#so...with just a little delay...here ya go

[wild-handful]

Olivia and Otis

[jesus-hotwheel-christ]

Let me make it up to you?

(Older!Coach!Steve Harrington x fem!reader)

Summary : Your sweet husband was supposed to come home hours ago. You're pissed off, anxious, and have to go to bed by yourself. How will he make it up to you?

Warnings : MDNI!!, angst (?) with a happy ending, established relationship (married), Eddie is alive cause I said so (au I guess, no mentions of the upside down or anything), mentions of intrusive thoughts and anxiety, fluff, fingering, p in v unprotected, kinda lazy apology sex (speedbump position), creampie, breeding kink, talks of trying to get pregnant.

A/N : It's finally here! The summer term is kicking my ass, but I finally managed to finish this one. I'm afraid I kinda cooked with this one guys, at least in my opinion. Hopefully you enjoy it as much as I do!

WC : 4,983

♡ Masterlist ♡

************

“God dammit,” you mutter, pacing back and forth in your living room before sinking onto the couch with a huff. Your arm jerks in front of your face, your watch displaying a time that only fuels your anger even more. You let your arm fall back on the cushion as you stare up at the ceiling, your jaw clenching and unclenching in waves of frustration.

It’s dark outside – no moon in the sky, the only soft light coming in through the windows from the lamp posts down the street. The house is quiet. So quiet that it makes the usually unnoticeable ticking sound of your grandma’s grandfather clock annoyingly loud and sinister.

Steve was supposed to be home almost three hours ago. His team of little rugrats had a game that night after school, which sadly you couldn’t attend because of a late shift at work, making you miss out on checking out your hot husband sweating in the sun. Then, after the game, he was going to hang out with Eddie at his trailer for a beer or two. “Home by eleven, honey,” he had told you just this morning.

Now here you are, 1:53 AM being pointed at by that damn clock in an honestly mocking way at this point, with absolutely no pile of brown hair and tan skin to hold you close.

Even though you’ve already tried several times, you get up and stomp over to your pastel yellow phone hanging on the wall. You quickly dial Eddie’s number, knowing it by heart now that you’ve called probably five times already, and wait. It rings and rings and rings and then nothing. “Ughhh…” You snap the receiver back in place forcefully, ire and worry mixing inside you as you slump against the wall.

Being married to Steve had really been a joy. He’s a thoughtful husband, caring, sweet, a little spicy when he needs to be. But sometimes, he gets so excited to be hanging out with his friends that he simply loses track of time. It’s not really his fault, you know that. It’s actually one of the things you love about him, how he gets so enthralled and fully present in the moment that everything else falls away. It’s made you feel like the most important person in the world more than a few times.

But as you have told him time and time again, you just wish he’d call to warn you beforehand. A simple “hey, sweetheart. I’ll be home later than I thought, s’that alright?” Because it’s not like you want to cut his fun short, you know how important his friends are to him and you don’t mind if he’s out late. It’s the not knowing that makes you worry.

When it’s only been fifteen minutes, you can just shrug it off. Maybe he got delayed by a parent after the game, or maybe he stopped at the gas station for a few snacks. But the later it gets with no updates, the less you can easily ignore the thoughts that pop up in your mind. What if he got into a car crash, or what if he’s lying to me and he’s not at Eddie’s. Even though they weren’t always rational, because of course Steve would never deliberately hurt you nor was an accident very likely to happen, those ruminations still buried their roots deep and triggered that buzzing and tight sensation in your chest.

Tonight, it’s no different. Deep down, you know he’s probably in Eddie’s yard, sipping on a beer and talking about God knows what, unable to hear the phone ring inside the trailer over the music they’re listening to. But you still get those intrusive thoughts, and you get pissed off that your husband always forgets to call.

You make your way to your bedroom, slipping out of the sleep shorts you had put on earlier just to be in your comfy oversized shirt you stole from Steve when you were only just dating. An old and softened gray cotton shirt with cracked yellow letters – an almost unintelligible Hawkins High. You slip under the covers, resigning yourself to at least try to sleep. You curl yourself into a fetal position, turned toward your nightstand as you take deep breaths. It takes a few moments to calm your anxiety, but you do eventually fall asleep, the cold darkness of the room cocooning you instead of your husband’s warmth.

Meanwhile, at Eddie’s place, inside the rusty fireplace the metalhead got at a yard sale, the embers are glowing faintly with every soft gust of wind. Steve is talking about his job over the radio, tuned at a station playing nighttime music. He’s been nursing the same beer for over an hour, repeatedly telling Eddie that he needs to leave soon, before they both launch into a new tangent for another thirty minutes.

Eddie’s a night owl. He works afternoons and evenings at an auto repair shop in town, so he doesn’t mind going to bed late.

Steve, on the other hand, finally starts to feel the tiredness. He lets out a yawn before checking his watch. His eyes widen in slight panic, the time having seemingly slipped away from him again. He immediately thinks of you and feels a crushing pang of guilt.

“Shit, man… I’m sorry, but I really gotta go.” Steve says as he gets up and brushes off some dirt from his white baseball coach pants.

Eddie nods and gets up as well, dunking the rest of his beer on the embers to get them to die down even more. “Yeah, no problem, Stevie. S’getting late.”

Steve walks up to Eddie and holds out his hand. The tattooed man shakes it, before he wraps his arm around his friend’s shoulders and pats his back. “T’was good hanging out, man. We should do it more often.”

Steve pulls back with a smile and a slight shove of the other one’s shoulder. “Agreed. Night, Eds.”

“Goodnight, big boy.”

Steve chuckles as he hastily makes his way toward his car. He peels out of the gravel driveway and drives slightly over the speed limit the whole way home, even though he knows he’s way too late for it to actually make a difference. He curses himself internally, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel. Every few taps, the gold band on his ring finger catches against the leather, making the knot of guilt grow tighter inside his stomach.

Later, once he finally gets home, it’s about 2:30 AM. All the lights are off, the only sound that creepy grandfather clock. You’re probably asleep, he thinks, so he tries to be quiet as he removes his dulled sneakers and hangs his 'Coach Steve' jacket on the hooks near your front door.

He softly pads down the hallway to your bedroom. He opens the door and peaks inside – you’re turned away from him, your chest expending and shrinking softly, soundly sleeping. He smiles at the sight. Maybe you had fallen asleep earlier and you wouldn’t even know that he’d gotten home late. The knot inside him loosens slightly.

The door clicks shut as Steve makes his way back down the hall toward the bathroom, in desperate need of a shower. He peels off his coaching outfit, the striped baseball shirt, white pants and the socks that almost go up to his knees. Then his boxers come off, before he immediately puts the pile of dirty clothes in the washing machine for tomorrow.

He looks at himself in the mirror, the dust from the field clinging to the skin of his forearms. Speaking of them, his arms are slightly more tanned than the rest of him – a casualty of teaching kids how to play baseball under the hot sun all day. He turns to the side, eyeing the way his belly is a bit softer than how it used to be when you two first met. His hand goes over it, a nagging feeling of insecurity pulling at his flow of consciousness.

But then he remembers your sweet voice just a few nights ago, whispering in his ear how handsome your husband is as you run your hands over his body, grinding against his stomach. You had told him so many times how hot you found his body, peppering soft kisses down his abdomen and licking through his happy trail. It makes him feel better to think about that, a soft smile spreading on his face.

He then bends over the sink to look at his face more closely. He sees the tiny wrinkles starting to become permanent at the corners of his eyes and close to his nose. He sees the very few gray hairs starting to season his brown hair. For some reason, these additions don’t bother him as much. The shallow crow’s feet, the smile lines, the hair – it all makes him feel like he’s getting wiser. And Steve likes that.

He finally gets into the shower, the warm water washing away the dirt and lingering disappointment of his team losing earlier tonight. He’s not even thinking about the fact he came home late anymore.

Once he’s out and mostly dry, except for his damp hair, he makes his way back to the bedroom, cautious to not make a sound. He reaches into his thankfully already opened drawer for a fresh pair of boxers. He pulls them on before he lazily slides into bed next to you, exhaustion starting to weigh down his limbs.

You feel the solid heat of him press against your back as he wraps an arm around your waist, kissing your shoulder softly in an effort not to wake you. But It’s futile. As soon as your husband gets in bed, it’s like your body knows. You awaken and before you can fully comprehend what you’re doing, you wriggle gently out of his grasp with a soft huff.

Steve lifts his arm and pauses, his brows furrowing. You never were one to refuse cuddles, and for a split second he’s confused. Maybe she’s dreaming. “Honey? You awake?”

You sigh and wrap the covers tighter around yourself. “Mm.”

And then it hits him. You had been up waiting for him, and now you’re mad. Shit. His fingers softly graze your spine under the covers, trying to be soothing. “Come on, baby. I’m sorry, okay? ‘M here now.” His voice sounds wrapped in velvet, attempting to get you to forget it.

You don’t turn, frustration and anger still souring your mood. “Just go to sleep, Steve.”

The use of his actual first name makes him physically recoil. He’s used to pet names and nicknames from you, or at least a cute little ‘Stevie’. But tonight, he’s not getting that, and that makes him get defensive. “Fine. ‘Night,” he mutters, turning to face away from you.

You try to ignore how cold the bed feels with that distance between you as you drift back to sleep.

The morning arrives quietly. A warm limb around your waist. Soft breaths hitting the nape of your neck. A hand possessively splaying over your belly under your shirt.

You wake up slowly, feeling confused for a moment. You’re still turned away from Steve, facing the wall, but it’s like he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out for you and holding on in his sleep. The guilt from getting home late and leaving you in the dark was probably too much, and he needed to feel you close.

A soft sigh leaves your lips. You don’t want to give in so easily, to forgive him in an instant like you always do because of those damn puppy dog eyes that are still the same now at thirty-something-years-old.

But he’s so warm against your back. So solid. So… him. Your loving husband.

Fine, just a few minutes. He’s asleep. He won’t know, you tell yourself, sinking back into his sleepy heat.

It lasts for about sixty seconds before you feel the soft press of his slightly chapped lips against the base of your neck. You don’t move, trying to save face and make it seem like you never woke up at all. It’s pointless though – he felt you lean into him.

His voice is rough with sleep when he speaks, a low chuckle leaving him first. “Not mad at me anymore, baby?”

You huff, sure, but you can’t bring yourself to move. Your mind might be a warrior, but your body is weak. “Still pissed, Harrington.”

He coos and kisses your shoulder, his thumb rubbing arcs over the skin of your stomach. “Aww… you know I’m sorry, honey. What can I do to make it better, hm?”

The slow and syrupy quality to his voice is vibrating against your back and resonating through those empty spots inside you that belong to only him. You still hold your ground, though. Maybe your body is weak, and it wants him, but you can still turn this to your advantage. You deserve it after last night.

You scoot just a few inches away, keeping your tone soft. “You could start with a massage.”

You can’t see it, but you can pretty much hear him smirking. He lets out a breath and shifts to sit up against the headboard. “Fair is fair. Come on, sweetheart.”

You look back at him. And you shouldn’t have, cause now it’s incredibly hard to keep your detached and unbothered attitude intact.

