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inkedells · 11 months

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look at me a little more | dbf!joel miller x f!reader

A/N: first of all, SMUTTT so much smut up ahead. holy crap this is the longest thing i've ever written (pathetic, i know, blame the commitment issues) enjoy lovies!! also lmk if you want a part 2 maybe possibly!?

m!dni | requests open.

summary: dbf!neighbor!joel accidentally drenches you (virgin!reader) while washing his car and you can’t help but notice the way he eyes you up. it’s only once he’s in your bedroom, fixing your closet door as an apology, that you realize the best person to rid you of your virginity and teach you precisely how to please yourself and others had been right in front of you the whole time; it's getting joel on board with the whole idea that's the hard part.

word count: 5.5k

tags/warnings: SMUTTTT, virgin!reader, dbf!neighbor!joel faces moral conflicts (to fuck or not to fuck!?!?), porn with plot, sooo much tension, dirty talk, use of pet names, blowjobs, handjobs, cumplay, reader eats joel's cum, grinding, making out, oral sex, no!outbreak au, reader's innocent in the sense that she doesn't really know how to do a lot of things when it comes to sex but still has a ton of desires

masterlist

There was a certain shame that came with being infatuated with your dad’s best friend.

You were sitting around on the porch on a hot summer afternoon, wearing your shortest cotton shorts as you sipped the juice box brand you had loved since you were a little girl. Legs crossed, foot tapping the air, and most importantly, eyes absolutely trained on the ripple of Joel Miller’s biceps as he washed his car.

You didn’t know why you liked to stare at him so much. But you did know it was wrong. Immoral. Eyeing up someone in their forties? What was wrong with you? That was your dad’s best f—

“Hey, Mr. Miller!” You called over, shutting down every ounce of doubt in your mind.

He turned around without hesitation, and when he did, you waved. The first time you’d done that, he had to work a little harder to figure out the source of the voice, eyes searching in random directions before finally settling on you. But now, it was like he knew exactly where to look—And, well, that was all it took for you to decide you would be spending the next hour washing a car if it meant spending time with Joel.

So you settled your juice box down on the wooden floor of the porch and skipped over to his house. He must not have heard your footsteps behind him over the sound of the hose, so your simple tap on his shoulder resulted in him whipping around, hose in hand, as he consequently drenched you.

You yelped, breaking out into nervous laughter both from shock and how cold the water was. Joel fumbled to turn off the hose as he began profusely apologizing. “Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry—”

Then he properly saw you. From Joel’s perspective, your clothes were reduced to translucency, practically melting into your skin.

But you didn’t know that. You never fully grasped just how vulnerable you had become from his accident, so when you caught him averting his gaze as quickly as he could, you were a little confused.

“You—Uh—I,” Joel stumbled before clearing his throat, “There’s clothes. Inside. Sarah’s. You can, um, you can go and… y’know. Change into them. Walkin’ all the way back to your house doesn’t seem like a… viable… option.”

By then, a blush had already risen to your cheeks just from how delicately Joel was treating you. As if you were something he had to be careful with, like if he didn’t think long and hard about every word coming out of his mouth, there would be consequences.

“Lead the way.”

Joel gave you a firm smile before swallowing the lump in his throat and motioning for you to follow him as he walked. Once he had the front door open, he let you go in first. Even as you carefully walked past him, you could feel his eyes staring at you.

“Up there,” Joel gestured, “Um, first door on the left. I’ll… be outside.”

As he explained, you subconsciously scanned over the planes of his body—probably a habit you picked up from the multiple weeks of watching him work. But then he was turning to leave, and you could tell he was still really tense. You didn’t know why a simple accident had him so tripped up, but you had the urge to alleviate his worry.

“Hey,” You called, arms wrapped around yourself in an effort to stave off the cold. He turned around, concerned until he saw your soft smile and relaxed a little, “On a scale of one to ten, how sick and tired are you of washing that truck?”

There was only one way to break Joel out of his nervous state; you had to make the situation lighthearted; you learned that from years of watching him hang out with your dad.

He searched your eyes for a beat, eyes completely unwavering, before muttering, “Like a fifty.”

You both breathed a laugh at that. For the briefest moment, you thought you noticed Joel’s gaze flitting to your chest. Your breath caught in your throat, but before you could do a double take, his eyes were glued to yours again.

“So then,” You started, regathering yourself and pushing away whatever your brain was conjuring up, “How do you feel about replacing one lousy chore with another?”

“What kinda chore we talkin’?”

“Well, my closet door’s all screwed up. And you know, instead of apologizing for soaking me by way of expensive concert tickets and a brand new car, like how I know you were planning on doing—”

“—Oh, of course,” Joel sarcastically remarked, playing along as you quickly noticed the worry on his face faded into a crooked grin.

“Well, I really think I can just settle for the closet door fix. Go ahead and save the brand new car for when you break my toaster.”

“Okay, okay,” Joel laughed, “I get it. Go change, then you can lead me to this broken closet door.”

Sarah’s clothes definitely belonged to a fourteen-year-old. Not your taste, but then again, if you were fourteen like her, you probably would’ve dressed like that too.

You couldn’t settle on a top, all of them were either too small or bore a graphic design too childish for you. You did find a pair of stretchier shorts that fit alright though, so you decided you’d just pick up one of Joel’s shirts from the pile of clean laundry you saw sitting atop the washing machine downstairs.

When you made it out the front door, the hose was away and his toolbox was resting on the ground by his feet. Joel was drying up his car with a cloth, and when he heard you hop down the steps and subsequently turned your way, you weren’t exactly expecting him to completely stumble at the sight of you in his shirt.

“Oh—You, uh, I thought you were gettin’ Sarah’s clothes?”

“I was, none of her tops fit so I grabbed one of yours from the laundry downstairs.” You absorbed Joel’s cryptic reaction and began to worry. “I’m sorry, Mr. Miller, I really should’ve asked—”

“—No, no, it’s fine. Really. Doesn't matter.”

Joel picked up his toolbox, then the both of you began walking over to your house. It wasn’t that far away at all, probably a couple of hundred feet at most, but he opted into small talk anyway.

“Um,” Joel began, “What’d you come over for in the first place? Didn’t really get a chance to ask ‘cause of this whole… debacle.”

You giggled at his old man vocabulary. Debacle.

“I wanted to help with your car, but looks like those plans got derailed.”

He breathed a polite laugh. “Yeah, well. Guess it turned out that way.”

Before an awkward silence could fall upon the both of you, your brain settled on something to bring up.

“Hey, my dad’s having that July 4th barbecue the day after tomorrow. You’re coming right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, honey.”

Honey? Honey. Honey honey honey honey—

He cleared his throat. “Where is your dad, anyway?”

You were both standing on your porch now, Joel’s eyes raking you over as you fumbled with the front door.

“Um, I think he’s out working.”

“Great.”

Great?

Before you could ask him what he meant, Joel realized what he had said. “Wait, no, not great. I don’t—I don’t know why I said that. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

You pushed the door open. “Hey,” You brought a hand up to his chest and patted it, “You’ll give yourself a heart attack if you keep assuming all your mistakes are colossal and worthy of that much panic.”

His shoulders seemed to relax a little at that—you weren’t sure if it was your hand or your words that did it.

Eventually, you both found yourselves in your bedroom. You were sitting on the edge of your bed as you watched Joel work. Kneeling on one knee with a screwdriver in hand, he fumbled with one of the closet door’s hinges as he muttered little things to himself under his breath.

“Thanks for this, Mr. Miller.”

He turned to you, nodding as he seemed to process that he was in your bedroom. Your bedroom.

“So,” Joel began, as he dug through his toolbox, “Is your boyfriend visiting too? Or, y’know, girlfriend. Three months is a long ti—”

You softly smiled. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend.”

He turned to look at you again as he turned a screwdriver, this time scanning you over. “Hm, I don’t believe you. Sweet thing like you? Single?”

“Oh, stop,” You blushed, shooing him off.

Joel stood to his feet, dusting his hands off on his thighs. “All fixed. Next time you ne—”

“—I’ve never been in a relationship before. Actually.”

Joel stared at you for a moment before diverting his gaze to the ground. “I, um…”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. You don’t wanna know about my completely nonexistent dating history,” You lightly smacked your forehead, “Wait, it’s existent if we count the boy I dated for a week in fourth grade.”

Joel laughed, sitting down next to you on your bed. “It’s okay. I haven’t really dated anybody since Sarah’s mom, either. Long-term, anyways.”

“Yeah, well at least you’re not a virgin.”

Joel seemed to tense at that, and you immediately regretted saying it.

“Oh gosh,” You cringed, hands gripping your head, “I really just say anything, don’t I?”

Joel chuckled, head hung between his shoulders with his eyes squinted shut. You eventually laughed, too, simply because—and you realized it sounded stupid—Joel’s laughter was contagious.

“Alright, alright,” Joel beckoned, “Lemme be serious for a second. C’mere.”

You slumped down next to him, staring up at the ceiling before turning to make eye contact.

“That’s not something you have to worry about. You got time, honey, you’re in college. All that crap about late blooming isn’t real. It’s about whenever you’re ready, and whenever you find the right person to do it with.”

You smiled up at him softly. “Thanks, Mr. Miller.”

“Joel. Just Joel.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him. So you stayed like that, searching his eyes for something you didn’t have the courage to say out loud.

“Joel,” You echoed, repeating his name back to him, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

“I, uh…” Joel trailed off, his gaze flitting down to your lips. “I…” He tried again, but it went nowhere.

You exhaled, and almost immediately, his hands cupped your face as he leaned forward and pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to your lips.

It was warm, and gentle, and amazing, and you didn’t know if you could ever let him stop kissing you with how delightful the scruff of his beard felt against your skin.

He did break the kiss after a few seconds, though, and it left you breathless. “Joel…”

His muscles seemed to visibly tense as he mistook your speechless state for confusion. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why—”

“—No. No, I liked it,” You smiled softly at him, “I, um, you know. Wouldn’t mind if you kissed me… again.”

With reassurance that you weren’t absolutely appalled, his limbs relaxed. He leaned forward again until he was kissing you. Slow at first, languid. But then it turned fervent and desperate, breaths being exchanged into one another's mouths as lips slotted together like fingers intertwined—so perfect, as if they were biologically designed to do so.

It wasn’t long until he had your back flat against your bed, and you felt his growing hardness dig into your hip.

“Y’know what that is, don’t you?”

You nodded hesitantly.

“You know why it’s there?”

You shrugged.

He gripped the fabric of your—no, his—shirt as his voice rumbled, “You prancin’ around in my shirt did that.”

Without a second thought, you clumsily palmed him there through the thick fabric of his jeans and reveled in the consequential shuddering moan he let out

“Joel, I don’t… I don’t think I know what I’m doing.”

“That’s okay, honey, I’ll teach you.”

Propping himself up with his elbow, he placed his hand atop your own and guided the movements of your open palm. Things like pressing your hand further into him so as to increase the pressure between his legs, and encouraging back-and-forth motions that had his hips rutting and his breath hitching.

Once you got the hang of it, he removed his hand from your own. You felt his hand snake down your neck, then the side of your torso.

“I trust you,” You whispered, fingers playing with the happy trail peaking Joel’s pants, hoping to absolve him of any guilt or doubt.

But the second Joel’s fingertips grazed the waistband of your shorts, he froze. He was staring off somewhere to the right, so you followed his gaze until you found what he was so disturbed by.

A framed photo on your nightstand, one of you standing next to your dad on vacation in Maui.

You understood immediately; that picture was an astute reminder of exactly who’s daughter Joel was about to debauch.

Your hand fell away from his crotch as he leaned back on his haunches and ran his hands through his hair with worried eyes.

“Joel?” You whispered, but then he was completely backing off of you as he muttered curses under his breath. “Hey, no, come back. What’s wrong?”

It was a dumb question. You knew what was wrong. Even though you were well beyond legal, it seemed to mean little in the situation—the facts were, if he touched you, it was betrayal.

“This is…” Joel panted, standing to his feet and raking his hands through his hair, “I shouldn’t have… Fuck. Fuck. I have to go.”

And just like that, he was gone.

That night, your lights stayed on and you didn’t close your curtains.

You stripped yourself of Joel’s shirt first, going excruciatingly slow in case Joel happened to be watching through his neighboring window. You occasionally shot glances at his window on the off chance that the window illuminated, but you quickly realized if the two of you made eye contact that wouldn’t be good either. You’d gotten all the way down to your underwear before you spotted his light flick on from the corner of your eye.

