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flowersforbucky · 10 months ago

Text

love language

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 6.6k

snapshots of your relationship with bucky told through the five love languages.

“remember, we're madly in love, so it's alright to kiss me anytime you feel like it.”

warnings/tags: smut, oral, unprotected sex, mentions of blood, wound care, brief uses of alcohol, anxiety and self-doubt, language, reader is afab, avenger!reader, fluffier than what i typically write, undercover mission, friends to lovers!!! 18+ only

Acts of Service

“Exciting Friday night?” Your head snaps up at the masculine voice. You nearly slosh hot tea on both yourself and the pages of the book that lay open in your lap. You're surprised to see him - as far as you were aware, Bucky and Sam were in Munich. You didn't think they were supposed to be back in the country for another two days.

“Something like that,” you answer, regaining your composure as you bring the mug to your lips. “What are you doing back so early? Did recon go okay?”

Bucky lets out a long sigh as he plops down into the recliner, adjacent to where you're curled up on the sofa in the compound’s communal living room. His eyelids look heavier than normal, with dark circles underneath that aren't typically present. You place your cup of tea on the end table next to you and close the book before angling your body towards him, giving him your undivided attention.

“It was a shit-show,” he answers bluntly, voice laced with defeat. “HYDRA had the drop on us from the minute we entered Germany. What was supposed to be us just gathering intel turned into an ambush. One minute, it was just the two of us in an old warehouse, and then the next..” he trails off, eyes locked on one of the buttons of his tactical pants that he’s fidgeting with. “We’re lucky to have made it out. Sam was taken to med-bay as soon as we got back. Broken arm and collarbone, dislocated shoulder, possibly a few fractured ribs..” he lists off the injuries.

“Jesus,” you cringe, a death grip on the book in your hands as you listen to him summarize the mission. “Looks like you came out pretty unscathed in comparison.” You glance him over from head to toe, relieved to see no visible wounds or bruises.

“Yeah, well,” he starts, sitting forward and pulling the collar of his black t-shirt over to expose his right shoulder. Your eyes bulge when you see the obvious knife wound that the fabric had been concealing. “Not completely unscathed.”

“Holy shit, Bucky, why didn’t you go get this stitched up?” You stand up quickly, your book falling forgotten to the floor as you step closer to him to inspect the cut. There’s dried blood covering the surrounding skin of his chest and shoulder, with fresh blood still seeping from the opening of the wound. Even with the luxury of the Quinjet, a direct flight from Germany to New York is at least eight hours, who knows how long the cut had been steadily oozing–

“The bleeding has slacked off for the most part at this point,” he tries to assure you, attempting to cover the wound back up with his shirt. His shirt that, upon closer inspection, is thoroughly soaked through with blood. You all but smack his hand away so that you can continue to inspect the cut.

“It’s too deep,” you shake your head. “It needs stitches.”

“It’ll be fine by morning–” he starts to argue with you, but you’re already walking away from him, exiting the room to retrieve a first-aid kit kept in one of the shared bathrooms just down the hallway. Though you can’t currently see him, you have no doubt that he is shaking his head and rolling his eyes at you.

Before returning to the living room, you stop by the kitchen and grab a cold can of Blue Moon to help take the edge off. Upon reentering the living room, you find that he’s hunched over where he sits in the recliner, leaning forward to grab your book from where it had fallen on the rug.

“What were you reading before I so rudely interrupted you?” The corner of his mouth tugs upwards in a smirk as he inspects the cover of the book.

“The Hunger Games,” you answer simply as you place the first-aid kit on the couch and hold out the beer to him. He accepts the drink, a small, surprised smile appearing on his face.

“Shirt,” you instruct a second later, turning to him with a warm, wet rag that you intend to clean some of the dried blood off with. Surprisingly, he obliges your request, placing both the beer and the book in his lap to pull the bloodied fabric over his head.

“And what exactly is The Hunger Games about?” he asks, looking up at you through his thick lashes before turning his attention back to the book in his lap. He flips it over, skimming the words on the back cover.

“The Hunger Games,” you begin as you delicately swipe the damp washcloth across the dirty skin around his wound, watching as the material turns from white to pink as it collects the old blood. “Are dystopian fiction novels. The books get their title from an annual event in which a boy and a girl, ranging from the ages of twelve to eighteen, from twelve different districts are selected by name-drawing to compete in a fight to the death. Twenty-four go into an arena, one comes out.”

“Sheesh,” Bucky grimaces and pops the tab to the beer. You turn away from him, placing the soiled washcloth on the table next to him before retrieving some disinfectant from the kit. “And what’s the point in having a bunch of children kill each other?”

“Punishment and control,” you shrug, pouring some of the clear liquid on a large gauze pad until it’s soaked. He gives you a vague nod, signaling he’s ready for you to clean the wound. You dab the drenched cotton along the opening of the wound, wincing more visibly than Bucky does himself. “The districts where the children are reaped from have had uprisings against the nation’s Capitol in the past. The games are to punish them, as well as to remind them what power the Capitol holds.”

Bucky’s brows furrow together, contemplating your words. You make the initial incision for his stitches and he lets out a grunt of discomfort. “Sorry,” you mumble, concentrating on the stitchwork.

“So what happens?” He asks after a few moments of silence, obviously trying to distract himself from the needle going in and out of his tender flesh as he sips on the amber colored liquid. “The group of kids rebel and take down the Capitol?”

“You’re not too far off,” you chuckle lightly. “I guess you’ll just have to read them for yourself to find out.”

“I suppose I will,” he says, eyeing your needlework from the corner of his eye. “Will you let me borrow your copies when I finish The Lord of the Rings?”

“You’re reading The Lord of the Rings?” you fail at hiding your tone of surprise, more focused on finishing suturing his cut.

“Don’t act so shocked,” he feigns insult. “I read when I have the free time to do so.” He turns his head towards you for the first time since you began stitching, causing you to realize just how close his face is to your own. You push down the fluttery feeling in the pit of your stomach at the close proximity, clearing your throat as you turn to grab a pair of small medical scissors. You clip the thread before backing away from him.

“That should hold you together well enough until your supernatural super-soldier healing abilities take care of it while you sleep.”

He stands from his position in the recliner, holding out your book to you. “Thank you,” he tells you sincerely. “For the stitches, and the beer.”

“Of course,” you say as you take your book back from him. “Don’t want you getting blood all over the compound.”

“I think I’m gonna go check on Sam,” he sighs. “I’ll let you get back to your reading.”

“Get some rest!” you demand as he retreats to the hallway.

“Yes ma’am,” he calls without looking back, his Brooklyn drawl making an appearance.

For the rest of the night, you try to focus on your book and not the way you felt when his plush pink lips and cerulean blue eyes were just inches from your face.

Receiving Gifts

One week later

Punctuality has never been your strong-suit, but you didn’t expect to be the very last person to arrive at Bucky’s birthday party - get together, as he insists on calling it, since he feels silly having a birthday party at over one hundred years old. However, as you’re approaching the pavilion at the compound’s lake, you see that all of your friends are already mingling comfortably.

Natasha, Sharon, and Wanda wave at you from where they lounge next to the bonfire, Steve and Sam are engaged in an intense game of beer pong (which Sam seems to be doing impressively well at, considering one arm is still in a cast and sling), Clint and Bruce are playing cornhole - everyone is here, though you don’t see the one person you came for.

You make your way over to a picnic table closer to the lake that has been dedicated to presents so that you can add yours to the pile. You had ordered the gift a week ago, the same night that you had stitched up Bucky’s shoulder wound, and it arrived just in time - in today's mail, only an hour ago.

Hence the reason you are the last to arrive with a shittily-wrapped present in hand.

“Is that Avengers wrapping paper?” You whirl around at the amused voice to see Bucky walking towards you.

“That it is,” you confirm. “You and I aren't featured, though. Just the OGs,” you shrug, staring down at the cartoon depictions of Steve and the others.

“I was starting to wonder if you weren't going to come.” He says lightheartedly, nodding in the direction of everyone else.

“Your present didn't get delivered until the last minute,” you explain, giving the box-shaped object in your hand a shake. “Didn't want to show up empty handed.”

“You didn't have to get me a gift at all,” he says reassuringly, but eyes the present curiously. “But since you almost missed my party over it, I should open it right away.” He holds his hands out expectantly, almost childlike.

You roll your eyes, handing over the poorly packaged present. You had never been the best at gift-wrapping, usually preferring to reuse bags.

“I did not almost miss your party. It's just now eight o'clock,” you defend yourself, staring at the sun that's just starting to set over the lake's horizon, painting the New York sky in hues of orange and purple.

He smirks, walking past you to place the present on the table. You watch as he rips the wrapping paper away unceremoniously, until the gift is revealed.

“I know you had asked to borrow my copies,” you begin, suddenly feeling nervous as you watch him look over the box set of the first edition of The Hunger Games trilogy. “But my copies are old, and tattered, and have been annotated to shit, so.. I thought maybe you'd like your own,” you shrug nonchalantly.

He studies the box, pulling out the first book and glancing it over with a look you can't quite decipher. There's a faint hint of rose on his cheeks, and the lines around his eyes crinkle when he turns his head to look at you.

“Thank you,” he says with a soft, earnest smile. “This is incredibly thoughtful of you. I'm going to start reading them–”

“This pizza is getting cold!” You hear Sam's voice bellow from under the pavilion a few yards away. “I'm about to dig in with or without the birthday boy.”

You exhale through your nose, a half laugh, half sigh and look at Bucky expectantly. “Pretty sure you're the only birthday boy here.”

“I guess that's my cue,” he sighs as he places the books with the rest of his unopened gifts. “Thanks again, really. It's my favorite gift,” he adds with a sly grin as he begins to walk towards Sam and the table of pizza boxes.

“You haven't even opened the others yet,” you point out, following in his steps.

“Don’t need to open any of the others to know that yours is my favorite.”

Words of Affirmation

Two weeks later

Overstimulated. That's the best word to describe the way you're currently feeling.

Nervous, uncomfortable, irritable, a little hungry, even - any of those words would suffice, too. But with the way the velvet fabric of your dress hugs your hips too tightly, the way that the conversation of the drunk party guests roars in your ears, and the way that the heels of your feet already burn in your platform wedges so early in the evening, you think overstimulated sums up your current state the best.

You fidget with the extravagant ring that adorns your left ring finger, twisting it back and forth and rubbing the pad of your right thumb across the oval-shaped stone.

You aren't even supposed to be here, your brain keeps reminding you. It was supposed to be Natasha. Natasha, who has a boatload of undercover operations experience. But then she had to come down with the flu. Natasha, who never gets sick with anything more than a head cold, bedridden with the flu the day before a highly anticipated undercover mission that you are now taking her place in.

It's not that you hadn't been part of an undercover operation before - you had. You just hadn't been part of any undercover operation that required you to pose as someone's wife before.

Definitely not Bucky's wife.

The two of you had just arrived at the party no more than thirty minutes ago and you had spent the entirety of that time thinking that you wouldn't be able to make this believable; that everyone would see how anxious and awkward you feel and just know - just know that you weren't meant to be here and that it's abundantly clear that you and Bucky aren't actually together.

“Ivanov just arrived,” Bucky's voice murmurs next to your ear as he walks up behind you, snapping you out of your self-doubt induced trance. His left hand, disguised using nano-tech to look like a human, flesh hand, comes to rest against the small of your back and his right hand extends the drink that he retrieved for you from the bar.

“How'd you know I like lemon drops?” You ask, instantly recognizing the pale yellow liquid in the martini glass.

“I'm your husband. It's part of my job to know your go-to cocktail,” he smirks, looking at you in a way that almost makes you believe his words. “Besides, I'd know your drink of choice anyway. You always order a lemon drop.”

You clear your throat, breaking his stare by checking out the fellow attendees and event staff filtering through the ballroom. You slowly sip the sour liquid, trying to focus on the burn of the vodka and not the heat radiating across the skin of your back from him simply resting his fingers against the material of your dress.

“So where's Ivanov?” you break the tension. The illegal arms dealer that you'd been assigned to spy on was nowhere to be seen.

“He should be showing his face any minute now,” Bucky answers, a hint of displeasure in his voice. “I overheard some men at the bar saying he had just arrived in a three million dollar Bugatti with his twenty year old girlfriend.” You visibly cringe at the numbers. Ivanov had to be approaching senior citizen status at this point.

“Can't say that I'd expect anything else from him,” you sigh, attempting to wipe the disgust from your features. “What’s our game plan from here? Hover close by him and listen in on conversations–”

“Dance with me,” Bucky interrupts, his eyes locked on something on the opposite side of the room. You follow his gaze, realizing that Ivanov has entered with his exceptionally youthful girlfriend on his arm. Bucky extends his own arm to you, which you accept after tossing back the last sip of your drink and setting the empty glass on a table behind you.

He guides you to the center of the dance floor where several other couples are swaying to classical piano music. Ivanov mingles with a small group of questionable looking men just a few feet behind you, where Bucky is able to keep an eye on him.

He places one hand on your waist, using the other to hold one of yours in his own as he begins to slowly sway both of you to the rhythm of the music. Your free hand rests on the back of his neck, where you nervously twirl a tuft of his hair between your perfectly manicured fingers (you tried not to take too much offense to Sharon rushing you to the first salon she could find yesterday to help you look the part).

Bucky huffs a low laugh before using his grip on your hip to tug you closer to him, closing an awkward amount of space that separates your chest from his.

“If we want this to be believable, you’re gonna have to act like you kind of like me,” he murmurs lowly so that no one near you overhears. His face is just inches from yours - the scent of sandalwood from his aftershave and spearmint from his mouthwash is dizzying. Add in the fact that the lemon drop you had just quickly downed was heavy on the vodka, it’s a miracle that you’re still standing upright in these ridiculous heels that Sharon had picked out for you.

“I do like you,” you huff, your cheeks warming. “Not liking you isn’t the problem.” His gaze shifts away from where Ivanov stands a few yards behind you and down to your face.

“What is the problem then?”

You stare at his hand that holds yours, your eyes fixated on the brilliant diamond of your faux wedding ring. “For starters, I don’t really know how to slow dance,” you half-mumble. As if on cue, your left ankle shifts ever so slightly in your shoe, causing you to wobble. Bucky tightens his grasp on both your waist and hand to help steady you. He cackles - loudly enough for an old lady walking by to give him a side-eye.

“I think it’s pretty unlikely that our cover gets blown because you’re a little unsteady,” he whispers reassuringly. It does little to ease the lump of anxiety that has settled in your gut.

“It’s not just my lack of dancing experience,” you retort. “It’s all of this. I’m a bit out of my element here and I can’t help but feel like Natasha would have been able to do a much better–”

“Hey, hey,” he soothes, beginning to massage his thumb over the skin of your hand in languid, circular motions. You can’t decide if it’s the effects of the alcohol coursing through your veins or if it’s just the fact that it’s him, but it feels as though there’s a continuous trail of hot sparks everywhere his skin touches yours. “You've got this. If anyone’s got this, it's you. You've handled missions far more daunting than this with ease, right?”

You finally shift your eyes to meet his gaze. His deep blue eyes bore into yours with utmost sincerity. You give him a small nod of agreement and a tight-lipped, uncertain smile.

He leans in closer so that his mouth hovers just next to your ear, his warm breath raising goosebumps down the expanse of your neck and shoulders.

“And remember, we're madly in love, so it's alright to kiss me anytime you feel like it.”

The slow, gentle swaying motions you'd been forcing your body to perform come to a sudden halt. You look at Bucky as if he's grown a second head. He’s looking at you with a shit-eating grin spread from ear to ear.

“Did you just quote Peeta Mellark?”

“I finished up the first book yesterday,” he shrugs as if his words hadn't just made your heart skip several beats. “Now let's get this job over with so we can go discuss the book in detail over some greasy diner food, yeah?”

Quality Time

The mere thought of getting the fuck out of that giant estate and away from Ivanov and the other countless skeevy party-goers to gorge on greasy diner food was more than enough motivation to get you through the duration of the mission.

Of course, it helped that Ivanov is a lightweight drunk with no concept of volume control. After a couple drinks, he handed the location of his next illegal arms deal to you and Bucky on a silver platter - without ever even noticing the two of you dancing just feet away from him.

“I'm sending the audio recording over to you right now,” Bucky says as he types on his cell phone. The two of you are currently in a drugstore parking lot half an hour away from the estate, sitting in the Audi SUV that you'd been given for this evening’s mission.

“Got it,” Sam’s voice booms through the car’s Bluetooth speakers a second later. “You guys did great back there. Go ahead and get back to the compound for debriefing.”

Your eyes flash to the time on the vehicle's touchscreen display - 10:06 pm. You can feel your stomach churning from hunger and your skin itching to get out of the restrictive velvet fabric, the last thing you wanted to do at this hour was go to a fucking debriefing.

“About that..” Bucky starts, noticing your disappointed expression and tense posture. “Debriefing is going to have to wait until the morning.”

“We should really get any details while they are still fresh–”

“What’s that? Sam? Sorry, you're breaking up, can't understand what you're–”

Bucky's flesh finger touches a button on the digital display screen and the call disconnects before he finishes his sentence.

“You know he's going to call back any second, right?” You ask after a moment of loaded silence. Bucky says nothing at first. You watch as he powers off his phone, and then grabs yours from its location in the center cup holder and powers it off, as well.

“I fully anticipate him trying,” he answers as he puts the car in reverse and peels out of the nearly vacant parking lot. “But I promised you a potentially gut-rotting meal, and I'm going to keep that promise.”

Half an hour later, you and Bucky sit opposite each other in a cozy, corner booth of the only open diner in a five mile radius. It's half diner, half arcade, and the two of you are some of the only people here save for the teenage couple making out next to the jukebox in the gaming area. You both look out of place - him in his black satin suit and you in your burgundy colored dress with the thigh-slit, but you're too relieved to be eating to care.

He's already scarfed down a fried chicken sandwich and is rapidly making his way through a pile of mozzarella sticks. You're eating a fat stack of blueberry pancakes and the best loaded hash browns that you think you've ever had.

Breakfast foods hit different at eleven o'clock at night.

“I'm just saying, Katniss is kind of oblivious,” Bucky shrugs with a mouthful of fried cheese. “It's obvious that Peeta was never just pretending to be in love with her.”

“That's a big assumption coming from someone who hasn't even started the second book yet,” you say as you fork a bite of pancake into your mouth.

He throws his hands up in mock defense, covering his now empty plate up with a dirty napkin.

“You're not wrong though,” you admit. “She did miss a lot of signs, and she's not always the most reliable narrator.”

He responds with a small hum as he watches you finish your pancakes with a soft smile that shows his laugh lines and the dimple of his left cheek.

His smile turns to something more curious as the young couple who had been making out in the arcade room earlier dashes past your booth and out the back door of the restaurant.

“What is it?” You ask, pushing your empty plate towards the center of the table.

“The game room is free now,” he states, as if it's obvious. “Now I can kick your ass in air hockey.”

And kick your ass in air hockey he does. And skee ball, and Dance Dance revolution.

“Please don't tell Natasha that you beat me at Dance Dance Revolution,” you beg him as you pick up your high heels that you had discarded for the game. “She'll never let me live that one down. In fact, if anyone asks, it was a dead tie for all of these games.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” he chuckles, approaching the pool table in the center of the room and leaning against the edge. “As long as you win this game of pool.”

“No, nope, absolutely not,” you freeze where you're standing, crossing your arms over your chest. “If I couldn't beat you at air hockey then I don't stand a chance of beating you at pool.”

He ignores you, instead turning to choose two cue sticks from the selection on the back wall. He tosses one to you from several feet away, which you instinctively drop your shoes to the floor to catch.

“I haven't even tried to play pool since I was maybe ten years old,” you whine.

“Why were you trying to play pool at ten years old?” he chuckles, gathering up all of the balls and placing them inside the triangular rack in the center of the table.

“It was at a birthday party,” you admit. “I pretended to know what I was doing to impress a boy that I had a crush on.”

“And how did that go for you?” He removes the triangle-shaped container from around the balls and begins to line up his shot.

“Well, I haven't tried to play pool since then,” you begin, taking a seat on the edge of the table and turning your head to watch him. He pulls the cue stick back and quickly stabs it forward, breaking the balls apart and sending them rolling in various directions across the felt table. “And Kyle from my fourth grade class thought that I had cooties, so, you tell me how you think that went for me.”

“Sounds like it was Kyle's loss.” You watch as he walks to one of the table's pockets to look inside. “I've got stripes,” he states, looking at you with an expectant smile.

