I would be very, very curious to see how you might write Bucky and a reader who really like semi public sex/the thrill of knowing someone could catch them in the act? Dealer's choice if it's using a remote controlled vibrator (on either party) or sneaking somewhere for a quickie or anything else you can think of! I am living for all your writing lately!
It starts with a look.
It always does.
Bucky’s leaning against the counter in the compound kitchen, sleeves shoved up his forearms, metal fingers tapping absently against the marble while he watches you pretend to listen to Sam go on about something—something important, probably—but you can’t focus when Bucky looks at you like that.
Like he knows something no one else does.
Like he’s already ten steps ahead.
Your foot nudges his under the counter. Light. Testing.
His eyes flicker.
That’s all it takes.
You shouldn’t.
There are people everywhere—Sam still talking, Natasha scrolling through her phone at the island, Steve flipping through a file at the table—but the danger is exactly what makes your pulse spike. The awareness that at any second, someone could look up.
Catch you.
Bucky’s mouth tilts just slightly, barely there, but it’s enough to make your stomach flip.
He pushes off the counter like nothing’s changed.
“Gonna grab something from the storage room,” he says casually, already moving.
No one questions it.
You wait.
You try to wait.
You count to ten, to fifteen, to twenty—but by then your nerves are buzzing so badly you feel like you might crawl out of your own skin. You murmur something about needing air, already slipping out before anyone can respond.
The hallway is quiet.
Too quiet.
Your footsteps feel loud and suspicious, like they’re echoing your intent down every corridor. But the second you round the corner toward the storage room, the door opens just enough for a hand—metal—cool and familiar—to catch your wrist and tug you inside.
The door shuts behind you with a soft click.
And then you’re pressed against it.
“Twenty-three seconds,” Bucky murmurs, voice low against your ear. “Getting impatient, doll.”
“You’re one to talk,” you shoot back, breath already uneven, hands gripping his shirt. “You started it.”
“Did I?”
His nose brushes your temple, lips ghosting along your skin in a way that makes your knees threaten to give out. He doesn’t rush. He never does in moments like this. That’s half the torture—how deliberate he is, how much he enjoys drawing it out.
“You could’ve stayed out there,” he adds softly.
You laugh under your breath, tilting your head back against the door. “And let you win? Not a chance.”
“Mm.” His metal hand slides to your hip, grounding you, while his other traces up your side, slow and knowing. “So it’s a competition now.”
“It always is with you.”
His breath huffs out, warm against your throat. “Careful,” he murmurs. “You know I don’t like losing.”
A sound slips out of you before you can stop it—quiet, but loud enough in the stillness of the room to make both of you freeze for half a second.
Listening.
Nothing.
No footsteps. No voices.
Still alone.
But the risk lingers in the air, sharp and electric.
Your heart is pounding so hard you’re sure he can feel it through your chest, pressed as you are against him.
“You’re trouble,” he mutters, but there’s no heat in it—just that familiar edge of amusement, of want.
“You love it.”
“Yeah,” he admits easily, his forehead dropping to yours. “I do.”
His thumb brushes along your jaw, grounding and soft in a way that clashes with the tension coiled tight between you. That’s the thing about Bucky—how he can be both at once. Rough in the way he corners you, gentle in the way he holds you there.
Your fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer, like you need the contact as much as the thrill.
“Someone could walk in,” you whisper, even as you lean into him.
“I know.”
“You’re not even a little worried?”
His lips curve, just barely. “Are you?”
You hesitate.
That’s your answer.
His eyes darken, just a fraction, like he can see the exact moment the thought excites you instead of scares you. Like he can read you better than you can read yourself.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs.
The silence stretches again, thicker now, heavier with everything unspoken. Every brush of his hand feels amplified, every breath louder.
Somewhere down the hall, a door closes.
You both go still.
Your grip tightens on him instinctively, and his hand presses more firmly at your waist, anchoring you. You can feel the shift in him—not panic, never that—but awareness. Alert. Ready.
And still, he doesn’t pull away.
Instead, his lips brush yours, soft at first, like he’s testing the line.
You don’t hesitate.
You close the distance.
It’s not rushed. It’s not frantic. It’s slow and intentional, the kind of kiss that builds instead of explodes; like a spark catching, spreading, warming everything it touches.
But underneath it, there’s that constant hum.
What if someone opens the door?
What if you get caught?
The thought should make you stop.
It doesn’t.