So you did the first thing that came to mind; You turned your back to your window. Panties halfway down your legs, torso bent with your knees straightened as you slowly shed your clothing. Hoping. Hoping for him to avert his attention ever so slightly and accidentally catch you like this. Hoping he would think of it every time he talked to you.

Without ever making eye contact, you would never know if Joel actually saw anything, and he would never know you hadn’t actually “forgotten” to close your curtains.

No pressure on either of you.

You went to sleep with a hand shoved down the front of your panties as you thought of all the things you wanted Joel to do to you.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Jesus. What time was it? You stretched until sleep left you and opened your eyes as wide as you could (not very wide at all). From what you could gather, the sun was definitely up. You, however, did not have the willpower required to read off of your phone screen 5 seconds after waking up, so you answered the phone without reading the contact.

“Hello?” You groaned, voice gruff from sleep.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

You knew that voice anywhere. Almost immediately, you shot upright and cleared your throat as you rubbed your eyes. “Oh, hey Mr. Mill—uh, I mean, Joel,” You breathed a nervous laugh before remembering his question, “No. No, it’s okay I was like, basically awake already, um, so… what’s up? Why’d you—Why’d you call?”

“Right, so just to preface, I understand things are not... ideal... between us right now. But to be honest, you’re the only person available who I trust with this, and… let me just explain. I got called into work unexpectedly and Sarah’s gonna be home alone. Lately, she’s been getting into these rebellious fits, and I just don’t want to risk another situation where she sneaks out at night to meet up with her boyfriend again.”

“Sarah and rebellious fits? Really?”

“Yes, believe it or not. So do you think you could just hang around my place for, to be honest, a long while? It’s looking like I’m gonna be home really late tonight. Oh, and I can pay you.”

“Oh, shut up, you’re not paying me.”

Joel exhaled appreciatively through the phone. “Okay, well I’m home right now if you wanna come by and eat some breakfast. Least I could do. I gotta leave in like thirty minutes by the way, so. Take your time but also don’t take your time?”

You smiled, hoping he could hear it in your voice. “Yeah, I’ll be there soon.”

“Thanks, honey.”

Oh god. There it was again. You thought you might actually pass out, but you quickly turned off your racing brain enough to mutter a small “mhm” before abruptly hanging up.

Okay. Joel Miller. Your dad’s best friend, who was this close to absolving you of every ounce of innocence in your body… just asked you to watch his daughter. What could go wrong?

When you got to his house, he had left already (you definitely took too long in the shower). He did leave out a plate of food, though, along with the message, “Thanks again. Enjoy the pancakes,” scratched out on a post-it note.

And boy did it turn out to be a long day. Sarah wasn’t that much of a handful, she mostly took care of herself. The hard part was lunch.

You attempted to cook something for the two of you, but it only ended in disaster when you left the quiches in the oven for too long. Then you decided Penne a la Vodka couldn’t be that hard, and you couldn't be more wrong. A whole box of pasta was ruined because Sarah didn’t realize the pasta went in after the water boiled, not before. Eventually, you both just accepted defeat and ordered Panera Bread.

Later, Sarah popped into the living room to let you know she was going up to her room to take a nap, and you figured you’d do the same on the couch.

The last thing you read was the time on the cable box; 7:37.

Metal clanking. The turn of a key. The creaking of a door. The blaring siren of an alarm system.

“Jesus—Fuck. I thought I told her to turn off the alarm at 8.”

And Joel’s voice.

You jolted awake, blinking wide as you moved to sit upright on the couch. The time on the cable box was 11:50.

Soon, the alarm stopped, and not long after, Joel’s figure came into view. He was wearing a denim button-up with work pants and work boots.

“Hey,” Joel called, setting his things down next to the kitchen island.

“Hi,” You replied, “How was work?”

Joel gave you a polite smile before pulling open the refrigerator door to retrieve a beer. With his head still poked inside the fridge, he replied, “The usual.”

“Well, what was the usual li—”

“—Were you asleep?”

“Uh…" You cleared your throat in an effort to stall as you debated whether or not you would lie. "Yeah, I was. Sorry.”

Joel took a swig of his beer, staring at you from across the room for a minute before blurting out, “The usual is busy. Extremely busy and tedious. But, um, how was Sarah? Hope you weren’t asleep too long.”

“Nope,” You lied, “I Wasn’t asleep long at all. Sarah was great. We had a bit of trouble with lunch, but everything ended up fine.”

“Good. Good. Well you can head out now, thanks for taking care of her.”

No. You did not want to "head out." You rose to your feet. “Joel?”

He looked around as he swallowed his beer. “Uh, yeah?”

“I actually wanted to talk to you. About yesterday.”

He peered down at the ground, swishing around the bottle in his hand. “That’s—That’s okay, honey. I think it’s best we forget that happened.”

“What? But why?”

Joel crossed the room and sat down next to you, leaning back against the couch while you sat back down on the edge with your elbows resting on your knees.

“Come on,” He started, “Don’t act like you don’t know exactly why we’re… this… is impossible.”

“Joel, I—”

“—I’m sorry. You should get home now.”

You turned around to face him. “Joel. No one has to know.”

“As I said, I’m sorry. I handled yesterday… terribly. There were a million different ways to go about that, and I somehow chose the worst one. But we don't work. We can't work.”

You felt your eyes begin to water, but you tried to push the feeling down.

“Hey, hey,” He lulled, the hardness of his attitude falling away as he noticed the sad shine in your eyes, “Don’t cry.” He pulled you against him, rubbing your shoulder firmly.

“Joel,” You mumbled in a small voice, sniffling against his denim shirt with a frown.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to justify what he was quickly realizing was inevitable. You were an adult, somebody else independent of your father. It was your choice who to get involved with, just like it was his. This was mutual.

He knew he would regret it later, but your innocence and desperation allured him to the point of no return.

“It’s late,” Joel began, voice gentle as he offered you one last out, “You should go home. You need sleep, you’re not thinking straight. I’ll call you in the morning.”

“No,” You replied, removing yourself from his body so you could look him in the eye. “I don’t want to leave. I want you to… I want you to do what you said you’d do.”

Knowing exactly what you were talking about, he redundantly asked in a whisper, “And what’s that?”

You wiped a stray tear as you clumsily moved to straddle his lap. Almost automatically, his hands found their way to your hips, his thumbs rubbing circles into the slivers of skin peeking between your cami tank top and the waistband of your shorts. But it seemed at some point his consciousness realized what he was doing because his hands suddenly dropped to his sides. And, well, you just wouldn’t have that, so you grabbed hold of his wrists and returned them to where they were settled on your hips before you rested your own hands on Joel’s chest.

“You remember, don’t you?” You shifted in his lap, “You said you’d teach me.”

“How to have sex.” He said it more like a confirmation rather than a question.

You blushed at his blatant use of the word. It was like every fifth thing coming out of his mouth was sending your brain spiraling. You cleared your throat. “Yeah. Yeah, sex. Blowjobs, orgasms, literal sex. All of it.”

Silence for a beat. “I have one condition,” Joel warned.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“The second I suspect your dad is onto us, that’s it. It’s over. No more messing around, none of it. I can’t lose my best friend.”

You nodded. You probably shouldn’t have agreed so easily, but you didn’t actually think you and Joel would ever get caught.

“Okay, then,” Joel whispered. “Good. What do you wanna do first? Start off easy.”

You looked around the room nervously, careful not to make eye contact as you spoke. “Like. I dunno. Maybe for right now, I could just… touch you. Touch it, I mean.”

Joel nodded, and when your breathing began to grow the slightest bit uneven from nervousness, he noticed and rubbed your upper arm reassuringly. “Hey. Relax. Climb down and sit right there on the ground between my legs, and I’ll show you where to start.”

And so you did. Joel peered down at you with heavy lids as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and thus began your first lesson.

“Unbuckle my pants.”

With shaky hands, you removed his belt and undid his fly. You couldn’t explain why, but as soon as you caught sight of the bulge in his boxers, your mouth watered.

“What…” You began, “What now?”

“Whatever feels comfortable.”

With a light, feathery touch, you delicately traced a singular finger along the outline of his cock. Joel shivered at the contact, hands shooting to grip the sofa. Touching it felt different this time, more intense because you could feel every ridge and vein; you blamed it on the much thinner fabric dividing your fingers and his cock.

Your breath shuddered before speaking, “Can I take it ou—”

“—Yes, God, yes.”

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling downwards until his cock sprang free. It was thick, long, and wet at the tip, and you found yourself instinctively leaning further into it.

“Okay,” Joel sighed shakily, “Now just form a circle with your fingers and stroke it.”

You did as Joel said, and when your fingers finally made contact with his cock, you sighed at how velvety the skin was there. Soft and smooth, except for the trimmed hair surrounding the base. You stroked him steadily, biting your lip as you watched the wetness leaking from his tip spread down his shaft.

“Twist at the tip, honey, twist at the—Yeah, just like that. So good, you’re doing so good.” You couldn’t help but smile when Joel tilted his head back from the pleasure of it all.

With Joel still reeling from the contact of your hand, you took his momentary refusal to look down at you as an opportunity to surprise him a little.

You leaned forward and kitten-licked his tip, and it had him finally making eye contact with you as he whispered, “Oh, do that again.”

And so you did, adoring the look of pleasure strewn across Joel’s face.

Joel offered you a quick, crooked grin. “How’s it feel?” He asked, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip as your tongue played with his tip.

You pulled away for a moment to respond, “How’s what feel?”

“Licking a man’s cock.”

You let the spit that had gathered in your mouth drip down onto his length. “I have the urge to do more with it.”

“Like what?”

“Like put it all the way in my mouth.”

And so kitten licks turned into long stripes up his shift, which turned into eager suckling on his tip, which turned into forcing his cock down as far as it could go without making you gag.

Joel’s hand gripped the back of your head, but he never pushed you down. Whenever you did accidentally end up gagging, he petted your hair, mumbling encouragements as best he could through the blinding pleasure. Things like, “Yeah, honey, doing so good. That’s it. Just a little more. Mhm.” And his affectionate nature, his gentleness, his reassuring words—he was exactly how you hoped he would be like. Not to mention, the general hotness of it all had your hips canting down against nothing, in desperate search of relief.

“M’close, sweetheart. Take it—Take it out.”

“I don’t wanna,” You replied in a hoarse voice as you jacked him off.

“You’re not ready for that, honey, just take it out. Take it out.”

You reluctantly complied, removing him from the tight heat of your mouth, drool dripping down your chin as you stroked him rapidly.

“Joel, I… I think I’m wet.”

He moaned a curse at that, his chest rising and falling in rapid breaths as his orgasm approached him. “Jesus f-fuckin’… Tell me more.”

“I need you to touch it for me next time. Please. Maybe you could… Maybe you could put your mouth on it like how I put my mouth on you.”

“Yes, yes, oh fuck, I’m cumming, don’t stop stroking it,” Joel moaned, hot white spurts shooting up and all over your hand as you stroked him through it.

With his breathing still labored, he panted out in a high voice, “You’re lying. You’re f-fucking lying. Tell me the truth.”

“About what?”

“This isn’t—You’ve done this before. No way you made me cum this hard and it’s your first time.”

“Well,” You breathed a nervous laugh, “That’s flattering. But you’re my first. Trust me.”

When his orgasm fully subsided, Joel lay slumped against the sofa with his legs spread wide. You remained between them with your head resting on his thigh as you just stared at his cock. Took it all in, every curve, every vein, and inevitably, the cum that spurted itself over the surrounding area.

“What are you doing?” Joel chuckled, petting your hair as you smiled.

“I’m… I don’t know really. I just can’t stop looking at it.”

But then curiosity got the best of you, and you began to drag your fingers through the mess at his base. It caught Joel off-guard, his entire body stiffening as he watched you.

“What does it taste like?” You asked quietly as you examined the cum on your fingers.

“Oh my god,” Joel groaned through his labored breathing, “I swear, if you do what I think you’re about to do, I’ll be hard again in five seconds.”

“I’ll take my chances,” You joked, bringing your finger to your mouth and licking it clean, ultimately wincing at the taste. “It’s like, bitter. And salty. And kinda sweet. But mostly bitter and salty. To be honest, it’s kinda nasty but I can see myself getting used to it.”