You exhale a dramatic sigh, hopping off the edge of the table and turning around to position your stick in front of the cue ball.

“Fine,” you relent, looking up at him from where you're leaning over across the table. “But you're not allowed to laugh at me when you realize I wasn't lying about having no experience at this.”

“Scout's honor,” he swears and you can tell by his smile and reddened cheeks that he’s already trying to contain his laughter.

Feeling extra nervous due to the way you can physically feel him watching you, you take an embarrassing amount of time working up the courage to propel the tip of the cue stick towards a solid purple colored ball.

It travels a foot or so across the green felt material of the table and comes to a stop just inches away from a corner pocket.

“Damn it,” you sigh under your breath.

“That wasn't too bad, actually,” he says, not even trying to conceal his tone of surprise as he walks over to where you're standing. “You just need to change your stance a little and hit the ball a bit harder.”

“So, do basically everything differently, then?”

“I can help you, if you want,” he offers with a smug grin.

“Hm,” you bite your lip as you pretend to contemplate the proposition. “Okay,” you accept with a shrug. “But this better not be an attempt to pull a cliche “pretend to help her with pool as an excuse to make a move” kind of move.” You're fully joking - you know Bucky well enough to know he wouldn't make such a corny, obvious move with anyone - and you definitely wouldn't expect him to do so with you.

But you don't miss the way his expression darkens ever so slightly and his eyes sweep up your figure before moving to stand behind you, propping his own cue stick up against the table.

The front of your thighs brush up against the edge of the table and Bucky’s arms enclose you on either side - his hands coming to rest next to each of your legs on the table's edge, as close as they can be to you without actually touching.

Your breath hitches in your throat when the silky material of his suit brushes against your bare shoulders, the sensation causing you to go deadly still as you await his next move.

“With how fast your heart is beating right now, I don't think I would have to do something as cheesy as that to make a move.” He murmurs, his mouth close enough to the exposed skin of your neck that you can feel the heat of his breath. It's an automatic response, the way your head tilts back into his touch. You start to pull away, start to feel embarrassed, start to tell him just how wrong he is, when he brings a flesh finger to the ball of your shoulder and trails his index finger down the skin of your arm, eliciting a surge of goosebumps in its wake.

This physical reaction doesn't go unnoticed by him, either. He hums a small laugh, inching closer to you so that his body presses against your ass.

“In fact,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, “I think that if I wanted to, I could have you bent over this table for me without having to resort to anything like that.”

If his chest wasn't pinning you between him and the pool table, you probably would have fallen over. The air in the arcade feels a sudden ten degrees warmer and you swear you can hear your blood pumping in your ears - things that unfortunately can't be blamed on the effects of the martini that had dissipated from your system hours ago.

No, it's all him. His closeness, his warmth, his voice, his scent. Just him.

“If you wanted to, yeah?” You question, your voice an octave higher than you ideally would have liked. “That makes it sound like you don't want to. But the bulge I'm feeling from your pants makes it seem like you do want to. Kinda sending me mixed signals here.” You rut back against him for good measure.

He hisses next to your ear, his hands snapping to your hips, effectively stilling you beneath him. His fingers dig into the flesh around your hip bones, the pressure somewhere perfectly between uncomfortable and pleasurable.

“Here? Bent over this table?” he tuts, his lips grazing the skin next to the shoulder strap of your dress. “Where a couple of unsuspecting teenagers could walk in for a game of skee ball at any second?” He lets out a low laugh, the sound vibrating against your back.

“No, I don't think so,” he continues. “Not when we've got a brand new Audi with a spacious backseat and highly tinted windows just outside this building.”

Physical Touch

If someone had asked you six hours ago if you thought there was a chance you would be ending this night by having sex with Bucky Barnes, you would have said no.

But if someone had asked you if you thought there was a chance you would be having sex with Bucky Barnes in the backseat of a car in a diner-arcade combo parking lot, you would have said fuck no.

You would have been wrong on both accounts. And with the way that he's nipping and sucking up the insides of your thighs, you're pretty fucking okay with that.

Your dress is bunched up around your waist, your panties discarded on the floor of the car. You're laying as comfortably as you can across the backseat with Bucky nestled snuggly between your legs. It's a tight fit, and the stagnant air inside the Audi is balmy, but you'll be damned if you interrupt this to turn the AC on. The only light inside the vehicle is from the glow of the full moon that illuminates the sky, and the giant neon green diner sign a few yards away from where you're parked.

He's not wasting any time - it's well past midnight at this point and considering the fact that Bucky turned your cell phones off hours ago, you're surprised that Sam hasn't traced the location of the vehicle and sent search and rescue already.

As soon as his mouth makes contact with your center, you’re lacing your fingers through his short, soft locks and tugging on them. You grind your pussy against his face, meeting his fervent motions with your own. He locks his lips around your clit before pulling away with an obscene, wet pop that echoes through the cab of the car.

He reaches one hand up to your shoulders while keeping his lips on you, quickly tugging down the spaghetti straps of your dress and then pawing at the fabric covering your chest to free your tits.

At the same time that he plunges his tongue inside you, he rolls a nipple between two of his cool, metal digits, yearning a sharp yelp from you. He releases his grip and then palms your breast in his hand, continuing to work your folds with his lips and tongue.

You don't know if it's the fact that it's been a ridiculous amount of time since you so much as kissed someone or the fact that Bucky eats pussy like he's starving, but you're approaching your climax insanely fast.

You clench your thighs around his ears and push your hips upwards, the friction building that warm tension in your lower belly that comes spilling over when he lets out a guttural moan across your core.

You cum against his face, feeling your juices drip down the insides of your thighs - there's a pesky voice in the back of your head telling you that you're going to have to pay to have this car detailed before giving it back.

He sits up, his back resting against the middle of the leather seat. He unbuttons and unzips his suit pants, raising off the seat just enough to tug them down to mid-thigh along with his boxers. You're still coming down from your orgasm when he's pulling you up from the seat and into a sitting position.

You tuck your legs underneath you so that you're propped up on your knees on the seat directly next to him. Bucky pumps himself in his hand as you lean over, gathering all of the saliva in your mouth and letting it slide between your lips and over the head of his cock.

You push his hand away to replace it with your own, using your spit as lubrication as you stroke him up and down. He throws his head back against the headrest, looking up at the roof of the car as he brings his hand around the curve of your ass, flesh hand finding your pussy that's still throbbing from how hard he had made you cum.

You can feel the smooth band of the engagement ring that you'd been wearing all evening repeatedly caress a large vein on the side of his dick - you remove your hand from him, causing him to snap his head back down to look at you. You bring your other hand to remove the ring from your finger, planning to tuck it into a cup holder for safekeeping while you use your hands on him.

“Leave it on,” he breaks the thick silence when he realizes what you're doing. “Want you to keep wearing it.”

You push the ring back down on your finger, his command sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core. You're extending your hand back to his cock when he cuts you off, pulling you to him and across his lap.

You straddle him, his erection locked between your pussy lips and his lower belly. You move forwards, and then backwards - earning another deep groan from him as you coat the underbelly of his cock in your juices. You grind up and down against him several times, until you're feeling impossibly empty and can't take the feeling of not having him inside you any longer.

You lift yourself up on the balls of your feet, high enough for him to guide himself to your entrance. He teases your hole with his head - or at least tries to, before you're sinking yourself down onto his length. You go still for a moment when he's fully inside you, giving you both time to adjust to the new, overwhelming sensation of each other.

You begin to ride him, slowly at first - he stretches you blissfully sweet and soon you're picking up the pace, your ass bouncing off of his thighs with each comedown.

He places a hand on the back of your neck, pulling your face down to his in a sloppy, searing kiss. It hits you that he's inside you raw right now, and you're just now kissing. You taste yourself on him, warm and salty sweet. He sweeps his tongue along your bottom lip and you open up for him, letting him explore your mouth from the perfect angle that he's at beneath you.

He continues to kiss you but removes his hand from the back of your neck, moving both of them to cup your ass. He begins to meet your movements with his own, thrusting himself upwards so that his cock is ramming into that sweet spot of your cervix and sending you towards a second climax.

“Feel so fuckin’ good,” you moan into his mouth, breaking the kiss for air. Your encouragement spurs him on, increasing the speed of his thrusts. Your legs turn to jelly beneath you, but he's got you - he holds you up by your ass cheeks and leans forward to take one of your nipples in his warm mouth.

It's enough to send you over the edge again. Your orgasm builds, heat exploding through your abdomen as his movements grow erratic and he spills into you from below.

He stills beneath you when you're both spent, your chest heaving against his. You make no effort to remove yourself from him, and he seems more than happy to keep you right where you are - his arms locking around your waist and pulling you close to him.

“I guess now would be as good of a time as any to ask you if you'd like to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Go on a date with you sometime?” You lean back, looking down with him with the limited amount of moonlight and neon lighting that breaks through the tinted windows. “We dressed up real nice, slow danced, spied on a bad guy, ate greasy diner food, played arcade games, and you're inside me as we speak. I think it's safe to say we're currently on a date.”

He snorts, breaking into laughter beneath you. “A second date, then,” he concedes. “I would love to take you on a second date.”

♡♡♡♡♡

thank you for reading!!! kind of nervous to put this one out there tbh, i've been working on it off and on for weeks but i love how it turned out and i hope you all do too. as always comments and reblogs are very appreciated 💕

it's nice to have a friend

moth to a flame

oil & water

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one-shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction

3K notes · View notes

guliexe · 2 months ago

Text

━━━HOTEL VLOG 18+

Hamzah x Female!Reader

.ᐟwarnings/tags: hotel vlog, soft dom!hamzah, friends to lovers, pent up tension, making out, nipple sucking, oral (f receiving), kinda orgasm denial??, dirty talk, unprotected sex, p in v, praise, creampie, fluff, aftercare

♡ you go to a 5 star hotel with mandy, martin and hamzah for a vlog. hamzah can’t stop thinking about you and you eventually fuck!

.ᐟw/c: 4.6k

It was Martin’s idea to bring everyone to this huge five-star hotel for a vlog, including you. You had become friends with Martin and Hamzah a few months ago, and they started including you in some of their videos and podcasts.

Stepping into the hotel, you, Martin, Mandy, and Hamzah checked in and made your way to your rooms. The place was even more luxurious than you had imagined—marble floors, chandeliers, and the kind of elegance that made you feel a little out of place. You and Mandy were sharing one room, while the boys had their own.Mandy grinned at you as she tossed her bag onto one of the beds. “This is gonna be so fun! Did you see the pools? they’re insane!” she exclaimed.

“Before you could respond to Mandy, a knock sounded at the door. She swung it open without hesitation, revealing Hamzah leaning lazily against the doorframe, hands in the pockets of his hoodie. "You guys settled in?" he asked, glancing between you and Mandy. "Yep! And we're already planning to hit the pool later," Mandy said, grinning. Hamzah’s gaze flickered to you. “You swimming?” You shrugged. “Maybe. What about you? Are you guys joining us?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah, sure. I’ll let Martin know.” Then, shifting back into his usual laid-back demeanor, he leaned against the doorframe. “Anyway, Martin wants to start filming soon. Meet us in the lounge in twenty?” Mandy gave him a thumbs-up. "Got it." As soon as he walked off, Mandy turned to you with a knowing look. "You so like him." You scoffed. "Do not." She just grinned. "Sure, sure. And I’m the Queen of England."

After filming wrapped up, the four of you finally made your way down to the pool. The area was stunning—soft lighting, crystal-clear water, and a view of the city skyline beyond the glass walls. You emerged from the changing room in your—kinda tiny bikini—adjusting the straps as you followed Mandy toward the poolside. The water reflected the golden lights, casting rippling patterns across the tiled floor. You glanced up just in time to catch Hamzah’s reaction.

He had been mid-conversation with Martin, but the second his eyes landed on you, his words stalled. His jaw tensed, and he quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck like he suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands. Mandy, of course, noticed immediately. She leaned toward you, whispering, “Oh, he so wasn’t ready for that.” You felt your face heat up but ignored her, pretending not to notice the way Hamzah’s gaze kept flickering back to you when he thought you weren’t looking. Martin and Hamzah jumped into the pool, splashing water everywhere. After a minute, you slowly dip into the pool with Mandy, the water was warm as you surfaced, running your hands over your face to wipe away the droplets clinging to your eyes. You pushed your wet hair back, blinking a few times to adjust to the pool lights.

Hamzah was talking to Martin about something, but the second you surfaced, his words completely died in his throat. His gaze flickered to you, just for a second, but it was enough to make his pulse stutter. His eyes traced the way your wet hair clung to your neck and collarbone, the way droplets of water slid down your skin, disappearing beneath the fabric of your bikini. And that damn bikini, so tight on you, wasn’t doing him any favours. It hugged your curves perfectly, molding to your body.

He leaned back against the pool’s edge, stretching an arm over the ledge like he couldn’t care less. But his fingers curled slightly, a small betrayal of the heat creeping under his skin. Mandy, ofcourse, smirked. “Hamzah, you good? You look kinda—flustered.” He exhaled through his nose, side-eyeing my Mandy. “It’s a heated pool, Mandy.” "Right," she hummed, clearly not buying it. You arched a brow at him, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "You sure?" Hamzah met your gaze evenly this time, masking any trace of his wandering thoughts. He smirked, easy and practiced. "Why? You worried about me?" You scoffed, rolling your eyes before pushing off the ledge, swimming to the other side with Mandy.

Hamzah finally let out a slow breath, tilting his head back against the pool’s edge. His body still felt warm—too warm—but his expression stayed cool, unreadable. Martin said something, but Hamzah barely registered it, nodding absentmindedly as he dragged a hand through his wet hair. You swam over to Mandy, laughing about something, completely unaware of the effect you were having on him. And maybe that was the worst part—how effortless it was for you. How you weren’t even trying, and yet, here he was, gripping the edge of the pool a little too hard just to keep his thoughts in check.

After a while, Mandy stretched her arms over her head, sighing. “Alright, I’m getting out. My fingers are all wrinkly.”You laughed, glancing down at your own pruned fingertips. “Yeah, same.” Pushing off the pool’s edge, you made your way to the steps, water cascading down your body as you stepped out. The cool air hit your skin, making you shiver slightly as you reached for a towel. His gaze followed the slow trail of water sliding down your back, the way your bikini clung to you, emphasizing everything. He swallowed, shifting his jaw like it would somehow fix the heat creeping into his chest. Martin said something beside him, but Hamzah barely heard it. “You guys coming?” Hamzah cleared his throat, forcing his expression into something neutral. “Yeah, in a bit.” You hummed in acknowledgment, following Mandy toward the lounge chairs to grab your things.

As soon as you walked off, Martin shot Hamzah a knowing look. “You’re staring, bro.” Hamzah scoffed, leaning back against the pool’s edge. “No, I’m not.” Martin smirked. “Sure.” Hamzah rolled his eyes, pushing himself up out of the water in one smooth motion. He reached for his towel, rubbing it through his wet hair before draping it around his shoulders. “We heading up?” Martin grinned. “Yeah. Before you embarrass yourself any further.”

Back in your room, the soft hum of the AC filled the air as you stood in front of the mirror, towel-drying your hair while Mandy rifled through her suitcase. “So,” she said casually, holding up two of her dresses. “Are we going cute or fancy tonight?” You glanced at her reflection in the mirror. “I don’t know, i’m not trying to impress anyone.” She wiggled her brows at you through the mirror. “It’s a fancy ass restaurant Y/N!! Plus, I wasn’t the one getting eye-fucked in the pool.” Your mouth dropped open. “Mandy!” She only laughed, pointing at the silky dress on your bed. “Wear this. You’ll shut Hamzah up real fast.” You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest, your cheeks already warm.

Hamzah sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor like it might help him get his head right. He wasn’t sure why his chest felt tight—wasn’t like this was a date. Just dinner. Just the four of them. Still, he couldn’t shake the heat sitting low in his stomach, the way his thoughts kept circling back to the pool. To you. The knock came sharp and quick. He stood a little too fast, hand already on the door handle before his thoughts could catch up. When he opened it and saw you and Mandy standing there, that tension in his chest pulled tighter. “Hey! We’re ready!” You smiled at him. “Hey…you look good” he said before he could stop himself. “Thanks, you too” your cheeks flushed at his compliment, then suddenly Martin comes at the door. “Right, so let’s go then ladies!”

The elevator ride to the rooftop was quiet. Mandy and Martin chatted about the menu, tossing out guesses on what kind of dishes the place might have. You stood beside Hamzah, close enough that your perfume reached him in waves—sweet, clean, and way too distracting. He didn’t say much, hands tucked into his pockets, jaw relaxed like he was perfectly unbothered. When the doors opened, the rooftop glowed under strings of soft lights, the city skyline glittering around the glass edges of the restaurant. A hostess led you all to a sleek corner table with plush seating and a perfect view. You slid in next to Mandy, leaving the space across from you open—and of course, Hamzah took it. He settled in with one arm draped along the back of Martin’s chair, legs stretched out just enough to brush against yours under the table. If he noticed, he didn’t show it. But he didn’t move either.

The four of you scanned the menus, the quiet clinking of silverware and soft jazz filling the rooftop air. Mandy and Martin had fallen into another back-and-forth about what they were ordering, their conversation light and easy. You chimed in here and there, but your attention kept drifting back to Hamzah, across from you. His eyes weren’t on the menu. They were on you. Only for a second. Then he looked down again, fingers tapping against the glass of water in front of him like he needed to keep them busy.

Under the table, his knee was still pressed lightly against yours. It wasn’t much—barely anything, really—but you could feel the warmth of it. Feel the way neither of you had pulled away. “So,” Mandy said suddenly, eyeing the appetizers, “are we sharing or we just get what we want?” Martin grinned. “I’m starving. I don’t care.” You laughed, glancing at the menu again. “I’m good with sharing.” “I bet you are,” Martin said to you with a smirk. “You always pretend you’re not that hungry and then steal fries.” “That’s a lie,” you said, smiling at him. “It was one fry.” “One, she says” Mandy muttered, nudging you.

While they kept going, you felt it again—that shift. Hamzah’s eyes on you. You looked up to meet them this time. “What?” you asked softly, your voice just above the ambient music.He didn’t smile. Just tilted his head a little. “Nothing.” But there was something in his tone—like whatever he wasn’t saying sat heavy behind his teeth. Your legs shifted under the table, and his knee nudged yours again. This time, it didn’t feel accidental. Your breath caught, but you played it off, busying yourself with the edge of your dress.

The evening had dragged on longer than expected, the dinner filling with casual chatter and jokes, but underneath it all, the energy between you and Hamzah never quite settled. Every stolen glance, every near touch, every time he smirked or looked at you a little too long—it was all too much, too slow, but somehow still not enough. Finally, Martin, who had been quietly sipping his drink all night, let out a loud, drawn-out laugh. “I’m feeling it... I’m definitely feeling it” he slurred, trying to hold himself steady against the back of his chair. Mandy raised an eyebrow. “You good, Martin?” she asked, though it was clear she knew the answer. He swayed slightly before nodding. “Yeah, yeah... I think I need to sleep this one off. Mandy, you’re coming, right?” Mandy rolled her eyes but nodded. “Of course. Come on.”They stood up, and Mandy helped guide a stumbling Martin toward the door. The moment they left, the room fell quieter, and you and Hamzah were left behind. It wasn’t exactly comfortable. There was a pause. The tension between you was intense.

“Well,” you said, shifting in your seat slightly, trying to play it cool. “Guess we should probably head up too.” Hamzah didn’t immediately respond, still leaning back in his chair with a lazy tilt of his head. Then, with an almost lazy smile, he pushed himself to his feet. “Yeah, I guess so. Lead the way.” When you turned to head for the elevator, he followed close behind, but the silence in the hall was thick. The distant sound of your footsteps echoed, and each step made it feel like you were both trying to outrun something you weren’t ready to face. As you reached the elevator, you hit the button. The doors slid open with a soft chime, and the two of you stepped inside. It was cramped, the kind of intimate space where you couldn’t help but be aware of every inch of the other person. The air felt charged, heavy, with neither of you speaking as the doors closed behind you.

You could feel Hamzah standing close beside you, just a few inches away, his presence unmistakable. His gaze flickered toward you briefly, and for a moment, everything seemed to pause. "So," you say, trying to break the silence, your voice coming out a little quieter than you’d meant. "Quite the night, huh?" Hamzah glances over at you, the faintest trace of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, more than I expected. Martin’s... interesting when he’s had a bit to drink." You let out a small laugh. "I know. He’s a handful." There’s another brief silence. You glance at him, then quickly look away, focusing on the numbers above the door as they tick upward. "You're quiet tonight" you say softly. Hamzah shifts beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. "Just thinking," he murmurs. You raise a brow. “About what?” He hesitates, then shrugs, looking back toward the elevator doors. “You.”