His hair is mussed from sleep, looking soft as it sticks out in every direction. The sheets are pooled around his thighs, but he pushes them away to spread his legs, making room for you. Your treacherous eyes linger over the planes of skin scattered with moles, tracing the shape of him. His strong forearms, biteable biceps, broad shoulders and chest, soft stomach… The patch of hair over his thorax that thins just a bit going down his belly, before it thickens under his navel and disappears into his boxers. And oh. His morning wood looks indecent, straining against the fabric and tempting you like a cookie being dangled in front of a starving dog.

Fuck.

He looks entirely too pleased with himself, but he doesn’t comment on your staring. Relaxation emanates from him, and he actually looks like he’s got no ulterior motives. He motions for you to sit in front of him.

You manage to move, the mattress dipping under your weight as you sit in between his legs, your back to him. Instinctively, you reach up to move your hair from your neck and over your shoulder.

His hand finds your waist as he bunches up the shirt you’re wearing. “Can I take it off? It’ll feel better.”

You hum approvingly, raising your arms so he can slip the worn shirt over your head. His hands are immediately splaying on your skin, starting to rub up and down your back to warm you up.

He doesn’t speak at first. He concentrates on making you relax, on taking out the tension he created by being out so late and causing you all that anxiety. His thumbs knead in those spots between your shoulder blades where he knows you carry the most of it.

Soft little sounds spill from your lips, and you can’t help them from coming out. He’s way too good with his hands.

“I really am sorry, you know.” It’s almost a whisper, sincere and unguarded. “I… lost track of time.”

You nod gently, eyes closed, still focussing on his rhythmic motions. “I know, Stevie. I just wish you’d at least remember to call.”

He hums in acknowledgment, his hands going up over your shoulders and squeezing lovingly. He truly feels awful. “I know, baby… Were you worried?”

You let out a soft sigh and nod, your hand finding his knee and curling over it. “Yeah. You know me.”

He hums again, and this time, he sits up and presses his chest to your back, wrapping his arms around you as he leans back against the headboard. The movement makes you rest back against him, and you let it happen.

He feels warm and reassuring, your head tipping back to meet his pec and shoulder. Comfy. His hands start stroking over your stomach as he speaks against your temple.

“I didn’t mean to make you stress, honey. I never do.” He places a soft kiss against the hair there.

“Then why don’t you call? I don’t mind you getting home late, I just want to know so I don’t have to worry if you’re dead in a ditch somewhere.” Your voice is still gentle, not looking to start a fight, just explaining why you were so frustrated.

You feel his hand wander between the valley of your breasts as the other goes down to your thigh.

“S’not an excuse, but it’s like I get too excited or something and I just forget to call. And I don’t even know how that’s possible ‘cause you’re everything to me.”

His head dips down as he starts leaving soft kisses down your neck. You relax more against him. “You really are just a big puppy masquerading as a man, huh?” You say the inside joke with a small smirk, the anger ebbing out of you at his loving words and touches, being replaced with warmth.

Okay, maybe you’re not that much of a warrior after all.

He chuckles and presses his face against the junction of your neck and shoulder, breathing you in. “Let me make it up to you, yeah?” You feel calloused skin cupping your breast tenderly, kneading it as if you also hold tension there.

You let out a non-committal hum, your eyes still closed. But of course, your legs spread slightly without you even giving them the neurological command to do so. Like a stupid reflex – you’re body being so responsive to him. Not giving in was way harder than it should have been.

“S’that a yes, sweetheart?” His hand that was still on your thigh moves to cup your heat over your panties, feeling the damp patch there. He rubs light and lazy circles over it.

Your breath hitches. “Don’t know if you deserve it yet, Stevie.” You try to sound stern, to have some semblance of control, but you both know it’s futile.

He nips and licks over your neck once. “Oh. No? Even if I said I have a whole apology day prepared?” He presses just a bit harder against your pussy, feeling your lips get puffier through the cloth.

You turn your head slightly toward him, brows furrowing as you open your eyes. “An ‘apology day’?”

He smiles at you and nods, before pinching your nipple between his thumb and middle finger. His voice comes out so unaffected, as if he’s not touching you like that and driving you absolutely crazy. It’s both infuriating and insanely hot. “Mhm. I’ll take you to that diner you like for breakfast.”

Your eyes roll back as he finally dips under the waistband of your panties and finds your wet core. He starts to gently trace up and down, gathering some of your arousal on two fingers to start rubbing gently over your clit.

“T-that’s all?” you ask, moans not leaving you yet as you try to stay composed.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Greedy girl. But no, that’s not all. Thought we could go to that shop on Fifth Street, you know the one with all the - “

“Lights?” You finish his sentence. He knows how much you like that home decor shop, loving to walk around the aisles and looking at the set-ups, getting ideas for your own house. They have an incredible lights section, and it never fails to amaze you when you walk through it.

He smiles again, looking down at your lips. “Yeah, that one. I’ll let you get anything you want.” He’s still massaging your breast and pinching your nipple, and now you can feel his fingers circling your entrance.

A whimper leaves your throat, your back arching against him like you’ve finally let yourself feel what he’s doing to you. Your thighs spread wider, silently begging for more.

His mouth opens in reverence as he feels you respond, a low and pleased moan rumbling through him. You can feel his thick length pressing against your lower back, neglected. But he doesn’t care.

“But you know what else, honey?” He asks, his cheek pressing against the side of your head as your hips start rolling against his hand.

You whimper as he slowly presses his middle and ring finger inside you. “W-what?”

The pressure starts building low in your belly as he curls his fingers against your front wall, his wrist making slow circles that makes the heel of his palm rub maddening pressure on your swollen clit.

“I’ll do better. I promise you I’ll call in the future. Can’t have my perfect wife worrying over me for no reason.” He kisses the tender spot behind your ear, the one that smells the most like you as he keeps fucking you with his fingers. His other hand leaves your breast to grip your hip instead, helping you buck against him.

The promise and the way he knows exactly how to touch you after all these years – it gets you close to that sweet edge embarrassingly fast, your walls starting to flutter and tighten around his fingers.

“Fuck, Stevie… gonna c-cum.” You moan out, reaching back to grip his hair as your other hand squeezes his thigh.

“Mhmm…” is all he manages, sucking on the skin of your neck and keeping his hand movements steady as you release around his fingers.

Your hips stutter as your whole body relaxes, the force of your orgasm spreading like a wildfire throughout your body, before making way to a slow-moving wave of relief. Your husband’s fingers slowly come to a stop after he helped you ride it all out, whispering soft praises against your skin.

“There you go.” He says simply, almost looking proud of you, as he lifts his slick covered fingers toward his mouth to suck them off.

Now, Steve meant to stop there. Get you off, take you to breakfast, maybe buy you a nice new lamp. He was perfectly content to not get anything in return. This was about you, after all, and how he could make it up to you after his blunder last night. But at the first taste of your pleasure – as soon as your arousal hits his tongue – all his resolve flies out of the window.

His eyes roll back as he hums at the flavor, a needy and breathy “Fuck” is the only warning you have before he closes your legs and flips you on your belly. He wastes no time tugging your panties off and slipping a thin pillow under your hips.

You’re still recovering from your orgasm, face flushed and pressed into the mattress, so it’s no wonder that you didn’t register him taking off his boxers until you feel him straddle your thighs and press his body over top of yours. The hair on his chest tickles your back, and you can feel his hard and leaking cock against your ass, making you push your hips up slightly.

His breath comes out heavy against your ear, his hands tracing your curves reverently. “Still can’t believe you’re my wife, honey. So damn beautiful. Gonna let me have you, yeah?”

“Please, Stevie…” you nod eagerly.

He grins at the nickname and your pleading tone, pressing a gentle kiss on your shoulder. He sits up and brushes the hair away from your upper back, before running his hands down the expanse of skin. When he reaches down past your hips, he squeezes the globes of your ass and spreads you open, marveling at the wetness slicking your pussy and inner thighs from your first orgasm.

“Look at you.” He lets some spit dribble out of his mouth and onto his cock, making himself slippery as he gives it a few strokes. He lines himself up with your slit before slowly sinking his length into you. “Oh my god…” He says breathlessly, like he still cannot fathom that he gets to be the one to do this.

The stretch is always something, even after all this time. You whimper into the mattress, and he knows that it’s a bit much just by how you sound. He stays still, letting you relax around him. His hands start kneading and massaging over your back again. “Relax for me, honey. Let me take care of you.”

The feeling of being filled to the brim while Steve massages your back so tenderly is definitely up there on your very own list of ‘best sensations in the whole fucking world’. Fairly quickly, the slight sting from the stretch goes away and turns into a dull pressure that just makes you want more.

You push your hips back a bit, as much as you can with your husband’s weight pinning you down, making him go just a bit deeper. You whimper – a sound so addictive that Steve would gladly give up listening to music if it meant he could hear it on loop. “Please, Stevie… Move.”

His hands that were steadily working out tension over your shoulders slide down your back until he reaches your hips. He pulls out almost all the way, only leaving the tip in, making you mewl at the emptiness. “Anything for you. Anything.”

He pushes back in and starts a slow pace designed to make you feel every inch of his thick cock splitting you open over and over again. He always knew when to be rough and when to be gentle.

“Taking me so well, honey.”

“Look at that, so perfect for me.”

“Wanna make you feel so good, angel.”

He keeps praising you as his eyes are transfixed on his dick disappearing inside you, your arousal coating his length and leaving a milky ring at the base. The hair there, trimmed but still kind of bushy, is flattened down from the wetness.

Your fingers are clenching the sheets, face buried in them as your moans grow louder. There’s no where you can go when you’re on your belly like this, and you’re more than happy to just take it.

Steve’s moans grow heavier, some sweat starting to bead at his forehead. He pushes his hair back before leaning over you, bracing one hand next to your head as his other keeps holding your hip. The new angle hits that spot inside you, the one that has you seeing stars.

“Oh fuck, Stevie! Right t-there!” You take hold of his wrist by your head, your needy moans sending a shiver up your husband’s spine.

His hips keep a constant, devastating, but still slow enough pace for you to feel everything. “Yeah, baby? Right there, huh?” He moves to sink his fingers in your hair and tug gently, making you turn your head so you can see him.

You nod and whimper, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth as the coil tightens in your belly. You feel your abundant slick drip down on the mattress, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“D-don’t stop…” You whimper out, your walls tightening around him like they never want him to leave.

Steve curses under his breath, his hand grabbing your hip again to keep you at the perfect angle. “Wasn’t planning on it. Ahh… Fuck, I can feel it. Come for me, baby.”

Your moans get higher, the coil tightening impossibly tight, but missing that little something to catapult you over the edge.

He can sense it, how your walls are starting to flutter around him, his own orgasm getting dangerously close. But no, you have to get yours first. His rhythm falters slightly, his breath shaky. “Gonna fill you up. S’that what you want? Wanna try again?”

Your orgasm crashes through you at his words – the idea of being full of your husband’s cum has always been a kink of yours, so when you had started to try to start a family, that was definitely a huge perk. You gush around him, moaning a broken version of his name as you fall apart.