“Wow,” Joel sighed, “You just really know how to set the mood. Make things real romantic.”

“Oh, shut it,” You huffed, playfully swatting his thigh before getting up and plopping down next to him on the sofa as he got to work stuffing himself back into his pants despite the mess he made—that was a problem for future Joel.

“Gonna miss you, little Joel,” You joked to his crotch.

“Oh my god, you’re the worst,” Joel chuckled painfully with his fists in his eyes. “I’m never letting you near ‘little Joel’ again.”

“Mm, no, because I just made you cum so hard you thought I was lying about being a virgin.”

He sighed at that. “You got me there.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

You both laughed at that; In fact, you both were laughing a lot. And at everything. In your head, you blamed it on the ecstatic high of being in each other’s presence this way.

When the mutual laughter died down, Joel looked at you for a moment, admiring you. Then, slow and hesitant as ever, he leaned in to kiss you.

“Do you taste it?” You whispered, breaking the kiss as you fought another giggle.

“Yes, actually. Wait, don’t say it please, this is actually a nice moment—”

“—Your cum!” You loud-whispered.

Another sigh. “My cum.”

You eagerly kissed him back after that, swearing off mood-breaking jokes for the rest of the night. Eventually, you even became too tired to kiss, simply letting your forehead rest against his. Your eyes fluttered shut as his hand snaked up your leg and inched under the leg of your shorts, using force to push your legs open wider.

“Need me to take care of this?” He asked into your mouth before letting his kisses travel down to your neck.

“Joel,” You breathed, breaths beginning to come out in rapid succession as your hips gyrated in response to how dangerously close Joel’s hand was to your pussy. “I… I’m tired.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to do a thing,” Joel breathed, removing his hand from beneath your shorts in order to pull down the waistband. “It’s a yes or no question. Just give me a yes or a no.”

Your breath hitched as you opened your eyes and stared at the little bit of empty space left between you and Joel. The throbbing between your legs was bad, but it was something about the delayed gratification of saving things for later that stopped you from saying yes. “No, I… I think that’s it for tonight.”

Joel withdrew his hand, reassuringly cracking a brief smile. “Hey, uh, spend the night. It’s way too late, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, but what about Sarah?”

“I came home super late, you fell asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

You thought about it for a second before agreeing. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Thank you. But I’m taking the couch.”

“What? No—”

“—Joel. I’m taking the couch.”

He looked at you skeptically but then agreed. “If you change your mind just let me know.”

“I will. Goodnight.”

Joel squeezed your leg before getting up and making his way to the stairs. “Goodnight.”

masterlist

A/N: strikethrough means i can't tag you, check your settings

taglist:

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ellemj · 5 months

Text

Insufferable: 12 Days of Smut #2

Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot

Summary: You and Bucky get separated from Sam and Sharon during a mission in Madripoor and are stranded in a motel room until you can get in touch with them again. How do two sworn enemies pass the time?

Warnings: profanity, teasing, fingering, possessive!Bucky, oral sex (male receiving), slight face fucking, female masturbation, unprotected sex, praise, some use of y/n, hate sex, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: I feel like this one is better than yesterday's but idk. @littlemiss-yeehaw helped me make some executive dialogue decisions and helped keep Bucky as the hot little shit that we all know him to be.

Power Broker is watching. You’ve read the spray-painted words on the wall a million times now as you stand in the dark alleyway, telling yourself over and over again that picking a fight with Bucky isn’t going to make your current situation any better. Even if it is his fault that you’re miles from where you should be, being chased by god knows how many bounty hunters, and so far from Sharon and Sam that your comms aren’t even working at this point. Fuck it, you’ll pick a fight.

“Is this how you wanted to spend Christmas Eve?” You spit out the question with as much malice as you can, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning back against the brick wall of some shuttered, probably illegal business. Bucky’s face contorts in annoyance as he lifts his right hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s getting so tired of you tonight. First, you stupidly thought it would be fine for you and Sharon to partner up and head out into Madripoor on your own. Sam and Bucky were quick to snuff out that idea, even though Sharon was fully on board with you. Nobody gives a shit if Sharon used to be the power broker here or if you have more kills under your belt than most other trained assassins on record. Madripoor is lawless, crawling with criminals who will never pay for their sins, and it’s no place for two attractive women to be running around alone. Even if you can both take care of yourselves, why invite conflict by walking around town without either Sam or Bucky as a deterrent? The fact that you didn’t want to walk around with the damn Winter Soldier right behind you was almost insulting. Did you question Bucky’s reputation? Do you not understand how notorious he is in a place like this?

“With you? No.” Bucky answers with just as much malice as you threw at him.

“Then you should’ve listened to me and let me and Sharon take the lead.” You scoff. Bucky shoots you an indignant look, but you stare right back at him with your own expression of disdain.

“I don’t take orders from you.”

“That’s exactly why we’re in the situation we’re in now.” You mumble the words out just loud enough that he can hear them. He stands a few feet away from you and you watch him as his pulls his phone from a pocket of his tactical pants and begins typing away on it. You imagine he’s texting Sam a message that says something like if you don’t find us in the next two minutes I’m going to kill this girl. What he’s actually doing is searching up the nearest place that rents rooms to lowlifes without asking any questions. He wants the two of you off the street as fast as possible so he can try to get in contact with Torres and find out how to get your comms working again. Until comms are working, you’re basically doing everything blind, and that won’t work for Bucky. Not when he has to worry about three other lives besides his own.

The cloud of anger swirling around you isn’t quite thick enough to stop you from appreciating the way Bucky looks tonight. He’s dressed in his usual full tactical gear that he wears for most missions, with one unusual change: his vibranium arm is on full display. He picked a top that is conveniently missing the entire left sleeve. You understand why he chose it, knowing how his name and even his arm precedes him. One look at him tonight, at the colorful lights of Madripoor nightlife reflecting off of his dark metal arm, keeps even the most aggressive men here at bay. No one would dare mess with the Winter Soldier, especially not when he’s radiating as much anger as he is right now. Well, no one besides you.

“I’m not going to keep waiting around here for you to come up with a new plan.” You announce, pushing away from the brick wall and tossing your hair over your shoulder. Bucky looks up from his phone, narrowing his eyes at you. “We know where Sam and Sharon were headed, we can just meet them there.” You start heading for the street at the end of the alley, but just as you brush past Bucky, he grabs your arm roughly and stops you.

“No, we’re going to get somewhere safe and wait for Torres to fix comms before we do anything.” Bucky’s holding your arm tightly, keeping you just a couple of inches away from him as he looks down at you with a harsh gaze. You shake his grip off but don’t move away from him.

“What makes you think you get to decide on the new plan?” You ask, leaning in a little closer as the question leaves your lips. You almost let out a laugh when Bucky’s eyes flit down to your where your lips are mere inches from his own. You’ve done this dance with him before. You’ve been in plenty of these tense situations with him, moments in the field where you’re so against each other that you can’t decide if you want to fight him or fuck him. Of course, you’ve always simply fought him in the past. Fucking him was never actually an option, but hell, it sure is satisfying when he does something that lets you know he thinks about it as much as you do.

“I’ve already decided on the new plan. You can either go along with it or go out and get yourself killed. I’m starting to not really give a shit about what you do.” Bucky retorts. He looks down at his phone again, breaking the intense eye contact that you were sort of enjoying. “There’s a motel two blocks over. I say we go there and wait for Torres to figure out what the hell is wrong with comms.”

As much as you want to continue defying Bucky, you know it’d be a hell of a trek from here to wherever Sam and Sharon are right now. There’s also no guarantee that they made it to their destination, they could’ve run into any kind of trouble in a city like this. They might be acting out their own backup plan, just like you and Bucky. Bucky turns around and starts heading for the street, not even looking back to see if you’re following. When you let out a soft sigh and he hears your small footsteps echoing off of the brick walls, he knows he’s won this fight. He doesn’t even try to hide the smug look that’s spreading across his face. Winning an argument with you is something he can be proud of, because it doesn’t happen very often.

---

Christmas Eve in Madripoor. Has anything ever sounded sadder than that? Christmas Eve, surrounded by a community of people who have done enough horrendous things to rival the entire population of Guantanamo Bay. Bucky sinks into the only chair in the dingy little motel room, checking his phone once again to see if Torres has called him back yet. Still nothing. Nothing from Sam or Sharon either, though he didn’t expect anything from them since the area they were headed into is known to utilize various types of phone and device jammers, transmitting radio waves that block phones from connecting to cell towers.

You study Bucky from your place on the foot of the bed. He’s leaned back in the small armchair, clearly attempting to get comfortable but failing because he’s way too big for such a little seat. He closes his eyes and lets his head rest back, giving you a chance to really look at him. He’s let his stubble grow out a little more than usual this month, neglecting to really shave it with all of the back-to-back missions you’ve both been sent out on. It suits him. Someone as cold and calloused as Bucky shouldn’t have a smooth baby face. Your eyes coast further down, focusing on where you can just barely see his pulse on the side of his neck. You wonder how many times you’ve made his pulse quicken with anger in this last week alone. Probably enough to give the guy high blood pressure. Your gaze is just settling on his broad shoulders when his eyes blink open and he catches you staring.

“Are you going to sit there and stare at me until we get out of here?”

“Maybe. It’s what you do to everyone else, why can’t I try it out?” You ask. There’s a reason Sam likes to call him the bionic staring machine.

“Try it out?” Bucky laughs, lifting his head from the back of the chair now. “You stare all the time.”

“I do not.” You’re almost offended at his accusation. You? Staring all the time? At him? No fucking way. Maybe sometimes, but you thought you were covert enough about it that he never noticed. You just can’t help it sometimes. You’re intrigued by him every bit as much as you hate him. He’s over a hundred years old, yet he looks like he’s only a few years older than you. His taste in music is that of an elderly man, while his taste in clothes is perfectly in style with the current era. You hate the way he’s constantly berating you and attempting to order you around in the field, but you like the way he looks at you when you give in and take an order once in a blue moon. So, sometimes, you stare.

“You’ve been staring at my arm for half of the night.”

“Because it’s the only thing I like about you.”

“Right, the only thing.” Bucky repeats your words slowly, as if he’s tasting them. You maintain eye contact with him as he licks his bottom lip. Against your better judgement, your gaze darts down to his mouth, to his mouth that always seems to say things that drive you mad and turn you on simultaneously. “You know, I thought you might be nicer around Christmastime.” A genuine laugh breezes past your lips at the absolutely insane thought he’s just shared with you.

“It’s a little hard to be nice when we’re stuck on skull island on Christmas Eve, Bucky.”

“Be honest, you wouldn’t have been any nicer if we were back home.” He tilts his head to the side as he analyzes your body language. You’re sitting on the foot of the bed with your legs dangling over the edge. Your weight is resting back on the palms of your hands and you seem perfectly at ease. Bucky’s finding it a little surprising that you haven’t gotten up and made a dramatic exit yet. He’s surprised that you’re still going along with his plan at all honestly. He has to wonder why you’re so oddly content sitting here bantering back and forth with him while Torres takes his sweet time figuring things out.

“Wouldn’t you have been off to Sarah’s for Christmas if we were back home?” Bucky raises an eyebrow at your question. He didn’t know that you knew he was close with Sam’s family. Though, he probably should’ve assumed since you knew Sam long before he did. You’ve probably even met Sarah before.

“Maybe. Spending Christmas in the tower doesn’t sound very memorable.”

“It’s not.” You say softly, thinking back to the last three years. It’s not that you didn’t have anywhere to go for Christmas. In the past, Sam has invited you to go see Sarah and the kids the week of Christmas, even Clint extends an open invitation for you to spend every Christmas with his family. But something about being around happy families on the biggest holiday of the year makes you feel the same way you do when you’re third-wheeling Wanda and Vision. You like to be around the Christmas cheer and festivities but you feel like you don’t fully belong. You’ve spent the last three Christmases in the tower on your own and it’s not that bad. A little lonely and not your favorite time of year like it used to be, but still, not that bad. Bucky picks up on your slightly sullen tone and the way you seem a little more distant suddenly.

“You’re welcome then.” Bucky says, a smug smile taking over his features. You shoot him a slightly confused look.

“For what?”

“For giving you a memorable Christmas.” He says it like he’s just given you an actual Christmas gift. You laugh lightly just as his phone is lighting up with a message.