If anything, it makes you lean in harder, makes your hands clutch him tighter, makes every second feel sharper, brighter.
Bucky pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours again, breath mingling with yours.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmurs.
You smile, breathless. “You started it.”
His thumb brushes over your cheek, lingering. “And you followed.”
“Always.”
That earns you something softer.
His expression shifts, just a little—the edge of mischief still there, but layered with something deeper. Something steadier.
“You trust me,” he says quietly.
It’s not a question.
You nod anyway.
“Yeah.”
His gaze holds yours for a moment longer, searching, like he needs to see it, to feel it. Then he exhales, tension easing just a fraction as his hand settles more securely at your waist.
“Good,” he murmurs.
Another sound echoes faintly from the hallway—voices this time, closer.
Reality pressing back in.
Bucky glances toward the door, then back at you, a grin tugging at his mouth. “We should probably—”
“Yeah,” you breathe, even though neither of you moves right away.
Another beat passes.
Then another.
Finally, he steps back, just enough to give you space, though his fingers linger at your hip for a second longer than necessary.
“Five minutes,” he says, voice back to casual, controlled. “Then you head out first.”
You nod, smoothing your clothes, trying to steady your breathing.
“Try not to look too suspicious,” he adds.
You shoot him a look. “You’re one to talk.”
He grins, unrepentant.
“Hey,” he says lightly, reaching out to tug you back for one last, quick kiss—so brief it almost feels imagined. “Next time… maybe we push our luck a little further.”
Your pulse spikes all over again.
“Next time?” you echo.
His eyes flicker with that same knowing look from earlier.
“Don’t pretend you’re not already thinking about it.”
Christmas is right around the corner, and with that you have told John that you’d like to travel into the city, and go to the festival before they close up for the new year. The hum of music, laughter, and the festival lights can be heard below you. For right now though you’re suspended in the air. At the top of the ferris wheel.
It allows for you and John to slip into your own world, a private one near the top. One hundred feet up in the air or more. The outside is cold, and the inside of your cabin is fogged up on the glass. This one cabin is being built on shared breath, shared heat, and the kind of tension that could cut through the hardest of metal.
The ferris wheel jerks coming back alive once more, moving a few more feet. Inching you closer and closer to the top of the wheel. The jerking motion has you gripping the cold metal bar, and the man beside you grips at your warm thigh.
John's hand doesn’t move from your thigh, as he looks over at his piercing blue eyes. His voice is thick like honey “Oh looks like we might be stuck up here sweetheart.” He murmurs, “It’s a real shame.” You can hear the sarcasm in his voice, and he sounds anything but disappointed.
John drags his hand up your thigh. His fingers glide up your inner thigh, at a slow enough pace that you know it’s intentional. Your breath catches in your lungs, “John” Is all you can mutter out, it’s supposed to have more strength behind it, it’s supposed to sound like you have control over the problem that is currently blooming in the cabin.
John can hear the real tone beneath your words. It's a silent plea to take control over what’s going on in the cabin. In the fogged glass windows. John shifts closer to you, his large knee brushing up against yours. Then his thigh is brushing against yours warm to the touch even through two layers of jeans. Finally his chest is pressed into yours.
The cold winter air is somehow not in the cabin anymore. The air is warm with tension and passion that is being pushed out of John's thick body. “You wanna know something, love?” He asks, you hum in his touch. “You’ve been driving me fuckin’ crazy… all damn night.” he murmurs as his lips brush gently against your cheek. “Did you know that you were doing it?” He asks.
You shake your head ‘no’ as John noses grazes ever so softly down your jaw. Causing goosebumps to litter your skin under your many layers of clothes. Your stomach does about seven summersaults. “You just kept given’ me that look, love.” He says, his voice dropping a few octaves. “You know, like you wanted me to take you right there in the middle of the damn festival for everyone to see.” You whimper at his words, and John arches a brow at you, pulling back enough to see your face casted in a shadow. “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”
You can feel your heart beat faster in your chest, and how your breath seems to crack around the edges. Your breath doesn’t even fog up between you and John from the sheer heat being exchanged between your bodies. He teases you, squeezing your thigh, harder and it claims you. “But now we seem to be stuck up here.” “All alone, so one can interrupt us.”
There’s shouting coming from the bottom of the ferris wheel but neither of you care about what the words are saying, and then finally John's mouth has locked onto yours. The kiss is slow, calculated and teasing at first. Until you’re leaning into his lap and his grip on you shifts. Pulling you into his lap. His large hands lay claim to your jean covered hips. You deepen the kiss and John lets out a low, groan.