You try to laugh it off, but your voice comes out uneven. “What about me?” He glances at you again, slower this time. “How you looked tonight. How you always look.” You look away, heat rising to your cheeks. The air feels thicker now, harder to breathe. The elevator hums beneath your feet. You can feel how close he is—your arms nearly brushing, his warmth impossible to ignore. “You know” you say after a pause, your voice quieter, “you don’t usually say stuff like that.” Hamzah leans slightly toward you. Not touching—but so close it feels like a touch. “Doesn’t mean I don’t think it.” Your breath catches in your throat, heart thudding against your ribs like it wants out. You glance up at him again—slowly this time—and he’s already looking at you, that half-lidded gaze unreadable but intense. “Why now?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. His lips twitch slightly, but it’s not quite a smile. “Because if I don’t say something tonight, I’m gonna regret it.”Your pulse stutters. The elevator hums softly, rising toward your floor at an infuriatingly slow pace. The air between you vibrates with unspoken things, with every almost-touch that’s happened all day. Every stolen glance. Every lingering second.

“You looked… so fucking good at the pool” Hamzah says quietly, voice rougher now, lower. “And then tonight—” He shakes his head once, like the memory itself frustrates him. “It’s been driving me crazy.” You swallow hard., cheeks turning red. “I’ve been trying to play it cool,” he admits, eyes dropping briefly to your mouth before flicking back up. “But you make it hard.” The elevator dings softly as it passes another floor. Almost there. And suddenly, the knowledge that you’re running out of time crashes over you. You shift to face him more fully, your back brushing against the mirrored wall. “Show me then” you whisper. “How crazy i drive you.” Hamzah doesn’t move right away. His jaw flexes once, and then he steps in closer, slow and deliberate, until there’s barely an inch between you. His hand comes up, resting just beside your head on the wall behind you, not quite touching but close enough to make you dizzy. “I want to kiss you,” he says, voice deep, looking up at your eyes. “Can i?”

You’re not sure who moves first, but suddenly your mouths are crashing together, urgent and messy and hot. You gasp into him, and he swallows the sound, his hands finally landing on your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your fingers tangle in the front of his shirt, anchoring yourself as your back hits the cool metal of the elevator wall. His mouth moves over yours like he’s starving—deep, slow, then faster when you tug him closer. One of his hands drifts down, sliding under the hem of your dress, feeling your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin like he wants to memorize the shape of you.

You make a soft sound, and he groans into your mouth in response, the kiss turning hotter, heavier, his body pressing into yours like he can’t get close enough. Then all of a sudden-ding! The elevator doors open to your floor. You both break apart just barely, breathing hard, eyes locked. Neither of you moves right away. Hamzah’s chest is still pressed to yours, his hand resting against your thigh under your dress, like he forgot to pull away—or didn’t want to. You can feel his breath against your cheek, heavy and warm, and when he finally speaks, it’s in a voice so low it’s practically a growl. “You gonna walk” he murmurs, “or you want me to carry you?”

Your lips part, breath hitching as you start to respond,but you don’t get the chance. Suddenly, his arm wraps around your waist and the other around your legs, and you gasp as he lifts you like it’s nothing. Your arms instinctively loop around his neck, your dress riding up slightly as he holds you close. “Hamzah” you breathe, the sound caught somewhere between a warning and a plea. He doesn’t answer. He just starts walking, carrying you down the quiet hallway like he knows exactly where you’re going—and it’s the only place he’s been trying to get to all night.

Your heartbeat thunders in your ears as you cling to him, chest to chest, your lips brushing his jaw as you glance up. His eyes stay fixed ahead, his grip strong. When you reach your room, he pauses just outside the door. Gently, he lowers you to your feet, hands lingering at your waist, his breath still coming fast and shallow against your cheek. Fumbling slightly, you swipe the keycard. The lock clicks. And you barely wait for the door to swing open before your hand curls around his shirt, pulling him in with you.

As soon as the door shuts behind you, his mouth is on yours again—rougher this time, sloppy. Like now that he has you alone, he’s not holding anything back. The door clicks shut behind you, and then it’s like something snaps. He crowds you back against it without breaking the kiss, his hands gripping your waist, then sliding lower—down your hips, your thighs, tugging your dress up as his mouth devours yours. It’s all heat and teeth and tongue. You moan into him, fingers tangling in his shirt, tugging it up over his head. He barely breaks the kiss to yank it off, tossing it somewhere behind him before he’s on you again, mouth moving along your jaw, down your neck. His teeth graze your skin, and he sucks on the soft skin, leaving a mark.

“I’ve been thinking about this for months” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough and low and desperate. “Thinking about you. How you sound. How you taste.” His hands find the backs of your thighs, lifting you again, only this time, he walks you straight to the bed. You cling to him, your dress hiked up, legs wrapped around his waist as he lowers you onto the mattress, his body following, pressing you down into the sheets. You look up at him, chest heaving, lips parted. “Then stop thinking,” you whisper, “and do something about it. That’s all it takes.

His hands are everywhere on your body. He quickly takes your dress off, tossing it away, the cold air of the room hardening your bare nipples. His eyes drop, and for a moment, all he does is stare. He can’t believe you’re real, laid out beneath him like this. “Fuck” he breathes, voice strained. Then he slowly lowers himself and his mouth wraps around one of your nipples. You gasp, arching into him as his tongue swirls, soft at first, then rougher, teasing. His hand cups your other breast, thumb brushing over the nipple as his lips close around the other, sucking with slow pressure that has your back lifting off the mattress.

“Hamzah,” you whisper, your voice already wrecked. “Please, want more” Hamzah lifts his head slightly, his mouth glistening from where he’d been sucking on your nipple, eyes dark with heat. “Yeah?” he murmurs, voice rough. “You want more?” His hand trails slowly down your stomach, the pads of his fingers caressing your soft skin until they disappear beneath the thin waistband of your panties. The moment his fingers dip lower, he groans under his breath. “Fuck, you’re soaked.” His touch is light at first—just two fingers sliding between your folds, collecting the slick that’s already gathered there.

You jolt slightly, breath hitching, whining softly, hips twitching up toward his hand. His other arm braces beside your head, keeping him hovered over you as his fingers begin to move, slow and teasing, rubbing lazy circles over your clit. After a minute he pulls back just enough to sit up on his knees, tugging your panties down your legs in one smooth motion. He drops them somewhere behind him without looking, gaze fixed between your thighs now spread open just for him. Hamzah leans in again, settling between your legs, hands gripping your thighs, pushing them wider.

A deep sigh leaves his mouth at the sight of you, then lowers his head, and licks a slow, deliberate stripe up your pussy. You cry out, hips jerking, but he doesn’t stop. His mouth latches onto your clit, tongue swirling, then flattening, then flicking in perfect rhythm while his hands pin you down. He eats you like he’s starving, like he’s waited too long and finally, finally gets to have you. Your hands move to his hair, gripping tight, and he groans into you at the pull, tongue working deeper, faster, until your thighs start to shake around his head. He doesn’t stop. Not when you whimper his name like that. Not even when your hips begin to roll against his mouth, desperate and mindless.

He just holds you open and keeps licking—slow, messy, relentless. You're right on the edge, the pleasure coiling tight in your core, your thighs trembling around his head “Hamzah,” you gasp, voice high and needy. “Fuck—I’m gonna—” And he stops. He pulls back suddenly, his mouth wet, lips slick with you. You make a broken sound, halfway between a moan and a protest, hips still twitching in the air like your body’s chasing the orgasm he just stole from you. He looks up at you, flushed and breathless. “Nah,” he pants, voice hoarse. “Not like that. I wanna feel you when you cum.”

He’s already pushing his sweats down, cock thick, hard and flushed, leaking at the tip as he crawls over you. Your legs part without second thought, welcoming him, and he grabs himself at the base, dragging the head slowly through your soaked folds. You whimper at the contact, hips tilting up, desperate. Hamzah hisses through his teeth. “Fuck—you’re so wet, baby.” Then he pushes in. The stretch steals the air from your lungs. He’s thick, filling you slow but deep, making you feel every inch as your walls clench around him. Your hands reach for his back, nails sinking into his skin.

He groans deep in his throat, forehead dropping to yours. “Shit—you feel so fucking good.” When he bottoms out, he pauses, buried to the hilt, letting you both feel it—how full you are, how tight, how perfect it fits. Then he starts to move. Slow at first, grinding deep, each thrust deliberate, dragging against that sensitive spot that makes your legs tremble. You gasp his name again, and that’s all it takes—he snaps his hips harder, faster, setting a rhythm that’s rough and needy and so goddamn good it knocks the thoughts from your head. Your body arches into him, mouth falling open, his lips brushing yours, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

“Can’t believe it took us—fuck—so long to do this” his voice deep and unstable. Your body tightens beneath him, every nerve lit up like fire, and Hamzah doesn’t let up. His hips snap into you, fast and deep, filling you over and over. He’s panting against your mouth, forehead pressed to yours, like he can’t bear to be any farther than skin-to-skin “That’s it,” he groans, his voice thick and wrecked. “Taking me so fucking well,made for me.” You whimper at his words, thighs trembling around his waist, fingernails digging into his back as the pleasure builds hard in your abdomen. Every thrust knocks the breath out of you, and the way he looks at you—like you’re his, like there’s nothing else in the world but you—pushes you right to the edge. “Hamzah—fuck—I’m close—”

He drives into you even deeper, the tip of his cock hitting that perfect spot that makes you cry out. “Cum for me,” he groans against your ear. “Be a good girl and cum. Let me feel you.” And you do. Your whole body shakes, your back arching off the bed as your orgasm rips through you, wave after wave crashing so hard it makes you sob his name. Your walls flutter around him, squeezing him so tight he swears under his breath. He brings his mouth to yours, kissing you deeply and passionately, leaving both of you breathless. “Fuck—fuck, baby, I’m—please, can i fill you up?” You quickly nod, and cling onto him tighter. “Please, i need you” you whine in his ear. His rhythm stutters, hips jerking once, twice—then he’s spilling inside you, thick and hot, buried as deep as he can get. He curses again, low and breathless, holding you tight as he throbs inside you.

He doesn’t move for a long moment, just stays there, forehead pressed to yours, both of you panting, skin slick with sweat and still trembling from the high. His nose brushes yours, and for a moment, everything is quiet but the sound of your breathing and the dull thrum of your racing heartbeats. Then, slowly, gently, he kisses you again—this time softer, slower, but still desperate. Like he’s trying to say everything he doesn’t have words for. “You okay?” he murmurs, his voice rough but full of concern as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face. “Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head immediately, pulling him down for another kiss. “No,” you whisper against his lips. “I feel perfect.” He smiles at your words, so full of love that it makes your chest ache. He finally pulls out of you carefully, murmuring a quiet apology at the sensitivity, and disappears for a second to grab a towel from the bathroom. When he returns, he kneels between your legs, his touch gentle as he cleans you up, his eyes flicking to your face every few seconds to make sure you’re okay. Once he’s done, he tosses the towel aside and climbs back into bed beside you, tugging the duvet up around both your bodies.

His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you in close, tucking your head beneath his chin. His other hand finds yours under the covers, fingers lacing together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I’ve wanted this,” he murmurs into your hair. “Wanted you. For so long.” You smile sleepily, fingers trailing over his bare chest. “You have me,” you say softly. “You’ve always had me.” He presses a kiss to your temple and holds you tighter. “Not letting you go now,” he whispers. “Not ever.” And with your legs tangled together and his heartbeat steady under your cheek, you fall asleep in his arms, warm, safe and more his than you’ve ever been.

my other works ➵ masterlist

taglist: @noturbabe22 , @giuli4nna , @harrys0nlyange1 , @luigifr0mf1ji , @pictureperfectblue , @rabbitsgnocchi , @2005irlfawn , @cheesecake432 , @oceanbreezeglow , @isathefantastic , @currentscnvulsive (please let me know if i missed your name!! also some usernames i couldn’t find for some reason im sorry)

#hamzah smut #hamzah #hamzah angst #hamzah fic #hamzah fluff #martin and hamzah #hamzah x y/n #hamzah x reader #hamzah imagines #hamzahthefantastic #hamzahthefanatasticxreader #hamzahsmut #slushynoobz #slushy noobz #slushy virus

1K notes · View notes

cherrygirlfriend · 13 days ago

Text

─── YOUR DAY 🎂

♡ pairing: nerd!rafe x pervert!reader

♡ summary: rafe surprises reader for her birthday.

♡ warnings / tags: fluff, rafe being the best man someone could ever wish for. smut, fingering, MDNI! wc: 2.5k

♡ author's note: this is for @lulanixoxo who requested some birthday nerd rafe fluff n smut for her birthday, i made this a priority request because i wanted it to be out before your birthday, i hope you like it and i hope you have an amazing birthday!!

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most your birthdays in the past had been spent going out with friends; if you wanted a birthday party, you always had to host it yourself because none of your friends or boyfriends wanted to put in effort, and those always ended up with you having to clean the venues yourself while still buzzed when all you wanted to do was crawl into bed and maybe shed a few tears. this year, you wanted to host a small party, simply because the buzz of a night club was too much for you.

"what are you doing?" rafe asked as he laid on the bed with a comic book in his hands, adjusting his glasses. you smiled, sitting with your legs crossed on his bed and rafe's laptop on your lap, a small smile on your face, "oh, i'm just looking at places nearby where i could hold a party." "a party?" "yeah, my birthday party."

your boyfriend simply closed the laptop, "don't." "but-" "don't." he smiled up at you, "because i'm handling it." "really?" "now what kind of a boyfriend would i be if i didn't have a plan for my girlfriend's birthday?" rafe's words made you roll your eyes as you moved the laptop to the foot of the bed and brought your lips to his.

the special day on rafe's wall calendar had been circled with a red heart, your initial right in the middle of it, but you really didn't think much of it until you woke up on the morning of your birthday to the scent of rafe's cologne filling your nostrils, his arm wrapped around your waist as he pressed warm kisses on your neck, the slight stubble making you giggle.

you turned to face rafe, your boyfriend looking down at you with a smile so sweet on his lips it made you want to take a bite right out of him. he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, bringing his lips to yours for a quick peck, and you could taste the minty toothpaste you two shared when you stayed with him.

"why are you up so early, hm?" you asked, pushing back some of rafe's hair, "because..." he pressed another quick peck on your lips, "it's your birthday." "oh, is it now? i had no idea."

rafe lifted a brown paper bag onto the bed, your eyes widening when you saw the logo of your favorite cafe on the bag, only now noticing the two coffee cups on rafe's nightstand, the scent of fresh pastries making you clap your hands together in excitement as rafe started to unpack the contents of the bag onto the bed.

after a moment, in front of you there were two croissants, pain au chocolat, a small cake with your name written on it with a heart, and a blueberry-chocolate muffin. "you didn't..." you mumbled quietly, looking between rafe and the foods in front of you with a small but happy pout. "happy birthday." rafe simply smiled at you, your heart clenching in your chest. "this place is on the other side of the town..." "guess i'm lucky that my girlfriend is a deep sleeper and didn't notice me sneaking out of bed."

honestly, you hadn't expected much after a breakfast in bed from your favorite cafe, but as soon as you rose out of bed, rafe turned to you with a small smile, "don't put on makeup and wear something comfortable, okay? we're gonna go shopping." "shopping? you?" you snorted, making rafe roll his eyes, "just do it." "you," you sauntered over to him, moving to straddle rafe, "-are not the boss of me."

...after a quick shower to wash off the affection you'd shown one another, you'd done as your boyfriend had advised you to do, simply putting on a crop top along with a pair of rafe's sweatpants. you raised your brows, "is this a fabulous birthday look, or what?" "absolutely." rafe chuckled softly, getting onto his feet, taking your hand in his, and intertwining your fingers. "let's go."

"rafe? what's this?" you cocked your head to the side when you saw the clearly expensive car in front of you, a man who looked to be the driver standing right next to it. "it's nothing." rafe said, squeezing your hand, "come on, let's go in."

the entire drive, you couldn't help but be sketched out- your boyfriend, who was studying on a scholarship, was now having you be driven around in a lexus. you thought that maybe it was some kind of rideshare app... but something that was even stranger, was that when you got to the mall, rafe said to the driver, "i'll call you when we need you, jamie." to the driver, as if they were old friends.

you'd expected the mall to be full of people rushing around from store to store... but when you walked in, you heard nothing but silence. you looked to rafe with slightly furrowed brows, but he just kept walking, as if nothing was amiss. "rafe, what's going on?" "nothing. c'mon."

even as rafe led you to the movie theater of the mall, there wasn't a soul in sight; not even someone checking for tickets. your boyfriend simply pulled you into the large theater, leading you to the best seats, right in the middle, where a large tub of popcorn was already waiting for you.

"rafe, seriously."

"what? maybe the mall's just a bit empty. and the movie theater." the boy shrugged as he feigned cluelessness, only to dig something from his pocket. he handed you a movie ticket that read 'happy birthday to the sweetest girl in the world.'

out of nowhere, the theater became dark, and the intro to your favorite movie began.

rafe spent the entire day dragging you from one place to another. after the movie, it was spa time, after that, mani-pedi, after that, food, after that, hair and makeup, after that, a store where every piece of clothing cost more than a two-bedroom apartment in new york.

and now, the two of you were back in the car you'd been in earlier. you were wearing a glamorous dress, and shoes that cost more than your entire wardrobe, and rafe was wearing a stylish button-up shirt along with prada dress pants, and he'd switched his usual glasses for a pair of contacts. he looked unrecognizable, and you couldn't help but keep staring at him, your eyes narrowing every now and then.

"what are you looking at?" rafe chuckled softly, squeezing your hand, "who are you and what have you done to my boyfriend?" you asked with feigned suspicion. "i sometimes like to wear contacts. just to look a bit more handsome." rafe rolled his eyes. you furrowed your brows at his words, and you brought your hand to his jaw, forcing rafe to look at you.

"you look handsome to me no matter what, you know that, right?" you pursed your lips, "you look handsome in every way. i don't want you to try and change yourself because you think i won't like you." rafe's lips twitched up into a smile and he nodded softly, "i know." he mumbled shakily, digging something out of his pocket; a black, velvet box. you took it into your hands with slight confusion, your brows furrowing in question, rafe rolling his ice-blue eyes, "i'm not proposing. just open it."

and once you opened the box, you saw the most gorgeous locket. "turn it around." rafe mumbled, and on the back, you saw rafe's initials, making you squeal, "now open it, please."

your jaw nearly dropped, a gasp leaving your lips when you saw what was inside of it; on the left side, there was a picture of you two on your very first date, rafe's arm awkwardly wrapped around you, a goofy smile on his face while you looked at him with nothing but utter love and adoration; and the second one was from your most recent date; rafe's arm wrapped around your waist, his upturned lips pressing a kiss to the side of your head while your arms were wrapped around him.

"i don't know if you remember this..." rafe cleared his throat, "but on our first date, that street photographer asked to take a picture of us." he let out a small laugh, "it took me weeks but... i finally found the person who took it, and i asked them to send it to me." "rafe... you did all that? for me?" and without missing a beat, he whispered, "of course."

after rafe had clasped the necklace around your neck, you spent the rest of the drive with your lips on his, rafe's hand trailing up your thigh until they met the lace of your panties... but once the car finally stopped, you pulled away from one another, rafe letting out a soft chuckle as he looked at you. "what?" you gasped, "your... lipstick's a little smudged." when you pulled out your pocket mirror and checked yourself out, it turned out that your lipstick wasn't 'a little smudged', it was a wreck, some of it having ended up on your boyfriend.

after spending fifteen minutes fixing your makeup, rafe was stood outside the car door, holding his hand out with a charming smile. you connected your hands with his, your skin tingling with excitement.

"close your eyes." the commanding tone of rafe's voice caused shivers to run down your spine, creating goosebumps all over your skin, and you did as he told you to, closing your eyes as one of his large hands covered your eyes make sure you wouldn't try to peek, allowing rafe to lead you whenever he wished to. you wouldn't normally trust someone to lead you into something blindly, but... with rafe, everything felt... easier. he was someone you were sure you could trust with your life.