“You say that like I’d actually thank you for sabotaging our mission tonight and getting us stranded in the shittiest place on Earth.” Bucky’s smug smile remains plastered across his face, even as he glances down and reads the text from Torres.

“Looks like we’re stuck here for a while longer. Sam and Sharon got through to Torres and said they’re holed up somewhere across town, just like we are. Fury doesn’t want anyone making any more moves tonight without working comms and surveillance.” Bucky’s words bring your bad mood right back to the surface in an instant. You fall back onto the bed with a dramatic sigh, covering your face with your hands.

“How long is a while longer?” You’re dying to know.

“Could be a few hours, could be all night.” Bucky says nonchalantly, like he doesn’t have a care in the world that the two of you are stuck here together. It’s infuriating. You push yourself off of the bed and start for the door, but Bucky’s quick to rise from his chair and cross the small motel room in a mere four steps, reaching you just as your fingertips are brushing the door handle. He plants his flesh palm firmly against the wooden door, effectively stopping you from being able to open it. Fuck his super soldier strength.

“I’m not staying here all night. There are things we could be doing besides sitting here waiting around.” You say impatiently, wrapping your hand around the door handle but not pulling yet. With the way the two of you are standing, Bucky’s chest is brushing against your back and for the life of you, you can’t figure out why the hell he’s so close.

“What else could we be doing out there? You walk out that door and into the street and every bounty hunter in the city will be on you within five minutes. I’ve been hunted here before, Y/n, it’s not a game you want to play.” The energy between the two of you is so tense, so electrified, you wonder how your hand hasn’t sparked against the metal door handle.

“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t give a shit about what I do.” You throw his words from earlier right back in his face. As Bucky’s hand against the door curls into a fist, you stand there waiting for him to back off. If he really doesn’t give a shit, he’ll let you walk out of here right now. But of course, Bucky gives a shit. Bucky gives so much of a shit that the mere thought of you waltzing out into the city at this hour, opening yourself up to unlimited danger, has him ready to burn the whole place down. You swallow as your grip on the door handle tightens, listening to Bucky’s even breathing right behind you.

He doesn’t even know what’s come over him when he finds himself moving impossibly closer to you, letting his chest fully press against your back now. He leans down a couple of inches until his lips are grazing over the shell of your left ear, with his right hand still braced against the door over your right shoulder. He’s trapping you there with his body.

“You are so fucking insufferable.” He whispers the insult against your ear, but it somehow it doesn’t even feel like an insult. It almost feels like he’s just whispered a little sweet nothing in your ear. Your grip on the door handle falters and Bucky notices, so he keeps going. He’ll do whatever it takes to get you to stay here, to stop you from walking out into Madripoor and getting yourself killed tonight. If this is what it takes, so be it. “You wanted me to stop you, didn’t you? You wanted me to force you to stay.”

“N-no.” You lie, hating the way you stutter through the simplest two-letter word known to man. It’s so hard to think with him this close to you.

“Insufferable and a liar.” Bucky tsks, just as your hand is fully falling away from the door handle. He can’t help but smile at how easily this is working on you. If he’d known he only needed to be a little more authoritative and stand a little closer to you to make you listen to him, he would’ve tried it a long time ago. You watch, with goosebumps spreading across your skin beneath your tactical suit, as Bucky’s right hand skims down the flat surface of the door slowly. He continues on until his hand reaches the deadbolt just above the door handle. Click. The sound of the lock clicking sets off a chain reaction. A wave of confidence spreads through you like a wildfire and you turn around in the small space that Bucky has you trapped in. You thought he might step back once you were face to face, but no. He maintains his position, but now with his chest nearly touching yours and his breath fanning across your face. Though you feel confident and sure of yourself in this moment, when you look up at him like this you feel small. You feel like he could push you against the door and have his way with you if he wanted, and you couldn’t do a thing about it except enjoy it. The thought actually turns you on way more than it should, considering how independent and stubborn you are.

“Insufferable and yet you’re trapping me in here. Who’s the liar?” You taunt, tilting your chin up and looking into his blue eyes. His normally cold, steely gaze has a different look now. There’s something bright behind his eyes, something exciting. Your eyes dart down to his mouth, lingering on his bottom lip a little longer than they should have, before you meet his gaze once more.

“Don’t look at me like that unless you’re going to kiss me.” His tone is harsh but his eyes are daring. He wants you to kiss him. He’s daring you to do it. Unfortunately, you’ve never been one to back down from a dare. Even the stupidest of dares. So, you commit to it. You look at him the exact same way you just did, letting your eyes coast down his face and soak in the sight of his full lips. When you meet his gaze one last time, there’s only one little thought in his mind.

That’s it, good girl.

You have to raise up on your toes to reach his lips, because of course Bucky Barnes would stand there refusing to make it any easier for you. He wants to see you struggle to get what you want from him. After making his working life a living hell for months, he’s going to have you exactly how he wants you, or not at all. So, as you stand a little taller on your toes, Bucky acts like he couldn’t care less that you’re about to give him something he’s fucking dreamt about every night since he first started hating you. When your lips press against his, his bottom lip finds its place between the two of yours and he almost scoffs at how timid you’re being. It’s like you’re testing the waters, and he’s not having any of that. He’s quick to fist his hand in the hair at the nape of your neck and walk you back one step so your ass hits the door. He breaks the kiss before it’s even been a second, giving you an annoyed look as he holds you in place between his body and the door.

“Let’s try that again.” Bucky says the words right against your lips, as he nudges your legs apart with his knee and then slots his thigh between yours. As he bends his knee, his hands travel down your sides to grab onto your hips. He angles your hips down just slightly, as he brings his leg up an inch, and you look down right as your clothed cunt makes contact with his thigh. You inhale sharply at the unexpected move, but you don’t move at all. You stay right where he wants you, and he waits patiently for you to look up at him again. When you finally do, a switch inside of you flips and you know you’re about to sabotage tonight’s mission even more. You pull Bucky down to your mouth, kissing him with so much heat and intensity that his hands briefly loosen on your hips, like he wasn’t expecting this from you. After two seconds, his hands start sliding right back up your waist until you feel them both tangle in your hair, which he uses to pull you even harder against his mouth. You don’t think the kiss can get any more intense, until you feel his tongue dancing across your bottom lip. You part your lips without hesitation, letting him dominate the kiss in an instant.

You taste so fucking good. So. Fucking. Good. So good that Bucky doesn’t notice the first time you grind your pussy against his thigh, he’s too focused on exploring every bit of your mouth with his tongue and savoring the taste of you. But the second time? Fuck. The second time you grind down on his thigh you moan into the kiss and Bucky has to stop. He pulls back while keeping one hand in the hair at the nape of your neck. The look on your face is pure lust. It’s longing. It’s making Bucky’s cock twitch in his pants and making it really hard to decide what to do with you first. God. That one kiss opened up the floodgates.

“Let me hear that sound again.” Bucky encourages you while using his hold on your hips to guide you to grind down a third time. He watches between the two of you as you drag your cunt along his thigh. The moan that leaves your lips this time is too much. He’s had enough. He quickly pulls away from you, taking two steps back and running a hand through his hair. He eyes you as you stand with your back against the door, catching your breath and staring right back at him.

“I want a memorable Christmas.” You speak so softly that Bucky has to rewind it in his head to really catch onto what you’ve just said. You want a memorable Christmas. You’re asking him to give you a memorable Christmas. He looks you over slowly, carefully, taking in every detail of the way you look right now. Your skin, though still covered by your tactical suit, heats up to an uncomfortable degree under his watchful gaze.

“Say please.”

---

He’s going to hate fuck you. There’s nothing else you could possibly call it, and honestly nothing else you’d want to call it. You’re standing in front of the bathroom sink, locking eyes with Bucky in the reflection of the mirror. You really thought he was going to take you to bed, but no. As soon as you gave in and said please like he wanted you to, he pulled you away from the motel room door and pushed you into the bathroom. He wants to take you from behind but he wants a clear view of how much you’re enjoying it the whole fucking time. If he’s about to fuck away the obscene amount of tension that’s been between the two of you for the last few months, he’s going to memorize every damn face you make, every sound that leaves your lips, and every inch of your body. He’s going to ruin you, so that every time you think about how much you hate him, you can’t help but think about how much you loved being fucked by him.

You’re both quiet, except for heavy breaths and a few soft moans and groans, as Bucky starts taking off his clothes behind you. He juts his chin out slightly after dropping his shirt on the floor, gesturing for you to take your clothes off too. You follow his moves exactly, dropping your shirt on top of his. He takes a few seconds to admire the way your breasts sit so perfectly in your bra, but then he finds himself growing annoyed at even that little bit of fabric obstructing his view. He undoes it for you, with only one hand, while his free hand begins undoing his belt. Of course this fucking man can undo his belt with just one hand. After a few more agonizingly slow seconds of the two of you undressing, you’re both completely naked. Bucky takes a deep breath in, and when he breathes it back out it warms the back of your neck.

Just like earlier, Bucky nudges your legs to spread a little wider, using his knee. Your body obeys his silent command like it’s routine for you. He loves the way you respond to him so willingly. He’s never had you like this, not even a little bit, and it’s giving him such a high. It’s the first time he’s ever had you listening to him without a single word of rebuttal, without any stubbornness or refusal. He should’ve fucked you so long ago.

Bucky’s vibranium index finger traces over your spine, from the very top to the bottom, sending a chill all throughout your body. It only cools you off for a second, before he uses that same hand to push you forward until you’re slightly bent over the sink. His flesh hand dances across your ass, deftly dipping between your legs and making contact with your wet folds. He drags two fingertips back and forth there, collecting your wetness before focusing his touch on your clit. As soon as he applies pressure, your back arches and your ass presses back against him. That’s when you feel his hard cock, standing fully erect, nearly between your ass cheeks. He’s big. So big that for a second you fear there’s no way he’ll fit inside of you, but something tells you that you were made for his cock. It’ll fit. He’ll make it fit.

“You can’t stand to be around me, but you’re nearly dripping for me.” Bucky says lowly, rubbing slow circles against your clit. A string of moans slips past your lips and he smiles as he watches your eyes close in the mirror. “That’s it, you like that, don’t you?”

“You talk too much.” You snap, opening your eyes and meeting his gaze in the mirror. His smile darkens and he pulls his hand away from your clit. You should’ve kept your mouth shut. Suddenly, his ring and middle fingers plunge so deep inside of you that you see stars. He curls them, dragging his fingertips against the walls of your pussy over and over. He didn’t start out slow by any stretch of the imagination, no. He begins fucking those two fingers in and out of you at such a perfect pace that your legs begin feeling weak far too soon. You grip the edge of the bathroom sink so tightly that your knuckles turn white.

“You don’t even have to answer me, baby. I can tell you like it.” Bucky punctuates his words with another hard thrust of his fingers, and then curls them again, in a way that makes that familiar knot in your lower stomach tighten more and more with each passing second. You try to drown out his voice, focusing instead on how fucking skilled he is with his hand. Bucky’s mesmerized as he watches you draw closer and closer to your orgasm. He almost wants to let you have it. He considers finger fucking you straight through it, and then giving you another on his cock, but he isn’t going to be that nice to you. If he only gets one orgasm here tonight, then so do you.

The whine that leaves your lips when Bucky pulls his fingers out of you should embarrass you. You should absolutely hate how needy you are for him, but you feel his cock twitch against your ass when he hears the sound and you love it.

“You like that, don’t you?” You tease. You love using his words against him. You do it often in arguments and he hates it. His jaw clenches, but he says nothing in response. Instead, he wraps his flesh hand around his cock and gives it a few quick strokes before lining it up with your entrance. He looks down between the two of you, letting his eyes roam down your arched back, straight to where his cock is poised and ready to slide in. He knows he’s big. He knows his cock is above average, both in thickness and in length. He knows the nice thing to do would be to warm you up a little more, build up to using three fingers on you before finally fucking you slowly until you adjust to his size. But the two of you aren’t ever nice to each other.

So, Bucky begins pushing the head of cock inside you, letting his head fall back and his fingertips leave bruises on your hips and waist as he holds you firmly in place. He’s only an inch in and you’re already feeling the sting. Shit, he’s the biggest you’ve ever had. He hasn’t even let you get a look at his cock yet, but as he forces it into you, you’re thankful he didn’t let you see it first. You might’ve chickened out. Bucky isn’t even halfway in before you’re moaning and trying to pull off a little, attempting to wriggle out of his grasp.