John always kisses you like he wants to mark you, ruin you for anyone else. John wants everyone around you to know that he’s the reason your lipstick is smeared at the edges, that he’s the reason why you walk a little limp. John kisses you like he’s a man that has been without water for years in the desert. John kisses you like he’s starving.
Your winter coat shifts, and bunches between your shared space. With John's large hands staking claim on your hips there’s so much warmth, heat and passion between the two of you. “Oh Price…” Your voice all but breaks as John uses his position and grip to grind you down on his growing hard-on in his jeans.
John is hungry to get his mouth on your exposed skin. Pressing kisses down your neck. “Yeah, love.” He mutters against your throat. “Feel how hard you make me? That’s all you're doing.” He tells you. John has a set of hands that roam. They roam all over your body, cold against your warm skin as he drags them down your spine, up and then back down your stomach. When they finally return to their place on your hip he’s got you in a dirty, slow grind against him that has you trying to catch your breath with every grind.
Everything that is happening between you and John is calculated, deliberate and possessive. John owns you in the moment, and will probably own you after this god forsaken ferris wheel sets the both of you back down on the ground with ease.
With that thought the Ferris wheel shifts again, not smooth a few groans of the metal sound through the wheel. The night life continues on, the lights from peoples houses can be seen from your height in the sky. The glass fogs quicker now that you’re higher and the air is colder around you.
With the shift of the ferris wheel, you grind into John's hard-on with a sheer force that has his breathing growing rougher, heavier as if ghosts over your damp skin. John moves his thumbs up and onto your sweet plush stomach. Rubbing circles into the soft flesh grounding the both of you. “Fuckin’ hell, love you’re trying to kill I swear.” He mutters as you rock your hips.
Once and then twice. You can feel his heat radiating off of him, and he’s growing hotter by the second. He barely keeps the growl as a groan that leaves his chest. “Do… fuck do that again, love.” He begs, and you follow his words. His breath catches in the back of his throat.
“Fuck, fuckin’ me up on purpose, love?” He asks, you tease “Maybe I am John.” You say, There is a dark, hungry heat behind his eyes when he lifts his head and looks up at you. “Come on, love to say it properly.” He urges you, when your lips part to speak, John can’t help but reach up and drag his warm thumb against your bottom lip.
Dragging it down and slipping his thumb inside.
“Don’t get all shy on me now, tell me you’re doing it on purpose so I can lose my mind.” He wants the truth, and the truth he’ll get. Because it’s true “Yeah, I am” You whisper around his thumb. John seems to be done waiting for you to make a move, and for the ferris wheel to shift once more, so he's pulling you from his lap. Twisting you till your ass is lined up with his jean covered cock.
“Tell me that you want me to fuck you right here.” He demands of you as his large hands rub at the globes of your ass. “I don’t wanna stop.” You answer, he takes it. It’s enough to have him demanding you of things. “Unbutton those pretty tight fuckin’ jeans.”, you work quickly to drag the button from it’s place and drag down the jeans. Shivering as the cold air hits the warmest parts of you.
You can hear the belt buckle of John's jeans hit the metal bench beneath him. “Come on love, I’m tired of waiting.” He murmurs as he guides you back down on his lap. You can feel the leaky, hot head of his cock nudge at your entrance. Wet and ready for his cock to slip right in. The stretch is welcomed as you take it slow before bottoming out on his cock.
The groan that falls from his lips is delicious to your ears. Again John's hands find their place on your hips. Helping you bounce on his cock. The first three thrusts back up into your are experimental. “Oh fuck…” You moan, as your hands find the tops of John's knees.
The cabin rocks a little as your pace, and speed grows with every thrust. “Just like that, love.” John encourages as he rubs sweet circles into your skin. Your moans bounce around the fog covered glass, and your head falls forward. “Jesus christ… I’ve never.” You mutter as you catch a glimpse of the two of you.
You can see John shit eating a grin plastered against his soft and worn features. “Yeah… but I can feel how excited you are about this.” He says, thrusting up to match your pace. Your eyes almost cross when John manages to hit the best, and most special part of you on the first try.
“I can feel you tighten up every time you look out the cabin window.” John tells you. You moan as once again John meets you half way. Thrusting up causes the cabin to shake even more, but it doesn’t matter to either one of you.