"open." rafe said after a moment, and when you opened your eyes, you were faced with decorations all over with your name and age on them, 'happy birthday' banners surrounding you; and within milliseconds, your friends jumped out of their hiding places, wishing you a happy birthday. you saw your best friend, elle press the remote, and the music turned on, people starting to surround you to wish you a happy birthday, your boyfriend moving to stand right behind you with his hands on your hips and his chin resting on your shoulder; he wanted to know that he was there for you, but that you were the center of attention.

you knew that you were ruining your makeup with every hug your friends gave you, mascara running down your cheeks... but you didn't care. because for once, someone did something for you without you having to ask, without expecting something in return.

a few hours had gone by with you dancing, drinking and partying when you tapped rafe's shoulder, softly mumbling to him that you needed some air; he initially thought it meant you wanted to go out alone, but you quietly interlaced your fingers, nodding your head towards the balcony.

you felt the cool night breeze on your skin, rafe wrapping his arms around you without even thinking to shield you from the cold. you smiled, closing your eyes and letting out a contented sigh, melting into his warm embrace. you opened your eyes, turning your head slightly so you could see him, "rafe?"

"yes?"

"i can't believe you did all this for me." your soft words caused rafe to let out an amused huff of air, "of course i did. you're my girlfriend." "yeah, but..." you bit down on your lower lip, trying to find a way to express yourself without your words coming out completely pathetic, "no one's ever made this much of an effort for me." you feel rafe's arms tighten around you as you continue speaking, "not even any of the boyfriends i've had. one of my exes gave me a coupon for 'one free oral' which was just a ripped piece of paper with those words written on it with a sharpie."

"look." rafe cupped your jaw, stroking your soft skin with his thumb, "you're the most amazing woman i've ever met, and i am the luckiest guy in the world to have ended up with someone like you. the guys you were with before me didn't treat you right, but they don't matter anymore. because i want to treat you the way you deserve to be treated."

you let out a small sniffle, and rafe took in a deep breath as if preparing for something, "i..." he cleared his throat, "i... love you."

your eyes widened at rafe's confession; he had never said it to you before, even though he'd told you that he feels that way to you. your vision was clouded with tears, your voice shaky, "you... you love me?"

"i... i do." rafe smiled, his eyes slightly glassy with his own tears. before you could respond to him, rafe leaned down to press his lips on yours, the kiss somehow heated, yet gentle.

one of rafe's hands slid down, drawing circular patterns on the skin of your thigh, electricity buzzing through your veins, his hand starting to slide your skirt up, rafe's finger making contact with your clit through your panties, making you let out a breath into his mouth. rafe's lips detached from yours, starting to move down to your neck.

his hand finally dipped down the waistband of your panties, a gasp leaving your lips as his middle finger found your clit. "rafe..." you mumbled, your hand trailing up into his hair, slightly tugging on it, arching into rafe's chest.

"god, rafe..." you mumble softly, his middle finger and pointer finger trailing down your slit, his thick, ringed thumb teasing your clit as his fingertips circled your entrance, "please..." you whined, tugging on his hair harder.

rafe plunged his thick fingers into your cunt, his thumb drawing circles on your clit. you tugged on the hairs at the back of his neck, rafe letting out a small whimper as you did so.

your gummy walls clenched around rafe's long digits, his thumb pressing down on your clit as he spelled out his own name, each little twitch of his finger somehow managing to drive you crazy.

his fingers kissed your cervix, and you could feel the love he felt for you in every thrust of his hand, in every little word he mumbled or kissed into your neck until the noises around you started disappearing and you knew you were getting close to coming.

"'m gonna..." you mumbled, only for rafe to bring his lips back to yours, shooting static down your spine all the way to your pussy and muting every single word you were about to say as you felt your pussy start clenching around rafe's fingers, your orgasm taking you over, your intense heartbeat the only thing you were able to hear.

and once you finally started coming down from your high, rafe mumbled into your ear the three most important words as if they were a prayer.

"i love you."

TAGLIST: @raahosh, @nemesyaaa, @purpleplumpudding, @littlelamy, @dollyfiles, @esotericcangel, @mattyskies, @bakugouswaif, @nonietosay, @my-name-is-baby, @tinythebunni, @fratbrochrisgf,@ ariieeesworld, @silkylovey, @izumis-salty-penis, @flow33didontsmoke, @cameronsbabydoll, @love-ella333, @haylorbestie, @k4yr14, @harringtonsbowgirl, @lacelottie, @st8rkey, @dallyheartsskyguy, @lunaleah, @cicicavill7, @lillied31,

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guiltyasdave · 2 months ago

Text

home

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

word count: ~1.1k

summary: A slice of life about Joel living in Jackson and living happily ever after. It's real in my head okay.

tags/warnings: post outbreak, jackson!joel, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, baking, very fluffy fluff, joel's pov

a/n: he's fine, i'm fine, we're all fine! nothing bad happened! episode 2? i don't know her :)

thank you @sizzlingcloudmentality for putting this idea into my head and writing fluff with me <3 shoutout to the raspberry rolls that i made for our easter brunch two days ago that very much did not rise and inspired this story lol

dividers by @saradika-graphics who is amazing <3

full masterlist here / follow @guiltyasdavenotifs and turn on notifications for fic updates!

When Joel gets home from patrol, he spots you through the kitchen window that faces the front yard. He waves at you and watches you look up at the movement. Your face lights up, and he can’t help but smile to himself as he kicks his boots off before stepping over the threshold.

“Hey, babe!” you call out. Your back is turned to him when he steps closer, both your hands hidden in a large mixing bowl.

Leaning against the doorframe, he clears his throat and lifts the small bouquet of wildflowers that he knew would make you happy. The smile that spreads across your face is worth Tommy’s sniggering remarks about how soft he’s become, how tame. It’s worth the pinching muscles in his back from crouching down to pick them.

“For me?” Your voice is sweeter than the warm summer’s day outside, sweeter than the scent of the flowers in his grasp. One of your cheeks is streaked with a pink-ish cream, and dough covers your hands up to your wrists.

“Of course,” he murmurs, closing in and pressing his lips to your cheek, kissing the cream off your skin. “Hi, darling.”

You giggle, watching as he fills a glass with water and places the flowers on the windowsill, purposefully leaning into you and trapping you between the kitchen counter and his chest.

“Patrol go okay?”

Humming a yes, he practically watches as the tension eases from your shoulders. He doesn’t like that you worry about him.

“What are you making?” he asks, licking the traces of sugar and raspberry off his lips. “Tastes good.”

“Raspberry rolls.” Your brow furrows a little, your bottom lip jutting out when you glance into the bowl. It’s adorable. “At least that’s the plan. I’m not sure if the yeast is working.”

“Looks alright to me,” he shrugs and you huff, swatting at him and leaving a floury handprint on his t-shirt.

“That’s because you know nothing about baking. Go wash up, old man,” you grin, pecking his lips before you turn back towards the dough.

Grumbling under his breath just to make you giggle again, he makes for the stairs, before you call back to him. “Hey, Joel?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for the flowers.”

“You’re welcome, darling.”

Tommy’s right. So fucking soft. Can’t say that it bothers him.

As the water from the showerhead rains down on him, he wonders how he ended up here.Twenty-five years into an apocalypse, and somehow he managed to come home bringing flowers to a woman who’s baking in his kitchen.

It’s so domestic, so normal. He’s never been much of a baker, or a cook for that matter, but whenever you can get your hands on enough supplies, the scent of baked goods floats through the house. The house that, by some miracle, you chose to live in with him. Something he never knew he wanted, until now.

The stairs creak on his way back downstairs. His hair is dripping into his collar, the strands longer than they’ve been in years, but you refuse to cut them. Pouting about how handsome he looks like this whenever he brings it up. He doesn’t know about that, but he can’t deny how nice it is when you run your hands through the locks, gently tugging his face closer.

He has gotten so soft, so so soft. Can’t say that he doesn’t like it, actually.

In the kitchen, he finds you mumbling to yourself, staring down a ball of dough like it offended you personally. Your hair has become dotted with flour while he was gone.

“It’s not cooperating?” he asks, trying hard not to chuckle at the exasperated sigh you let out.

“No,” comes your disgruntled answer. “It’s not rising, look at it!”

He wraps his arms around you, stopping your pacing. Afternoon sunlight is spilling through the window, illuminating your face, reflecting off the specks of color in your eyes.

Joel can’t help it, he has to kiss you, really kiss you. His lips find yours, soft under his touch. His tongue gently coaxes them to part, eliciting a soft sigh from you when it slips into your mouth. Your taste is sweet, drawing him in, too tempting to ever resist. Melting into his touch, wanting him just as much. He could stay, just like this, forever.

Still, he eventually pulls away, grinning when your lips follow his, unwilling to stop. He presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth, then caresses your cheek.

“It’s gonna be delicious, I promise.” Another kiss, on the other side this time. Full of glee when it makes you smile. “Everything you make is.”

“I suppose…” you say softly, shy at the praise. “Help me?”

You never need his help, never actually let him do anything, but you like having him there with you. Dutifully, he takes his place behind you at the counter, his chin resting on your shoulder, watching you work. When you knead the dough and roll it out, his fingers come to rest over yours. He can’t imagine that it makes the whole thing easier at all, but it makes you laugh, your body vibrating against his, and what more could he want, really?

“Want another taste?” you ask when you spread the raspberry cream. An affirmative is hummed against your neck and he smiles at the goosebumps forming there in reaction. You dip a finger into the pink sweetness and lift it to his lips. Closing them around the digit and swirling his tongue to get every drop, he gets rewarded with another giggle.

“Very good,” he whispers into your ear, watching more goosebumps spread over your skin.

Despite your frustrated huffs, he watches you cut perfect pieces and place them in the baking pan. While he’s doing the dishes, you’re crouched on the floor and squinting into the oven, chewing on your lip. The scent of sugar, dough and fruits, warm and freshly baked, starts wafting through the kitchen. This is what home feels like now, Joel thinks.

“Look! I think it’s rising,” you exclaim, your voice eager with excitement.

He leans down beside you, trying to see what you see. He doesn’t, but he kisses the crown of your head anyway, mumbling told you into your hair.

Later, when the slowly setting sun paints the sky in hues of pink and orange, you’re both out on the porch, sinking your teeth into the pastries. You’ve tucked yourself into his side, your warmth seeping into his skin where his arm is wrapped around you.

“‘S perfect,” he manages through a mouthful of sweetness, loving how your face lights up.

Yes, he has become soft. But that’s okay, because he’s at home here. With you.

thank you so much for reading!! <3 i feel kinda silly and needy writing this, but i feel like the interaction with fanfics has gotten worse again, so please: if you enjoyed this, it would absolutely make my day if you told me. it really means so much and keeps fanfic writers going. i dreamed this up for myself, but putting it into (i hope) somewhat decent writing because i thought others might enjoy it too takes a lot of time and effort and it's really fucking nice to get some acknowledgment for that.

#janas fics #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fluff #x reader

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onepieceisreeeeaaalll · 3 months ago

Note

may I request another Luffy x fem reader please. Where Luffy is always picking up y/n like anywhere and everywhere they go (they aren’t dating or anything yet either) and he’s just always carrying her. Maybe even one day she’s wearing a skirt and so she freaks out when Luffy goes to grab her but Luffy holds her skirt down while carrying her. I don’t know I feel like it would be cute. Thank you!

Carried Away - Luffy x Fem!Reader

Hey! This was SO FUN to write! I spent too long trying to avoid it because I was overthinking, but it's been sitting in my drafts just haunting me. Here it is! Hope you like it!

Tags: SFW, use of y/n, platonic, pre-relationship, gunshot, Marine shenanigans

Check out my masterlist if you like stuff like this!

~1.7k

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Incident One - The Thousand Sunny, noon

“Luffy, you can't be serious.” Nami sighs.

The ship has been sailing a course towards - well, you can't remember. Nami's the one who handles the navigation, and quite honestly, you didn't hear where she said you'd be going. Something about the logpose, needing to restock - the usual. The point is that it's meant to be an easy journey.

So, everyone's a little surprised to see a random, abandoned dingy in the middle of the ocean. With a treasure chest in it, no less.

“Yeah - duh! We can't just leave that there!” Luffy whines, gesticulating his hands at Nami. “We're pirates - remember? That's treasure!”

“We don't know that, idiot!” Nami snaps, reaching a hand up to smack at Luffy's head. “It could be explosive, like that barrel was forever ago! Remember that?”

He's already barreling near the edge of the ship, though, eyes widen with excitement. You can't help but giggle at the energy he has.

“Aw, come on! Let me go over and take a look! I'll be real quick. Besides, what if it is treasure? Don't you want the money?”

Nami seems to pause at Luffy's comment. Everyone looks between her and Luffy, before she lets out a very long sigh. If you look closely enough, you're sure you can see berrie signs in her eyes.

“Fine. But seriously, only real quick. And bring someone along with you so you don't get stuck in the water. Like Zo-”

“Alright! Let's go!”

Your eyes widen the moment Luffy's arm snakes around your waist, rotating around it over and over again in rubbery fashion. You weren't even close to him, but for some reason, you're the one he's selected.

“Wait!” You screech, your hands grasping at his arm, but it's too late.

Laughing wildly, Luffy backs up, rearing his other arm before launching you against his side and sending you both over the edge of the Sunny.

“Luffy!” You scream, but the sound of the wind passing by is too loud in your ears. And so is Luffy's laugh.

You land on the dingy with a thud, your arms still grasping onto Luffy tightly. His arm retracts from the rotation around your waist, and while you breathe heavily to calm your racing heart, Luffy is already marching towards the treasure chest in the small space.

“What the-” You start, but Luffy's quick to wave you over.

“Nami said I needed someone to come with. Here, check this out with me!”

Your head aches, and all you can do is stare at him as a groan slips past your lips. Well, you can't argue with that logic.

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Incident Two - A Nearby Island, morning

Yesterday, that treasure chest proved to not have treasure itself, but some kind of treasure map. The crew was mixed. On the one hand, it seems like an obvious trap. On the other hand, money. Money won out.

Much to everyone's relief, the map has led to a nearby island. The one the crew was headed to, anyway, so it was really of no inconvenience. There's the opportunity to restock, to fix gear, to get a bite to eat. It's a much needed respite after the long journey everyone's just had, so why not add a treasure hunt?

No one is more excited about this than Luffy, Chopper, and Usopp.

“Treasure hunt!” They gleefully cheer, leading the charge down the gangplank.

The ship is docked off the shore, hidden away by large trees and surrounding cliff sides. So long as everyone is careful, there's no reason to believe there should be any danger.

You're gathering your things, sorting through them on the deck. Getting a free day with some berries in your pocket is rare enough as is. It'd be preferable to make the most of it. Maybe some new boots? Oh, or something to take up your free time! Knitting?

It’s while you're lost in your thought bubble that you feel something grab at you. Looking down, your wrist is clamped by - is that a hand? Attached to-

The rubber arm is long, outstretched from the bottom of the gang plank, and you let out a gasp as it reels you quickly away from where you're standing.

“Luffy!” You whine, as exasperated now as you were yesterday.

You're snapped to Luffy's side, pulled with such a force that your feet fly off the ground until you crash into his body. Luffy beams, moving his hands to straighten you up properly. You blow some hair from your face, jerking forcibly from his grasp. Even though he's strong, it seems to have taken him off-guard.

“Seriously, what was that for?!”

“Didn't want you to get left behind! We're treasure hunting!” Luffy grins.

“You can't just-!” You start to argue, but you're too flustered to really finish your statement. He's beaming at you too brightly, and that smile is too damn infectious.

With a sigh, you pull away, walking down the hill ahead of the group.

“I'm going clothes shopping!” You exclaim.

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Incident Three - Town, noon

This is getting out of hand. You're aware of how much Luffy likes to grab at the crew, throw them around, and it's no secret that he prefers it to finding another route to having people do as he says. Luffy's impatient. Impulsive. Reckless. It's grown on you, sure, but there's something about the way your stomach lurches every time you're tossed around that leaves you uneasy.

But you've planned for this. It was a decision made out of necessity, nothing more. A cute skirt purchased in town, too short to really significantly cover anything if you were moved around. Sure, Luffy is…well, Luffy, but he's still a guy. At the end of the day, there's no way he'd risk your modesty. Right? He could respect that.

That's the idea, anyway.

Your shopping trip has ended, and you're sporting your new skirt, holding a bag of clothes casually in one hand. It's a beautiful day. The sun is shining brightly on the town, birds are chirping, and there's an arm around your waist.

Wait.

Your eyes widen as you're pulled back forcefully, soaring several feet backwards into the air. A scream rips from your throat as you're pulled into Luffy's arms, and the rubber man is running with impressive speed through town. Your arms wrap around his neck tightly to hang on, and everything is whirring by so fast that you can't figure out what's happening immediately. All that you know is you're moving, you've lost your bag of clothes, and Luffy is the culprit.

“Hey, (Y/N), good thing I found ya! I lost Chopper and Usopp, but they'll catch up. We're gettin’ outta here!”

“Monkey D. Luffy, what the hell are you-?!”

Gunshots. You screech, scrambling as you shift in his arms. Luffy groans with mild irritation, adjusting his hold on you tightly as he sends an arm onto a nearby pole. He launches you both up, and you bury your face in his neck.

“Marines?! How did that happen?!” You exclaim, and your face turns red as your skirt flies up. An arm moves from his neck, quickly scrambling to pull the fabric down.

“Oh - yeah! Turns out that treasure map was left by them! Funny, right?”

“Funny?!”

"Well, kinda." He shrugs, before turning his head out to the Marines. "Stupid jerks! We wanted our treasure!"

"There's Straw Hat!" A Marine yells, followed by several loud bangs from their guns.

You gasp as he jumps between buildings, and bullets are ricocheting off of stone structures you both pass, nearly grazing you. You're pretty sure some hit Luffy, bouncing off of his rubber legs and sending them off every which way. But your skirt keeps threatening to creep up, and you're not sure how tightly you can hang onto him with just one arm. Luffy can feel you bouncing in his grasp, and he glances down at you with a look.

“What's wrong? Put both arms around me or you're gonna fall!”

“I can't, my skirt!” You whine. “I'm gonna flash everyone!”

“Hm?” Luffy tilts his head, furrowing his brows as he looks down at your lap. Noticing your hand pinning your skirt down, he doesn't think twice. He reaches to grab your hand, pulling it around his neck.

“Luffy!”

“Stop whining, just hold on!” Luffy groans, and one of his hands moves to the fabric of your skirt before it can fly up any further. He holds it down, one hand on your skirt and the other wrapped around you tightly.

Your face flushes, and you gasp as he jumps from the roof of a building down to a tree, and then to the ground. You jostle with every move, but your arms have secured you to his body. You're safely nestled against him, and you don't think twice about moving.

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Incident Four - The Thousand Sunny, evening

The ship lurches as it lands in the ocean far from the island the crew was on. You all let out a collective sigh of relief as the sails carry you far, far away from that Marine trap. By the time you and Luffy had arrived on the ship earlier, everyone else had barely made it, and Franky had already loaded up the cola to coup de burst the crew to safety.

It's only now, in the aftermath of the fight, that Luffy's grasp on you loosens. He had been too caught up in punching and tossing Marines away to even think about letting you go. Your feet touch the deck carefully, and Luffy's rubber limbs retract as they snap back into place.

Your hands immediately move to straighten out your skirt, and you hear a huff from your Captain beside you. Glancing up, you take notice of the way he adjusts his hat, looking at you with a tilted head and a confused expression.

“Why're you wearin’ somethin’ like that, anyway? Makes it harder to fight, right?” He asks, and his tone is genuinely dumbfounded.

Your face flushes, and words die in your throat. What explanation is there? I didn't want you to toss me around? Clearly, that didn't work, and it feels a little embarrassing to say as much. You're not sure why, but telling Luffy you bought a skirt because of him feels weird. So, you clear your throat, leaning back against the railing of the ship behind you.

“Oh, um…just thought it was cute.” You lie, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “I didn't think we'd be running from Marines today.”

Luffy's quiet for a moment, and his eyes flicker to your skirt only briefly. He still looks dumbfounded.

“Huh. M'kay. Just don't complain when I grab ya next time that your skirt’s goin’ up.” He responds with a grin, a playful chuckle sounding from his chest.

This son of a-

"Sanjiiii! I'm hungry! Whadda ya got?” Luffy exclaims, turning away from you decisively.

“Can it, Luffy, we just got out of port! I need to unload the groceries!” Sanji shouts from across the deck.

Even though you're still annoyed, and your skirt is still riding up, you find yourself laughing. Maybe the Captain grabbing you for adventures isn't the worst thing in the world.