“Stop fucking moving.” He seethes, his head snapping forward so he can look at you in the mirror again. “You��re going to take all of it.”

Everything was a blur when he finally bottomed out inside you. He didn’t even pause once he was fully inside you, he immediately began dragging his cock back out and then pushing it in again. After the third thrust, you started to feel pleasure.

Bucky alternates between watching the way you’re falling apart for him in the mirror and looking down to watch his cock repeatedly disappear into the most perfect cunt he’s ever fucked. He truly can’t decide which view he likes more. The first time you moan his name sends him into a tailspin. He has no control over the way he fists your hair in his right hand and yanks you back against his chest, keeping your back arched and your face perfectly visible in the mirror. He fucks his cock into you so relentlessly, repeatedly hitting just the right spot inside of you, that you’re sure your previous thought was right. You were made for his cock. There isn’t a doubt in your mind.

When you start pushing your ass back against him, meeting each of his thrusts, Bucky bites down on his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood. When he started this, he had every intention of finishing inside of you. He wanted to do it without anything between the two of you, he wanted to cum inside of you so deeply that you’d feel his spend dripping out of you for the rest of the mission. But suddenly all he wants to do is cum in your mouth. He wants you to know what he tastes like. He wants to see what you look like on your knees for him. The harder he fucks you, the more he thinks about it, until he’s positive he won’t be able to finish this any other way.

So, not even a moment later, Bucky is pulling his cock out of you and pushing your shoulder downward. You instantly understand that he wants you on your knees, and you oblige him without giving it a second thought. When your mouth opens without even a second of a pause, Bucky slides his length past your lips. His head falls back and a sinful groan graces your ears as he revels in the feeling of your tongue gliding along his shaft.

“Good girl.” He groans. Good girl. Fuck. The praise has you snaking your own hand between your legs, chasing your own release as Bucky uses your mouth like he owns it. In his mind right now, he does own it. After a few seconds, he looks down at you once again and notices what you’re doing with your hand. You moan around his cock as you rub circles over your clit and the vibration from the sound sends Bucky right to the edge. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You look up at him, your eyes giving him clear permission to let go. You want him to cum in your mouth. Another groan is ripped from his chest, and you hear your name fall from his lips just as you taste his cum. Your own orgasm comes crashing down right as he’s finishing in your mouth, and he watches you closely as you carry yourself through it.

Bucky wraps his hand around the base of his cock and pulls it out of your mouth slowly, the two of you maintaining eye contact like it would be a sin to look away. Seeing your mouth full of his cum gives him an unfamiliar feeling deep in his chest. He feels possessive. He wants you to know that you belong to him now.

As you swallow everything that he gave you, there’s only one way to describe how you’re feeling. While you still hate this man with every fiber of your being, you feel like you belong to him now. Your body isn’t your own anymore.

You belong to the man you hate most, and you kind of like it.

TAG LIST (if your user is crossed through, Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you):

@gyokujyn @mrsjoequinn @thealloveru2 @nixxaswrld @ordelixx @fandomsfeminismandme

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #mcu #bucky barnes x you #marvel #the winter soldier #winter soldier #12 days of smut

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cherryredcheol · 27 days

Text

just one secret

tldr: you know what they say about assuming... a/n: reader is referred to as she/her/wife. this is as angsty as i'll ever be (and this isn't angst)

“okay, just make sure she doesn’t find out. i don’t want her to know.”

you stopped dead in your tracks. you weren’t trying to spy on mingyu and his phone conversation, honest. you had just woken up from a very peaceful nap and the plan was to go beg mingyu to cook for you, or at least pay for take-out. your blood ran cold hearing mingyu on the phone in the living room. you didn’t keep secrets from each other. or at least you didn’t keep secrets from him. you were under the impression it went both ways but suddenly you’re not sure.

you knew you were jumping to conclusions. you’re not even sure what he was talking about. who he was talking about. it could be any other woman in his life, his sister or his mom. but how were you not supposed to spiral when you hear him whispering on the phone to god knows who about secrets? your stomach twisted uncomfortably. what were you going to-

“angel? you up? are you hungry?” mingyu was calling to you from the living room. he must’ve heard you down the hall. before you could even figure out what your next steps were going to be, he appeared in the doorway, backlit from the sunny windows, and you almost melted seeing him smile at you. but then that little voice in the back of your head reminded you mingyu was keeping secrets.

“who were you on the phone with?” you had to play it cool, not wanting to alert him of your suspicion. you didn’t want to accuse him of something that was nothing. the best course of action here was to let him tell you. ask a few leading questions and let him fill in the blanks. if it really was nothing, he’d tell you.

mingyu started walking towards you, holding his arms out for you. “it was no one, angel. are you hungry? i can cook or we can get take-out. what sounds good?” he had reached you at this point, wrapped you up in his arms where you stood stiff as a board.

your thoughts were racing. why didn’t he tell you who was on the phone? what was going on? why was mingyu keeping secrets?

“angel?” he peered down at you, clearly waiting for your answer.

you shook your head, clearing your thoughts, “i’ll eat whatever, gyu. i’m not picky.” you pulled yourself out of his arms, suddenly feeling suffocated by his embrace for the first time since you met him. “i’m going to shower real quick while we wait for dinner. okay?”

you didn’t even wait for his reply before you abruptly turned and went back into the bedroom you had just come from.

in the safety of the ensuite bathroom, you stripped and let your thoughts run wild as the shower warmed up. what was going on? things with mingyu had been so good for the last 3 years. you two were so in love, his members often complained about spending time with the two of you, citing nausea at the sight of mingyu’s lovesick eyes boring into yours.

you jumped when you heard a knock at the door.

“angel? can i come in?” you could hear the confusion in his voice. probably wondering why you had suddenly decided on a shower and not engaging in your usual bicker over what to eat for dinner. you two would go back and forth but mingyu always gave in to you, paying for your favorite take-out spot or cooking whatever you requested.

you didn’t want to alert him to your strange behavior, still not sure exactly what was going on, “yeah, come in.”

the door cracked open and he peeked his head in the steamy room, eyes searching yours for signs of what was wrong. he could sense it, of course he could.

he entered the room fully now, not reaching out to you, but fingers twitching at his sides begging to touch all your exposed skin. he stayed respectful though, eyes never leaving yours. “um, i ordered your favorite sushi. hope that’s okay.”

things were awkward, tense. “yeah. thanks.”

mingyu sighed, “angel, are you okay? things were okay before you took your nap. did something happen? can i fix it for you?” he was desperate for answers, hating this distance between you two suddenly. he’s not even sure what was going on, he just knew you were not okay.

you looked away from him, “yeah. i’m okay. just have a bit of a headache. i’m hoping this shower will help. thanks for ordering dinner gyu, i’ll be out soon.” you effectively ended the conversation, hoping he’d get the hint and leave.

he did. “okay, angel. love you,” he gave you one last lingering look before closing the door behind him.

you did everything you could to drag the shower out for as long as possible but you knew you were being a bit ridiculous. mingyu didn’t deserve the cold shoulder and you’re not even sure if he did anything beyond having a suspicious phone call. pulling one of his shirts on over your head, you decided it was time to face him. if you stewed in your thoughts any longer you were actually going to go crazy.

the first thing you noticed walking out of the bedroom was the darkness of the apartment. all the lights were off and the sun had set while you were in the shower. had he left?

“fuck!”

that one little word pulled you out of your spiral. he hadn’t left, just turned off all the lights? you were confused, wandering down the hall pausing in the doorway to the living room, yep, lights off in there too. as you reached the kitchen you saw mingyu hunched over the kitchen table, trying and failing to light a candle in the middle of the table. one of many candles he had lit, you realized as you looked around the room. there were little candles all over the room, a soft glow illuminating the dark space. you could see that the sushi had arrived and mingyu set the table, making for a much fancier take-out night than you usually had.

“hey,” you called from the doorway, softly to not scare the big, clumsy man holding a lighter above your dinner.

he jumped anyway, spinning around to see you. he was apprehensive, nervous energy pouring off of both of you as you eyed each other. neither of you wanted to upset the other, doing this delicate waltz around each other's feelings.

he smiled despite himself, “hey angel. feeling better?”

“what is all this?” you ignored his question, very confused as to what was going on.

his hand went to the back of his neck, suddenly feeling embarrassed about all the effort he went to, “well, you said you had a headache so i thought you might like softer lighting in the apartment so your eyes wouldn’t hurt from the overheads.”

you made him jump a second time when you burst into tears. mingyu stood there looking at you holding your face in your hands, sobs wracking your body, frozen for only a second before he jumped into action, crossing the room in long strides and holding you to his chest. you kept crying, the wet spot on his shirt growing larger and larger.

when your sobs turned to sniffles, he loosened his grip on you. pulling back only enough to look at your face.

“what is going on, angel? please tell me so i can help.” he was pleading with you, begging even. it hurt him to see you upset like this, especially because he didn’t know what was causing it.

you couldn’t look into his eyes, instead, you stared at his feet, clad in soft socks, one on either side of yours, caging you in. “why would you do all this for me when you’re keeping secrets?” you sniffled, tears pooling at your lash line, threatening to spill again.

mingyu blinked, confused, “what are you talking about? what secrets, angel?”

you still couldn’t look at him, “i heard you on the phone earlier. you said, ‘make sure she doesn’t find out.’ what did that mean? and when i asked you who it was you said it was no one. are you keeping secrets from me, gyu?” you felt so small in that moment. all the air around you still as you waited for his answer.

“angel,” he cooed at you. grabbing your chin and bringing your eyes up to meet his. “you heard me on the phone? that’s what you’ve been upset about this whole time? i didn’t even know you heard that.”

“you still have not answered my question, mingyu.”

he winced hearing you use his full name, “angel, i promise you i am not keeping secrets. well, just one. but i was going to tell you soon! it just wasn’t the right time.”

you tried to back out of his grip but his arms tightened around you, keeping you against him. “we promised not to keep secrets.”

he laughed, “i can’t exactly tell you about my plan to propose, can i?”

you went rigid, “you better not be fucking kidding, kim mingyu.”

“i’m not fucking kidding, angel. that was wonwoo on the phone earlier. he’s been keeping the ring hidden at his place for months. he’s dropping it off tomorrow and we had to coordinate when he could swing by because i didn’t want you to be here. didn’t want to ruin the surprise. guess that doesn’t matter anymore,” he laughed, squeezing you even tighter to him.

you suddenly felt very stupid. and so guilty. how could you wreck his surprise like this? you felt like crying, “i’m so sorry gyu. i shouldn’t have assumed and now i’ve ruined the whole thing.”

he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, “angel, you ruined nothing. you should’ve just asked me in the first place, though. could’ve saved yourself all this heartache.”

belly full of sushi, comfort show playing on the tv, mingyu by your side, you have never felt more content. you loved this man so much and you couldn’t wait to be his wife.

“wait, are you proposing tomorrow?”

#seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen fluff #mingyu #mingyu imagine #mingyu x reader #seventeen scenarios #mingyu scenario #svt #svt x reader #mingyu fluff #mingyu scenarios #mingyu imagines #seventeen x reader

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ab4eva · 2 months

Text

‘The Three of Us’

Fully co-authored with: @precious-little-scoundrel

Thanks to: My incomparable co-author & sweetheart Marina, for being willing to follow this rabbit hole with me and explore this little trio! And for the gorgeous mood board and vibes, I’m obsessed. And to Ashley, for being the best damn cheerleader we could ask for. ♥️

Warnings: All the sex, 18+ only

Word count: 8k

Sometimes in Hollywood, magic happens behind the scenes - in a dark corner of Bar Lubitsch or a little poolside bungalow at the Chateau Marmont. Things that are only whispered about in certain circles or sent to Deuxmoi with the stipulation of “anon please.” The blurry flash of a hand, littered with telltale rings, on her Instagram story. The paparazzi photos of a drunken night out before the three of them disappeared into the balmy Los Angeles evening. The fandom set ablaze by rumors as they combed over every sign, every possibility, every look that they took for god’s honest truth. A myth in the making, never confirmed, never denied.

When a ballsy journalist had the gumption to ask Callum about the rumors some months down the road, he just grinned his Cheshire smile and shook his head, the slightest blush hinting at the corners of his already ruddy cheeks.