The rhythmic contractions of your pussy trigger his own release, his cock twitching inside you as he buries himself deep and he coats your walls with his milky spend. “Fuck, baby…”

His body collapses over top of yours, though he braces himself a bit on his elbows so he doesn’t fully crush you. He nuzzles his face into the back of your neck and your shoulder, leaving gentle kisses on your overheated skin.

You sigh contentedly, still feeling him buried inside you, softening slowly. The minutes drag as you soak in the feeling.

“Mmm… you’re forgiven.” You say, reaching back to pat his thigh.

He laughs lowly, slowly lifting himself off of you as he pulls out. His hands stroke reverently over your back as you turn on your side to look at him.

“Still taking you to breakfast. And that store.” He reaches out and cups your neck, pushing some of your messy hair back as he strokes your flushed cheek with his thumb.

You smile at him lovingly, spent and full. “Well, my forgiveness is conditional to that, but still.” You chuckle and turn your head to kiss his palm.

When you look back at him, your breath catches. His eyes are soft, almost glistening in the delicate morning light spilling through the curtains. His hand leaves your neck to splay over your stomach, the golden band on his ring finger shining against his tan skin. “I can’t wait…”

“It’ll happen, Stevie.” You lace your fingers with his. “We just gotta keep doing… that.” You smirk.

He chuckles at your words and pulls you close, tucking your head under his chin. “Anytime, honey.”

************

Taglist! Decided to start one, even though I'm not sure how😅 If you want to be added or taken off, just comment!

@bearwithegg @lacywithdrawal

[zerocoded]

FULL VOLUME !

Sometimes love isn't grand gestures or dramatic reunions. Sometimes it's a clingy Jeongguk wrapped around you in the bar, soft laughter over a bottle of soju, and the comforting realization that home is simply wherever the two of you happen to be.

WARNINGS ◦ sfw content ◦ talks about adhd and anxiety symptoms ◦ mention of adhd pills ◦ soft!jk agenda ◦ clingy jk ◦ established relationship

633 ━━━━━ drabble jungkook x reader

۶ৎ 𝓩 , this scene was requested by a lovely anon, i hope i could deliver what you wanted hun xx. sorry for being so short, i'm a lil bit busy these days <3

━━━━━ read on ao3

The reserved karaoke room smelled like leftover barbeque from the diner earlier and the faint sweetness of soju bottles sweating on the low table. It was one of those mid-tour family things, Arirang Korean leg giving everyone a precious four-day breather before flying back to North America. Jeongguk had insisted on showing up for his older brother’s small gig celebration, even jet-lagged as hell and in the middle of switching his ADHD meds.

Jeongguk was sitting beside you on the long couch, one arm draped casually behind your shoulders like always. He was still smiling, chuckling at his brother’s friend’s dumb joke about military stories, even throwing in a short comment that landed perfectly. But you caught it, the way his thumb kept tapping a restless rhythm on your shoulder, the slight delay before his eyes focused again, the way he was fighting not to space out. Jet lag and the med transition were hitting him sideways tonight. His brain was loud in there, you could tell, but he was powering through because this mattered to him.

You leaned into his side, casual as ever. “My glass is empty. Go fill it for me please?” You wiggled the soju glass at him with a small smirk, giving him the perfect excuse without making it a thing.

He blinked once, then nodded, that familiar soft look flickering across his face. “Yeah, sure.” He stood up smoothly, taking your glass, and headed toward the small bar counter in the corner of the private room. You waited maybe thirty seconds before getting up too, slipping out quietly like you were just stretching your legs.

At the bar he was standing with both hands on the counter, shoulders a little rounded, staring at the bottles like they held answers. You slid up beside him, bumping your hip against his gently.

Jeongguk immediately leaned into you, heavy and familiar, his arm sliding around your waist like it belonged there. “Ya… took you long enough,” he whined under his breath, forehead dropping to your shoulder for a second. His voice was low, a little pouty in that way only you ever got to hear. “These new meds are making me feel nauseous as fuck. My stomach’s been flipping since we got here. I hate it.”

You rubbed his side once, casual, the same way you’d done a hundred times before. “I figured. You want to head home? We can make an excuse easy.”

He shook his head, still glued to your side, fingers bunching the back of your shirt. “No… I don’t wanna be that bum who ditches his brother’s thing after showing up. Hyung would understand but I’d feel like shit.” He lifted his head just enough to look at you, eyes tired but clingy as hell. “Just… stay with me a bit? Fill the glasses slow or something. I need a minute where nothing’s moving.”

“Fine, you big baby,” you teased lightly, reaching for the soju bottle so it looked like you were actually doing something. He didn’t let go, just shifted so his chin rested on your shoulder while you poured, his body warm and heavy against your back. You could feel the tension in him slowly easing the longer he stayed attached to you.

“Love you,” he mumbled against your neck, half-whiny, half-sincere. “Even when my brain and stomach are teaming up to ruin my night.”

You bumped your head lightly against his. “Love you too, guk. We’ll stay a little longer, then go home and crash. Deal?”

He nodded, arms tightening around you for another second before he finally straightened up, still standing way too close, one hand lingering on your hip like he couldn’t quite let go yet. Same old Jeongguk. Same old you, knowing exactly how to ride these nights out together.

author's note — super short but made with love xx

[slvttyfied]

YOUR BIGGEST FAN — Cameron Cade

“I’ll follow you until you love me” 💋

warnings: 18+ content, MNI (or be blocked indefinitely), obsession, stalking, harassment, OnlyFans cam girl reader x dark! Cameron Cade, mentions of cam girl activities, cussing/swearing, threats, mentions of masturbation, smuttt— pnv penetration, rough sex, hair pulling, choking, creampie.

a.n: this is a request for my lil baby @italiansunsetsss ✨ Kam, I hope this lived up to what you requested and the vision you had.. I apologize for the delay, I’m a perfectionist 🫩 — requests are slow working but i accept them! I’m a working gal so i take my time!

on the jukebox: paparazzi by lady gaga 🎀

“Who’s the new boy?”

You stood in the corner cradling your matcha, standing in your kitten heels. Your business casual attire was like a second skin, your hair pressed out in heated curls down your back.

“Isaiah’s new passion project for the year” Elsie White’s icy hair came into your peripheral vision, she also looked at the backs of the men that walked further down the hall.

The taller man donned an olive green puffer jacket, jeans, and a duffle bag.

“His name is Cameron Cade. He’s got the college highlights of a professional, intrigued the shit out of Zay”

You frowned softly, “Cameron Cade? Stop, Elsie, is that the boy with the head injury? That fucking got attacked and almost died? Him?”

Elsie stared you in the eyes with a prideful smile and nodded, fire in her eyes.

You swatted at her arm, “you and Isaiah know how rigorous this program is, do you think he’s ready for that? Didn’t he lose his Dad too?”

Elsie’s shrug was light. “Maybe he’ll channel that trauma and take us to the top.. Lord knows Isaiah can’t do it anymore.. I have faith, (Y/N)! You should too!”

All you could do was sigh and take a sip from your matcha. Elsie was excited and you tried to be but something about you made it hard to be.

“I wonder how he’ll react to the many rules of Isaiah White”

“Oh they’re not that bad”

“You’re dead ass?”

“Do I look like I playing with your white ass, boy?”

Cameron Cade tried not to look like this was the most egregious thing he was hearing all day… but at the same time it was.

He couldn’t help but to blanch a little as he stared his idol in the face.

Isaiah White.

A motherfucking legend who was taking Cameron under his wing for a year by his own discretion.

Isaiah White who stood in the room he was willingly housing Cameron Cade in and looking the spoiled nigga in his eyes while explaining the rules.

Isaiah held Cameron’s phone.

“I mean it, boy. I’m doing shit for you that these new booties in college beg, pray, and give up millions for. I’m giving you this shit for free and the least you can do is be here for a fuckin’ year and abide by my rules”

Cameron clenched his jaw, staring at his elder.

“No outside contact, this shit is exclusive. No Tinder, no Bumble for pussy or ass, no sex of any kind is coming through these doors, you understand me? Not just physical — No phone sex, FaceTime sex, you can’t even watch the shit—“

“Nah, c’mon, Zay—“

Isaiah waved Cameron Cade off as he groaned and tossed his head back.

“I don’t give a fuck— no porn, no Onlyfans, jerkin’ ‘ya shit in this bed or that shower, none’a that bullshit. You are here for a purpose so divine, I can’t afford for you to let that shit distract you”

Isaiah ignored Cameron rolling his eyes and walking over to the bed, plopping down. His ‘Fear of God’ hoodie draped over his head, a solemn look on his face.

The older man chose to chuckle it off, typical young adult boys. Cameron wouldn’t understand it now but he would later.

“Listen” the man turned to face Cameron, “this shit is going to pay off in ways you’ll never even know. We suit up tomorrow and we’ll get to going, aight? Get you some rest, I’ll have my wife come grab you for dinner later”

Cameron sighed and nodded, “thank you”

Except it wasn’t Miss Elsie White that approached Cameron Cade later that night when he opened his doors.

Cupid struck the man something serious.

“You must be Cameron Cade. I’m (Y/N), it’s so nice to finally meet you”

You also didn’t go in for a traditional handshake like Elsie did. You couldn’t help but to envelope Cameron into your arms, his timid arms at first linked at your torso but comfortably slid around your waist.

When you pulled back, Cameron Cade felt like he saw an angel. There was a daze in his eye that he had to snap out of with the more he looked at you.

“H-Hi, I’m Cameron—“

Your smile was dazzling, your hand coming to cup the side of his face.

“Of course you are. How was the flight? Are you tired? Hungry? Dinner’s ready, Isaiah sent me to come grab you. We typically like to eat in the dining room but if you’re too tired from the flight, I can bring you whatever you want. Just say the word”

Cameron wondered if you heard how hard his heart was beating against his chest. He hoped to God not but he couldn’t help it.

He also realized you asked him a question.

“Um I-I’m okay, miss (Y/N). Thank you, I really appreciate it”

It was in your nature to be motherly and with Cameron and knowing his background, your second skin jumped out.

“You are so welcome. Whatever you need, just know that you can ask me too. I might not have the rank like the Whites but I still pull my weight and I’ve got respect around here. If there’s anything I can do to make this experience better, just let me know”

Cameron nodded surely, words weren’t on his side at all. His greenish hazels couldn’t focus on anything else but the dream before him.

“I’ll see you in the morning, okay? Get some sleep”

He watched you turn on your heels, ready to leave but his hand reached out to grab your wrist, to halt you. You glanced over your shoulder.

“Do we know each other at all? I’m sorry, you just seem so familiar to me..”

You only shook your head and giggled, a mild look of confusion on your face.

“No, I don’t think so”

Except in Cameron’s head, of course you didn’t know him. He knew you though. You were you— His Kitty Girl— that was your OnlyFans handle.

You dressed yourself from the neck down in these two piece lacy, frilly pieces that often had you looking like a minx, teasing him something serious through the fucking piece of metal in his left hand while his right hand twisted and jerked at the base of his hard cock.