With one hand staying on your hip, another wraps around to your middle and presses a caulcussed worn middle and pointer fingers into your forgotten clit. Your moans fall out quicker, and breather. “Fuck… oh John.” You can’t concentrate and John knows exactly, so he takes over.
His grip on your hip is bruising but you’re okay with it as he takes over control. Thrusting into you at a pace that has you crying on his cock. John watches his cock slip in and out of your heat. “John… I’m gonna… Please…” You beg. “I know, love. I’m always there. You’ll wait for me won’t you.” You shake your head with a vigor he’s sure has your neck hurting.
From that point, the snap of John's hips is erratic. Chasing his own high, and making sure that you’re right there with him. “Inside, please John.” You moan as he keeps thrusting up inside of you. “Oh shit, love. Can’t be sayin’ shit like that.” He growls out, his teeth clenched and his brows furrowed as he focuses on the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his cock. “Give a man a heart attack,” he mutters. A few more strong, but sloppy thrusts he’s whispering into your ear. “Cum on my cock, love.” He tells you.
Heavy breaths and your comb filled. You both try to catch your breaths. John rubs at the bruises forming around your hips. “Fuckin’ animal you are.” He mutters to you as he presses a few kisses into your back. Even through the jacket you can feel the sensation and the meaning behind them. “I didn’t start it.” You say, “Oh, love you most certainly did, and now you’re filled up. Nice and warm.” John says tapping the tops of your ass.
The ferris wheel comes to life. And stays alive once more. Your jeans are still bunched up at your knees. John is quick to help you back up into your jeans. He’s careful with putting himself back into his jeans before latching the belt buckle. “I’m not done with you.” John says as you sit down next to you. Your face is flushed and your wife is blown wide. “I know, John.” you say it like you knew that this was gonna happen. Like you had planned it all perfectly.
“Good because the second that door opens, we are running. No walking back to the car.” John promises you. The doors to the cabin open and the line of people is the first thing you see. You grab a hold of John's hand and let him drag you into the crowd. You don’t hear how the couple mutters that the cabin smells oddly of passion, and sex.
I Baby, I'm Your National Anthem I 2003!DBF!Joel Miller I
Summary: You are back from college for the summer and your family happens to throw the annual Fourth of July Barbecue for your street. Your next-door neighbor and dad's best friend Joel Miller is invited—and you decide to wear a bold outfit. It definitely catches his attention.
Pairing: 2003!DBF!Joel Miller x F!Reader
Rating: Explicit / MDNI
Word count: 3.3k
Tags: Explicit, Smut, Age Difference, Pre-Cordyceps Outbreak, Fourth of July, DBF!Joel, Fingering, P in V Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Pool Sex, Unsafe Sex, Dirty Talk, Biting, Teasing, Making Out, Outdoor Sex, Alcohol (like two beers)
AO3 LINK // Masterlist
notes: i saw one (1) tiktok with this fucking glorious fourth of july outfit and somehow this happened. consider this fanfic to be my application to be invited to your 4th of july party next year (yes, you specifically). enjoy the filth <3
(also highly recommend listening to national anthem by lana while reading!)
edit: if you're republican please don't consume my fics F*CK D*NALD T*UMP
The sound of the sprinklers rotating on the lawn in front of your window and the slamming of a truck door alerted you that your father was back with the last minute groceries. You quickly got up, heading out to the driveway to help carry the brown bags.
“Take those first, it’s ice cream for the kids. Don’t want it melting,” he advised as he busied himself with grabbing the cooler off the truck bed, disappearing towards the garden, the fence running along it already decorated with red, white and blue, matching the tablecloths and flags hung from the large tree in your backyard to the porch.
You had just got back from college for the summer and had been more than ready to enjoy your time off as you usually did, by lounging in the sun behind your house or going for a swim in the neighbor’s pool. The honeymoon phase of holidays, before they turned into the unavoidable boredom that followed once all reunions had been completed and, at the same time, reminded you precisely why you’d gotten out of the small neighborhood in Austin at your first chance.
The bag you’d brought home was still on the floor in your room, barely half unpacked. Sitting on top of it was the outfit you had picked out weeks ago—at the precise moment your father had called to let you know it was your family's turn to host your street's traditional barbecue on the Fourth of July.
