to start trying for a baby, Joel had become acutely aware of his own physical limitations in that department, and one of them was stamina. He could scarcely fuck twice in the same night without needing a long and rest-intensive breather. You were young and could roll over ready to go in five minutes.

It wasn’t fair to deprive you now on account of his age.

If you wanted his cum, you were getting it, no question.

Not just once, but multiple times. Again and again and—

“Again,” Joel grunted once he’d shot off his last spurt.

Fifty-eight minutes had passed since he’d taken that pill. It had fully kicked in, and his dick was still hard, even after finishing inside you with a sticky, white-hot flood.

You blinked dreamily up at him.

“You mean it, old man?” you teased him lightly.

I’ll show you what I mean, Joel thought to himself before flipping you over on the sofa. He had your hips tilted up and his cock driving back inside your freshly-fucked cunt in no time at all. He felt his spend coating your walls; it let him glide right in. Joel groaned and jerked himself back out, then fucked back in again and again and again.

“Again?”

Your word was exhaled in a laugh.

You stood in front of the bathroom sink, trying to tidy up the insides of your legs and push some more of Joel’s load back in, when you felt a presence at your back.

Stabbing your ass.

You started to turn then, puzzled.

“Bend over,” Joel commanded before you could.

You did as you were told because, frankly, you loved getting fucked wherever your old man wanted it—even if he had broken the sink one time he’d pounded you here.

But there was palpable confusion, too. How in the hell had Joel Miller, certified silver fox and owner of a dick old enough to remember Woodstock and the moon landing, managed to get his dick hard in the five minutes since he’d had you face-down, ass-up on the couch?

Or had his dick gotten soft at all?

You wanted to question him about it, or else give a long, hard look at his uncharacteristically long, hard friend, when the next moment had you gripping the counter. Stretching between the legs as Joel pushed back in.

“There she is,” he murmured affectionately.

Really, you’d never been wetter. Or warmer. Or filled to the brim with more sticky-white spend than you could ever hope to hold inside, it felt like. You bent at the waist and let him have his fill. You closed your eyes and rested your head on your forearms while Joel’s hot, bulbous tip grazed your cervix with dizzying alacrity. A smile crept in.

Whatever this was, you wanted more of it.

His dick was still hard.

Four mind-numbing fucks and another forty-five minutes later, Joel’s cock hadn’t deflated the tiniest bit.

The thing had hammered you so thoroughly he’d nearly destroyed the sink again. You’d whimpered, and whined, and warned him quietly, ‘We just fixed the porcelain, baby,’ and right before he’d painted your walls with his seed, you’d cum for him practically shrieking. Shaking.

Letting him turn you around for a kiss, only to mumble against his mouth with a sleepy, cockdrunk sort of lilt:

“I think you gave me twins.”

Then he’d fucked you in the shower to make it triplets.

Now you were laying out on the bed, truly spent, eyes following him in the semi-darkness of your bedroom after you’d toweled off and collapsed among the pillows.

“What’s gotten into you tonight, Miller?” you breathed.

Joel made it over to the dresser, back turned to you. He rifled through a drawer looking for something extra tight.

“Just missed you is all,” he said, shrugging.

What he needed right now was fabric that was very thick to hide the boner he was sporting. Joel could tell from the way you spoke that you were too tired for round five, and he didn’t want you feeling like you had to go again.

He would be fine.

His dick might not deflate until dawn, but that was okay.

“Wish you missed me like this every day,” you giggled.

When Joel turned around, he was shocked to find you sprawled out on the bed—hands between your legs.

There was a shy smile on your face.

“Baby…” he trailed off, watching your fingers flit through that sticky mess where he’d left it. Where you glistened.

Where you slid your index and middle fingers up and down your slit and drew circles on your clit, eyes shining.

“What? I missed you too,” you said, tone all faux protest.

You had no idea what you did to him when you talked like that. Especially when he was drowning in a state like this.

Hard as a rock.

Throbbing.

Needy.

Scarcely even knowing what he was doing, Joel found himself over by the foot of the bed in a second. Watching your every move with a wild, wipe-open stare he still couldn’t believe you found appealing. He swallowed.