You didn’t even need to do much, that was the thing. You had videos of you going all the way— fucking and stretching yourself out with toys, masturbating, whipped cream, vibrators, all of that.

Real material that made for the most mind blowing orgasms Cameron’s ever pulled from himself.

Granted they couldn’t see you, they just wanted to see you in your glory. Cameron didn’t need to see your face to know you were the prettiest woman alive.

He didn’t need to know the most intimate details about you to know he was madly in love with you.. even though he did.

He knew where you lived, he knew where you worked, he knew where you frequented, where you got your hair done, where you grocery shopped.

He remembered your heartfelt announcement that you were terminating your account and deleting your videos for some reason. You weren’t slated to return.

Cameron saved every single video you posted to his own hard drive, he couldn’t live without you.

Truthfully, he didn’t need this fucking camp. He didn’t need Isaiah or Elsie. He didn’t need the skills, he was good enough.

But finding out that you were here now, of course he had to follow you here.

You were prettier in person.. much more stunning up close. And here you were being sweet to him.. touching on him.. being domestic..

You were what loved looked like and it was about time Cameron Cade let you know.

.

If you knew what was good for you, you would’ve kept your distance from Cameron Cade.

You didn’t mean to be so involved with him but it felt innate. You just wanted the best for him.

Involved being that you always sat next to him during dinner, helped him get dressed for press events, you even helped him relax after Isaiah’s practices. You even hugged each other from time to time.

You were the only one that knew about his burner phone and promised to keep that secret. You even went as far as allowing him to convince you to give him your number for “emergencies”. Anything to look out for him, right? Wrong.

He pushed some limits. Soft compliments about your appearance for the day, jokes about taking you on trips when he got big in the league. You shouldn’t have laughed, you should’ve been firm.

Involved?

Big mistake.

“You feel so fucking good”

Cameron groaned loudly, not a care in the world as he rutted into you like a mad dog. His face in your neck, his hips snapping, the wide and heavy girth of his dick buried deep in your pussy and pumping.. in and out.. in and out.

He had you on his bathroom counter, legs spread and trying to accommodate how fucking tall and big he was. Your thighs burned as you tried to hang on.

This wasn’t the first time he had you like this and obviously in the moments, you never call to regret it. And even when you say you do, you’re always at his door and he’s always at yours.

“C-Cam, baby” you whimpered and grabbed at the back of his t-shirt, “c-calm down, baby, it’s okay, it’s just me”

Your hand slithered up and softly took him by the chin, making him look at you. His beautiful greens were so lust blown, it was adorable. You pecked his lips.

“Don’t gotta fuck me so hard or rush.. everybody’s all gone for the night. We can take our time—“

Cameron nodded and kissed you again, even his pecks to your plump lips felt rushed.

“I know I know I know I just— oh fuck— it’s just— your pussy feels so good.. can’t get enough’a you”

He leaned his forehead on yours as he continued pumping, both of your ends were near. When you came first, your body buzzed and shook in Cameron’s hold, he memorized your cry of pleasure. He was right behind you when your walls clamped down on him.

“Fuck, I’m cumming”

And when he did, Cameron shoved himself so deep inside of you, it made you gasp.

It wasn’t his first time letting loose inside of you but this time, it felt deeper and fuller. So much that when he pulled out, his cum took its time to seep out.

Much like clockwork from the past, regret began settling in your bones as you and Cameron dressed yourselves.

“Tonight is the ‘next time’ you promised me” Cameron began as he stood before you, “I put your pillowcase on my other pillow next to mine”

You couldn’t look him in the eyes at all, even when he wrapped his arms around your neck and pulled you closer to him. He rested your forehead on yours again.

“I-I don’t know, Cam—“

“What do you mean?” He asked swiftly, a soft frown settling on his eyebrows as he pulled back to look at you.

You felt worry fill your chest, you recognized the look in his eyes. It was the look like he was daring you to go against him, you saw it a few times since you started sleeping with him.

Cameron got comfortable with you fast.

“No no no, it’s just that.. I probably can’t stay long into the morning. Elsie and I have a meeting and she usually likes to come to my room to prepare for it.. I have to be back before she catches me, baby, I’m sorry..”

Cameron didn’t need to know that was a lie. You just needed space for your thoughts.

He gave you a longing look. “But you’re still staying with me tonight, right? I don’t have to worry about you leaving me in the middle of the night? You’ll let me know when you gotta go?”

You looked the tall man in the eyes and nodded surely. Even going as far as kissing him. “Of course, baby, of course”

His groan was softly as he hoisted you up and into his arms, he walked you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom until your back met the plush bed.

Your lips softly smacked and clashed, pulling you back into the quicksand that was Cameron Cade.

His hands gently grabbed at the lapels of your business shirt and pulled it open button by button until your bra clad chest was exposed. Immediately, his eyes set on a small piece of ink.

“I love that tattoo” he mumbled against the skin of your lips. It was a small cat paw print on your collarbone, nothing too crazy.

“Oh yeah?” You smirked.

You felt him nod as he kissed your lips again.

“Mhm, it’s real fitting for you.. my kitty girl..”

Immediately you felt your body go frozen. Frozen, numb, stiff. Your heart sank to the depths of your body so deep, you felt your world begin to spinning.

“What?” You muttered.

Cameron’s chuckle was dark, still he kissed and pecked at your lips. His demeanor suddenly shifted to something much more sinister.

“C’mon, (Y/N).. I’m your biggest fan, you couldn’t have expected me not to know”

Your mind went completely blank but you felt your body begin to flare up, your fight or flight response readying itself.

When you tried to sit up, you were shocked to feel Cameron force you back down with a hand on your throat.

“Y’know.. you kind of act like a cat sometimes. You were real hot and cold when it came to me.. and everything I tried to do for you in the past.. I sent you flowers, gifts, money if it meant you could buy more of those see through two pieces for me..”

He put all of his body weight on your lower half to keep you pinned down. The look in his greenish hazels now much darker.

“At first you were nice to me but then you kinda started being a bitch. I watched you take my flowers up to your apartment and throw them straight in the trash. I paid for requests just to talk to you. Not even for sex, just to talk to you and you ignored me.. yeah, a real bitch”

His grip on your throat tightened, you felt air slowly slip from you. Your acrylic hands clawed at his wrist and arm, tears burning in your eyes.

“Then you shut your site down and run away from me to do what? Get dressed up like a slut for these other niggas? I had to find you like this? ‘Gon tell me why I shouldn’t snap your neck right now”

Of course he wasn’t going to, he just wanted to see that extra layer of fear in your pretty eyes. When he let go of your neck, you sucked in all the air you could.

Cameron merely watched you huff and cough trying to do so. But he wasn’t done with you. With a hand in your hair, he gripped hard and hauled you up so your faces touched.

“Don’t forget that it was you that came knockin’ on my door because that pussy got wet.. but baby, I’ve been wanting you.. this shit ain’t over until I say it is.. and should you try to quit on me, I will make your life so much worse than what you thought before now that I know who you are and you know who I am..”

He pulled on your scalp harder, the burn radiating all over your head.

“I’ve got every corner of your porn page copied onto a personal hard drive that I have no problem showing off to anyone should you get on my bad side. All I ask is that you keep on keepin’ me company..”

He began chaining kisses along your neck.

“‘m not gonna be here for a year without any kind of sexual gratification and you’re going to be everything to me that you were to those strangers online. If not, your life is as good as over. Am I understood?”

More tears burned in your eyes and slid down your cheeks. You couldn’t believe this was happening. It felt like all you could do was cry.

“Girl, you better not make me repeat myself. I said—“

You nodded immediately and squeaked out, “y-yes, i understand”

He sickly kissed your lips, “now.. I think it’s about time I make you cry a different way and since you say it’s just us here, you better scream for me”

.

The days following Cameron’s threats, you stayed on edge. It was hard to focus, hard to concentrate.

Being around Cameron Cade felt like a risk. He often made jokes and passes at you that went over Elsie and Isaiah’s head, he stared at you from across the room, and still touched you when he could.

Everyone chalked it up to him having a crush on you, nothing major. Only if they knew.

Waist grabs to get by there.. ass pinches here.. anything to see your body react to him.

“You better lighten up before these people start askin’ questions, girl”

He said in your ear one day as he and the team all hauled into the expansive training room. You two were the last ones to walk in, it was easy for him to give skirt clad your ass a firm smack.

Not to mention the attempts he made to embarrass you. He knew the showers weren’t privately stalled off, merely separated by a metal wall in half.

Cameron knew one of his teammates was in the next stall over, still he had just as naked as him, your back to his chest, pounding into you from behind.

With a hand over your mouth, he fucked you mercilessly. The pressure from the showerhead did enough noise to conceal some things but you couldn’t help your occasional squeaks and whimpers.

“You must want buddy to hear me fuckin’ your brains out.. such a fuckin’ slut, I think you want a show, you want somebody to see me havin’ my way witchu’” he rasped ruggedly in your ear, your back arched.

His throbbing dick stretched you with every hard thrust, further pushing you closer to the edge. When his digits sought out your clit, you saw stars. That’s when he fucked you harder.

You felt your scream behind his hand incoming but the sound of the shower next to you suddenly stopped.

The menace behind you just slowed his pace which delayed your orgasm, you could’ve cried.

.

If that wasn’t the worst thing in the world, it was the day you found out that—

“This is her, man, I swear to God it is. I know I’m supposed to have a phone in here but you cannot tell me look me in the eye and tell me that this isn’t (Y/N) on OnlyFans”

You didn’t means to eavesdrop on the conversation between young men, you were just walking by. But when you heard your name, you swore you could vomit.

Cameron saw you haul ass to your bedroom, something was wrong. He meant to follow you but the sound of his name being called halted him.

“Yo, Cam! C’mere, man, you won’t believe it”

It felt like high school. Immature classmates showing him the nudes they got from a girl.

Except these weren’t nudes only something much more hardcore.. and it wasn’t just anyone’s girl, it was his.

Cameron Cade couldn’t remember the last time he was in a rage so blind but by the time he came to, his teammates were bloodied pulps with broken phones.

“And if I find out anything more about that, I will find the both of you and I’ll kill you myself”

He knew they were too beat up to listen but he still had to stake his claim.

He headed to your bedroom hurriedly, only to see you with an open suitcase and packing up things in it. He didn’t need to see your face to know you’d been crying, he heard your sniffles.

“Stop that” he grabbed at your items and put them back in your dresser chest, “don’t cry over that bullshit, I already took care of it, nobody’s gonna bother you anymore”

You ignored him and continued packing your suitcase up, not sparing Cameron a thought, a look, or a word.

You engaged in a little tussle with your clothes where you’d put a piece in your suitcase just for him to take it out. You both grabbed at an item of clothing at the same time, you tugged, he tugged. That’s when your teary eyes finally met his.

“Let go” you ordered, tugging.

“No because you’re not leaving me” Cameron tugged.

“I don’t care, stop touching my clothes. Leave me alone!”

This time when you tugged, you yanked hard enough to completely snatch it from Cameron. But your other hand followed and swiftly smacked the man a clean one across the face.