“Nah, mate, can’t believe everyfing you read in Hollywood, can ya.” A statement, no trace of question in his ice blue eyes as he licked his cherry lips and stared the journalist down, daring them to dig deeper. His heart may have started pounding a little too hard but only he knew that. Nothing belied the steely gaze he turned on the journalist - not a flex in his jaw or a slight blink or the whisper of a breath. Needless to say, that journalist had no desire to go toe-to-toe with all six feet two inches of Chelsea’s finest lad. They let the subject drop, though the air had already been sucked out of the tiny interview room. Callum noted with suppressed glee the way the journalist shifted in their seat uncomfortably, trying to regain the upper hand.

Serves ya right, ya wanker, floated through Cal’s head and it took all his energy to focus his thoughts on the next question being asked of him. Now that the taboo subject had been brought up, he couldn’t keep his mind from drifting back towards that fateful night, like the breach in a ship’s hull the memories flooded in. The soft give of her flesh beneath his fingers as he dug them into her hips, needing her closer, closer. The salty taste of Austin’s skin on his tongue as he dragged it slowly across his friend’s collarbone, the streak of wetness left behind shimmering in the moonlight. The mingled sighs and shared breaths, overpowering and heady in that dark little bungalow. That was the night he couldn’t get out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. It didn’t matter how many books he read or women he kissed or bloody hikes he took in Runyon Canyon, he was always going back to the night when everything changed.

“Didn’t I see you at the Luchino Visconti retrospective a couple nights ago? At the Academy?” The very definition of tall, dark and handsome has just walked in the room, smiling down at you and waiting expectantly for your answer. This is Callum Turner, the new client you’re working with for Masters of the Air press (alongside Austin Butler, your regular client and current boyfriend-adjacent…guy. It’s casual, you’re both keeping it casual. For now.).

“Oh! Were you there? Wasn’t it amazing?” you gush, a little flustered.

“It’s kind of rare to meet another Visconti fan. You must be one of the good ones.” He grins at you, all warmth and puppy dog eagerness. A kindred spirit, an instant connection. You would be very charmed by him, if you weren’t already attached to someone else. Who are you kidding, you’re charmed by him anyway. Talking with him comes easily, and the time flies by as you style his hair, moisturize his skin, add a bit of concealer here and there. He’s funny, sweet, intelligent. Austin has told you a bit about him, about his friend who helped him during one of the most confusing times of his life. But this - this is more than you were expecting. He’s more than you were expecting. And you’re pretty sure he’s flirting with you. When he asks you out for a drink later, you’re absolutely certain. It is with no small amount of regret that you turn him down.

The first time you noticed something akin to a spark between the man you’d casually been dating and his co-star was during press interviews for their new television series, Masters of the Air. As Austin and Callum’s groomer and makeup artist, you were allowed a seat at the back of the room, near the video monitors, ready to jump into action if one of Austin’s curls needed to be twisted back into place or if Callum’s nose got too shiny and needed a bit of powder. You glanced up from your phone to see the two of them leaned so close together their shoulders touched, just barely. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Callum’s mouth looked as if it might graze the shell of Austin’s ear, a smirk playing at the edges, as his dark, curly head bent conspiratorially towards his friend’s blonde one. Silly boys, you thought, smiling to yourself as you watched them. You’d seen that look on Austin’s face before…it was almost one of… adoration.

Without warning your mind flashed back to last night, Austin gazing up at you through your thighs, a look of devotion on his face, his sandy hair ruffled and his eyes slightly dazed. The very same look that he’s now turned on Callum… Nah… You laughed at yourself quietly and shook your head to clear your thoughts, silently scolding yourself. You’d been reading too many spicy novels recently and clearly your imagination was running wild. It made sense that he and Callum were close. Austin had been lost as a newborn calf without a mother after Elvis had wrapped and Masters of the Air had started filming. A brotherhood, that’s what Austin had called it. And Callum had been his right hand man. And that’s all, you were sure. Pretty sure.

Bar Lubitsch is dim and noisy, crowded with cast and crew of Masters for an impromptu celebration while so many of them are in town. Austin hasn’t been here in years, always remembered it being a good time. He wants to show you and Callum a good time, after all the hard work you three have been putting in for press the past couple of weeks. That was two hours and three drinks ago, and you watch them now from your perch at the bar and how much they feed each other’s souls, like displaced brothers, reunited after years apart. The evening is starting to shift and blur, so many drinks and people and noise and singing. You never knew Callum loved to sing so much, until he was singing karaoke at the top of his lungs and the whole bar was gathered around the little stage in the back room, jumping to the beat while he sang the most risqué lyrics right to Austin, like they were the only two people in the room:

Even when the cold comes crashing through

I'm putting all my bets on you

I hope they never understand us

I put my heart inside your palms

My home in your arms

Now we know nothing matters

Nothing matters

And you can hold me like he held her

And I will fuck you like nothing matters

You’re not sure you’ll ever be over Callum pinching Austin’s cheeks, channeling his inner Egan, and singing right at him with drunken gusto while Austin is too tipsy to remember not to bask in it and it’s probably the cutest, and hottest, thing you’ve ever seen. It’s only afterwards that you start to feel a tiny flicker of jealousy. There’s something between them, a connection that time and distance hasn’t untethered. Later, you drag Austin into one of the faded velvet booths, snuggling up to him as he pulls you into a one-armed embrace, kissing your temple with glassy eyes and a crooked smile. His heady mix of sweat and cologne mingle, along with the alcohol, and suddenly you’re lightheaded. Not to mention the fact that his soft lips have seemed to have move, with lightning speed, from your temple to your neck. You gently push him away, and he gives you a questioning look but you need to see his face when you ask him this.

“Hey…what’s going on with Callum? Because, it’s clearly something? And whatever it is, it’s ok, really it is…but…I do have eyes, Austin,” you blurt out, biting your lip. You see a dozen different emotions cross his features, like a movie playing out in real time - surprise, guilt, defensiveness, longing, acceptance. His face goes all red and he leans his head back, his tan throat open and inviting, his Adam's Apple bobbing up and down as he swallows thickly. It takes everything in you not to kiss him right this second.

“It’s…complicated. Kind of,” he sighs as he stares up at the ceiling and you can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it and that’s answer enough for you. You don’t push him further as you quietly turn his mouth to yours and make him forget anything and everyone but you.

“Come on Aus, it’ll be just like old times,” Cal goads drunkenly, placing a proprietary hand on Austin’s belly, his words laden with meaning and a hint of pleading. It’s not like he’s missed Austin or anything…not like that. Not that he’d admit anyway, hell no. Couldn’t two dudes have a consensual thing and not be weird about it? It must be liquid courage that made him suggest it aloud. That and the fact Austin keeps looking at him like he hung the damn moon.

“Swear you’ll shut up? If I say yes, will you just…chill?” Austin’s eyes are trained on you and it takes everything in him to play it cool, keep a calm head. Cal’s hand is still on Austin’s stomach and he starts to pet him, just above the belt and it makes Austin lurch in sudden need. He licks his lips, they’re suddenly parched, and swallows hard. He hears Cal snicker softly in his ear.

“Now, see, as I recall, you wouldn’t stop asking me to keep sayin’ shit last time.” Callum’s voice floats above the music, scratchy from gin and karaoke, hot breath tickling the shell of Austin’s ear. His hand moves to squeeze Austin’s neck, and if Austin didn’t know any better he’d swear it was a subconscious power move, Callum trying to literally bend Austin to his will. There’s an all too familiar twitch down Austin’s pant leg, and oh god he wishes- he thought, he was so sure, he was past that phase of responding like one of Pavlov’s dogs to Callum’s adoration and teasing.

Maybe it’s just the notion, his suggestion. That’s what’s suddenly making Austin’s blood feel hot and his eyes hazy, it’s the idea of her…and him! But mostly her, just her, and sharing her and- None of that explains the way he wants to bend to that firm hand squeezing in drunken cajoling at the base of his neck, makes him want to knock noses and yank at the stupid collar of Callum’s sweater until there’s collarbones to see and a draft under the wool. This is winter in Los Angeles, heating inside is state of the art, there’s no reason for such coziness and it’s making the man sweat and all Austin can think of from the smell is memories of an English summer, worn out and floating in his own body, biting down on Callum’s upper arm, tangy, sweaty flesh to keep an awfully strange escapade quiet.

That does it. What is he even thinking? He must’ve drank more than he realized but then, oh god, there Cal goes, throwing his hands up in defeat, shrugging his shoulders like a kid caught trying to push his luck. The arm around his shoulder is suddenly gone, and he’d give anything to have it back again. He shakes his head - he really must’ve had too much to drink. It was making him melancholy and sobering him up fast. Funny how alcohol will do that to you.

“Scouts honor, Butler, I’ll-I’ll-I’ll,” he seems to search the ceiling in drunken concentration for the correct wording most likely to open the doors to the kingdom, “I’ll be- it’ll be: HER, YOU and a um, uh mannequin. How ‘bout that, mate? Good enough for ya? You’d probably like that, wouldn’t ya? Ya little freak!” He lands a playful right hook to Austin’s jaw, hard knuckles digging into soft cheeks.

The usually inflammatory epithet of ‘freak’, coming as it does from a man begging for a threesome with himself and his girl, is nothing short of rabidly complementary. Callum’s shit-eating, triumphant grin could light up the whole damn room in this moment. He knows he’s got Austin right where he wants him and starts to count down silently in his head - three…two…

Austin finds himself grinning, a warning, measured thing but a condoning of the sentiment all the same.

“One,” Cal says out loud, his arm going back around Austin’s shoulders, squeezing so hard Austin winces a little. It’s a reflective motion then, done almost without thinking, when Austin slaps Callum’s thigh, not realizing there’s a boner bent down that trouser leg. A wounded hiss leaves Callum’s lips as he caves in on himself a little bit and Austin freezes, his face turning crimson and he feels another twitch down his own trousers.

“Steady on mate,” Callum coughs, shaking a leg, trying to discreetly readjust. “And I thought I was the eager beaver here.” Austin wants to wipe that smirk right off Callum’s smug little face but the moment their eyes meet they can’t help but start to laugh. Giggles, really, which turn into loud guffaws that has the whole bar turning to see what the commotion is about.

Your head whips around at the sound you’ve grown to know well over the past few weeks, the loud and boisterous laughter of two friends who seem forget that anyone else exists when they’re together. You spot them, huddled close as they always seem to be, and shake your head. A grin tugs at your lips and threatens to spill out the feelings fluttering around in your chest, no your stomach, no…somewhere else, lower. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about the two of them…together. Sometimes you’re with them, sometimes you’re not, in these little fantasies of yours. You catch yourself biting your lip and staring at them a little too longingly. You wonder what they’re saying now, both of them look flustered and awkward, just slightly. You can actually feel the tension rolling off of them in waves from where you stand across the bar.

Austin chooses that moment to look up and catch your eye. There’s a fire in his gaze that wasn’t there earlier and what is that look on his face? You’ve never seen it before…shy and almost…guilty? He looks just like a little boy who’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Your eyes question him across the dim bar, an unspoken tether ties you together wherever you are, and uncertainty about the deal he’s just struck with Callum comes creeping in. What has gotten into him? He’s just agreed to share you, with another man. And not just any man, one he has a rather interesting history with. The thought of Callum touching you, kissing you, fucking you…suddenly he’s stone cold sober and beginning to regret letting Cal sway his decision. Because there sure as hell won’t be any take backs, not with Callum. He’s like a dog with a bone once he gets what he wants.

“Dude no, there’s chemical flavoring in there, that shit’s bad for you and it’ll give her irritation!” Austin looks slightly perturbed, not for the first time this evening. He sways slightly under the florecent lights of the drugstore, the constant buzzing adding to the pounding in his head.

“What if it’s not intended to go on her? Hmm? Thought of that Butler?” Callum murmurs under his breath, his eyes focused solely on the lube he’s holding, a pink blush creeping up his neck to his ears. Has a blush under drugstore fluorescents ever looked so lovely? And Austin hasn’t stopped biting that lower lip since you walked into this place. It hasn’t stopped him from grinning, though, his excitement bubbling through in little ticks and tells, the nervous turning over of the vaseline jar in his large hands.

“You haven’t even bought me dinner Cal, just straight to the flavored lube,” Austin bemoans, faking offense. “’Sides, she’s already sweet enough, aren’t you baby? I’ve had my fair share of licks,” Austin’s shoulder bumps yours as he sends you a smoldering look, his eyes flickering down your body briefly before his cheeks turn a slight rosy color you can see blooming up from his chest through his open shirt collar.