He not only looked perverted, but he felt it, too. It rarely ever left his mind, save for the four or five seconds he spent in ecstasy emptying the contents of his balls inside your cunt, that he was his age, and you were yours. That perhaps the rest of Jackson was right, and he was wrong: he had no business being around a girl like you, much less getting off inside you every night. Was this really what you wanted? A bewildering mixture of guilt, lust, and love all circulated through his skull at that moment, and the longer he spent looking at your fingers, ogling the way you teased them through his cum between your legs, the more he felt certain he was bad.

No one corrupted a thing this sweet and got to call themselves good, anyway, he thought to himself idly.

“I keep gettin’ that…feelin’,” you said under your breath.

Joel’s hand tightened in a fist, and it was then that he realized it was wrapped around his cock. Still watching.

“Yeah, baby? What feelin’?” he returned, almost as quiet.

Still stroking himself up and down, up and down, softly.

You had your legs spread open—knees splayed wider than they’d been before. And your eyes had a tender, placid sheen to them, like they just might cry if they didn’t get release of some kind soon. Then you slowed.

Your touch slipped from your clit to the opaque, sticky globs between your thighs, and that look got even softer.

More desperate.

“Can’t…explain it.” You shook your head, as if pained, and then you sank two fingers inside. Joel could hear the tiny schlick from where he stood, and it almost did him in.

You sucked in a breath and added, “It’s a special feelin’.”

Joel’s fist had already worked its way up to a ridiculous speed. Again, he sensed this might be the worst and most pathetic he’d ever looked, but by the glint in your eyes and the way you kept holding him there, he also knew you weren’t asking him to stop, either. You were needing something else—something he could provide.

Thanks to that one stupid pill.

Joel’s smile was strained as he gripped the edge of the bed, like he was trying to assuage you and him at once.

“Try me, baby. Tell me ‘bout that special feelin’.”

Your middle and ring fingers disappeared inside you.

You whined, “Ain’t fair to say it now. You’re tired, daddy.”

Like hell he was. Joel crawled over the footboard and made his way straight to you, where your body was limp.

His breaths were coming in so fast and his pulse was thrumming so hard that he almost couldn’t hear himself talking. But he ventured to speak as gently as he could.

“I’m wide awake, sweet pea. I’m all ears. Talk to me.”

And if his words didn’t communicate as much, surely the look in his eyes would’ve told you all the rest. Quietly, he slipped his torso between your legs, where you’d inserted a third finger and were moving your hips again. You were fingering yourself, breathing shallow and quick.

“It’s a feelin’ like I wanna be…stuffed…a-and full’a you.”

Joel’s whole body could’ve liquified on the spot. His brain, presently, had all the consistency of a plate of scrambled eggs if he’d had to guess. Feeling his cock swell even bigger and his hips sink lower to yours of their own accord, he had only to grit his teeth and nod his head. He felt the tip of him bump your fingers, and the sensation and the expectation nearly drove him insane.

He mumbled quietly, “Then move your hand.”

You did. You winced again. You looked as though you might be ashamed for wanting him to fill you with his spend, and Joel simply wouldn’t allow that any longer.

Without saying another word, he slid back in.

Your cum and his facilitated the slide, and you opened right up for him. You whimpered, while Joel grunted like an animal. He couldn’t help it; it all felt so fucking primal.

How you could ever feel the need to apologize for wanting more of this was more than he could take.

“Every inch of me,” Joel said, rutting deeper, “is yours.”

He withdrew to the tip, and he could feel strings of arousal linking him to you in a sickeningly sweet way.

You could scarcely even nod, just waiting for him again.

When Joel plunged back in, he heard a feral little cry, and he felt your legs wrap around his waist. He went faster. You fisted the pillow behind your head in one hand, while the other laid flat on his chest, like you were checking for a heartbeat. You could probably hear it thudding a million miles per minute right now. Your hips collided in tandem.

“D— Daddy,” you whimpered.

“That’s it, open up for daddy. Good girl. It’s all yours.”

The sounds his thrusts were making were obscene.

“Every inch?” you breathed, “E-Every drop, too?”

“Every fiber of my fucking being, sweet girl.”

That made you smile, at length. Your hand slid from his chest, down his round belly, straight to a groin that was pounding hard and fast against your own. Joel groaned when he felt your touch sweep inside your legs—right in the space where his cum had come trickling out. You slid your fingers through that mess, then whimpered again.