A blue and white checkered bikini, the bottoms made of much less fabric than you’d ever seen sold in Austin. A pair of shorts that seemed barely bigger, cut low enough to give a peak of the set below—and a crop top, the words ‘Miss America’ splayed across your chest in curved, red letters, complete with two red bows attached to the straps. You were certain that, if your father still had a say in your clothing choices, this would not go—and that was precisely why it was perfect. If your father hated it, so would his best friend.
Joel Miller had been little more than your kind next-door neighbor for years—until you’d come back from college for your first break. Suddenly, you questioned how for years you’d been able to miss the way his shirt strained over his broad shoulders or the small grunts that left him when he was tinkering with his truck in the driveway.
You ignored your father’s muttered comments about your outfit as you returned to the kitchen a few minutes later and busied yourself with the last few preparations.
“It’s what all the girls at college wear.” He shook his head but stayed quiet.
Joel and Sarah arrived a little later than the other guests, greeting your father as they stepped into the backyard and you caught something about a mess-up at the construction site as the two men embraced. You turned your attention towards Sarah, who excitedly asked your opinion about her new sneakers and didn’t run off to join the other kids playing football at the far end of the backyard until you reassured her that they were indeed very cool, throwing in a comment about how you’d seen someone at University wear them—making her positively beam.
You turned towards the house just in time to see Joel’s eyes land on you. Oh boy.
His gaze trailed down your body, tracing your curves, no doubt taking in the shape of your body. It took him a few moments to snap out of it, shifting as his gaze returned to your face before he hesitantly crossed the space between you. The polite, strained expression on his face told you exactly how hard he was trying to keep his eyes from wandering.
“Back from college then?” he asked, clearly keeping the conversation light. Though you did like to think, unlike many others, that he actually wanted to know. That he cared.
“For the summer,” you responded, smiling up at him innocently, still aware of his eyes on you.
“How d’you like it?” Joel placed a hand on his hip, looking at you expectantly.
“It's good. A little exhausting sometimes. Lots of studying.” You grinned as you saw him raise a brow.
“Studying, eh?” There was something twinkling in his eyes, a certain sense of mischief you hadn't seen in him before. “That what all the kids do up there these days?”
“That and a few parties,” you admitted with a small smirk. “You know, finding the balance of life. But college boys are—”
Both your heads flew around as you heard your dad call your name and for a second, your heart felt like it stopped. You'd wanted to tease Joel by talking about college boys, not reveal your love life to your father. But clearly, he hadn't heard. “Get Joel a beer, will you?”
Joel opened his mouth—but then he shook his head. His voice sounded strained as he spoke. “Beer sounds good.”
You led him towards the cooler, reaching down to grab two bottles, handing one to him. A bemused smile played around his lips as he nodded towards the bottle still clutched in your hand. “Your old man letting you sneak beers?”
“He doesn't have to,” you said with a satisfied smirk, grabbing the bottle opener and handing it to him. “Turned twenty-one this spring.”
You could see Joel's hand shaking slightly as he opened his beer before motioning for you to give him yours and doing the same for you.
“Quite the gentleman,” you mumbled, taking in the way his green flannel sat a bit too tight around his broad chest.
“You don't know half of it.”
During the afternoon, the light blue sky seemed to be celebrating the holiday as much as the people below it. The barbecue was fired up by your father, the other fathers gathering around as he explained the new, improved features, making you roll your eyes. You drifted back and forth between the adults and the children, joining the latter for a few rounds of football until the sun began to set.
Joel kept his distance and, with a slightly heavy heart, you followed his lead. He was rather quiet but still, you could see his eyes flying towards you occasionally. You began to wonder if you had miscalculated.
When the salad bowl ran low for the second time, you volunteered yourself to head inside to refill it. You had barely placed it on the kitchen counter when you felt him standing in the doorway, leaning casually against the dark wood. His eyes trailed down your form more slowly than before, leaving no doubt in your mind that the outfit had fulfilled its purpose of getting his attention.
“Quite a party.” His gaze was still not meeting yours, lingering on your chest.
“Wait until they bring out the fireworks. My dad bought enough to light up the whole street.” Your voice shook slightly as you spoke.
Joel shook his head, a tiny smile forming on his face as he stepped forward. “Ain’t what I meant.” His hand brushed over your thigh and you sent an anxious glimpse out the window, making sure that you weren't in anyone's line of sight.
“It's a pretty bikini,” Joel mumbled, lowering his voice. His thumb was brushing over the checkered fabric where it peeked out from under your shorts. “Shame you aren't taking a swim in it.”