“Austin!” you hiss, slapping his arm playfully and hiding your face in his neck, embarrassed.

“Leave it to you two twig Bettie’s and we’d be down to nothin’ but socks and coconut oil,” Cal snarks, not at all inaccurately.

“I don’t remember you minding coconut oil last time,” Austin says under his breath, clearly meant for Callum’s ears only, but you manage to catch it, and your heart starts to pound at the implied meaning.

“Mmm, and it was bitter so - mojito,” Callum says decidedly, leaving no room for argument. Austin smiles at you, lifting his shoulder in a shrug and rolling his eyes heavenward. You giggle nervously, wondering for the first time just what you’re getting yourself into.

“I saw that! Listen mate, feel free to shut me up at any time. This would do nicely, ya reckon?” Callum lifts a silk sleeping mask with one, long finger and swings it around seductively, waggling his eyebrows up and down comically. You laugh and the butterflies making a home in your ribcage start to settle down again.

The whimpers emanating from between your parted lips take you by surprise and you promptly shut your mouth, unexpectedly embarrassed to be mewling so wantonly. You bite your lip as it becomes harder and harder to hold them in with every slow thrust of Austin’s velvety cock filling you, his swollen tip hitting just the right spot, and every flick of Callum’s tongue as he laves at your tender little clit with vigor. You feel Austin tense slightly beneath you as Cal swirls his tongue down to your opening to lap at where you and Austin join, sloppy and wet. A soft moan floats past your left ear, Austin’s hot breath sending a shiver through you, and it seems to invigorate Callum as he doubles down on his efforts to have his tongue cover as much surface area as possible. He chuckles and it jolts through you as your back arches, your fingers finding his dark curls and yanking him closer, demanding something you aren’t even aware of. He understands what you need even if you don’t and as his lips close around your sensitive bud you can no longer keep quiet, keening softly. You practically buck off of Austin’s lap and his arm tightens around your waist to keep you in place. The harder Callum sucks, the more Austin starts to whine - you’ve gotten so tight around him he can hardly thrust.

“Oh fuck, what’re you doing? Cal…what…” you slur as you pull at his hair, trying to dislodge him from your clit. You feel him grin against your heat as he slowly slips two fingers in you, resting them alongside Austin’s length. You hiss at the stretch and Austin starts to pick up his pace again. Your head is too hazy with pleasure to register fully what is happening as Callum gently slides another finger in next to the first two. His mouth works your clit, sucking and pulling, harder then soft again.

“More…more more more,” you beg hoarsely. You feel as if you might fly away and the only thing anchoring you to earth are these two men and their hands and their mouths on your body. Callum cocks an eyebrow at you and his eyes shift to Austin. You feel him nod, barely, and then another burning stretch as Cal slips his pinkie in next to his other fingers. It drives you insane and you feel yourself clenching and coming, harder than you can ever remember. You stop breathing for a moment, your mind going numb with rapture as you come apart at the seams.

“Oh fuck,” Austin whispers, biting your shoulder, his hand absentmindedly palming your breasts, pinching your hardened nipple. “Come on baby, I know you’ve got more, give us another one. Cal, can’t thrust with you in there…give me some room, huh?”

Callum let’s go of your clit with a wet pop and gently slides his fingers out. His nose and chin are shiny with your juices, even his eyebrows look a little damp and he’s grinning from ear to ear.

“Go on then, Butler, show us what you got.” He stands, knees popping as he does. From up here he can see your faces clearly, yours and Austin’s. He watches, rapt, as Austin nuzzles your neck, nipping at your earlobe as he speeds up his thrusts, toying with your nipples mercilessly. Your eyes flutter closed and your head drops back onto his shoulder. Callum shakes his head, dazed and pussy drunk - why was he on his knees so long?? He coulda been watching this the whole time? But he knows why- fresh, homegrown pussy. And he means to have his fill. He can’t take being on the sidelines, watching Austin move in and out of you at a punishing pace, having all the fun. One of Callum’s massive palms descends onto your clit, slapping and rubbing cruelly, back and forth, faster and faster. And then you’re gushing everywhere, all over Callum’s hand and Austin’s cock and the bed, soaking everything.

“Come on then girl, give us all you’ve got,” Cal encourages, his raspy voice driven to the point of hoarseness. He grabs his painfully hard, throbbing cock and roughly starts to slap your clit. You gasp, jerking in Austin’s arms as you fall apart again. And then Callum gets a thought, because his dick is doing most of the thinking just now, and it’s been sadly neglected thus far. He’s just had four fingers in you and now you’re literally flinging droplets with each swipe, it’s a goddamn swamp down there it’s so wet. He slows his slaps and starts to rub soft circles against your clit, stopping every once in a while to try your entrance gently, just to see. You moan breathlessly and his heart speeds up as he looks at Austin questioningly.

“I recognize that gleam in your eye, Turner…spit it out,” Austin says in a slightly strangled voice.

“Think you can take us both, angel? At the same time?” Callum directs his question to you, ignoring Austin.

You can’t take your poor abused clit getting ground on anymore, it’s just too intense, anything to give it a break. You nod your head so fast he thinks it might fly off. Your trembling little hand reaches down with disjointed begs of “Put it in baby, put it, please Cal, it’s burning.”

Your sloppy wet pussy hole visibly clenches with a tiny space of room left each time Austin digs in. Callum drunkenly wonders if they should have a medical professional on standby for this sorta shit, like it’s gotta be a crime to wedge two boys into a girl, especially when Butler’s packing like that. But your whine suggests you need it and he’d really like to not be left out. FOMO -that’s what he’ll blame when he’s driving the ambulance or else coming down from the craziest high he’s ever had with a pool of cum drying on his belly.

Austin goes still as a statue under you and drags your sweaty hair across to the other shoulder so he can really see your face and ask, “You sure? Baby, talk to me, you really wanna try?” His hand gently grips your chin, forcing you to focus on his eyes, his question.

“I’ll die if I don’t have you both,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper, but Austin still looks concerned and slightly perturbed. Is the girl he knows even in there? But you want something, you want this and he’ll be dammed if he doesn’t give you anything you want that’s within his power to give. And if there’s one thing he loves about you it’s your love of a challenge. He bites his cheek, trying not to blow his load over your sweet determination.

“Ok ok.” Austin takes a deep, steadying breath, kissing your wet temple and gives Callum a very familiar look of admonishment and also trust in his good intentions. “Careful, man, really careful,” he instructs as Callum nods his silent assent.

“No safe words, just if somebody says stop we stop, ok?” Austin’s starting to pant, as he can feel the poofy mushroom head of Cal’s cock brushing his sack at your entrance. “Anybody who says stop,” he clarifies, half thinking he might be the first to wimp out and do it.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course.” Cal actually looks sober as fuck except for the sheen of sweat that always seems to come with his pints and somehow the eye contact he makes lights a fire in Austin’s belly.

“I might say no,” you squeak, “I won’t mean it though, just a heads up. I’ll say stop- if I need to stop.”

“No?” Cal laughs nervously. “That might make me feel a little…bad,” he admits, still rubbing maddening circles around where Austin’s been practically cockwarming you for ages.

“Stop getting all existential and give her what she wants, man,” Austin rebuts.

“It’ll make me feel bad if she says no,” Cal blurts, running a hand through his already messy hair.

“Then I’ll do it.” Austin’s voice is rough in your ear and your nipples harden into peaks as he gently pulls out of you and pats the bed. “Tell Cal to lay his big ass self down.”

You giggle as Callum dives onto the bed, bouncing for a moment until he settles, turning over onto his back, head propped on a lazy forearm. He pats his meaty thighs and you roll your eyes but can’t deny the flip flop your stomach does at the thought of those thighs and what a nice cradle they’ll make while you’re railed within an inch of you’re life. And then you’re hovering over him, Cal kneading your hip encouragingly while running an admiring hand up and down your spine, like you’re a skittish horse in need of calming. You hesitate, momentarily unsure, but Austin nods at you reassuringly from the foot of the bed and ever the gentleman, gives you his hands to hold as you sink slowly down on Callum. Though his gentlemanly hands are gripping yours tightly, his eyes are glued to your pussy taking every inch of uncut Brit cock that he’s maybe gagged on once.

“Earth to Butler!” comes from behind you because Austin’s zoned out a little and it’s been a hot minute and you’re somewhat situated now.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, uh, ok, ok…”

Cal snickers before crunching up behind you, his chest hot against your back as he wraps his arms around you. “You feel lovely, darlin’, wanna lay back wif’ me? Don’t mind him, he’s lost it. Always goes a bit soft in the head around a pretty pussy or my cock.”

It’s a lot from this position and laying back against Callum’s chest is intense. You feel like he’s fully in your belly and it stretches your womb over him. He feels different…his isn’t as wet as Austin’s little water fountain but it throbs more noticeably, sending little shocks of pleasure through you. Cal pets your belly soothingly and spreads your pussy lips for Austin to really get a look at. You whine and squirm, realizing again the want for more. Those fingers dabbling at your entrance, threatening to push inside you once more and that’s when Austin breaks, recalling that’s what he and his cock are here for.

“Yeah, ok, ok, present and accounted for. Move your hand,” he murmurs, swiping Cal’s hand away. He thumbs at you himself for a bit, just to be sure and to watch as Cal loses his cool facade for a second when you clench tightly around him.

“Still sure about this, baby?” He asks one more time as he’s pressing at the ring and the burn has you bracing. You feel Cal’s hand move from your waist to your thigh, behind your knee, cupping it and dragging it wide, spreading you apart before you’ve even said your piece. The vote of confidence does you good and you take a deep breath, nodding once, decisively.

“Then put me in, angel,” Austin tells you, fat cockhead already snagged in but there’s a little ripple in his hard cock from the resistance of the tight space. Steeling yourself, you reach down and wrap your fingers around him, tugging him closer and slowly feeding his thickness into you alongside Cal’s, who starts thrashing his head and moaning at the drag like he’s the one getting breached.

“Good girl, good girl, please more…know you can take more.” Cal’s begging for cock by proxy and it alters your brain somehow. Austin’s too, he puts his hips into the effort and soon he’s gotten past the muscles at your command and into the threshold where you can’t manage to push him out if you tried. It makes you panic a little, but Cal is softly shushing in your ear, a distracting thumb stroking behind your knee, other freckled hand mauling a tit and begging you to take more cock so he can get friction.

“She can take it, come on, Austin,” he vouches for you, a little self promotion as you can’t even form words right now. Somewhere about six inches in your vocabulary consists of yelped little “fuck’s”and whimpering “I cant’s”.

Austin caresses your cheek, commanding you to look at him, his blue eyes focused in on yours, “That’s it baby, just a little more. You’re doing so good for us… such a good girl.”

Callum grab’s Austin’s shoulder and brings him fully deeper, which is all well and good when Austin kisses your forehead and insists raggedly, “You are doing it, baby.”

When he finally pushes in that last little bit, you lose any control you thought you had, instantly coming from the stretch and threatening to push Austin out. But he presses nothing less than his full weight on you, keeping you in place and himself snug inside next to Callum. You gasp for air and wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, clinging to him. Austin tries to remember to breathe and promptly forgets how when he makes eye contact with Callum for the first time since being balls deep.

“Are you -is that you…twitching?”

“Woulda thought you’d remember that,” Callum smirks. “Coulda sworn I recall you saying something about it jumping like a live wire in your hand?”

“Christ, well it feels different all…snuggled up next to mine,” Austin grits out, coloring slightly.

After a moment or two, when breath has been regained and a few laughs shared and some semblance of sanity restored in right spaces, Cal starts to pepper every inch of your neck and cheeks in kisses. Now that he’s not so desperate he’s become utterly grateful for you, for this. The kisses turn into sloppy, wet groans in your ear as Austin begins to move and Cal’s hand is gripping your jaw, his eyes locked on Austin, your legs thrown wide over his thighs, spread to the max and he’s a perfect recliner. He throws his other arm across your chest in a loving armbar, holding you still on top of him, “So Butler can get a rhythm, baby.”