Immediately you gasped, a newfound sense of fear coursing your body. Cameron didn’t react right away.

“I-I’m sor—“

Cameron Cade was fast with the way he grabbed you up, a hand over your throat. He walked you over to the nearest wall.

“What fuckin’ part of ‘I took care of it’ did you not understand, huh? That’s the fuckin’ thanks I get for makin’ sure you’re set? I get hit? You must be outta you’re goddamn mind, (Y/N)”

You clawed at his arm, watering eyes peering into his dark greens and somehow trying to plead to him.

“I’m sorry!” Your voice was barely there but Cameron pathetically heard it, but he wasn’t having it.

“Nah.. nah, you’re not but it’s okay, I’ll make sure you are by the end of this”

And sorry you were.

Cameron Cade had your body forcibly molded onto your stomach, he was naked and hovering over you. He had your wrists pinned over your head, his other hand guided his hard erection into your tight entrance from behind.

You both shared moans upon the breach, you dropped your head onto the pillow.

“I remember the first time we met.. I fell in love with you immediately”

He began thrusting, his movements shaking the bed.

“I knew you were mine when I saw that pussy for the first time.. you remember that, baby? I paid for that one on one and we masturbated together? I told you I loved you after you hung up.. vowed to make you mine after that.. I vowed to find you..”

All you could do was whine and cry out, your lower half arching every now and then into Cameron’s thrusts.

He let go of your hands and took you up by your hair, bending your body backwards and off of the bed, you supported yourself on your hands.

He fucked you hard, his breathing ragged in your ear.

“Always dreamed of being this deep inside’a you.. so fuckin’ wet for me.. if you think I’m letting you leave me after this, you’re fuckin’ crazy, girl.. should I find out otherwise? I’ll kill ‘boutchu, girl..”

His other hand slapped your ass, you yelped out in pain.

“All those other guys that paid for your time would kill to be where I’m at.. to fuck you like I’m fucking you.. to be able to make you cum..”

Suddenly Cameron’s switch was a lot nicer. Nicer, softer, way more gentle than before.

He turned you on your back and ever so lovingly pushed back inside of you, he captured your cute whimper in a kiss.

His thrusts were on the kinder side, almost like he was making love to you. Slow, calculated, precise thrusts that had your head spinning.

“I love you, (Y/N), so fuckin’ much, I swear”

Another kiss.

“I love you, baby. I love you, I love you, I love you.. ‘m just your biggest fan, that’s all.. I just wanna be good for you.. I’m yours, only yours.. nobody else’s, i promise”

Within your hazy mask of lust, there was another part of your brain that fully recognized that the man above you was insane in the head.

Tears blurred in your eyes and slid down your cheeks as you stared up at him. He simply cupped your face and thumbed away the liquid, telling you how much of a pretty crier you were.

You clung to him as your body rattled out your orgasm, forcing out more tears down your face. You barely hung on as his own orgasm approached and once it did, you were too checked out to fully acknowledge it.

“Shit, (Y/N)”

All you registered was the sick, familiar full feeling and the fact that Cameron never pulled out like he usually did. Leaning down, he planted chaste kisses over your face, muttering to himself.

All you could do was accept it.

This was merely the beginning of the end.

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4u @italiansunsetsss 🫶🏽

[witchywithwhiskey]

kiss me softly

pairing: best friend!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: you're distracted during movie night with your best friend, and when he convinces you to tell him what's on your mind, it leads to so much more...

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, pwp, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, tit play/nipple sucking, dry humping, dirty talk, some degradation, some objectification, referenced dumbification, vaguely referenced free use, praise kink, begging, teasing, kissing (so much kissing), Bucky's a lil possessive, pet names (doll, pet, baby), aftercare, friends to lovers

word count: 4.7k

a/n: how many times have i written a bucky barnes friends to lovers fic on a couch? SO many times! and will i write it again? probably!!! anyway, here's my contribution for week 2 of @buckybarnesevents's Hot Bucky Summer! i didn't use allllll the prompts but i still had a lot of fun writing this one, so i hope y'all enjoy it ♡

prompt: “Did I give you permission?” | [Cock Cage | Orgasm Delay/Denial | Master/Pet Roleplay]

Hot Bucky Summer 2025 masterlist

“That’s a mean frown ya got over there, doll.”

Bucky Barnes’ comment broke you from your thoughts, and you blinked, realizing you’d been staring unseeingly at the TV in your living room. Shaking yourself lightly, you glanced over to the other side of the couch, where your best friend was lounging comfortably for your movie night. 

Even with the vaguely concerned expression on his face, Bucky looked far too good in a plain black t-shirt and a simple pair of gray sweatpants. You’d always known your best friend was handsome, but there was something about seeing him sprawled out on your couch, taking up so much space in your home, it had you feeling a certain type of way…

“Do you not like the movie I chose?”

You startled slightly at Bucky’s question, and abandoned the trail your thoughts had been wandering down. They wouldn’t lead anywhere good. Bucky was your best friend, not some guy to scratch an itch that you could probably just ignore.

“No, no,” you assured him, looking back at the TV. He’d put on some 90s action movie that you normally would’ve enjoyed, but you’d seen it so many times, you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from getting distracted. “I’m just thinking,” you said on an exhale, rearranging yourself on the couch so your legs were tucked underneath you. 

“Must be serious to have you frowning like that,” Bucky teased, shifting his body so he was facing you, ignoring the movie as it played on, even though it was one of his favorites. “C’mon, doll, tell your best friend what’s troubling you—it’s what I’m here for.”

Bucky flashed a charming grin your way, and you couldn’t help but melt a little. Your best friend always had that effect on you. He could convince you to do anything he wanted with just some sweet words and that dazzling smile.

Thankfully, Bucky didn’t use his superpowers for evil—just for a little bit of trouble. Like that time he’d talked you into getting some finance guy at a bar in Tribeca to buy you extra drinks so Bucky could drink for free too. 

The guy hadn’t been very happy when he learned he’d been bankrolling you and your best friend for the night, but you’d ditched him and the bar before a fight could break out. You and Bucky had collapsed against each other on the subway ride home to Brooklyn, laughing together, your breaths mingling until you didn’t know where yours ended and your best friend’s began…

Wrenching yourself out of that memory, you forced yourself to focus on Bucky. 

“I just…” you began and trailed off, suddenly realizing how pathetic you were going to sound when you gave voice to what you’d been thinking about. Chewing on your lip, you wondered if there was a way to phrase it so you didn’t sound quite so pitiful.

When inspiration failed to strike, your helpless gaze met Bucky’s eyes across the couch. He ducked his head and looked at you from under his lashes, giving you an encouraging nod.

“I won’t judge you, doll, you know that,” he said, his voice low and rumbly in a way that made your stomach flip and a little tingle to flutter between your thighs. His expression was so open and sincere, you squirmed, ignoring your body’s reaction.

“I know,” you said, nodding, and letting your gaze drop to your fingers in your lap. “It’s just a little silly.” You tried to laugh, but it came out strained. Your fingers picked at your nails—a nervous habit your best friend had pointed out to you years ago. 

Bucky scooted across the couch, until he was close enough to place one of his warm hands over yours, stopping your nervous fidgeting. 

You knew you were being ridiculous. You knew Bucky wouldn’t judge you, you didn’t know why you were so nervous about talking to him. So you told yourself to be brave. You took a deep breath and looked at your best friend, meeting his bright blue eyes. 

“I was thinking about…kissing.”

Your words hung in the air for a moment, then two. Then Bucky cocked his head to the side and a little line formed between his brows, his expressions morphing into confusion. Before he could ask his question, though, you rushed on, suddenly eager to get it all out once you’d started. 

“It’s been so long since I’ve been kissed,” you explained, your voice breathless from the flood of words spilling from your mouth. “And I was thinking about how nice it would be for someone to take my face in their hands and just…kiss me softly—kiss me like they mean it.”

The whisper of your words trailed off, leaving the muted sounds of the movie and the city beyond your living room to press down on your shoulders. At some point, you’d dropped your gaze again to your lap, where your hands had turned over, fingers slotting between Bucky’s. As you watched, his hand gave yours a little squeeze.

You didn’t see Bucky move, but you heard him. You heard the couch creak and the rustle of fabric as he slid across the cushions until his gray cotton-clad thigh was pressed against your bare knees. 

Just like Bucky, you’d dressed comfortably for movie night, wearing a pair of sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt that might’ve belonged to him once. But you’d commandeered it so long ago, you thought of it as yours. 

“Is that what you want?” Bucky asked, his voice even lower and rumblier, sending the butterflies in your stomach spiraling. 

The fingers of his other hand were gentle when they slid against your jaw, tipping your face toward him. Your best friend’s blue eyes looked practically electric in the dim light of the room, and there was something, something like hunger, wading deep in their depths. The emotion called to something deep inside you.

“Do you want me to kiss you, pet?”

That nickname—the one Bucky only used when you were half asleep, snuggled up close, your heads huddled together, your limbs entwined while you lay in bed or on the couch after a long night of watching movies or drinking at the bar—sent a warm flush through your body. 

You hadn’t been thinking about Bucky when you’d been thinking about someone kissing you, but in a matter of moments, it had become all you could think about. Suddenly, you were all too aware of your best friend.

His breaths were coming a little faster, and his blue eyes had darkened, his pupils blowing wide as his gaze searched your face. You could smell the faint hint of salt and butter on his lips from the popcorn you’d eaten earlier, and you could see every grain of the dark stubble shifting on his clenching jaw.

There was a hesitance, a nervousness, you rarely, if ever, saw in your best friend, and it made your breath hitch in your throat. He wanted this. He wanted it as badly as you did, and knowing that made you brave.

“Please, Bucky,” you begged on a whisper, meeting his gaze with your own, your eyes wide and pleading. You leaned into his touch, his thumb stroking your cheek rhythmically. 

For a moment that seemed to last forever, Bucky stared into your eyes, as if searching your soul for any reason to pause. When he found none, the edge of his mouth curled in a smile.

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” he rumbled in a teasing tone that had your heart fluttering in your chest. 

Then Bucky leaned forward, and you did the same, until your breaths mingled and you could feel the warmth of him on your lips. 

Your mouths met in a tentative brush, so soft you would’ve thought you imagined it if it wasn’t for the shock of electricity that zipped down your spine. You tilted your face, searching for more, and Bucky’s lips met yours again in another cautious kiss. 

Heat bloomed in your body, unfurling in your chest and taking root low in your belly, your racing pulse thrumming between your thighs. It was a slow-building pleasure, but then, all of a sudden, you were ravenous for more. You pressed closer, fingers curling around Bucky’s shoulders, tongue flicking experimentally against his upper lip.

He groaned like he was in the greatest pain, but then his hands were wrapping around your waist, spanning your ribcage, and he was hauling you closer. His mouth covered yours and he deepened the kiss, giving you exactly what you needed without you having to ask.

Bucky devoured you, his lips moving against yours in a greedy push and pull that had you moaning wantonly into his mouth. When your lips parted, his tongue plunged inside, taking control of the kiss while his fingers tightened on your body. 