#one piece #op #luffy #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy #monkey d luffy x reader #monkey d luffy fluff #luffy fluff #luffy x reader fluff #nami #cat burglar nami #sanji #black leg sanji #one piece fanfiction #op fanfiction

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letbludcook · 10 months ago

Text

warning. explicit sexual content

tags. creampie, slight dumbification, blud tried to be gentle only to end up ravaging you, idiots in love type of fucking

you and him having sex for the first time and he's so annoyingly gentle as if you're made of fragile glass. the fact that he still managed to make you cum with his fingers despite all that baffled you.

but then, just right after you came, he hesitates putting his dick inside. he gets out of bed, says something along the lines of "let me get us a bath," until he hears you huff a sob. he turns to you again only to see you touching yourself. begging him, perhaps out of spite, to drop the hesitation.

you're a big girl—his girl, even—and that means you'd be able to take all of him. you know what made him walk back to bed, pet your head, pepper you kisses, and mutter apologies?

"i've been prepping myself like this every night, been imagining you inside me for as long as i can remember."

you incoherently moan your grievances—of how much you need him, of how desperate you are to feel his dick slamming you, of your yearning to hear the slushing wet sounds of his balls slapping against your skin as he pushes even deeper, and most of all, of his cum flooding you at the peak of it all.

what a bad man he is, he thinks to himself, as he pulls your fingers out of your cunt. he brings it to his mouth, holding back a chuckle.

"prepping yourself with this, darling?" he muses, then sucks on your fingers clean, savoring your taste. you nod, pathetically so, and he shakes his head. "but these pretty little fingers are far from enough if we're talking about prepping."

it's the thought that counts, though—his gentle apology kiss on your hand tells you that much. and you quickly come to understand his point when he replaces your fingers with his actual dick.

"you see?"

then he thrusts inside.

god, it is indeed not enough to prep you.

"b-but, yeah," he rasps, then there goes another thrust, "it must be hard for you, no?" he thrusts again; you gape your mouth open, "never knew you like me—fuck, baby—this much."

hell you do like him so much; if you're not a babbling mess you'd be able to throw a banter, but he sucks on your nipple, quickly earning your forgiveness.

"mind repeating what you said earlier?"

which one? you ask in your mind, physically incapable to speak as soon as his fingers flick on your clit.

"you want my cum flooding you? you like me that much to let me do that, huh?"

"yes!" you wail, oh the things that could bring you back from being dumbed by this man. "b-been—hah—yearning for it, please."

his approving hum thereafter just tells how pleasured he'd be to do that. you really are no fragile glass he must mind touching. you're his girl, his woman, and you own every crevice of his body. if you wish a hard one, then a hard one you'll get.

it doesn't take long for him to lose control as per your wishes—his dick slamming, the wet slaps of your skin echoing inside your bedroom in synch with your cries and his growls. much to your pleasure, he eventually traps your legs down so it wouldn't escape as he cums.

you're trapped—helplessly bound, wrists on top of your head by his hand—because you want to. because you wish for it. when he buries his dick deep inside you feel his seed gushing, emptying, as he struggles to flutter his eyes open because he wants to see your face while he empties himself. it brought you to a seemingly endless bliss.

you two take your pretty time coming off your highs.

and despite your weakened state, you still sit up to look down as his cum drips from your cunt.

you giggle softly, thinking; this wouldn't be the last time you'd ask him to do this.

ERWIN smith, LEVI ackerman, WOLFGANG grimmer, KENZO tenma, GOJO satoru, AKI hayakawa, etc.

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strawbairicake · 5 days ago

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stealin’ sweet kisses- various hsr characters x reader

synopsis: playing the pocky game with your boyfriend! that’s it, send tweet. part 2!

warnings: uh, none? other than that, idk if my beginner/novice writing counts as a warning.

word count: 1.4k (oh lord, it’s longer than part 1!)

author’s note: part 1 did pretty well, so here's part 2 no one asked for! i’ll link part 1 here! no beta, we die like my favorite side characters in books! posting this after having a mental breakdown sure is the way to go, huh! disclaimer in part 1 that i'll include here: i genuinely don't know how to write kiss scenes at all! other than like a peck on the lips, but hey, it’s the thought that counts, right… right? title was a suggestion from a mootie of mine for part 1, credits to them for the title (credits to you, Sage, lol!)! hope you enjoy! <3

tagging: @axolotsofluv, @sqgeism, @vyyper, @your-sleeparalysisdem0n, @cmiru, @unriding, @sheyfu, @threnodians. @strwbrydreamz, @chokifandom, @sillyseraphie, @riaruu, + @m1ckeyb3rry! lmk if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

Anaxa:

how you managed to get your lover to agree to this is beyond you. you just slid the box across his desk, then retreated to the cute reading nook in the home office. Anaxa gave you a skeptical look before sighing and making his way over to you. he sits on the ottoman your legs were resting on and he hands you a stick of pocky.

“you wanted me to indulge in a game? fine. but make it quick, i have things to do.” he says as he rubs shapes on your thighs near your knees. yeah, he totally does not have the time to indulge you. what a loser (lovingly). but upon seeing the smile appear on your face after his confirmation, he thinks he’ll be sparing more time with you than he should. (he brought the whole box when he made his way over to you, by the way. he’s definitely whipped.)

so you sat up in your chair, took the stick of pocky from his hand, and waited for him to be ready. he looked… nervous? the great Anaxagoras, reduced to a slightly blushing mess and slightly fidgety. the whole time you had been watching him, he was fidgeting with the box of pocky, and clearly avoiding eye contact with you. no matter, it’s whatever. you gesture him with a wave of your hand to come closer, and he sets the box of sweet treats next to him. part of the sweet treat he’s able to taste and as you lean closer, Anaxa cannot bring himself to look at you at all. you’d think for all his bravado he’d be able to do something as simple as holding eye contact but no. and as the stick breaks right in the middle, before either one of you can pull away, he cradles the back of your head with a hand and initiates a kiss. short and sweet before pulling away. now both of you look rather flustered.

best to play the game again, no?

Argenti:

your lover agreed with no resistance and no questions asked... mostly! he seems rather excited to play this silly game with you, bless him. so here you both are, sitting in the living room of your home. a rare moment for Argenti to be with you given how often he travels. he leaves tomorrow, unfortunately, but you thought playing pocky with him could be a fun ritual you start doing the night before he leaves. granted, it makes it harder for Argenti to leave you in the morning, but seeing how giddy and happy it makes you both makes it worth it. so here you were on your sofa, a box of pocky in your hand as you explain (again, it’s been a while!) the rules of the game.

“so the point is to get as close to the middle of the stick and not break it. we're supposed to kiss, i think,” you explained.

“so what happens if i break it?” he questions.

“you eat it, and we try again!” you reply excitedly.

let the game begin.

dear aeons, you never realized how good Argenti was at this game. he’s locked in, keeping eye contact, and being very sweet. if he senses you getting nervous, he breaks the stick off and waits for you to compose yourself before returning. and bless him, he’s so sweet and patient, that’s gotta mean something, right?

so after you break the stick for the first time, before you lean back and can escape, he kisses you. nothing rough or mean, almost as light as a peck, but it’s just a bit more. right as you begin to reciprocate, he pulls away, leaving you wanting more.

you know the game he’s playing, and you can see the slightly mischievous glint in his eyes as he looks at you.

“one more time, beloved?”

Boothill:

always on the run, you both are. always getting into some kind of trouble. except this time, the trouble in question is a game of pocky and doesn’t seemingly have any consequences. which is good, you both need a break from the run and chase you’re constantly on. now that you think about it, maybe being in an alleyway in penacony wasn’t your brightest move. anyone could see you both and report you. not that common folk would, but people who know about you and Boothill might. just a hunch. but you were in a dark alleyway, Boothill leaning against the wall, his legs spread just a bit, and you were standing in between his legs, just chatting. and Boothill was trying so hard to pay attention, but he noticed the box of pocky in your pocket.

“what’s the box for, sweetheart?”

“boredom, mostly… also i need sugar.”

“don’t know how ya’d need it if we’re on the run. and i'll give ya some sugar,” he winked. you rolled your eyes at the latter comment.

“i mean for after the adrenaline wears off…” you mutter. your lover chuckles at the faux pout you started making after your previous statement. he places a hand on your hip and fishes through your pocket and gets the box of pocky out.

“up for a little game?”

“Boothill, we're literally supposed to be running right now,” you deadpan. he laughs.

“you don’t know how to have fun, sweetheart! just one round, i promise,” he replies.

and so the game begun. he pulls a stick out of the pack and places one part in his mouth and you place the other part in your mouth. as you inch closer, one of Boothill’s hands remains at your hip while the other one rests on the back of your neck. the cool metal of his arm makes you tilt your head up impossibly more. you reach the middle of the stick and instead of a quick peck, it’s a passionate kiss. he cradles your head so you can’t let go just yet, and he notices you’re quite ready to let go either. give or take a few seconds, you tap his robotic chest with your finger, a sign to let you breathe. you both part. the tips of his ears are a bit pink and you look a bit flushed. you’re just about to get comfortable in the silence you both have before hearing a loud “freeze!” which makes you both turn your heads.

guess you’re back on the run.

Mydei:

a rough mission kinda brought you down. and sometimes when you’re down, you’ll head to the marketplace in Okhema just to see if anything interesting is there. and wouldn’t you know it, a seller was giving out a box of pocky with every purchase! you bought a couple of baking ingredients and got your free box of pocky, and honestly? made your bad day a lot better, which was really nice. so when you got home and saw Mydei on the couch in the living room on his teleslate (literally it’s a phone, why do they call it that, ew), you thought nothing of it. you head to the kitchen and unload the few baking supplies you purchased: sugar and flour. it wasn’t a lot, and you didn’t need help putting it away. you knew that Mydei would come and help you put the couple of groceries away anyway (he always did, it was an unspoken agreement between the two of you for whatever reason.). so after you unload the flour and sugar, you sit on the counter and open the box of pocky you got. it was your favorite flavor too, how nice! as you do, Mydei comes in between your legs and watches as you fiddle with the box and bag inside. he wordlessly takes the bag from your hands, opens it, and pulls a stick out.

“what is this for?” he looks skeptically at the flavored treat, which makes you laugh slightly.

“you take one portion of the stick in your mouth, your partner does the same. then you essentially get as close as you can without breaking the stick. the goal is to kiss, i think. but i also eat this by myself,” you reply after a moment’s hesitation.

and without instruction, Mydei places part of the stick he took out into his mouth and gestures for you to do the same. so you do, you’re not an idiot to refuse him, especially if he’s offering! you both lean in and while the stick breaks pretty close to the middle, Mydei doesn’t pull away. he kisses you briefly before pulling away. he looks at you and smirks a bit.

“wanna try again, or are you going to quit? i thought the goal was to not break it.”

oh it’s SO on now.

#airi writes #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #anaxa x reader #argenti x reader #boothill x reader #mydei x reader

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nerdygirlramblings · 4 months ago

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Ren wants her story told, y'all 😂 She keeps feeding me ideas.

The pounding on your door wakes you. "Need to get scran 'fore the mess closes!" Johnny bellows.

You disentangle yourself from the covers and roll out of bed, shaking off the remains of sleep. Captain Price had you training on the rubble last night at 2300 hours. He wanted to be sure things were dark enough. He sent you in alone or with one of the others practicing with the night vision goggles, a first for you, and following directions blind. He also had you with him, being Soap's or Ghost's or Gaz's eyes. "Never know who's gunna be where when shit goes sideways. Need to know you can follow the path even if ya can't see it. An' tha' ya can get the others ta safety."

Well not as physically demanding as the training had been, the night had been grueling nonetheless. The green glare of the night vision goggles through you off more than you expected, and despite listening well, you still ended up covered in bruises from when you accidentally walked into a wall or other debris. By the end of the night though, you were proud to say that you'd gotten a sense of distance without a visual and how it differed man to man so when Ghost told you, "Take 10 steps then turn right," you knew to account for his stride and took 15 to avoid collisions.

Giving directions was the hardest for that same reason. Your stride and your frame so much smaller than that of the men on the team that you were constantly correcting your own calculations. You knew it would take a little bit of time, but you hated the thought that you were holding them up.

"Nae worry," Johnny said when he overshot the opening you were trying to get him through. Thankfully, he knew the terrain well enough not to go galavanting off and was able to backtrack to where he needed to be.

It was on one of the stretches where you were practicing your instructions to better fit the task force that you realized how cold you were despite the jumper you wore. Sometime after half two, Gaz tapped your shoulder and held out a plain grey ASDA fleece blanket.

You'd somehow missed the small stack of them on the back seat of the golf buggy, but you recognized the ASDA tag on the blanket at the bottom and took what was in Gaz's hand gratefully. Though thin, the blanket somehow held all the warmth of home. You wrapped it around your shoulders anytime you we're in the buggy with Price, making a note to yourself about triple checking the weather before your next training and to speak to Adam about top layers in your size.

Now the blanket, along with the borrowed jersey and overly large top layers, lay piled on the top of your bed. Since he'd pulled the jersey from what you assumed was a communal footlocker, you felt you had to bring it back to the barracks once clean. From how Price talked about them, you don't think the top layers need to be returned. The blanket you planned to keep because it was so warm and so easily replaceable.

You crack open the door and see Johnny's smiling face in the hallway. He leans against the jam as you turn to get ready. He looks avidly around your room, but you don't invite him in, and he respects the sanctity of your space. "C'mon, lass, brekkie ends soon. Ye doan wan' tae miss a meal when we'll be trainin' 'gain later."

You refrain from groaning but had hoped Price was only kidding when he said you'd be back out at the training facilities again in the afternoon. Instead you ask, "Do I have time to get cleaned up?"

He makes a big show of looking at the time on his phone. "Aye, Ah guess." You grab clean clothes and hoist your shower tote as he says, "Meet us in the mess in 10, yeah?" He heads off towards the mess as you dart into the bathroom.

As you quickly clean up, Soap heads to the mess to grab a tray of food for you in case the mess lines close before you get there. He quickly piles two plates full. He's watched you at meals and knows how much you gravitate to fruits and vegetables, so he dumps a double portion on your plate. He adds a bowl of yogurt and granola so you have protein for the day. His plate is covered with rashers and eggs.

He finds the team and puts both plates down. At Price's raised eyebrow, Johnny comments, "Ren was still sleepin' when Ah went tae find 'er. Told 'er to be here in ten. Ah think trainin' is wearin' 'er down."

Price hums. "Maybe we can find a way for a break soon."

Ghost hasn't taken his eyes off Soap since the Scot sat down. "What else, mutt?" He leveles a glare at the man. "Ya look like yer schemin'."

Soap smiles wide at his pack, leaning over the table to draw the others close. What he has to share isn't for others to hear. "All yoor things are on 'er bed." He pauses, long and pointed, before delivering the news he is giddiest to share. "Almost looks like she's makin' a nest."

series masterlist | main masterlist

taglist: @sirbonesly @z-wantstowrite @thriving-n-jiving @cecelia97 @theycallmevalen @boogeysmoth @cryingpages @riley13 @luxylucylou @lucienofthelakes @ilyztwo @chaosundcoffee @lostintransist @thegreyjoyed

#cod #poly!141 #poly!141 x reader #tf 141 #tf 141 x reader #omegaverse #omegaverse 141 #omegaverse tf 141 #a/b/o #a/b/o 141 #a/b/o tf 141 #john price #johnny mactavish #kyle garrick #simon riley #nerdygirl says #fierce wars and faithful loves

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darknight3904 · 4 months ago

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Sure as Hell Ain't Worth it

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your childhood best friend, Joel grows tired of you hunting for "the one" in all the wrong guys. Warnings: 18+ Joel Miller: Gentleman in the streets, Freak in the Sheets!! Smut, Language, Oral F! receiving, unprotected p in v (ew don't do that irl), breeding kink, dom Joel, pussy pronouns, PWP. Reader and Joel are both in their mid-20s. Imagine it's like the early 2000s. No pressure tags, just thought you might like it: @freythecrazyfae @heartpatch @amyispxnk Word Count: 6.2k Inspired by the song I Ain't Sayin' by Jordan Davis

"That beer ain't gettin' any colder." Joel motions to the sticky bartop where your hands curl around a bottle of Lone Star.

You sigh and bring the glass to your lips, polishing off the rest in one fell swoop. Setting it back down you glance around the stuffy atmosphere of Kim's Bar on this wonderful Texan Friday night.

"What's wrong? Normally you talk my ears off." Joel asks bumping his elbow to yours.

You sigh and kick your feet back and forth, taking note of how they dangle from the barstool, "I dunno. I think I'm just tired tonight."

"They got you on nights again?" Joel asks sipping at his own beer

"Only twice a week. Most of the time I just sit at the nurse's station though." You reply

Joel nods, "Outta put you on days only. You been workin' there for what five years now? There's gotta be some schmuck fresh outta school to take your spot."

You had graduated with your RN at 22, and your past five years had been spent working at Valley Central Hospital, a short twenty-minute drive from your little apartment here in Austin.

"Yeah, well. I don't write the schedule." You reply, resting your chin in your hand, turning to look at your best friend.

Joel gives you a grunt in acknowledgment, motioning to the bartender with his card.

"I can pay." You say, reaching for your purse that was sitting in your lap

"I got it." Joel says, passing his card off, "Sides' how're you gonna pay off those loans if you're buyin' me drinks?"

You huff and shove your wallet back into its little nook in your bag. Joel had a point. He had been working as a contractor since the two of you had graduated high school. The labor seemed backbreaking to you but at least he wasn't thousands of dollars in the hole.

Joel rises to his feet, towering over you as he offers his hand to you. You take it without a second thought and let him lead you through the crowded bar, his broad back obscuring your vision.

The sudden shout of your name over the loud music as you halt your steps, your shoes squeaking as they stick to the dirty floor. You drop Joel's hand and spin around to the voice.

"You gotta be fucking joking." You groan, your eyes drifting to the source of the voice.

"Could say the same thing." He laughs loudly

Cole, a guy you'd gone out with a week ago was pushing his way toward you. It'd been only one date yet he had been relentlessly emailing and texting you for a second one.

You'd met him in the produce section of the grocery store, he was cute enough, taller than you, and had nice hair. You hadn't anticipated his horrible personal views though. Your first date with Cole had been spent at a restaurant listening to him drone on and on about how much he hated "non-traditional values". At first, you didn't understand what he was getting at but eventually, you put two and two together and realized he didn't like the idea of women leaving the kitchen, or well home in general.

What a load of bullshit that was. If some mediocre man thought you'd be giving up your degree that you'd given half your soul to, he had another thing coming.

"You haven't answered any of my emails," Cole says when he finally reaches you.

"Ah...well my internet has been weird..." You lie

"And my texts?" Cole asks

Dammit.

"Er...Well you see, I just don't think we're-"

A big hand lands on your shoulder from behind, "What's happenin' here? Got halfway to my truck without ya." Joel's deep voice cuts in as his eyes scan Cole

"Joel!" You exclaim, finally your savior had arrived

"We're just talking." Cole nods to Joel, "Think you owe me another date."

You shake your head, "I don't think we're compatible, Cole. Sorry."

Cole grimaces before his features twist into an ugly frown, "Are you serious? I even paid for that shitty pasta you ordered a week ago! I think I'm entitled to some more after spending 15 bucks on your ungrateful ass!"

"Hey!" Joel snaps at him, "Watch your tone."

Cole breathily laughs, shaking his head at you, "You're a fucking bitch."

With that he turns on his heel, disappearing into the bar. You wrap a hand around Joel's bicep, pulling him close to your side.

"Let it go." You order, knowing what Joel's next move is.

Joel grunts, "You're kiddin' me right? I'm not letting that sack of shit call you that and walk off."

You roll your eyes and pull Joel out the doors of the bar. He'd punched enough guys for insulting you over the years. Cole's stupid face would be spared tonight.

Joel helps you up into his truck before getting in the drivers seat and pulling out onto the road. You sigh, slipping your shoes off and tucking your legs into your chest.

"You ain't tired. Tell me what's really wrong?" Joel asks, "Is it that Cole guy? He ain't worth it, sweetheart."

"No, it's not him." You say truthfully, "He's a piece of shit."

Joel gives you a small laugh, "I second that."

You lean over and rest your forehead against the window, watching the way the headlights reflect off the Nissan in front of you.

"You ever get worried you'll die alone?" You ask

Joel snorts, "That's what's botherin' ya? I don't think we'll be dyin' soon. 25 is still young in my brain."