An involuntary breath left your throat as you felt his free hand coming up to your face, nudging your chin up slightly. You couldn't remember ever being so close to him, your brain going into overdrive as it tried to figure out which part of his face to commit to memory first. Desire burned in your core brighter than ever and between that and the beer possibly clouding your judgment, you bit your lip, sending the man in front of you a shy smile and yet abandoning all care. You'd be back to college in a few weeks. If this went wrong, you'd never have to speak to him again.
“Is that an offer?”
“Damn sure is, darling,” Joel mused, his hand squeezing your hip and you let out a small breath of relief.
You thanked all your lucky stars for the architect who had built your house some 50 years ago—and had clearly taken into account that you would one day need to sneak out the back door with your dads best friend—preferably without being seen. It faced towards the high fence that separated your yard from the Miller’s, making it feel almost too easy for the two of you to sneak off.
You hadn’t even reached the pool when you dropped your shirt and pants to the floor, making Joel whistle lowly behind you. “I was right. It is a fucking pretty bikini.” You felt your cheeks flush at the compliment, his eyes still raking over your body as his clothes joined yours on the floor, leaving him in only his boxers.
You’d seen him shirtless a few times. When you'd brought over something you had borrowed and he was in the pool or the one time you'd been over to help Sarah with some homework and he'd just gotten out of the shower, a beige towel wrapped around his waist. You’d felt like some fucking creep when you had recalled the sight of his naked chest, and the trail of hair leading further down, at night and slipped a hand between your own thighs, thinking that you stood no chance with the man who was frequently whispered about by the single ladies of the neighbourhood, despite rarely showing interest in them.
You lowered yourself into the water and felt it ripple around you as Joel followed. The next moment, he was beside you, pushing you towards the other edge of the pool, strong arms caging you in on either side. You could still hear the party going on behind the fence, voices and music, the smell of barbecue drifting through the air. And a few lights—tiny holes in the fence allowing them to travel through, the warm glow reflecting on the surface of the pool.
Joel growled as he nipped at your skin, hard enough that you already knew it'd leave marks. Good.
“Can't let you go back to college without something to remind you of me,” he muttered and you sucked in a breath in response, the words going straight to your core. His teeth scraped over the notch between your collarbones and you felt a moan begin to travel up your throat. Before it could escape however, Joel's hand clasped firmly over your mouth, forcing you to breathe through your nose as your eyes widened slightly.
“Don't want your dad hearing us, do you?” Joel muttered and indeed you could hear the voice of your father booming through the night air as he delivered some punchline to a no doubt stupid joke. You shook your head softly and that seemed to satisfy Joel because the next moment, his hand left your mouth and began to slide down your body, trailing over it the same way his eyes had earlier tonight. Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt his index finger circle drawing shapes on your hip before slipping under your bikini, brushing past your clit and settling between your folds.
“Hard to tell in here but feels like you’re wet for me,” Joel muttered with a grin and you bit your lip, voice hoarse as you tried to keep quiet.
“Took you long enough to notice,” you teased—and the reaction was immediate. He pushed you further against the side of the pool, trapping you with his broad body.
“Watch it.” His index finger moved upwards—and the next moment, your walls were clenching around it, already begging for more. You felt a second finger drawing large circles around your clit again—when a noise on the other side of the fence made both of you pause, heads swiveling around just in time to see a football land on the lawn.
He cursed under his breath, pushing himself off you and dragging you to the end of the pool least visibly from the house. The deck was raised high enough above the water that if you squeezed yourself against the wall, you just may not be seen—especially in the dark. Once he had pushed you into the corner, he was about to follow when your eyes widened. “Joel, the clothes,” you whispered in a panicked voice.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath and crossed the pool in a few strokes, climbing back onto the porch. You watched, holding your breath, as he looked around, finally locating two towels and throwing one over the mixed pile of clothes and wrapping the other around his waist. No second too late, because the next moment one of the men who had marveled at your dads new barbecue earlier strode over the lawn. “Miller, hey! What’re you doing out here?”
Even in the water, you felt your knees go weak. Joel was dripping wet, his cheeks flushed—your only hope was that the other man was either too drunk or too stupid to realize what was happening.
“Heard something thud against the wall.” You heard Joel respond. “Was just taking a shower, Tony spilled his beer all over my shirt earlier.”