Your best friend held you like you were priceless, and kissed you like you were inescapable. Bucky kissed you like he’d been waiting years—decades—to get his mouth on you, and you’d only needed to ask. 

It was dizzying, overwhelming and wonderful in the best way. You kissed him back with all the pent up yearning that had been locked away in your heart, consuming him just as much as he was you.

Only when your lungs were burning for air did you wrench your lips from Bucky’s with a gasp. Over your desperate, panting breaths, you heard him growl, his hands cupping your face as he kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Did I give you permission to pull away, pet?”

The possessiveness in Bucky’s tone made you melt, and a whimper of desire slipped from your lips. You’d never seen this side of your best friend, but it made you nearly feral for more. 

“Bucky,” you whined his name pitifully. Your fingers were clinging to his t-shirt and trying to tug him closer on the couch, but you were already as close as you could possibly be while you sat next to each other. 

At your desperate whimpering, Bucky softened, a smile flirting around the edges of his mouth. “C’mere, pet,” he purred, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke. 

Then your best friend was manhandling you into his lap, arranging you so your legs straddled his thighs. Your ass was perched over his groin, where you could feel a thick bulge pressing into the center of your body, making heat cascade down your spine as wetness dripped from your slit.

“Oh god, Bucky,” you mewled, rolling your hips instinctively and grinding against his cock through your clothes. “Did you—did you get this hard from kissing me?” you whispered, stumbling over your words but forcing them out because you needed to know the answer.

“Yeah, baby,” Bucky rumbled, affection in his tone as his hands dove beneath your oversized t-shirt to skate up and down your spine. You felt electric heat burst everywhere he touched. “My best friend’s sweet kisses made me this hard.” 

He lifted his hips, digging his bulge into your soft mound, dragging a helpless moan from your lips. He pressed his grin into the underside of your jaw.

“You feel so good, pet,” he murmured into your skin, like he was confessing a secret. “Your mouth is a dream that’s haunted me for years, and now that I’ve had a taste, there’s no going back for me. You’ve wrecked me, baby, and I need so much more of you.”

With one hand cupping your jaw, Bucky dragged your mouth back to his and he kissed you like a starving man—like he’d been lost in a desert for days and you were his first sip of water. 

You kissed him just as greedily, launching yourself off the ledge the two of you had been dangling from for years, neither one wanting to be the first one to jump. But now he had, and you were happy to follow him in his freefall, knowing he’d catch you and hold you safely in his arms.

When you needed air, Bucky’s mouth trailed down your jaw to your neck, his lips finding your thumping pulse and sucking on your skin until you were whining. While you gasped for breath, he found every spot on your neck that made you hotter and needier, until you were squirming your hips impatiently on his lap.

“I need more, too, Bucky,” you huffed, spreading your legs wider over his thighs so that you could press down more firmly on your best friend’s cock. You fingers sank into his soft brown hair, holding his face to your neck while you rolled your hips in a dizzying frenzy. “Are you gonna do anything about it?”

Bucky stilled beneath you, and it was only then that you realized what you’d said. You sucked in a surprised breath, not sure where that boldness had come from—though you suspected it had something to do with the fact that you felt safe and comfortable enough with your best friend to freely speak your frustrated mind.

Leaning back, you caught sight of Bucky’s face, his eyes meeting yours as humor and lust roiled in their blue depths, like he was eager to meet your challenge. He wore a dark and hungry smirk, and his hands tightened where they held you, pulling you close until your chest was pressed tight to his. 

“Does my pretty little pet need my cock?” Bucky asked, his tone agonizingly condescending, and making you drip so much you began to worry you’d leave a wet spot on his gray sweatpants. But then he distracted you with more filthy words. “D’you need your best friend to fuck that achy, greedy pussy between your soft thighs, huh?”

“Jesus, Buck,” you gasped, a little surprised to find out your best friend had such a filthy mouth. 

But you didn’t hate it—far from it. You wanted more, you wanted him to fuck you and talk you through it, so you went on, hoping that if you were vocal, he’d keep talking dirty to you. 

“Y-yes, I need you, need you to fuck me, Bucky, please!”

Not needing to be asked twice, Bucky flipped you down onto your back on the couch, taking care to make sure you didn’t knock your head against anything but the pillows. Then his hands were manhandling your legs together, dragging your sleep shorts and panties over your hips and off in one swift movement. 

While he reached behind his back and yanked his t-shirt off, you pulled yours over your head, discarding it and your bra as quickly as you could manage. Once free, your hands immediately went to your tits, groping your soft flesh and rolling your nipples between your fingers as you stared up at the muscular chest of your best friend. 

Bucky’s big body pushed between your thighs, which you spread eagerly for him, your knees hugging his ribs while he shoved his sweatpants down. When his cock bounced free, you gasped softly at the sight of him—so thick and hard and perfect. 

For a moment, the two of you paused, like you’d both just realized you were naked in front of each other for the first time. Your gaze roamed hungrily over Bucky’s body, appreciating the breadth of his shoulders, the slight taper of his waist, the soft trail of hair leading down to his hard cock. 

The moment dragged on for so long, you managed to tear your eyes away from your best friend’s cock to look at his face. Bucky’s handsome face was slack with desire, his darkened blue eyes roving over your body with the same kind of awe you’d felt when looking at him.

His gaze lingered on your chest, watching your fingers idly play with your nipples. You squeezed your tits harder, making yourself gasp and arch up off the couch. Bucky’s cock gave an answering twitch and he grabbed it in one fist, pumping himself slowly while he marveled at you.

It felt good to be the object of your best friend’s lust, but you could feel your pussy leaking and pulsing, begging to be filled. You decided Bucky could watch you all he wanted—but later, after he’d fucked you.

“Buck, please, I need your cock,” you whined, your hands leaving your body to reach for him. Your fingers curled around his shoulders and you dragged him down on top of you, his knuckles brushing against your soft mound and making you moan.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, before capturing your lips in a kiss. 

His mouth was hot and demanding, his kiss slow and drugging, stealing your breath until your head was spinning. When he pulled away, it was only to speak more filth against your lips. 

“Your tits are so pretty, pet,” he murmured, using his thumb to press his cock between your soaked folds, dragging his shaft through your lower lips to make himself slick with your juices. “Can’t wait to suck on ‘em while my dick’s buried in your cunt. Wanna hear your pretty whines while I suck your tits and you clench around my fat cock.”

“Fuck, Bucky,” you huffed, fingers carding through his hair and dragging him to your mouth for a messy kiss. 

“What, ya like it when I talk dirty, baby?” Bucky asked teasingly when he pulled away. There was a ridiculously charming grin on his face, like he already knew the answer to his question. Which, of course, he did. 

You couldn’t help but shake your head in amusement, your lips curving in a smile. “I love it,” you mumbled, pulling him in for another deep kiss before finishing your thought. “Love hearing all the filthy things you wanna do to your best friend.”

Bucky groaned, his cock throbbing against your pussy, and then he was pulling his hips back until the tip was notched at your hole. He paused, lifting up enough for his eyes to search yours.

In that moment, neither of you needed words. The hunger and desire and need swirling through your body was reflected in Bucky’s dark blue gaze, and though your lips parted to beg him to finally slide inside, all you had to do was nod. 

Bucky thrust forward slowly, carefully, and yet you still gasped when the head of his cock pushed inside your tight hole. It had been a while since you’d had anyone or anything inside you, and even though Bucky wasn’t intimidatingly big, you still felt the stretch of your body accommodating him.

“Y’alright, pet?” he murmured against your cheek, his scruff tickling your skin, his mouth never straying far from yours. 

“Yeah, just—just go slow,” you whispered back, fingers hooked around his shoulders, nails digging into his warm muscles.

“You tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop, alright?” he rumbled in a stern voice that had the butterflies fluttering in your belly again. He pulled back enough to give you a serious look. “I want you to enjoy this.”

The corner of your mouth kicked up in a half smile and you pulled him down for yet another kiss. Even though your lips were swollen from kisses, you didn’t think you’d ever get enough from Bucky, especially the ones where you were both smiling too much to brush your lips against each other’s.

He pushed forward, using your distraction to slide a little deeper. You tensed at the stretch of feeling him fill you more, waiting for the pain—but nothing came. Bucky’s hands soothed over your bare skin, using his words to distract you again.

“I want you to want to do this again, baby, because I already know that I will—I’m gonna wanna fuck you again and again and again, until you’re nothing more than a dumb, mindless pet who’s drunk on my cock, your cunt squeezing me tight every time I make you come. Wanna drain my balls in your pretty pussy until you’re overflowing with me.”

A moan slipped from your lips at Bucky’s words, you cunt clenching tight around the tip of his cock. Instinctively, you spread your thighs wider around your best friend’s body, allowing him to sink even deeper into your cunt, until he was buried halfway to the hilt.

“I want that, Bucky,” you whispered against his scruffy cheek, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging on him until you could see his face. “I want you to fuck me dumb, make me your pretty little fuck toy—want you to fuck me whenever and wherever you want. Wanna be your perfect fuck pet.”

“Fuuuck, you’re so fucking perfect, baby,” Bucky groaned, pushing the rest of his cock into your pussy as slowly as he could bear, the self-restraint evident in every tense muscle of his body. “You’re such a perfect, pretty fuck pet—fuck, you feel good.”

The words were stolen straight from your lips, because it was Bucky who felt good. It was Bucky who felt so hot and hard and perfect inside you, filling you up enough to feel the stretch without hurting you. 

Unable to stop yourself, you wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him tight inside you while you buried your face in his neck and moaned. He grunted, feeling your pussy gripping and squeezing and sucking on his cock. Every slight movement sent pulses of pleasure through your body.

“You feel so good inside me, Buck,” you murmured, tilting your face until it was pressed into his scruffy jaw. “God, your cock is just—so good.”

At your words, you could feel the slight tremors wracking Bucky’s body as he held himself still, fighting against his instincts to give you the chance to adjust to the feeling of him filling you up. But that’s not what you wanted. You wanted more, you wanted him to fuck you. 

“Need more now,” you whimpered, rocking your hips and urging him to move, but he remained still above you.

“Gimme a minute,” he huffed, kissing you to distract you. 

Despite his best efforts, your hips kept rolling lazily beneath his heavy body, so he lowered his weight until you were pinned beneath him and all you could do was whine into his mouth. He huffed a self-deprecating laugh.

“If ya keep doing that, ‘m gonna empty my balls in your cunt sooner than I planned, pet,” he warned, though there was an edge of a smile in his warm, teasing tone.

A giggle erupted from your lips even as your inner walls clenched tight around Bucky’s cock, your body liking his words more than you probably should’ve. But seeing Bucky struggle to keep his composure while he was buried inside you made you want to be a menace to your best friend. 

“You gonna turn me into your cumdump, Buck?” you teased, dragging the blunt edges of your teeth down his neck, feeling his cock twitch inside your tight channel. “You gonna fill me up until I’m leaking your come all down my thighs—you gonna fuck it back into me, huh?”

Bucky’s head dropped to your shoulder with a pained groan and he pulled his hips back, pushing against the tight hold your legs had on him before snapping forward. He started fucking you in short, punishing thrusts that had you moaning mindlessly as his cock pounded into you.