"No...I just mean like...Aren't you worried about settling down? Marriage? Kids?" You ask

A beat of silence follows as Joel digests your question. Your eyes take in his face, dipping down his neck to the soft green t-shirt he has on tonight, and blue jeans to match, beat-up work boots press on the gas pedal as he drives.

"Guess I'm more focused on just payin' bills and keepin' Tommy out of trouble...But I guess it's crossed my mind." He admits

You nod slowly, shifting a bit as he takes a sharp turn.

"That why you're goin' out with dipshits? Thinking some fool like Cole is "the one"? Joel teases, "Bet he can't even change the oil in whatever SUV he drives."

"Ugh. No!" You groan hiding your face in your hands in embarrassment.

"Yeah, yeah, You're not foolin' me, girl." Joel laughs as he pulls up to your apartment building.

"Whatever, Joel." You huff in embarrassment. Why was letting your closest friend in on your romantic dreams so embarrassing? Perhaps it was because he was a guy. Knowing him he'd probably wear that t-shirt another two times before washing it.

You jump down from his truck, pushing the door shut behind you.

"See ya next Friday!" Joel calls out the open window to you

You flash him your middle finger, an ongoing tradition you'd had with him since you were both 15.

"No manners!" Joel yells after you as you laugh to yourself.

Joel isn't sure what to make of the strange feeling that bubbles up in his chest whenever he sees you. It had started a year ago, the Texas sun was hung in the sky and was hot enough to cook an egg on his dashboard. You'd shown up to his house in a white sun dress, strappy brown sandals on your feet, and an oversized tote bag slung on your shoulder. It was a simple, low-effort look you'd thrown together to attend Tommy's high school graduation party with him yet it had his heart pounding in his chest.

Sure, Joel was aware you were...well female. He still remembered the first time it really clicked in his head. The two of you were 12 and a half, sitting in your bedroom playing Uno. One of your dresser drawers was half opened and he had spotted something lavender poking out of it. In his infinite twelve-year-old wisdom, he had scooped it up, only to find out what a training bra looked like. You shrieked so loud, he's pretty sure his eardrums broke a bit that day. He spent a week, trying to apologize to you and only won you back after buying you a popsicle at the corner store on the walk back from school.

It came to the forefront of his mind again, your sophomore year of high school. The two of you had holed up in the library your Chemistry final was a week away and you had been trying to help Joel cram a year of knowledge into his brain so he wouldn't have to repeat the class.

You had disappeared into the little unisex single-stalled bathroom at the back of the library for nearly twenty minutes. Joel had initially suspected you were constipated, after all, you had been complaining about your stomach all day long. Instead, he found himself out on a mission to hunt down a box of tampons at the corner store after you discovered the little pouch at the front of your bag was empty. He was pretty sure he bought the wrong ones but you never said anything about it.

And now, he was 25 and feeling it again. However this time instead of the sense of awkwardness and uncertainty, the fuzzy feeling of want was filling his chest.

He sighed and flopped onto his bed, head resting on the pillows as he stared at the ceiling. Joel's eyes lazily fell shut as his brain swam with thoughts of you and that stupid white dress you'd shown up in. The way you'd smiled and cheered when Tommy's name rang out in the football stadium, enthusiastically pointing your little digital camera at the stage when the principal finally handed his dumb-as-rocks baby brother the keys to his freedom.

His breath hitched a bit in his chest as he pictured you going out on a date with that Cole fucker. Even if it had only been once, he hadn't deserved your time of day. Had you gotten all dolled up for that piece of shit? Had you curled your hair and worn that light pink lip gloss Joel bought you for your birthday a few months ago?

Deep-seeded jealously clawed its way through his chest as he groaned again. Fuck, he was really losing it.

Three days later, Joel was standing in the To-go area of Sanchez's Mexican Restaurant when he spotted you. He'd been picking up overpriced tacos and a couple of burritos for himself and Tommy when he saw you at a booth alone.

You jumped when he slid into the booth, sitting across from you.

"Howdy, stranger." Joel greets you, reaching out to pluck a tortilla chip free from the overflowing basket the waiter had put down for you.

"Oh, hey Joel." You sigh, fingertips running along the rim of some drink you're down to the ice with.

"Now that's not a Texas welcome." He says, deepening his accent on purpose, knowing it always makes you laugh.

"I don't think I'm up for a Texas welcome." You sigh sadly, pushing your glass away, and slouching in your seat.

"What's wrong?" He asks, concerned

"I think this guy on my floor is standing me up." You huff

Joel glances around like he'll be able to identify the mystery man, "He works with ya?"

"Yeah. His name is Nick." You say, "He's a traveling nurse, but we hit it off and I asked him out."

Joel nods. He wonders why a pretty girl like you should even have to make the first move. God, other guys his age were dim.

"Guess he's not into me though." You huff, glancing over your shoulder again at the doors.

Joel stuffs another chip into his mouth and leans back so his back hits the plush of the booth. His eyes drift over your form, tonight you've got a light blue sun dress on. Lace trims the edges and a gold necklace with the letter of your first name sits nestled on your collarbones. You look positively angelic tonight.

This other guy must've lost his mind, you were sitting here waiting all alone for him and his stupid self looking like that.

Joel hears a hostess call his name, a brown bag in her hand as he looks around the waiting area for him.

"Wanna get outta here? Gotta a couple of burritos and tacos to go." He nods to the exit.

"What about Nick?" You ask sadly

Joel looks around again, god he can't believe this Nick fellow is standing you up like this. Joel was sure glad he wasn't in his boots, letting a woman like you go.

"Screw Nick." Joel declares, "He ain't worth it."

You snort out a laugh and quickly slap your hand over your mouth, mortified at the noise you just let out. Joel feels a smile tug at his face as he pulls you up from your booth, grabbing your purse from the seat,

"C'mon. Before you scare the other customers."

That earns him a laugh and a small swat to the arm.

Joel drives to the local Community Days and parks his truck for five bucks a couple hundred feet away from the Ferris Wheel. He drops his truck tailgate and sits with you, legs dangling as the two of you much away at Sanchez's "gourmet" Mexican.

Groumet his ass. Joel was almost certain he was going to pay for these tacos tomorrow morning on the toilet. At least they tasted decent when paired with the salsa.

"So who was this burrito for? "You ask as you wipe your face with a napkin.

"Tommy," Joel says

"I'm stealing your teenage brother's food now?" You tease

"Hardly a teen anymore. Twenty inna couple of weeks." Joel reminds you

"Quit reminding me. Making me feel old. " You huff.

"You're telling me. We're both gonna be pushing thirty soon." He reminds you

You groan and knock your foot against Joel's, sending sparks up the limb to his heart.

"Fuck off." You say, "Remember that time he tried following us that one Thanksgiving on our walk?"

"You mean the one where we smoked weed under that bridge?" Joel asks, thinking back to the holidays when he was still a teenager and Tommy was no more than 11.

"Yup." You grin

Food devoured and bellies full, Joel walks beside you along the fairgrounds. The loud whoops of children fill the silence between the two of you as you point at the clown that's balancing on a unicycle while juggling.

Joel's known you for twenty years now, he met you on the first day of kindergarten after you asked him if he liked to watch Thomas the Tank Engine on Tuesdays. Yet for the first time in twenty years he was unsure of what to say to you.

You and your perfect hair and soft makeup that made you glow, that pretty blue dress that was messing with his head, he hadn't felt this nervous since...well ever.

"So...what's this Nick like?" Joel finds himself dumbly asking

You huff and kick at the grass, "He's funny. Smart too, good at placing IVs too."

"Sounds like he's the real deal," He teases, "I mean IVs? Thats the wholeee package fo sure."

"Shut up, loser." You scoff, "You don't have room to talk. When's the last time you went on a date?"

Joel stalls, was it weird to say he hadn't been on a date since seeing you in that white sun dress a year ago?

"A gentleman never tells." He stupidly says

"Oh, so you're a manwhore then." You say plainly, snapping your fingers in his face

"What?!" Joel balks, he hadn't expected to to say that, "No! Notta, man...."

"Whore." You finish for him smugly

"Yeah, that." He embarrassingly huffs

"Then tell me. When was the last time you went on a date?" You demand, brushing up against him as the two of you walk along.

"Little more than a year ago." He caves, you could get him to give you one of his kidneys with the way you persuaded him to do things for you.

"Damn." You blurt out

"Now you're bein' mean." Joel huffs, picking his pace up, uninterested in being ridiculed by someone who swore Santa was real until they were 13. Seriously, he still couldn't believe you were that much of an idiot.

"No! I didn't mean it like that!" You scamper after him, "I just...always thought guys...y'know..."

"We what?" Joel asks, cocking a brow, he doesn't know where this is going

"Well, you know. I just thought they couldn't go that long without...release" You awkwardly say, avoiding his gaze, "Although I guess hands were made for a reason."

Joel feels his face heat up. He's pretty sure he's on fire from the embarrassment you've caused. Did you really think he was going to explode from not sleeping with a woman? What kind of shitty guys had you been with?

"Now that ain't how it works." Joel huffs as the two of you reach his truck, fishing his pockets for his keys.

"What do you mean?" You ask dumbly

"Guys...Well, we're not feral, sweetheart. We have self-control over stuff like that." He explains, "Not uh...being with someone won't kill us."

You look at him like he's nuts. He feels a bit guilty now, that he wasn't able to keep you away from dirtbags who pretended like they couldn't keep it in their pants.

"I knew it." You declare, "I knew it! All those fuckers were just full of it! Blue balls is made up shit!"

You point a finger to Joel's chest and he raises his hands in innocence.

"You...men, you're all so desperate for a warm body."

Joel sighs and pushes your hand away, "Promise we ain't all like that."

"Oh yeah? Well, introduce me to one then. I'd like to see him." You scowl

Joel lets a beat of silence go by before he gestures to himself, "You're lookin' at one right now."

You roll your eyes, "Yeah but...do you really count? I didn't even realize you were a dude until I found that pack of condoms under your bed when we were 16."

"Last time I checked, I'm a guy." Joel huffs, "And I thought you said you were gonna stop reminding me of that."

"What like you said you'd stop teasing me about that training bra I used to have?" You clap back

"I haven't brought that up in years!" Joel argues he can't even remember the last time he mentioned that to you.

"No! you brought it up at that New Year's Eve party! When you were drunk off your ass!"

Joel grimaces and shakes his head, he doesn't remember that at all, "Alright, fine. I'm sorry."

You grumble and cross your arms across your chest, leaning against the side of his truck as he stands across from you. A warm breeze blows by and pushes your hair out of place.

Joel can't help it, you've never looked more breathtaking to him. Fuck, when did his mouth get this dry? Where had all his spit gone?

"I'm in love with you." He blurts out

What the fuck had he done?!

He smacks his hand over his mouth like you've just given him the worse news in the world. Although Joel supposed in a few moments, you truly might be doing just that.

"What?" You ask, eyes wide, looking right at him

Joel doesn't say anything he just stares dumbly at you, hoping you might ignore it somehow.

"Are you fucking with me?" Your eyes narrow, taking him in

"N-No." He trips over his words, "I'm not, I swear."

You looked shocked now like he'd hit you with a train to derail your entire existence on this planet.

"I just...I've been sitting on it for a year now and it just came out." Joel says, "I promise I would've made it more romantic if you wanted. I just...M' a dumb guy who can't keep his mouth shut."

He's honest with you. He can't keep watching you go on date after date, looking for something you'd never find in any of those other men. He desperately wanted you to see that "the one" was right here in front of you, that he was it.

"Let's just forget I said anythin'. We can grab some ice cream at that shop you like."

You huff out a small breath and reach out. Joel nearly collapses here in the grass when you weave your fingers through his belt loops, pulling him close so his hips press against yours. Your back hits his truck as he leans into you, savoring the warmth of you pressed against him.

"You're not that dumb." You smile, "At least you manned up and told me."

Joel shrugs, feeling shy under your gaze. You know everything about him, lived through the awkward preteen years with him and yet you were making him nervous.

"If you don't want me...It's alright." He says, "Just had to get it out of my system I guess."

Your hair tickles his face as another shift of air moves it. You give him a mischievous smile, one he's seen many times over the years.

"Now when did you hear me say I don't want ya?"

Joel really thinks he's losing it now. Here you were pressed up against him, saying you want him too.

"Better not be fuckin' with me." He softly says, feeling vulnerable.

You giggle and lean forward, your lips brushing his just briefly before you pull away, "Never."

You and Joel are nothing but giddy smiles and laughs as he pulls you into his truck. You scamper past the steering wheel and into the passenger side. The sun is setting as he drives a bit too quickly down the road. Pink and orange hues paint the sky as his hand rests on your thigh. Every few moments you catch him, staring at you through the corner of his eye.

"Eyes on the road, Cowboy." You tease, shifting nervously when his hand inches a bit higher

Joel speeds past the turn to your apartment and before you know it, he's parking in his driveway. You stumble out of his truck, your mind drunk on thoughts of Joel Joel Joel.

Joel barely gets the front door open before you're on him. Who could blame you though? He was the most handsome man you'd ever laid eyes on. You had always been aware that Joel was well, hot. It'd been something gnawing at you since you were both 19, he'd shown up to help your dad mow the grass and took off his shirt. Fuck, that day had changed your entire life.

Okay well, this moment was sure to top that one.

"Needy little thing." Joel grins into your forceful kiss as he kicks the door shit

"Don't be mean." You huff

Joel scoffs like he doesn't believe you, "Really? I think you like it. Me bein' mean."

You roll your eyes, he couldn't possibly know about that yet.

"Gotcha." He snaps his fingers at you

"What? What do you have, Miller?" You ask, full of attitude

"You, baby. Y'like it when a guy gets a little rough with you."

Your face heats up in embarrassment. Okay, fine maybe he did know. But how? Was it that obvious?"

Joel sits down on the couch, pulling you into his lap and pressing a warm kiss to your neck.

"Saw your porn search history a few years back." He admits, "You gotta stop leaving your laptop unlocked."

You're ready to melt away in shame. God, what else had he seen? How did he even know how to access search history? You always thought Joel had been a total technology grandpa.

"It's natural, don't be embarrassed." He laughs a bit

You groan and hide your face in his neck, you're so fucking embarrassed. Any bravado and sexual confidence you had earlier was officially gone.

Joel's deep laugh fills your ears as he plops down on the couch, spreading his legs. He beckons for you to join him and when you take a step closer to him, he pulls you into his lap.

"Sorry, baby. You're just an easy target to tease." He whispers into your shoulder. peppering kisses against the skin as an apology.

Baby Baby Baby

You like the sound of that.

A little humph tumbles from your lips in response in response, as you snuggle closer to him, enjoying the unrestricted access you now have. Your fingers dance on the collar of his shirt before drifting up to the short curls at the base of his head. Joel hums and lets his eyes fall shut as your pretty pink acrylics weave through his hair.

"We should go to your room." Joel softly suggests when he looks at you again

You let Joel lead you down the hall, his big hand resting on the small of your back. Your nerves must be pretty obvious since he whispers into your hair that you'll be okay.

Joel pushes the door shut and you plop onto your bed, kicking your shoes off onto the rug.

Joel's eyes devour you when he turns to look at you. His eyes seem to particularly focus on the soft lace that lines the neckline of your dress. You fiddle with your fingers, you hadn't been this nervous about sleeping with a person since you lost your virginity back in your senior year of high school.

You expect Joel to do what most men would do now, to push your shoulders to the bedspread and pull the summer dress you've donned off you.

Instead, he drops to his knees in front of you, pushing your dress up a bit, he presses a kiss to each of your knees, his lips landing on the scars there.

"Didn't know ya still had these." He hums

"Rollerblading scars are for life I guess." You shrug

Joel lets out an amused chuckle, inching a bit closer to you before resting his head in your lap. He takes a deep inhale before resting his hands on your hips.

"You're a real weird guy, Joel Miller." You point out, resting your fingers on his hair

"What makes you say that?" He mumbles

"Most guys would be pulling my clothes off and you're here kneeling, resting your head on my thighs

"It could be between your thighs if you want." He cheekily suggests

You scoff and pull his head up by hooking a finger under his chin, his scruffy facial hair tickling your fingertips.

"Let me show you how a man should treat a lady like you," Joel asks

A small smile ghosts your face as you nod, pulling him up as you fall onto your back.

"Gonna show you all those guys, baby, they sure as hell ain't worth it."

Joel hovers above you, leaning down and kissing you before trailing his kisses down your neck to your collarbones, lightly nipping at the thin flesh and laughing when you squirm.

"Tell me how you like it." He says

Your face heats up. He'd been dead on earlier but god was it embarrassing to admit it. Your lips remain pressed shut as he presses a wet kiss to your cheek.

"Gonna make me work for it, huh?" He teases

Ugh, what a smug motherfucker he was.

Joel's big hand pulls at the zipper on your back, loosening the soft fabric of your sundress as he pulls at it.

"So beautiful." He breathes as the fabric pulls away to reveal your upper body

"You're a boob man?" You tease, noticing how he can barely tear his eyes from your bra.

Joel snorts, "You're kidding right? Have you seen these?"

His hands grope at your soft body, running his finger over your clothed chest.

"Lift your hips."

Joel pulls your dress down down down your legs before tossing it off your bed to the floor. You lay there, heart pounding in your mismatched set.

"I would've worn my lace ones if I knew this was gonna happen." You huff

"Perfect just like this." Joel approves, "I like you however you're comfortable."

His facial hair tickles your skin as he begins trailing kisses down your belly to the elastic band that sits on your hips. He presses a kiss to your mound before running a finger along the wet patch between your thighs.

"Has anyone ever tasted this pretty cunt before?" He hums, looking up at you

You nod your head, too nervous to speak right now. Of course, Joel was good in bed, he was walking sex on a stick, how you hadn't seen that before was crazy.

"Who?" He asks softly, his thumb finding your clit from above the fabric of your panties

"Umf- Ben Kingston." You whimper when he applies more pressure, god you wish he'd just rip your stupid underwear off already.

Joel's deep chuckle fills the sanctuary of your bedroom, "Ben? You mean that mullet-wearing guy who used to play JV lacrosse? That Ben Kingston?"

You nod, It'd been a few weeks after graduation, you were invited to a Fourth of July bash and at some point ended up in Ben's room tangled up in the sheets.

"Was he any good?" Joel smugly asks

You shake your head, "Not really...too um..."

"Too what?" Joel asks, curious now

"He was sorta, shy almost. Like it was gonna bite him or something." You say, remembering how Ben had just been too gentle with you

Joel nods cupping your cunt and pressing his palm to it, "She wants it rough, huh?"

You roll your eyes, propping yourself up on your elbows, "Are you gonna go down on me or what?"

Joel smiles at you, lust-blown eyes staring at you from between your legs, "You gonna be a good girl? Listen to me?"

You nod, wishing he'd just hurry up already.

A loud yelp leaves your lips, Joel Miller has just smacked your pussy. It wasn't too hard or soft yet it has your skin tingling and a new gush of wet pooling in your panties.

"Yes." You breathe

Joel gives you an approving look, he must want you to talk to him.

He shimmies your panties down your legs, eyes fixed on you the whole time.

"Come when I say, alright?" He asks

"Okay." You say, you've never had a guy take charge like this. Sure, they'd all been dominant in their own ways. But this? This was different. This was Joel, you used to eat popsicles on his front porch in the summer. And now here he was, telling you he was about to control your orgasms. Fuck it was hot though.

Joel presses two kisses to your clit before diving in and fuck does he put Ben to shame. His tongue licks a stripe from your hole all the way back up to your clit. Lips suctioning to the sensitive bud of nerves while you gasp and your legs threaten to fall closed.

"F-Fuck." You moan, unsure of what to do

"Stay open." He commands, pushing at your thighs that have tried to close around his head

Your hips jump when Joel pushes two fingers into you. You nearly scream when Joel’s lips attach to your clit once more, this time roughly sucking on you. His tongue continues dancing on you there as you roll your hips to meet him, gasping just a bit louder when his nose brushes you.

"Joel!" You whimper, a warning for how you're about to cum on his face

"You gonna cum?" He mumbles, acting like he doesn't already know, like he can't feel the way you're clamping down on his fingers and gushing down his wrist

"Y-Yes." You groan

Abruptly, he pulls away and you feel tears spring into your waterline. You were so close to euphoria and he was taking it away.

He thumbs away your tears, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "Don't cry, baby. M' gonna give you what you want, don't worry."

You sniffle, unable to help it, maybe your tears will get him back between your legs.

Joel runs a thumb between your folds, humming softly as wetness collects on his skin.

"Needy little thing, aren't ya. Didn't realize I was friends with such a slutty girl."