The other man let out a small laugh. “Yeah, he’s wasted.” You couldn't see him from where you were standing but you heard him pick up the ball as an idea popped into your head. You shifted slightly, knowing your movement would be visible to Joel, who was still in your sight—and after a moment, you held up your bikini bottoms, smiling innocently. Joel's eyes flickered towards you for a split second—and even in the dark you could see his body tense, adjusting the towel around his waist as the veins on his neck bulged with restraint.
Footsteps told you the other man was leaving, until they paused again. His voice rang through the yard once more. To your horror, it was your name that filled the air. “Do you know where she went? Her father was looking for her I think.”
Joel's face twitched before he forced himself to smile. “No clue. Maybe calling a secret college boyfriend.”
He waited until the man's laughter had drifted away and joined with the noises of the party again before he dropped the towel, his cock straining at the fabric of his boxers.
As soon as he was back in the pool, he was upon you, cowering over you with a hard expression on his face, snatching the small piece of fabric from your hand. “Think it’s fucking funny?” He muttered, his eyes flying over your face.
The alcohol was definitely having an effect on you because you grinned, nodding weakly. “A little bit.”
Joel actually fucking growled at that.
He made short work of your bikini top, yanking it off to gather your breasts in his large hands, squeezing slightly. “That fucking mouth of yours, darling.”
“Should shut me up,” you muttered back and his eyes briefly searched yours before his mouth was on yours. Neither of you were gentle, much too impatient for soft kisses. His tongue slipped into your mouth, his teeth grazed over your lip and you could feel the vibrations of his groans traveling right from his throat into yours.
When he broke the kiss, you whined in protest, wrapping your own arms around him to pull him closer, making him groan as his still covered cock brushed against your stomach. “Goddamn, baby, you gonna let me fuck you?”
Joel didn't even flinch when you softly bit down on his earlobe. “Like you have to ask, Miller.”
His last name seemed to do as much to him as it did to you because his hands briefly left your sides to yank his boxers down, throwing them carelessly onto the lawn behind you. “Get your ass up here,” he commanded as he hoisted you up and you automatically wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling his cock nudge at your entrance.
Joel swallowed and you could see him struggling to restrain himself. “Do you want me to go and get-”
“Got it covered,” you said impatiently before he could even finish the sentence.
“You sure?” He asked again and you nodded impatiently. And then he was finally pushing his hips upwards, his cockhead parting your lips, requesting entrance. You let your body fall into his rhythm, sinking down on him, forcing a whimper from your throat.
You barely heard the shuffling behind the fence and the voices getting more muted as the party seemed to be moved towards the street, further away from you.
“It ain’t your first time, is it, sweetheart?” Joel suddenly piped up, watching your expression carefully and you could distinctly hear the note of concern in his voice. But you shook your head.
“Told you,” you breathed out. “College boys.”
“This gonna be better than any damn college boy,” Joel mumbled, a grunt leaving his throat as he began to thrust up into you properly, driving any worry out of your mind.
“You knew what you were doing to me tonight?” He muttered, causing you to shake your head despite the fact that you knew exactly, even planned, to do it to him. You wanted to give a snarky response, something smart, but you could barely think straight with his cock nestled so deep inside of you.
“Made me hard all throughout dinner, thinking about all the things i could do with you,” Joel answered his own question before changing his angle slightly, his arms wrapped tightly around you. “Fuck, doing so good for me, darling.”
“Joel—” you choked out, feeling the orgasm that had been lingering for what felt like forever now approaching rapidly. “Want you to come inside, please—”
His eyes darkened as he nodded. And then, suddenly a sparkling light reflected in his eyes—followed by a loud bang far above you. The fireworks had started.
It only took a few more thrusts and Joel's finger returning to your clit to send you rushing towards your orgasm, your fingernails scratching over his back so hard that you were certain you were not going to be the only one with something to remember tomorrow.
“Come on,” Joel edged you on. “Show me how pretty you look coming on my cock, baby.”
And you did, groaning as your body tensed, the feeling inside your stomach so similar to the exploding fireworks above, with Joel following suit, obeying your wish and spilling himself deep inside of you as you clung on to him, so content to finally, finally carry him so deep inside, the thought traveling right to your core again as he gathered you in his arms, both of you tilting your heads back enough to watch the sky above sparkle in different colors.
“Happy fourth, Joel.”
He pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Happy fucking fourth, darling.”
He gathered the clothes in his arms, whispering promises and praise as he led you up the stairs to his bathroom, having insisted to at least get you clean before letting you sneak back home. His hands brushed over your naked skin, causing you to raise a brow. “I thought we were gonna take a shower?”