“Christ, your dirty mouth is even worse than mine, pet,” he growled, but there was an edge of exhilarated laughter in his tone that made it clear he wasn’t mad about it. Instead, he lifted his head and flashed you an impish grin, before ducking down to your chest.

When Bucky’s lips wrapped around your nipple and he sucked hard on your tightened peak, you cried out. Your back bowed off the couch, shoving your tits into your best friend’s face while your fingers clutched his head to your chest. 

“Oh my god, Bucky!” you gasped, the words devolving into an obscene moan. You squirmed beneath his bigger body while he chuckled at the helpless sounds you made.

Bucky was everywhere, his mouth sucking greedily on your tits, hands groping the soft curves of your hips, his cock spearing into your cunt over and over again in hard, brutal thrusts. It was too much, and yet not enough. 

Your legs tightened around Bucky, ankles hooking around the backs of his thighs to try to hold him inside you as you met his every thrust. Pleasure was winding tighter in your lower belly, and you were desperately chasing your release, your fingers tugging uselessly on your best friend’s hair as you whined.

“Please, Bucky, please, please, please,” you chanted, until he finally rose up and met your lips in a furious kiss. “I need more, I need—” Your words cut off on a gasp when Bucky drove his cock into you so hard and so deep, you felt the tip brush against the very end of you.

“I know exactly what you need, pet,” he growled, that possessiveness back in his tone that sent your heart careening in your chest. “You just be a good little slut and take your boyfriend’s cock like a perfect fuck pet.”

He picked up his pace, fucking you into the soft cushions of the couch like a man possessed. His hard body loomed over you, his muscles shifting gloriously beneath his skin everywhere you touched, and even as his chest heaved, he kissed you. His mouth devoured yours, greedily drinking down every sound of your pleasure.

It wasn’t long before you were on the edge of your release, your cries growing higher pitched and more desperate as your body fluttered around his pounding cock. Bucky murmured encouragement into your lips, his hips grinding against your soft cunt, the base of his cock rubbing your clit until you were lost to the pleasure.

You came with a shrill scream, every muscle in your body clenching so tight that you dragged Bucky over the edge right after you. Your best friend buried his face in your chest, sucking idly on your soft tits and grunting his pleasure. 

His hips kept thrusting wildly, spilling rope after rope of his seed deep in your pussy as your body clenched around him. You moaned unabashedly, basking in wave after wave of pleasure as they washed over you.

For long, endless moments, your bodies writhed together, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from each other as your mouths kissed messily. 

Finally, when you were both spent, Bucky collapsed on top of you, crushing you with his weight for one blissful moment before he rolled to the side. His hands were gentle on your body as he rearranged you so that one of your legs was thrown over his hip, keeping his softening cock buried in your pussy.

“Kiss me softly, baby,” Bucky murmured against your lips, echoing your earlier words with a smile curving his mouth. There was a teasing edge to his tone, but you didn’t get the sense he was making fun of you, just being playful with you the way he always was.

It made your heart clench to think that nothing truly had to change between you and Bucky even after you’d given in to the mutual desire you felt. 

He was still your best friend, and now the two of you could become something more—together. You hadn’t missed the way he’d called himself your boyfriend in the heat of the moment, but that was a conversation for later.

So you huffed a little laugh at his teasing and kissed Bucky. You kissed him as softly as you could manage while you both caught your breath. 

It was different, more decadent, both of you taking your time to learn the other. It was like you both knew you had plenty of time—the rest of your lives—to discover everything there was to know about each other. Everything you didn’t already know.

For the rest of your movie night, you and your best friend, Bucky Barnes, took turns kissing each other softly, and fucking each other hard. Eventually, you fell asleep together, entwined on the couch, both wearing smiles on your kiss-swollen lips.

Hot Bucky Summer 2025 masterlist

[houseofhyde]

I LOVE MANCHILD BUCKY SO MUCHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! can u pretty pretty please do something literally anything where he picks the reader up and he's so strong and whatnot 😛😛😛 love ya thankssssss ur the best

wine, dine, whine. ⤷ bucky barnes x fem!reader ⌇ 3.6k

✶ ― SYNOPSIS. bucky's plans go to shit on the night of your birthday. yet, beneath city lights and raining skies, he learns how little you require to have a good time. it turns out, all you need is bucky's strong arms.

warnings.ᐟ mdni! no use of y/n, manchild au, protective!bucky aka guard dog!bucky, established relationship, smut (unprotected piv, strength kink, sex against a door, clothed sex, creampie bc i'm a whore with a very specific kink 🧍‍♂️, fingers are getting put in pussies and mouths!, the bucky barnes begs agenda 2025™ continues, lowkey sub!bucky), angst, fluff, anger issues, banter, unlabelled relationship bc i like torturing these two losers. ᯓ★ hyde𝄒s input. i've realised i have a strange obsession with having it rain a lot when it comes to these two (as y'all will see in the next full-length fic i'm writing abt them), but they just give me such rainy couple vibes, y'know? (i sound stupid 🤠 ) i hope you enjoy, anon! thank you for requesting, you are the best <33

follow @houseofjekyll + turn on notifications to know when i post a new fic!

Fate is either a gigantic cunt, or she simply hates one James Buchanan Barnes.

Every little thing that should have gone right tonight has taken the left exit into wrong-ville. First, it was the missed reservation — Bucky tried to argue the ten minute delay was out of your control but the restaurant had already handed your table off to someone else. Before the soldier could choose between grovelling and threatening, your hand clasped onto his and you dragged him someplace else. Just when he settled into the perfect routine of sipping his wine and admiring the glow of you across a candle-lit table, your dinner arrived and, with it, more problems: the edge of your plate had been ‘decorated’ with crushed almonds. While he was red with anger, you were calmly apologising to the waiter for not having mentioned your allergy. In the end, you both ate the food off his plate.

Slipping off to the bathroom at one point , he’d been confronted with a crooked tie and the fact he’d put his cuff links on wrong — meanwhile, back at the table, you were the image of a goddess, elegant and effortless, wrapped in a pretty black dress and a pair of stilettos. Another disaster struck after dinner, back out on the streets, when a stranger shoulder-checked you and caused the ice cream you’d just bought to fly out your hand; while he wanted to grab the stranger by the scruff of the neck and force them to apologise, you busied yourself with stealing a bite from his cone.

Then came the rain. Unwarned, unreported. The sky simply gave a deep cry and the heavens opened up, dropping buckets worth of water down. Bucky hurried to cover you with his suit’s jacket and you used the downpour as an excuse to tuck yourself into his side, arms curling around his mid-riff and head finding rest against his shoulder.

Now here you both are walking the rainy streets of New York, clothes reduced to soaked rags that cling to each inch of skin, and Bucky’s wondering if this is all his fault.

When he’d first learned it was your birthday this morning, a confession that cut off any loose threads of sleep still clinging to him, you had been adamant that it wasn’t a big deal.

“Birthdays are like assholes, Barnes,” you swat at his butt with the tea-towel you’ve been using to dry the dishes — this is the routine as of late, he washes them and you dry them. “We all have one, doesn’t mean we need to go around announcing it.”

Looking back, he should have left it well-enough alone. But he hadn’t been able to ignore that something that wouldn’t sit right in his chest when you told him you had no intention to celebrate yourself. As far as Bucky is aware, your existence is a blessing, an admittedly irritating flickering light illuminating the tunnel of infinite dark he’s spent most of his life wandering through.

How could he possibly sit back and not let you shine?

“I spy my with my little eye,” your voice pulls him out the pit of guilt he’s digging for himself, drags him back up to street level where you’re soft and present at his side. An arm over your shoulder, he encourages you to burrow deeper against him. “Something beginning with… P!”

You must not be very good at this game, as the likely answer is glaring at him from across the street in red neon lights: Pizzeria.

“What are you, four?” Bucky’s rolling his eyes and fighting off the red of endearment rushing to his cheeks.

“Watch it, soldier,” one of your fingers pokes into his side. “You’re already towing the line of predatory with our age-gap.”

The rain is but a drizzle now, and Bucky despises the way it has you stepping out from his embrace, curious and excited to let feel the drops of water run down your face.

“You can’t say I’m not the strongest centenarian you know,” he states, without even knowing the reason why.

Perhaps a part of him craves to prove to you he’s a worthy choice, more than just a nighttime companion but someone you can let yourself rely on, rest against, plant new roots in your life with.

He’s been thinking about it lately, more often than a man of his nature would dare voice aloud, how much of your time he’s allowed to pollute, and how much of your heart he’s allowed to consume. For all his wondering, he can’t bring himself to ask, in fear of finding out the story of you two he’s been writing in his head ends sooner than he intends.

“You’re the only centenarian I know,” you’re ahead of him on the sidewalk now, walking backwards and turned towards him to see his reaction as you tease him. “Not even my grandparents, rest their souls, would be as old as you.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” he’s trying to reach for you, feigning annoyance as the excuse to pull you back against him, where he wants you to belong.

But you’re nimble, faster on your heels than he expects you to be, and he marvels at how easily you evade his hands, feet moving so easily they almost seem to dance along the ground.

“Don’t worry, give me the greenlight and I’ll happily call you great-granddaddy while you hit it from the back-”

Like a lion pounces on a gazelle, he dashes to close the distance between you and swoops you up into his arms.

“What have I told you about watching where you’re going?” It’s an empty chastise, one that not even he pays any mind to, not when he’s so enthralled with the weight of you clinging to his neck, a vibranium arm holding up your back while his flesh one is tucked beneath your bent knees.

Your eyes are watching him, a smile upon your face that tells him you have no intention of looking at the river of a puddle he’s just rescued you from stepping into, sacrificing the polished leather of his shoes and the hem of his trousers as he walks you both across it.

“It’s more fun when you do it for me,” you wink at him, and Bucky’s in pain.

He’s known war. He’s known torture. He’s known what it means to lose every thread of autonomy, becoming nothing but a vehicle through which to kill. Never has he known ache quite like the one you carve into his heart, with something as simple as a smile and as soft as a kiss.

Deflecting his own thoughts, he jolts you higher up into his hold, closer to his chest, and renews the grip his hands carry you with. No puddles lay ahead anymore, left behind for you to finally spot over his shoulder, yet the soldier shows no intention of putting you down.

“You just had to prove your point, huh? Strongest man I know.”

The breeze brushes the skirt of your dress a little too high for Bucky’s comfort, not when there’s a group of men spilling out from a bar across the street. He readjusts his right arm, making sure the fabric stays caught beneath his iron grip.

Maybe that’s why it takes him a moment to notice you’ve altered his earlier claim, taking his age right out of the discussion.

“I never said man-”

You gasp, Bucky freezes.

“Put me down,” a command he obeys with heartbreak yet no hesitation, returning you gently to the pavement and keeping a hold on you until he’s sure you’re steady on your feet. Before he can step back, you shake your head, “Come here.”

Like a puppet, he gives himself up to you. Lets you tug him closer by his tie. Watches you place his hands firmly around your waist. Relishes in the squeeze of your arms interlocking behind his head.