The words should hurt, they should. Hell, maybe if they were coming from anyone else's mouth they would. Instead, they have you nodding excitedly. Yes, you're a slut. You'll be anything for your dear Joel.

Joel lets out a small chuckle, "I knew you liked it like this. Like it when I'm mean to ya."

"Please."

"Please? " Joel smiles

"Fuck me." You groan, unclipping your bra and dropping it to the floor

Joel manhandles you to your stomach, his hands dancing up and down your back.

"Such a good girl, asking for it."

"Please, Joel." You whisper

A warm kiss is pressed to the nape of your neck before you feel him push into you. A shuddering breath leaves your lips as you hear Joel groan loudly behind you when his hips meet your ass.

"Feel good?" Joel asks genuinely

"Good." You huff, "Great, actually."

Joel's hands grip the soft flesh of your hips as he begins a rough pace that has you seeing stars. You bite down on your bottom lip and let out a loud keen when he brushes something inside you.

"That the spot?" Joel asks

You respond with a groan of his name and Joel chuckles, his hands squeezing your flesh, "Yeah, that's the spot."

His pace resumes and you're practically wailing into the sheets below you. You've had sex before but nothing like this, nothing like what Joel was providing you with right now.

Deep thrusts brush that spot inside you he's discovered as you moan his name, your brain empty of all thoughts.

Then, suddenly the world is tilting and Joel is manhandling you onto your back, pressing your knees up to your chest as he leans down to brush his nose against yours.

"Such a good girl..." He says, running a thumb across your cheek

Somehow he feels even better like this, even if it's a bit slower. Your breath mingles with his as he presses messy kisses to your lips and neck. Occasionally he'll dip down and suck at your chest, mumbling about how nice your tits are.

Your hips roll up to meet his hips as you rest your hands on his biceps, nails biting into the skin there.

"Close," You warn, "M' gonna cum, Joel." You huff, trying to keep your eyes on him

"Yeah? Gonna cum? Let me feel her gush and I'll her up." He says, "She'll be leaking with me for days after this, baby."

You shudder at his nasty words, loving the way they pool in your belly and send tingles up your spine.

At some point, Joel sneaks a hand to the mess between your thighs, he rubs two tight circles on your clit before you're tightening around him as your eyes slam shut while you cum.

"F-Fuck." Joel gasps, "Tight little cunt you got."

Joel fucks you through your orgasm while you weakly paw at his chest, overstimulation taking over.

"Take it, take it." He groans, his hips roughly slapping yours "Ugh, this f-fucking slutty pussy, teasing me for so goddamn long, gonna fuck a baby into her...

He's rambling now, lust-blown eyes slammed shut as he roughly takes his own pleasure. You haven't seen anything this hot as you watch Joel get off while using your body for himself.

And then, you feel it, warmth fills you as he finally finishes, a loud moan leaving his lips as he does. He stills above you, a moment passes before he finally looks at you.

It's as if a switch has flipped, two seconds ago he'd been this dominating sex god and now he was back to being the Joel you knew.

Warm kisses pepper your skin as he leans down to nuzzle his face into your chest.

"Pretty baby," He praises, "Thank you, sweetheart."

"I think I should be thanking you." You laugh, "I've never cum like that before, let alone had sex that good."

Joel laughs, kissing your jawline.

"I didn't go overboard? I know I can get real mean sometimes, it can scare sweet little things like you off."

You press a kiss into his brown curls that are a bit damp with sweat, "It was perfect."

Joel shifts, pulling out of you while you wince under him, "Sorry baby."

His spend drips out of you onto the already messy sheets. Your body burns with embarrassment as Joel stares at your overworked cunt.

"Stop staring, creep." You let your legs fall shut

Joel grins coyly before flopping onto his back, pulling you down to his chest.

"So...did I do it?" He asks

"Do what? Ruin my sex expectations for the rest of my life? Cuz' I don't think I can go back to my vibrator after that."

Joel chuckles, his fingers drawing circles on your shoulders, "Did I show ya that all those other guys sure as hell ain't worth it?"

You give him a small nod and he squeezes you even closer to his chest before speaking again,

"Good. Cuz' now that I got ya, you ain't goin' nowhere."

More Joel here / Masterlist

If you enjoyed leave me a comment or a reblog! I love getting feedback!

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #fanfic #joel tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #pedro pascal #maria miller #joel miller smut #tlou smut #young joel miller #tlou joel #the last of us hbo #tlou fanfic

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queers-gambit · 1 year ago

Text

Adore Her, Dior Her

prompt: ( requested ) what good is having all that money if he can't spend it on the woman he loves?

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 4.3k+

warnings: author foams at the mouth for Mafia AUs, overwhelming fluff, cursing, not edited.

"That's the one. That's one we should get!"

"You've said that about the past three dresses, Buck!" You groaned, smoothing your hands over the skirt. "We need to narrow this down, okay? The wedding's in a month!"

"Why did we even agree to go?"

You glared, "'Cause we love my brother and we're supporting him."

"But she's just so - "

"Jen. Her name's Jen."

Bucky nodded, leaning back on the cushioned chair, "Well, Jen's just wrong for him. Literally the definition of toxic."

"Does it count if they're toxic together? To each other?" You sighed, standing on the pedestal and turning to look in the three mirrors beside the dressing room.

"Of course it does," he stood, buttoning his suit jacket out of habit. He approached you, head cocking as he looked your body up and down to get the full view of the gown you tried on. "You're really okay letting him marry her? Turn this way a bit, baby, lemme see the front."

You scoffed, but took his offered hand and twisted on the small platform towards him, "You were there at Christmas, he doesn't listen to reason. So, if Daniel's convinced Jen's for him, as his sister, my only job is be supportive."

"They literally abuse each other," he pointed out.

"Well, he's not changing his mind. Okay? It's been three years, he won't budge, whenever someone brings up them breaking up, he goes into hiding - so, I don't know what else I can do," your hands slapped your thighs when you shrugged, "except just be there for him. Now, focus, please, help me narrow a dress down."

He shook his head as you turned to face the mirrors again, "Actually, you know what? I don't think anything in this store is for us."

The attendant perked up and scurried over, rushing, "Oh, well, we have a much larger selection in the back, Mr. Barnes - "

"That won't be necessary, Barbra, thank you, though," he nodded. "Doll," his hand planted on your waist, head over your shoulder as you still looked yourself over in the mirrors, "go get changed, I know where we need to go."

"Bucky, no, there's plenty of options here," you argued, twisting on the wee little pedestal to face him again. "We don't need to drop a stack on a dress - "

"You let me worry about the price tag," he smirked, leaning in to peck your cheek. "Just go change, pretty girl, c'mon. Step-to!"

You offered Barbra, the attendant, an apologetic smile as you shuffled back into the changing room; quickly stripping from the dress. When you exited in your street clothes, Bucky was tipping the aged woman for her effort in gathering your options, but the moment he saw you, his hand was extending to hold yours tightly.

"What was wrong with that store?" You asked when you stepped onto the noisy and busy street to approach the sleek, tinted car Bucky drove for day-to-day errands.

"We're not shopping at David's fucking Bridal."

"You literally drove us here," you laughed.

"Yeah, and then I had a much better idea," he smirked at you, unlocking the car and opening your passenger door. "C'mon, princess, just gotta trust me."

"Last time you said that - "

"That wasn't my fault," he groaned, cheeks flaring red in embarrassment. When you opened your mouth to retort, he rushed, "Aht, nope, don't say shit. C'mon, I'm taking you somewhere special so get that pretty ass in the car."

He grinned when you laughed and did as bid, feet safely inside when he closed the door after you were settled. Bucky easily jogged around the back of his car, New York busy this time of year as traffic flew past on the street and forced Buck slow. He dropped into the driver's seat, sniffling slightly.

"Reminds me," Bucky smirked as he pulled onto the street, "how would you feel about us going to Aspen this winter?"

You sighed, "Why?"

"You wanna stay in New York for Christmas?"

"Well, yeah! It's so magical."

"Okay, so, we can go over New Years?"

You sighed, "You know, we don't have to go anywhere..."

"Sweetheart," he cleared his throat, "I actually have some business in Aspen, this will just help determine when I schedule the meetings for."

"Oh," you nodded slowly.

He sighed, "I know my job isn't orthodox, but business is business, right, sugar?”

"No, yeah, yeah, I get it. It sounds kinda nice, maybe we can go skiing."

"You know how to ski?"

"No, but I'm sure someone in Aspen could help teach me."

Bucky grinned. The drive was full of easy conversation, neither you nor Bucky dwelling on his business dealings, always feeling as if it was taboo given his station in the Mafia. So when he pulled up in front of a designer store, you gawked. "Now, if we can't find something here - "

"Um, absolutely not," you laughed. "Bucky, I can't even afford to walk into a place like that!"

"Good thing I'm paying," he smirked. He assisted you out of the car, tossing his keys to one of his security guards who had been following in a separate, tinted vehicle. When you both entered the dimly lit store, you were blown away by the gorgeous minimalist design; warm lighting, open floor space, and racks of different clothing options.

"Ah, Mr. Barnes! Hello, hello, hello!" A new attendant greeted with more enthusiasm than you would've greeted any of your clients, approaching you two. She shook your boyfriend's hand vigorously, "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

Bucky wrapped his arm around your waist, "Looking for a dress to wear to a wedding."

She offered you a forced smile, telling your boyfriend swiftly with her teeth on full display, "You came to the right spot!"

"See?" Bucky smirked at you. "All right, Valeria, what's first?"

Valeria waved you both onward to a private changing room, offering complimentary sparkling waters, coffees, teas - even offering to go retrieve anything you two would want from the Starbucks down the block. Valeria took your measurements and dress size, making idle chit-chat with Bucky and making it obvious he was a regular in the store, then scurrying off to collect an armful of options.

"This is - wow," you nodded in impression, petting the material of the display dresses hung along the wall.

"Like it?"

"It's growing on me," you eased with a small shrug, hearing Bucky chuckle and for his phone to chime. You perused the place as he became glued to the little device, sat in front of the dressing rooms.

Valeria returned with another attendant carrying coffees. "Right this way, Mrs. Barnes," Valeria directed you into a changing room, missing the giddy look you sent Bucky over your shoulder at being called his wife. "All right, so," she sighed, hanging up the dresses she selected, "I think these are modest enough for a wedding, but still glamorous to turn a few heads."

You hummed, "They're kinda short, don't know if that's the energy I want to be giving off at my brother's wedding."

"They'll fit differently once on but we can always accommodate," she assured, pulling one from the hanger. "Here we go," she assisted you, zipping you in and looking you over. "Oh, it's just darling on you! Look at that, not a single hair outta place, right?"

You giggled lightly, "It's certainly pretty."

"Shall we show Mr. Barnes?"

You nodded, following her out to reveal Bucky sitting on a plush loveseat, sipping his coffee. His eyes widened when he saw you, nodding, "Oh, yeah. This is what I'm talking about."

"Hush, we're only buying one."

His eyes rolled, "I'll buy the whole damn store if I want."

"You don't own it already? Hm," you teased, perking your brows.

"Keep sayin' shit, I'll cut a check right now - "

"Bucky," you tisked, moving to the runway mirrors. "It's a little tight, isn't it?"

"It's snug," Valeria agreed. "Is there a color scheme for the wedding?"

"Um," you paused, "I'm not sure - I just know it's in winter, like, in a month."

"Maybe a pretty powder blue?" She looked to Bucky, who nodded. "Or how about a pale green? Like an olive tone?"

"She looks gorgeous in anything," Bucky smirked from behind you, taking another pull of his coffee.

"What about that brown number?" You asked, ignoring the way his compliments made you feel like the only girl he's ever seen in the world.

"You have a very good eye, Mrs. Barnes," Valeria nodded. She asked her coworker to go find your size, taking you back into the dressing room. You narrowed down the options without changing again, not wanting anything black or dark since it was a wedding and not a funeral. Though, you knew Bucky would disagree.

You showed your boyfriend a pretty little green dress, but he shook his head. "I thought the black was nice," he told you.

"I'm not wearing black to a wedding," you laughed lightly. "It screams bad luck to me, don't you think?"

"Think it's more of a statement, sayin' the entire event is a sham and they shouldn't be doing this," Bucky snickered, the other attendant, Laura, returning with a pretty brown dress. "That satin?" He asked, rubbing the material when it was presented to you both.

"It's very fashionable now," Laura nodded, "and it's not too dark."

"Since when is it a rule to not wear dark colors to a wedding? I miss the memo?" Buck leaned back to his seat.

All three women offered him a small look, you chuckling under your breath before Valeria was leading you back into the changing room. "If I may, Mrs?" She spoke softly, "I've known Mr. Barnes for a number of years but he's never brought anyone into the store. Then, one day, he tells me he needs a new suit because the 'girl of his dreams' had agreed to a date, and every time since then?" She smiled softly at you, "He's sang your praises. I'm very honored you're trusting me with helping you today."

"Oh," you blinked in shock, giggling nervously, "well, thank you very much, Valeria, now I know why his suits are always top of the line." She waved you off, making you add, "And for the record, I'm not Mrs. Barnes, guess that'd be his mother, wouldn't it?"

"Oh," her eyes widened, gasping softly, "oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't know, I just - he talks so highly about you - "

"No, it's okay, it's okay," you rushed, patting her arm. "I actually kind of like it..."

She hummed, zipping you into another dress, "You know, he's the reason my girl and I are together."

"Really? How'd that happen?"

Valeria chuckled, "He's very bold, your man. We were getting coffee one day, discussing his wardrobe for a business trip he had in Hong Kong, when my lady walked in. I went all silly and stupid, and Mr. Barnes just," she shook her head with a fond smile, "brazenly asked her out for me, in front of the whole shop."

"Oh, Jesus, yeah - sounds like him."

"Well, luckily, it worked, else I don't think he would've come back for my assistance. I was so embarrassed, you have no idea, but my lady - Charlie - thought it was charming and cute. Mr. Barnes hasn't let me live it down since. Says he demands an invite to the wedding." She met your eyes through the mirror, offering, "And I'd be really happy to give him a plus one, hmm?"

"You're so sweet," you whispered, turning to survey the dress. You spent the better part of three hours there, trying on dress after dress, nitpicking almost everything as you just weren't sure what to wear. Bucky wasn't much help, he just approved everything.

So, it was up to Valeria and Laura to help you; bringing out iPads and design books, trying to piece something together that best fit your comfort and the vibe of the wedding. You didn't want to look like a walking money bag since your family wasn't by any means wealthy, thinking it would be a slap to their faces since your boyfriend could spend his money without ever thinking about it. You didn't want to give your family any reason to talk behind your back.

"I like the brown satin," Laura offered softly, looking you over in the mirror. "But the blue is just wow, it really looks like it was made for you, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but I think the green compliments her eyes more," Valeria cocked her head in thought. "Are you wearing your hair up or down?"

"Up," you answered, trying to mimic the look by pulling your locks off your shoulders, "with thin jewelry, I think."

"Diamonds?"

"Pearls, if I can find a dress that looks nice with it," you smiled, seeing Bucky's reflection in the mirror watching you with a soft smile on his face; head titled in thought before his phone chimed again and warranted his attention. "Maybe we could try the pink dress?" You looked to the two women for an opinion.

"No," Valeria shook her head, "it washes you out. And pink in winter? Oh, sweetie, I'd lose my job if I let you leave here with that. Guess that means you'll have to come back in the spring, right?"

You grinned in response as Laura chimed in, "The green's actually really nice, but the brown looks much better with your body type." Then she turned to Bucky, prompting, "Mr. Barnes? Final decision - which dress?"

Bucky paused, musing, "Lemme see them all again, get one last taste. It's between the green and brown numbers?"

"Or the blue," Valeria nodded. "C'mon, sweetie," she offered her hand to help you off the wee runway you were perched on in front of the magnificent mirrors.

"You look sensational in them all, doll, how the hell am I supposed to choose just one?" Bucky teased, his canines on display from the broad grin that stretched his lips.

"You'll find a way," you answered.

"Awh, telling me Mr. Big-Tough-Manly-Business-Man who makes impossible decisions everyday can't choose a simple piece of fashion?" Valeria tacked on.

"You guys can't pick either!" He laughed, "And you do a helluva lot more shopping than I do!"

Laura, Valeria, and you paused to exchange looks, you pointing at Bucky and relenting in a drawl, "Touché."

When you were escorted back into the dressing room, Laura waiting outside the door for your privacy with Valeria, Bucky sat back on the plush loveseat and extended his one arm over the back of the seating. He smirked to himself, shaking his head as if in disbelief - but he was. Bucky was in disbelief.

How did a rugged Mob boss find himself here? Watching his girl like a private fashion show?

His whole life, all he knew was turmoil, pain, drama, and fear. He knew he would inherit his father's well-built organization after he passed and knew what this life would entail; having no preconceived notions about a quiet life. He knew he would have to be tougher than tough, adaptable, intelligent, and confident in his role as the head of the 3-6 Brooklyn Mob. Knowing the idea of a family was farfetched, knowing he'd never know the simple pleasures in life, that he would constantly be on the move - in-able to form real, sentimental, emotional connections. He knew, in this life, he'd remain alone for everyone's best interest and safety, indulging in a series of flings and one-off relationships that couldn't haunt him.

Yet they did. These encounters reminded Bucky how alone, how stranded, how isolated, how different he was. Instead of satisfying an unquenchable thirst, these fleeting partners became heavy anchors to Bucky's reality and reminded him that there was no such thing as love - nor was there any room or logic.

And then... He met you. Bucky's lips silently spread in a grin as he remembered meeting you at a bakery; purchasing the last slice of coconut cream pie to your absolute chagrin. He thought you were gorgeous, something ethereal and unobtainable; authentic, raw, and unfiltered - things his one night stands could never measure up to. So, he offered you the slice of pie if it meant giving him your number as currency.

After that, it was impossible for Bucky to consider ever being alone again because you were the sun; center of the universe that drew everyone into your orbit. He was smitten, content, excited to date you, turned on by the fact you had no idea who he was - a rare occurrence in the city. You were pure as fresh snow; sweet, kind, affectionate, attentive, and borderline overly empathetic.

Bucky knew he was in love with you after only a few weeks when he had shown up at your apartment, dripping in blood. You didn't panic like he feared you would, just checked up and down the hallway before yanking him into your home. You cleaned him up, tending to wounds, offering a safe space for him to relax in; making mindless conversation to help distract him from the pain he endured.

And now? Now, Bucky was sat in Dior, giving his opinion on your wedding guest dress; wondering how he allowed himself to get to this point of being domestic. Bucky wasn't a man to give his opinion on dresses, what color nail polish you should use, to send fresh bouquets of flowers every other week. Yet here he was, sipping too-expensive coffee, deciding between brown, green, and blue dresses that he never would've batted an eye at.

However, that was just the domino effect you caused in his life. You were sweeter than apple pie, becoming Bucky's one tether to reality that saved him from losing himself in this dark, criminal mindset he adopted. You didn't know it, but you had transformed Bucky from a brooding asshole into a boyfriend; someone you were proud to claim and never hid from - never shied away from. He admired the way you came to terms with his job, knowing it was a hard pill to swallow and yet noting the way you just accepted him as he was.

Bucky realized in that moment that he adored this new aspect of life after thinking it was impossible to obtain. He adored sitting here, offering opinions on dresses, his security left outside instead of hovering over him like a brutal reminder he was seedy. He loved having you to come home to, he loved being part of your mundane world - a person who went to weddings, who drank Starbucks, who asked her boyfriend his opinion about how she looked in dresses. Who thought bouquets of flowers were romantic, who baked him homemade cakes for his birthday, who worked overtime in order to afford his Christmas or birthday presents, who walked to the takeout place instead of paying for delivery.

All that you are, Bucky adored deeply; falling in love with you each and every single day. All he wanted to do was protect you, share his life with you, even pick out outfits for weddings you would attend. He knew if any of the men in his organization knew the extent of his affection, they'd surely weaponize it against him... Or at the very least, tease him relentlessly. Yet he never cared, knowing you wanted to be loved out loud instead of hidden away in a storage closet; but did care if it meant his enemies could use you to get to him. It was a risk, an occupation hazard for loved ones to become targets, but that only made Bucky so much more protective of you.

Laura glanced at Bucky and saw the fond smile soften to let his teeth trap his bottom lip, smiling at the Mob boss looking soft, content, smitten being there. She knew most boyfriends would never put this much effort into helping their girlfriends in the fashion department, thinking he must've been truly in love to look so at-ease. Plus his enthusiasm through the entire ordeal assured her that Bucky was genuinely enjoying himself.