Austin looms above you both, finding his pace, measured and steady. His beautiful face is flushed full of awe and there’s a heat in his gaze you’ve never seen before. He puts his hand on Callum’s shoulder for leverage, long fingers digging into freckled flesh and Cal promptly lays a little smooch on Austin’s forearm with a cheeky grin. Austin’s eyes shift and change, become a deeper blue and an expression you can’t read flits across his face as he jabs a particularly hard thrust into you. Callum starts to whimper and squirm when he realizes Austin’s thrusts are rubbing him too well, and it's not just you who’s getting their spot hit - that spot being his foreskin being drug back and forth in maddening little drags.

“Y’all like that? Feel good?” Austin growls lowly, rhythmic thrusts pushing you and Callum deeper into the fluffy white sheets, both of your whimpers combining until you can’t tell who they belong to. Austin groans and drives in harder, his white knuckles gripping Callum’s shoulder hard, while he reserves his tenderest touch for you, rubbing his thumb back and forth across your cheek.

“You’re…enjoying this…” you manage to moan between thrusts. His face splits into a grin as he pushes all the way in, pausing for a moment to kiss you hard, all tongues and teeth and desperation.

“Oh, fuck mate, that’s so good. Oh my god,” Callum babbles. “Right there, fuck, right there. You feel so good.”

“Which one, baby girl? Me or her?” Austin smirks.

For once, Callum has no witty response except the heavy panting in your ear. He squeezes your waist harder and his fingernails indent your hip and it gives you something else to focus on while you catch your breath, a tiny escape from the mind-blowing ecstasy you feel and the slight alarm bells ringing in your head. You can feel Callum somehow expanding and growing inside of you, even bigger than he was before. Austin’s eyes go wide and a look of panic crosses his face - his perfect pink mouth forms a perfect “o”.

“Oh shit, what…why is everything so fucking tight again…what is happening,” Austin groans breathlessly, his mouth set in a determined line, teeth ground together so hard you worry momentarily he might break a tooth. He tightens his grip on Callum’s shoulder and Cal’s massive hand encircles Austin’s delicate wrist, knuckles white as he holds on for dear life.

“Faster…faster,” Cal begs, again and again. “Sorry no, mate it’s, it’s fuckin’ happenin’…oh fuck.” His head cranes forward and you can feel his belly and hips flexing beneath you as he tenses over and over, letting out a hoarse sort of howl as he comes. His warmth fills you and it shakes something loose in your head, your own stomach starting to clench as you grab a handful of Austin’s golden hair, urging him on. Callum’s hands are all over you, petting you everywhere as he starts to come down.

“S’ok I came in ya? Yeah? Good, ‘cause I did,” he whispers hoarsely with a remorseful little laugh, back to babbling to you now that Austin’s got him there. He wipes the sweaty hair from your forehead, tucking a piece of it behind your ear and kisses your neck, whispering encouraging words, “That’s it, babe, give us another one.”

Cal’s bitten off little whimpers spur you on, as his soft cock is trapped in there too, getting pummeled. He’s trying to focus on you, with little pets and murmurs of encouragement but you feel his jaw clench as he grits his teeth, taking the pounding Austin is giving the both of you.

“Got me feelin’ like a proper woman, squealin’ n’ shit, Aus.”

You feel another orgasm build and shake through you, one of the many countless times you’ve fallen apart tonight, but this one stands out. It would bring you to your knees if you were unlucky enough to be standing at this moment. You’re sure it has something to do with knowing you’re satisfying two men at once, Callum having found his release and Austin being close to his. You can tell he’s on the verge by the little signs you’ve grown to recognize over the course of your relationship. The way his forehead creases in between his brows - you’ve kissed it away a dozen times in the heat of the moment. The way his pulse beats on the side of his neck, his vein there popping out and becoming more prominent. The short little huffs of breath he inhales, in quick succession - one, two, three, bam, bam, bam, like three shots straight to your heart. It’s your turn to take care of him, the last one standing after he made sure you and Cal got yours.

“Your turn, baby,” you whisper, pulling his forehead down to meet yours, thumbing at the hollows of his cheeks as he begins to tremble and his thrusts turn sloppy. He kisses you again, sucking on your tongue before moving to latch onto your neck. Cal wraps a hand around Austin’s throat, pushing his head back and squeezing just enough for his eyes to widen and his mouth to pop open. His blue eyes darken and you think he’s going to put his mouth on you again, but he bypasses you and goes straight for Callum’s collarbone, his perfect, white teeth sinking into Callum’s lovely English skin and biting down, hard. Cal yelps but doesn’t let go of Austin’s neck, and that’s when you feel it, your belly filled with warmth again as Austin pulses and twitches inside you, a stuttered moan muffled into the crook of Callum’s shoulder. He collapses on top of you and Callum, completely and utterly spent, the three of you breathing heavily and unable to move for a few moments. You squirm a tiny bit, trying to take a deep breath with one man plastered to your front and another to your back.

Austin gets the hint and lifts himself back up on shaky arms, slipping out of you with a squelch. You gasp one final time, at the sudden loss of him, and a cold emptiness is left where he once filled you to the brim, almost to breaking. The coldness is replaced quickly by a gushing warmth spilling out of you. You feel Callum suck in a breath, his broad chest expanding beneath you, his right arm still wrapped tightly around your chest.

“Christ, it’s running down my balls,” he wheezes out, taking another shuddering breath.

Austin braces himself against the headboard and slowly disentangles himself, flopping limply beside you on the bed. He looks at you and Cal still entwined, his eyes moving from both of your faces flushed with heat, down to Callum’s arm still tightly wrapped around you, one large, meaty hand gripping your breast, his middle finger absentmindedly pressing the sensitive bud of your nipple down. Austin sucks in breath after breath, and his eyes travel lower, to your legs still splayed wide over Callum’s sturdy thighs, his softening cock still nestled deep inside you, the spend of both men slowly dripping out of you. A sudden flash of possessiveness roars through him - for you, for Callum. For the sacred thing he has with both of you. His face goes numb and his ears start to ring. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.

“What is it, Aus?” you whisper, stretching out a hand to him. He looks forlorn, alone on the other side of the bed, his vulnerable face a mix of emotions crashing together all at once, lost and unsure, the gravity of everything settling on his shoulders like a blanket.

“Come back to us.” Your fingertips barely reach to brush his bronzed chest, the little blonde hairs soft against your skin. “Please.”

He lets out a breath you didn’t realize he was holding and crawls back over, wrapping his arms around you both and collapsing on top of you again. You’re hilariously squished in the middle of a bear hug now, both men squeezing with all their might, a strange show of masculinity to mask true feelings.

“I can’t breathe….” you manage between giggles. Callum lets out a soft chuckle in your ear, his breath warm against your cheek as his arm shifts beneath you. He digs his fingers into Austin’s armpit and wiggles them around none too gently. Austin bucks against you and squeaks out an uncharacteristically high laugh, trying to squirm out of Cal’s grasp, but it’s too strong and Austin’s body feels like jelly just now.

“Hey! Hey hey, no fair…you know I hate… being… tickled…” Austin grunts out, trying desperately to writhe out of this strange embrace.

Bright, cheerful sunshine spills onto the hotel room floor and across the bed, where it has no right to be at this ungodly hour. It shines in unabashedly, through drapes you forgot to close properly in all of your horny desperation. A little sliver of verdant green Hollywood hills is the only signal from the outside world. In here, somewhere between sleeping and waking, in that hazy early morning dreamland, you register Austin tucked up close behind you, his knees pushing the backs of yours and his warm, heavy arm slung over your waist. This is how you wake up every morning and you scoot your bottom back, into the cradle of his hips, momentarily unaware of the pulverization of your insides. But scenes from last night play out like a clip reel inside your head almost as soon as you’re conscious. You squeeze your eyes tight, refusing to give the sun its due. You stretch your legs gingerly, wiggling your toes against Austin’s, and take stock of things. There’s the obvious ache between your legs - more of a throbbing fire, if the truth is to be told. Your nipples seem to remember the previous evening’s activities as well because they immediately harden and stand at attention. And you can’t feel them yet but you’re pretty sure you have a few bruises, too. Ah well, you think as you yawn lazily, that’s what makeup is for.

You blink one eye open (it’s so bright in here!) and the first thing you encounter is a massive arm right next to your nose, tiny, golden hairs glinting in the sunlight. The second thing you see is Cal, on his belly and sans sheets or clothes, his lush and muscular bottom swelling above the white duvet beneath him. His adorable face is pressed into the pillow next to yours, dark curls swirling across his forehead and day’s worth of stubble dots his jaw. He feels your eyes on him, he’s only been snoozing for a bit, waiting for you two to wake up. He cracks one bright, blue eye open and stares back at you a moment. He senses a rush of what he feels everytime he sees you but this time it’s magnified by endearment and gratitude. Then, his face lights up, still smushed into the pillow and a massive, squinty grin splits his face. Your heart gives a funny little leap inside your chest and you find that your fingers are caressing his cheek softly, of their own volition and you resist the urge to kiss the little freckle under his mouth. He grabs your hand and kisses your fingertips, holding them to his warm lips as he smiles. And suddenly, any worry about things being weird has evaporated, as has any possibility of him being a third wheel. He just belongs.

“Hey! Quit making goo-goo eyes at my girl.” Austin’s gravelly morning voice rumbles from behind you playfully, and quick as lightning the arm still draped around your waist reaches over and smacks Callum’s ass, hard. The slap echoes around the room and you see the pale flesh of his bottom bounce and reverberate with the force of it. Cal, and his red, pillow creased face, jolts forward, yelling and jerking in the sheets, which in turn rubs his raw cock. This causes a chain reaction of events which results in him immediately pulling a sore muscle and flopping back down on the bed, moaning and rubbing his reddening backside.

“No fair, bruv,” he groans into the pillow. “That was too fuckin’ close to my balls.”

Austin chuckles and swats your ass gently for good measure. Slowly, everyone starts to shift and stir. First there are whines about soreness and muscles. Then about how sticky it all is. Then about who’s gonna order room service - but more pressingly, who’s gonna walk to the mini bar and grab a water. And then there’s an argument about who’s voice is less hoarse to call for the food - this ends up being you, hilariously. Then there’s moaning arguments about who is intact enough to wobble to the door and tip the server. In between massive amounts of doting and fretting over you, obviously. The boys are ever attentive, fluffing your pillows and making sure you’re comfortable while they feed you omelets and sausage and pancakes until your energy is restored. Over breakfast in bed, the arguments continue about who’s more bruised up - there’s a nasty bite mark on Cal’s collarbone but the fingerprints around Austin’s neck are a fair rival. There’s a panicked and very male discussion about emergency rooms when you admit you can barely move. But you manage to convince them that a nice, hot soak in the tub would do you wonders right about now. So Austin goes to draw you a bath while Callum helps you out of bed, wrapping a protective arm around your waist, and guiding you to the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later you’re starting to feel somewhat restored and a little more like yourself. The boys take turns showering, getting ready for the screening event later today. They go about it quietly though, almost reverently, leaving you to relax in peace. You turn the hot water on again, you’ve soaked so long it’s turning tepid but you’re not ready to relinquish this luxury. You ask Austin to bring you your makeup kit, eying the marks on both of them that need covering up. First Austin, then Callum, one after the other they kneel beside the tub in only their dress pants, chest and feet still bare. There are bruises and hickies and bite marks on clavicles and necks and wrists. Poor Callum, with his delicate, reactionary British skin has what looks like beard burn over half his chest and up the side of his throat. You turn sideways in the fancy clawfoot bathtub, gingerly dabbing concealer here and there, doing the best you can to cover up any evidence of last night's revels. Austin sits patiently, a towel underneath his knees to buffer the hard tile floor, and watches you with his kind, enigmatic ocean eyes. They’re distracting, those eyes, as they watch your face, every blink and every smile.

“What is it, Aus? Something on your mind?” you finally murmur, unable to take such naked contemplation any longer.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” He smooths the hair back from your forehead, rubbing a silky piece between his fingers. “I’m so lucky.”

Callum slouches against the doorway and lets out a quiet hum. “I think you mean we’re lucky, mate. The three of us.”

Tagging some Austin & Callum lovers I know: @jelliedonut @crazymadpassionatelove @elvisabutler @slowsweetlove @stylespresleyhearted @steph-speaks @blurredcolour @pearlparty

#austin butler #callum turner #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler smut #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #callum turner fanfiction #callum turner smut #Callum Turner fic #callum turner imagine #the three of us #marina does it again #written by ab4eva

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