“Oh, I'm not nearly done with you,” Joel muttered in your ear, causing you to smirk. You reached for your clothes but Joel only gave a small tut. “You’ll get them back. Just not—” He raised the checkered bikini bottom. “This. I’m keeping that.”
thank you for reading! every time you leave a comment, a firework explodes over joel miller fucking in a pool btw :)
I meannnnn if you are asking for spicy kyric prompts... sneaking around the staff areas at the Kingfisher trying not to get caught (& therefore told off) by Skip?
bold of you to assume skip haven't fucked nasty in the storeroom :D
send me prompts for all the non-hollanov gc couples, let's show them some love <3 (hollanov prompts are welcome too but will be answered later)
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Kyle's moan turned into a pained noise when he hit the back of his head on a wall shelf.
"Sorry," Eric panted, reaching up to cup Kyle's head.
"It's okay." Kyle pulled Eric back in, kissing him fervently.
They were in the staff area of the Kingfisher, the room behind the bar, and had gotten slightly carried away.
"Lemme just-" Kyle sunk to the floor, sitting down on a crate of beer bottles which clinked ominously, and hastily reached for Eric's fly.
"Are you sure?" Eric breathed, but let Kyle undo it, "Scott and Kip are coming in a minute-"
"Then you'll have to be quicker," Kyle said with a cheeky little smile up at Eric, which served just fine to make Eric's dick twitch.
Kyle undid Eric's pants, pulled his dick out and swallowed him down unceremoniously, sucking hard and fast. Eric groaned, bracing himself on the sticky wall behind Kyle. He had to duck his head to avoid hitting it on the same shelf Kyle had hit earlier.
The blowjob was rough and fast, and Eric allowed himself to just sink into it. Maybe it was a cliché, the old guy who suddenly got adventurous with his young boyfriend, but whatever. Kyle was clearly having fun, too, moaning around Eric's cock in his mouth.
"Fuck, I'm close-," Eric groaned after a short while.
"Yeah," Kyle pulled back, jerking him; his glasses sat crooked on his nose and his lips were wet, making him look so slutty and sexy, "Come in my mouth-"
Eric felt his orgasm starting to come on when Kyle swallowed him back down.
The front door unlocked with an audible click, and a moment later, they could hear Scott and Kip chatting to each other through the door to the main room.
"Shit-" Eric whispered, but Kyle just sucked harder, using his tongue to tease the underside of Eric's dick-
"-telling you, they're not going to do it," Kip said outside the door, and there was the rustling of them taking off their coats.
"Yeah, but your sister-"
The rest of Scott's sentence drifted by Eric when he came, his whole body shaking with the effort to stay silent. Kyle let out a little noise, swallowing it all down, then pulled back and gave Eric's tip one last lick before quickly tucking him back into his pants.
Then he stood, and pushed his glasses up his nose, like nothing happened. Meanwhile, Eric was slightly dizzy from having his soul sucked out of his dick while their friends were in the next room.
"Holy shit," he whispered.
Kyle gave him a devilish little grin and a quick peck on the lips; Eric could taste himself on them.
"Okay?" Kyle whispered, and Eric quickly nodded, straightening his shirt.
Kyle turned and exited the store room. "Oh, hi!" Eric heard him say. "Didn't hear you come in!"
You and Data breathe in the scent of fresh rain amidst the blue-violet haze of bioluminescent plants all around you. The only thing between you and the rest of the world? A thin sheet of fabric.
Hi, it’s your friendly (always) neighborhood (statistically unlikely) Peppermint Tea Cat again! Writing this was better than eating an entire bar of Dubai chocolate, so I hope you'll enjoy reading it, too!
This excerpt is from a fic that is complete and literally sitting in my drafts, waiting to be published. Has been for weeks. I just can't press the button:
The wind roared as you wrapped yourself around him, arms tight, thighs snug against his hips. Every turn and bump reminded you that he was between your legs, causing you to clench them around him.
You couldn’t tell if the subtle way he leaned into your hold and him occasionally squeezing your thigh was intentional, but after a few minutes you had to refrain from squirming against his back.
He turned off-road, weaving through trees until you hit a sun-drenched clearing. A lake sparkled in the distance and everything smelled like pine and springtime.
He killed the engine and glanced back at you.
“Still with me?”
You nodded, breathless.
“Definitely.”