Then you brought your hand up to your mouth.

You wrapped your lips around your cum-soaked fingers like they were the single sweetest thing, and you sucked.

Joel had no say after seeing that: he had to cum again.

It likely stunned you both—you more than him, by the look that crossed your eyes the second you felt him throb and pulse inside your cunt—but then it kept going.

Rather than stop, or slow down in the slightest, Joel found his hips pistoning faster than they had before. The whole bed frame shook, and your body trembled with every thrust, and the noises between your legs grew even louder; the sound of skin slapping skin was only amplified by the addition of Joel’s hot load in the mix.

The man was operating on impulse. You, through sheer awe and an animalistic need to have every crevice filled. You held him and you grit your teeth, and you let him keep using your body, while you used his. You kissed him.

“Go on, then—make me a daddy. Take my cum, baby,” Joel babbled, brainless, “Make your old man a daddy.”

He couldn’t tell if it were the words or the rhythm or the pleasure that had already been blossoming deep in your gut this whole time, but he felt you fall apart. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist than you had all night, and you screamed his name. Begged for more.

“Cum in me, daddy—pleasepleaseplease just cum, ju—”

And there he went. Again. Flooding your insides with his warmth and letting his cock carve a wild, relentless path through your cunt like it was all the man knew how to do. He filled you up. He felt it leaking down his length with every stab of his hips, and frankly, he didn’t care what he looked like now. You were smiling big, drawing him in for more kisses as he panted and grunted and whimpered like he never had before. He kissed back. Slowed down.

Found himself lost in your mouth as your tongue wove delectably through his own and your hands made their way to his wild, greying hair. You tugged, and he moaned.

He fucked his spend deeper without even meaning to.

All instinct again, it seemed he couldn’t get enough.

Suddenly, he felt a new, strange urge bubble up.

“I-I-I took a pill tonight,” he blurted out, “Know how badly you want this baby, and I wanna give you one.”

Or two. Or twenty. He was barely capable of speech, let alone rational cognition, so he just spoke whatever came to his mind then, still snug inside your legs and panting.

“A pill?” you whispered back.

Joel’s gaze locked with yours.

He felt stupid for it all at once.

“Yeah. Yeah, I just— I know I’m gettin’ on in years, and I probably can’t fuck the way I used to. And you deserve someone who can…Maybe a guy your age, but that—”

“—is the single dumbest thing you have ever said to me,” you finished for him, eyes narrowing swiftly in a scowl.

When Joel tried talking again, you cut him off.

“I don’t care what any guy my age is doing, or could do. I want babies with you, and that includes every part, OK?”

Your look softened momentarily, seeing his lips twitch down—you could probably see he wasn’t believing you.

Then you cradled his face in your palms. You smiled. You brushed his nose with yours, and you kissed him again, and with what little strength you likely had left in your body, you dug your heels in his ass and pulled him deeper. Both of you let out soft, low grunts at the effort.

“If you fucked like this at twenty-five, my body wouldn’t have survived anyway,” you whispered in reassurance. Biting back a laugh as Joel smiled, too, “I like things just the way they are. Just like how I hope you like me, too.”

“No—I love you.” Joel shook his head, almost plaintive.

And for the first time that night, he felt himself soften.

Whether it was the pill wearing off or that first thread of vulnerability stretching out between your body and his, he didn’t really care. He kissed the tip of your nose and was about to say something more, when you cut back in.

“I love you more. And since we’re being honest tonight,” you started quietly, nipping at your bottom lip a second, “I might…need you back at the apothecary tomorrow.”

Joel’s face fell.

“Wh— is something wrong, baby?” His voice was tight.

He hated seeing David, but, of course, he’d go back there in a heartbeat if it meant getting you the medication you needed. His stomach was starting to churn, when you reached up to hold his face again. You shook your head.

“No, no, Joel, I’m fine. But I may need prenatal vitamins.”

Now his eyes were going wide. His cheeks heated under your palms, and his cock twitched inside you, reflexively.

“You mean…” he murmured, unable to finish. Swallowing.

Beneath him, he saw you smile and nod.

He nearly choked hearing what followed:

“I meant to tell you earlier, but…my period’s a little late.”

#joel miller #tlou #t breeding #t age gap #my fav

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