Once again, you slipped into the blue dress and showed Bucky. He hummed and snapped a photo, asking you to turn this way and that. Then you tried the green dress, him taking another photo, and finally, you changed into the brown satin dress, facing Bucky for his final verdict.

Bucky hummed in contemplation, swiping through the photos. "You know what?" He asked, looking at you with a grin. "You look delectable in everything, I can't decide - so, let's just get them all."

"Bucky, no - "

"We'll take all three, Valeria, please," Bucky interrupted you.

You waited until the attendants left you alone with a knowing look shot in your direction to ring up the desired purchases, hip cocking and hands to your hips. With an underlying exasperation, you questioned, "What the hell, Buck?"

He grinned and stood, again, buttoning his suit jacket, "C'mon, princess, this is fun, right? Being spoiled?." His arms wrapped around your waist, looking down at you as if you hung the very sun that sucked him into your orbit. "What's the point of all my money if I can't spend it on you? Huh?"

"You can save it for a rainy day?"

He shrugged, "Not necessary."

"Maybe pay to send some underprivileged kids to go to college?"

"Well, there's a thought," your boyfriend mused, "but I already do that through the Stark Foundation. I sponsor a few scholarships."

"Okay, well, buying all three still doesn't help me decide what to wear," you chuckled, you mimicked his action and wrapped your arms tightly around the base of his ribs. Due to his height, your head had to tip backwards to meet his eyes with a small smile.

You could look at this gorgeous man all day, everyday if God ever permitted such an act. Why wasn't dating a paid activity? You'd be the top earner with the way you were absolutely enthralled with all Bucky Barnes was. And what an honor it was to earn his mutual adoration.

"We'll figure it out at home. Gotta get you moving in the material to make an honest judgement," he offered softly. "But you look gorgeous in all of them, baby, seriously. Like, drop dead gorgeous that makes every girl brim with jealousy. Shit, doll, you're gonna run the risk of outshining the bride."

You sighed, "Look, Buck, I appreciate what you're doing, but three designer dresses? Where the hell am I ever gonna wear them? What kinda event calls for overpriced fashion statements?"

Buck eased with a soft expression, "Guess I'll just have to take you out so you can put them all to good use, huh?"

"That's not a solution!"

"Is to me," he let a hand drift to roughly palm the meat of your ass cheek over the brown satin; another symptom of him being whipped, his comfort over public displays of affection. "Seriously, doll, how the hell did I get so lucky?"

"Hmm?"

"Just look at you, my girl," he chuckled lightly, "radiant in anything you put on. It's almost unfair, makes me wonder what I did so right to have someone like you I can call my own. I can't wait to show you off in those dresses, just look so Goddamn tantalizing. I mean, damn, baby, I'm gonna have to fight off men with my gun and the jealous women with a stick."

"You do realize we're already dating, you don't have to lay it on so thick."

"And you do realize being with you makes me the luckiest bastard in the city, right? Least I can do is spoil you, I've already got everything else I've ever wanted."

Your heart swelled at his words, sighing gently as your chin rested on his chest to keep your head tilted. Softly, you admitted, "I don't think you're the lucky one, pretty sure the honor's mine. I couldn't ask for anything more in a man - in a partner. I'm so fucking in love with you, Bucky, it honestly doesn't make sense."

He nodded, asking, "Know what else doesn't make sense?"

"What's that?"

"You refusing those dresses, I mean, c'mon!" He laughed, you groaning and releasing your hold; making his tighten to prevent you from escaping. "Those dresses look phenomenal on you, you really gonna reject my gift? C'mon, you know the rules, doll, if you adore her, you Dior her." You were ready to retort, but Bucky smiled, "For the record, I think you should wear the blue dress to the wedding."

"Blue it is," you smiled, lifting onto your toes and hooking a hand around the back of his neck to meet his lips in a scratchy kiss. "Thank you so much, baby," you whispered, feeling his lips spread against yours before he brought you back in for a much-more passionate kiss. "Hm!" You hummed, pulling away to scold, "But no more, all right? You spend too much money on me - I mean, who the hell needs three designer dresses?"

"You do," he whispered, "you deserve all of this, sugar, and I'll do what I can t'spoil you the way you should be. Might as well get used to it, I got no plans on stopping."

Your eyes rolled in good faith, excusing yourself, "Yeah, yeah, all right. Lemme get changed and we can - "

"Nah," he shook his head, petting the skin of your back exposed from the brown satin dress with his fingertips, "know what? Stay in the dress, I wanna take you out and show you off."

Your lips found his in a breath-sucking kiss, trying to convey your appreciation and giddiness over never having been spoiled like this in your entire life - feeling grateful, refreshed, and privileged for a man like Bucky in your life. Whatever greater force there was in this world, you thanked repeatedly for choosing you to love this man and for this man to love you. There was no telling what you did to deserve him, but blessed be those heavenly powers.

requesting rules and masterlist

MCU masterlist

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starboundsingularities · 1 year ago

Text

the jurist system seems really cool i hope they keep using it :-)

27 notes

🌈 lawsbian Follow

hey girl. am i a suspect. because you can "court" me any time

🧊 just--ice Follow

try.

🌈 lawsbian Follow

hey girl. am i a suspect. because you can "try" me any time

🌈 lawsbian Follow

hey girl. are you a lawyer. because you can "try" to "court" me any time

🌈 lawsbian Follow

hey girl. am i on trial.

🌈 lawsbian Follow

i'm determined to make this work btw

🌈 lawsbian Follow

hey girl. law

🔪 violencekilling Follow

hey girl. are you a murderer. because ow ough ouch agh stop stabbing me

732,390 notes

🌟 rockliker270 Follow

guys watch out hes gonna shelly de kill you

293,485 notes

🎀 copiicat Follow

they called me to the witness stand and the defense attorney just shouted "BOOOOOO WE HATE YOUR PUSSY"

43,618 notes

🧇 edible-evidence Follow

look if i was on trial and the guy prosecuting me started advertising his music i'd just plead guilty. avoid the embarrassment of getting put in prison by a guy who basically used the trial to say "this blew up btw here's my soundcloud"

97,384 notes

⚖️ courtofpublicopinions Follow

💞 lawveyourself Follow

didnt miles edgeworth defend someone in a case once

⛲ fountainoftruth Follow

do you know the difference between a prosecutor and a defense attorney

270,934 notes

💟 longingforyou Follow

being rivals isn't enough i need to kiss you

💟 longingforyou Follow

who the fuck is evil magistrate

💟 longingforyou Follow

STOP TAGGING THIS WITH LAWYERS?????

584,769 notes

🐈 nyattorney Follow

they hired a guy to stand in court and shout "GET A ROOM YOU TWO" whenever the lawyers start getting a little too homoerotic

976 notes

💥 courtroomchaos Follow

your honor i know all the evidence points to my client being guilty. but come on you have to admit he kinda ate right

💼 courtofwaw Follow

mia fey when they had phoenix wright on trial

20,475 notes

🔍 thuthseeker Follow

ok hot take but i feel like these lawyers should maybe not be allowed to drag literal children to court with them?? how many people have gotten genuinely actually fucking SHOT in court and they're just ok bringing fucking 8 year olds in?

12,475 notes

💼 courtofwaw Follow

happy almost christmas to all who celebrate

💫 dizzydreamers124 Follow

it's march

🎄 holidazed Follow

happy almost christmas :)

😈 knownjaywalker Follow

WHO is putting this on my dash

👁️ cymorgue Follow

STOP POSTING THIS. IT IS JUNE.

🐼 pandastar91 Follow

ITS ALMOST CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!

1,589,589 notes

💽 platinumcourtrecord Follow

evil gavinners be like. innocent hate. this is a nothing post

19,384 notes

🥚 eggvidenced Follow

STOP asking me about the dl-6 post idc idc look even phoenix wright forged evidence once shut up

📕 lexculpatory Follow

he didn't forge the evidence, though. it was kristoph gavin who ordered the forgery. this was covered in the trial of vera misham. if you're going to try to compare yourself to well known figures, you could at least check the veracity of your claims.

🥚 eggvidenced Follow

yeah well. he might have. on a different case or something.

73 notes

🃏 thecourtjester Follow

i tried to take the bar exam but they didnt let me because i wasnt cunty and traumatized enough

57,384 notes

😇 innosense Follow

683,876 notes

🦀 mad_libz_87 Follow

when will global studios realize that i do not WANT another shitty steel samurai spinoff i just want the original show back

7,094 notes

⚖️ courtofpublicopinions Follow

she present on my evidence til i reach a verdict

⚖️ courtofpublicopinions Follow

WRONG BLOLG. DON'T REBLOG THIS. DELETE POST DELETE POST DELETE POST I SWEAR WE'RE PROFESSIONALS HERE

17,283 notes

👑 courtroyals Follow

"we need more great prosecutors" you guys couldn't even handle manfred von karma

🧊 just--ice Follow

didn't he kill someone?

👑 courtroyals Follow

irrelevant. you guys couldn't handle him.

587 notes

📋 lawandwhoreder Follow

law: i'm so law

lawyer, who needs to one up everyone no matter what: i'm more law than you

🏛️ lawyest Follow

📋 lawandwhoreder Follow

you've got to be fucking kidding me

183,834 notes

🧊 just--ice Follow

why is it always murders with lawblr. why don't we ever talk about divorce or something

#ace attorney #ace attorney spoilers #dashboard simulator #dash simulator #dashboard sim #dash sim #unreality #fake dashboard #fake dash #post simulator #long post #this is just going to be a series now /lh #well. if i make any more. who knows #timeframe is sometime after the end of aa4 but before the start of aa5 #the timeframe for these posts is of course always the exact point i'm at in my own playthrough /lh #some of these are based on real posts. but i'm hoping it is more inspiration rather than outright copying #if it is though i'm always willing to remove them #though i will not be removing the one that's based on my own post because that's mine /lh #i worry this may be an unnecessary sequel but who cares. who cares.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months ago

Text

Doing Time 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you try to keep your brother safe in jail but put yourself in danger along the way.

Characters: con/ex-con!Steve Rogers

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You wade up to the surface of consciousness with a bubbling groan. Your skin tingles and your head swirls. You blink away the dregs as the world comes back into focus. A low drone tickles your ears.

You turn your head towards the voice. Steve's deep timbre sends a shiver through you. You bring your hand above the blankets and rub your forehead. His words are hard to decipher as he keeps his tone low and measured.

"Yeah," he comes down the hall and peeks in at you. He grins. "I'll let her know. Oh, yep. She's been working hard. Oh, ho, I'll make sure of that." He leans on the door frame as he watches you. You slowly sit up, perplexed as his hand frames one hip. "I'll talk to you later, Harriet. Yeah, can't wait to meet."

He pulls your phone away from his cheek and taps with his thumb. You furrow your brow and turn your legs over the edge of the bed, clinging to the blanket to keep yourself hidden.

"Was that--"

"Mom's doing well. She was checking in." He nears and puts your phone on the nightstand. "I didn't want to overstep, baby. In due time. But she kept calling and then I didn't want her to worry. She's already got one kid in trouble, huh?"

"You were talking to my mom?" You croak.

"Well, sweetheart, only a matter of time before I meet the family. Already got Vaughn off the list so...:" he shrugs casually. "She's doing well. Asked about you, I assured her, you're good." He turns and sits next to you. He grips your knee through the blanket. "Don't worry, I don't got much family. A good buddy but.. mom went a while ago. Strong lady but not physically."

"Oh, I'm..."

"Spilled milk," he waves away the condolences. "She said your brother called. Got in a fight or something. She said she couldn't understand him."

You grimace, "A fight?"

"Yeah, it's too bad, 'cause I had my guys looking out for him." He looks at the wall and clucks. "I told him to keep himself straight." He shakes his head and turns his focus to you. "You know what, sweetheart, he takes you for granted. They all do. I'm not stupid. I sat in the pen long enough and you were the only person kind enough to check on me. Your mom won't even come up for her own son, she sends you..." his expression hardens. "It's about time you start doing stuff for yourself."

"It's... complicated," you cross your arms over the blanket.

"Not anymore. You got me now. We're gonna do this together." He insists.

"It's fine, I'll call tonight. I'm sure she misheard," you assure him.

"We'll call," he counters.

You flinch. You stare at him. The lines around his eyes deepen. His age only adds to his stature.

"Okay," you agree. What else can you do?

"We're gonna go out," he proclaims. "I'm gonna buy you something nice."

"Steve, you don't-- I don't want to spend your money--"

"My money's mine to spend and you don't need to worry about it. I got more than enough." He stands and rolls his shoulders. "Got myself a suit delivered while you were resting too." He faces you and puffs out his chest. "I take care of mine and you're my girl so you deserve only the best."

You blink then make yourself smile. The sentiment is sweet, it's only him that's terrifying. At least you don't see the truly scary part of him. The part that saw him through prison.

"You wanna know something silly, baby?" He purrs as he tilts his head.

"Um, sure," you gulp as you shiver beneath the blanket.

"You know, the appeal was taking a while. I was getting impatient," he drawls. "That place will drive you mad but you got me through. I just kept thinking of you and I figured, they draw this thing out another year, maybe you could... arrange for a conjugal." He snickers. "I mean, I wouldn't wanna do it like that but you know how to torture a man with those sweet eyes."

He winks and bites his lip. You squirm as your brows lift. You don't know how to respond.

"The more I thought about it though. You wouldn't believe how worked up you had me." He scoffs again. "And now I got you right in front of me, I wanna do all those things I thought of but I don't wanna spoil it. I want it to be perfect. For both of us."

He crosses the room and lets out a deep breath. He stops before you and pets your cheek.

"So I'm gonna buy you something sexy and then we're gonna come back here and I'm gonna fuck you in it," he growls as he grabs your chin firmly. "And I don't know if I'll ever stop."

⛓️‍💥

"Nah, I don't think black's your colour," Steve takes the teddy out of your hands. It's the only thing in the shop that won't show everything. You suppose it doesn't matter but your instinct is to hide. "How about this?"

He pulls out a light purple bodice. It only goes halfway down the torso. It's embroidered with little flowers but otherwise transparent. It's not the choice you expect; of either of you.

"If that's what you like," you shift awkwardly.

You stick to basic cottons. You're not really a lingerie person. You never felt sexy enough and your track record hadn't given you many opportunities to dress up. Most of the time, you kept your shirt on.

"It's about what you like, sweetheart," he puts the hanger back. "I mean, I'll take you in nothing at all. You know that."

You look around. You're not the only customers in the store. He doesn't care at all.

"You got everything I like built right in," he steps closer and runs his hand down your side. "You got a nice shape, you know that? And those thighs--"

"Steve," you whisper as your eyes dart back and forth.

"I like that about you. You're shy. You wanna keep this between us. I respect it," he pulls away. "Well, let's see..." he turns back to the racks. "This?"

He pulls out the pink polka dot teddy with the open front. It's trimmed in black with a bow under the chest, and is long enough to keep your stomach mostly covered, except for that slit down the middle.

"Pair of pink panties..." he growls. "I mean, I'll ruin them but it'll be fun."

Your lips part. You nod. It's not so bad. Not like the bras with no cups and the thongs made of little more than strings.

"It's nice," you say, trying not to look too long at it.

He lowers the hanger. His eyes pierce you. You meet their stunning blue.

"You know you're gorgeous regardless of what you got on," he affirms. "You got me thinking of finding a restroom and just..." he chuckles. "A man in the pen is like man in the desert."

You fidget and distract yourself in a search for matching panties in your size. He stays close.

"Have I let you down so far?" He nudges you. "Think I've left you... purring."

"Steve, I just..." you grab panties and face him again. "It's... I'm still surprised, is all."

"Oh, well, you know I won't ever lie to you again. Not that that's what I did," he says, "I just wanted it to be... well, the look on your face was worth it."

You hold out the panties, "these go."

He takes them and arches a brow, "getting impatient, huh?"

You chew your lip and nod. Sure, that's what the tremor in your stomach is. It isn't fear. It's anticipation. Maybe if you can make yourself believe it, he will too.

⛓️‍💥

Your apartment is not your own anymore. Neither is your body. Or your life.

Steve has infected every part of it. Your home, your family, your very being. Your only reprieve is the short time he gives you to 'get ready'; ready for him to take what's left.

You close yourself in the bathroom and stare at the teddy hanging on the back of the door. A shell of numbness spreads over you and yet your heart is hammering, shaking every part of you. There's a finality that pits in your stomach.

Soft music rises from the other side of the wall. He's ready. He's fearless. He's in control.

You won't waste any more of his time. Funny, how you feel guilty. After what he told you, about waiting on you, you feel like you're wasting his time. He spent enough behind bars for a crime, he claims, he didn't do. That the courts decided he didn't.

It's all so confusing. And scary.

You get up. You undress and change into the skimpy panties and the teddy. You feel exposed. You are. There's nothing left between you and him.

You rinse your face and do your best to tidy up your hair. You don't know why you're trying. The hollowness makes you clumsy.

You face the door. You make yourself leave that room. You're not brave, you're just used to doing what needs to be done. It'll keep Vaughn safe. Your mom too, now he knows about her.

You peek into the bedroom. The walls flicker with the candlelight, a tinge of red in the air as a scarf hangs over the lamp. There are petals all over the floor. The bed has been remade in red silk. He did all this. For you?

"Sweetheart," he startles you as he turns away from the curtains.

He wears only a pair of white boxers, his thick thighs exposed, his muscular middle clenching with tension. You shift your weight and hug your chest. He bites his lip as he comes up to the bed.

Choked to silence, you near the other side. You stare at him and he stares back. His eyes reflect the small flames lit around the space. The music glosses through the air and raises bumps on your skin.

"Come here," he puts a knee up on the bed and reaches across.

You take his large hand and let him pull you onto the mattress. He's deceptively gentle as he guides you down onto your back. He reclines with you, snaking his arm beneath you. He holds you as he traces your jawline and admires you. You look away shyly.

"You really are the most beautiful creature," he growls.

Your cheeks pinch and you look at him. You press your hand softly to his chest. You push your fingertips into him, feeling the firmness, the strength. You remind yourself that if he wants to, he can hurt you. He hasn't so you'll go along.

His fingers flutter down your neck. You shiver. He purrs and leans in. He kisses you. His warmth seeps through the shell frozen around you. Your hand slips up to his shoulder.

He feels along your chest and squeezes you through the thin cup of the lingerie. He swirls around your nipple as he dips his tongue through your lips. You moan as his touch stirs inside you. Your fear mingles with the fire lit by his diligent tending. He growls into you, hooking his leg around yours.

"You really do fill this out perfect," he runs his hand down the sheer fabric of the teddy, the knuckle of his thumb grazing your stomach. He pulls your leg away from the other with his. "All of you is... made for me."

Your lip trembles. You don't want him to know how afraid you really are. He has enough power.

You slide your hand up behind his head and pull him down. You kiss him, desperately. Desperate to hide, to forget, to survive. Grasping at whatever control you can have over this.

His fingers trail along the edge of the panties; across the top then along the creases of your thighs. He spreads a hand over your thigh and kneads the flesh. You quiver and gasp into his mouth.

His breath plumes out hotly as he drags his fingertips along the narrow crotch of the panties. He rubs you through them. He pushes along your clit, the friction hot against the lace. You moan again, your mouth slipping from his as you loop your arm around his neck.

You squeeze your thighs around his hand as he teases you. He buries his face in your neck and nips you as he slowly builds his tempo. Twisting your nerves around his touch until you're writhing and whining. You his and clasp onto his bulging bicep. He snarls and puffs into the crook of your neck.

You cum in a series of spasming waves. You soak through panties as he hums and chuckles along your throat. He pushes beneath the fabric and starts again, unwinding you as he flicks up and down.

The second orgasm has you clutching at the pillow. You dig your heel into the mattress and arch your pelvis, quaking as you ride out the thrill. His fingers slip through your juices and he pokes at your entrance.

He lifts his head, his silvery blonde hair drooping forward. His blue eyes bore into you as yours roll back. He growls as he prods at you.

"Look at me, sweetheart,"

You gasp. He drags his finger across your entrance.

"What'd I tell you?" His voice turns gritty.

You bat your lashes and look at him. His pupils are large and dark. They swallow you up as he pushes two fingers against you, slowly parting your cunt around their breadth. Your lips form and O and you gasp again. You clasp onto his wrist as he delves down to his bottom knuckles.

"Gotta get you ready for me," he leans in to nuzzle your cheek. "Once I'm on ya, I don't know if I'll be able to stop."

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #doing time #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #marvel #mcu #avengers #captain america

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