Standing right in front of him, Bucky feels like he’s seeing you properly for the first time tonight.

Rivulets of rain run rampant down your face, smudged mascara paints an image of modern art across your cheeks, your lipstick has faded away to reveal the real hue of the lips he’s forever longing to kiss, the pretty shape of your dress has melted into your figure and the sleeves of his jacket keep sliding down over your hands. For every sense of the word, you’re a mess. A completely and utterly different woman to the one he stepped out onto the streets with hours earlier, before everything had gone wrong. And you’ve never been more beautiful.

Or more demanding, “Ok, now spin me.”

“Spin you?”

“Yes.”

“You want me to spin you?” It’s not outrageous, he’d argue, to seek confirmation when faced with such a strange request.

“Am I speaking fucking latin? S, P, I, N me, Barnes!”

Let the record show that there’s not a single thing, no matter how confused or skeptical it may leave him, that Bucky wouldn’t do for you. So, of course he spins you.

Gripping on tight to your waist and straightening his back, he lets his feet shuffle around in a circle and watches how your own lift off the ground.

“Happy?” He asks, his own existence hinging on your answer, as he puts you back down.

“No,” you shake your head, lips splitting in an eye-twinkling smile. “Again!

He does it again, and again, and again. Until you’re a twirling, giggling, grinning mess surrounding him. Until he feels himself begin to struggle for balance. Until a group of strangers are holding up their phones and recording the private bubble you two are living in. And, for a moment, he can almost picture it.

The before, the normal. A 1940s kind of New York, stained in the smell of cigarettes and gunpowder, and playing main stage to a love story for the ages. He imagines all the ways he would have won over your family, all the old-fashioned traditions he’d play privy to just to earn your hand. His sister would have loved you, and not just because she’d always complained at being stuck with only a brother, but because you’d be as loud, and as outspoken, and as crass as she’d always believed women should be. The kind of life where he’d leave for war with a promise to return to you, and he’d make damn sure of keeping that promise, arriving back at shore to greet you with a kiss and a ring.

When the fog around his wishful eyes clears, he’s left with the blinding lights of modern New York and the smell of your perfume. There’s no bitter feeling, however, no hatred towards the life he finds himself in now, leagues and bounds away from what could have been. It’s not perfect but there’s you, and that seems about as close to it as Bucky can imagine.

“Oh no!” You exclaim, laying a hand across your forehead as you pretend to fall faint against him. “I’m just ever so dizzy, Mr Barnes, I think you’ll have to carry me home!”

“Do you think I’m some sort of walking cab?” Despite the annoyance put behind his question, he’s eagerly offering you his back to hop onto.

“No, no,” you’re swatting him around, pulling on his strings again to command him just how you want him. He willingly gives himself to you every time. “Do it the same as before.”

One arm at your back, the other at the back of your knees, he’s lifting you against him again. For a moment, the creative part of his brain, that had painted a picture of another decade, tempts him with the thought of how this is the very same way a man carries his bride. The thought of such devotion makes him sick with shame and anticipation. 

“Everyday you sound more like a spoiled brat,” and he’s the one to blame, giving way to your every whim and plea.

Your response is physical, a hand grabbing onto either side of his jaw and giving his head a shake, “God forbid a girl wants to enjoy the view of this handsome face!” 

Even though he tries to frown, he can’t help the way he turns to putty with your touch.

The rain comes to a complete stop and leaves behind a satisfying freshness in the air, one that smells like hope and tastes like possibility. Or maybe that’s just the effect of having you pressed up against him, not only seeking safety in his arms but finding rest, head atop the very point where metal welds into flesh.

Here he is, a creature more disjointed than anything Frankenstein could create, and wanted only ever for causing harm, providing respite to a soul he’s spent months trying to save from herself.

Perhaps fate doesn’t hate him so much.

“The answer was party-pooper,” you interrupt his dwelling, like you do best, and make quick to clarify for his questioning glance. “To my I-Spy prompt.”

“What kind of answer is that?”

Carrying you is child’s play, as easy as breathing to the super soldier. That doesn’t stop him from putting on a show of readjusting his grip, jolting you enough into the air to earn a huff out of you.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” a finger trails over his mouth, catching on his lower lip and giving it a gentle tap. “You’re the one that’s been sulking up a storm all night.”

“I wasn’t sulking-”

“You literally were pouting at me from across the table, James.”

“I just wanted you to have a good night.”

Do you notice blood staining the tips of his ears with a blush? And, if you do, would you believe him if he said it was from the bite of the wind?

“I am having a goodnight, how could I not?” As your arms secure themselves around his neck again, he feels the brush of your lips atop the collar of his shirt. If only your lipstick were still intact, he could wake up tomorrow to a visceral stain of your kiss on the fabric. “I’m wearing a pretty dress and being carried by a hunky man.”

“Sometimes I think you only want me for my biceps,” a sarcastic comment feels easier than letting himself sink into the knowledge that he’s made the cut in your requirements for a good time.

“Guilty as charged! I’m using you for this hot bod and fine piece of ass.”

Just when he’s thinking of kissing you, you beat him to it, pulling yourself up to press your lips against his.

It’s short, it’s sweet, and it’s chaste. The kind of kiss one could blink and completely miss, but Bucky savours every second of it. Even if it does cause him to stumble with his next step.

Drawing nearer to your apartment, he wonders if you notice the way his pace is slowing, the way his feet are beginning to drag, the way he’s stretching out each step for as long as he can.

When he grows tired of the sound of passing cars and the muffled music from bars, he seeks out your voice.

“Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Depends what you want to hear,” you’re back at his shoulder, eyes slipped closed as you enjoy the subtle sway of your dangling legs. “There’s two things I’m thinking about.”

“Two or a million things,” his own voice is falling into a whisper, something sacred he wants to save for your ears only. “I want to hear all of it.”

For a moment, there’s only the tread of his footfall, and the calm of your breathing, and the wind singing a solemn tune. Then you speak and drown him deeper in his melancholy.

“You don’t need to get angry for me,” a montage of deep breaths, flaring nostrils, clenching jaws, all from tonight and completely selfish, born out of an ire that you had met only with kind eyes and forgiving words. “I don’t want a weapon, I just want you. And if that anger is the real you, then I want it too, but not if you’re forcing yourself to get worked up because it's what you think I expect.”

“Anger kept me safe,” and, if it could do that for him, then surely it could keep you safe too. “I don’t know who I am without it.”

“Then we can find out together,” you say it so sincerely he wants nothing more than to make it a reality.

Not just the prospect of relearning himself, but the togetherness of it all. A unit, a pair, a couple. Not just a man and woman living under the same roof. Would you want the same, though? Or is the way he touches you just something you enjoy, no deeper feeling buried beneath layers of skin?

“Do you wanna know the second thing I’m thinking?” There you are again to pull the brakes on his train of thought.

He nods, too afraid of the tight feeling in his throat to speak. But you, his little spitfire, are afraid of nothing and lean up to shamelessly whisper into his ear.

“About how good you’re gonna fuck me when we get home.”

The two of you barely make it past the threshold of the door.

Despite the fact his hands are on you, you’re the one leading the charge, pulling him in by his tie to meet your welcoming tongue. There’s a noticeable thud as your back hits the door but your grip tightens him against you before he can worry.

“Want you to show me how strong these arms are, Buck,” you hiss against him, clutching onto the bicep of the arm that’s snuck itself beneath your dress and writhing as his fingers swipe over your soaked folds.

Sanity has long departed from him, abandoning him to the wreckage of you. He’s barely cognisant of his own undoing, losing himself in the way you react so perfectly to his fingers curling into your cunt. You don’t let him enjoy it for too long, barely a moan ripped out of you before you’re unbuckling his belt and setting his dick free from the confines of cotton.

Following your orders, his arms hike your legs up around his waist and settle your back a little higher up the door, forcing him to gaze up at you in worship. It’s a blessing, he concludes, to watch your mouth drop into an ‘o’ as he guides you down fully onto his cock.

There’s no time for teasing. Everything is desperate and reckless, teeth clashing against teeth, hands digging into hips, skin slapping against skin. The hinges of the door shake at your back, in perfect tune with each thrust of Bucky’s cock, and, when he catches your hand gripping onto the handle, he redirects it to his shoulder and relishes in the sting of your nails digging into his flesh.

“Please,” he’s not sure what he’s asking for, but his mind tells him to grovel, to plead, to pray. “Oh, please, fuck!”

“Yes James, that’s exactly what we’re doing,” you somehow find the time to giggle, and he swears he might just lose his mind when he feels your walls squeeze around him. “I didn’t think you’d have a senior moment so soon.”

You’re so irritating, and maddening, and endearing. Bucky’s all confused, mind oscillating between turning you around, pressing your face into the wood, and showing you just how ‘unsenior’ he is, or focusing on how ridiculously breathtaking you are to gaze up at.

If you’re a siren, then he’s a sailor who’s more willing than ever to drown in the waves with you and your melodic moans. Hungry eyes pull up the hem of your dress and seek out the sight of your pussy fucking itself down onto his cock. Lost in the sight of your bodies syncing together, he’s none the wiser to his open jaw until he tastes your fingers sink inside it.

“Look at you,” you coo, and he loves it, works harder and fucks deeper to hear more of it. “A big, bad soldier who’s whining for me.”

And he is. Pathetically, unabashedly, lips wrapped around the girth of your two fingers and letting you feel the vibrations of his pleasured whines. 

Bucky is the first to crescendo, with a fractured whisper of your name followed by stuttering hips. His eyes roll back as your legs lock around him and force him to deliver, devote every last drop of himself inside of you. He comes through just in time to press his thumb to your clit and guide you off your own edge into paradise, squealing and cheering against the door before he swallows your sounds with his lips.

In the dark of the apartment, you two search for a single breath between you, lazy-boned against the door as hands simply trail over one another’s outline.

“So,” your hand in his hair, tugging lightly until his chin rests on your chest and his hazy eyes stare up at yours. “Was tonight our first date?”

“No,” he almost laughs at how quickly the smile falls off your face, but he’s too busy rushing to fight away the disappointment that seeks to replace it. “You won’t have to ask when it’s our first date, you’ll know.”

And there it is again, the smile he likes best.

“Aww, does that mean I’m not getting a goodnight’s kiss?”

This time he does laugh, slowly bringing your feet back onto the ground and bumping the tip of his nose against yours.

“What you’re getting is tied to the bed and ruined until you forget your own name.”

+ extra hyde !

· reader really loves to walk bucky like a dog (as she should!) · also its been a week since i posted manchild &, i don't mean to sound pathetic and emotional but i'm on my period so give me a break, i'm really happy that you all liked it enough to not only give me really kind feedback but to want more of them :( i love writing so much but i kind of hit a wall creatively about 8 months ago. i'm currently getting a degree and part of that degree requires me to not only write a lot but to write outside of my comfort zone (romance) and, despite achieving a first, it really just drained me and sucked the fun out of writing. so it's been really nice to feel myself slowly chip away at the writer's block & a big part of that has been thanks to every like, comment, reblog, and ask you guys have sent. thank you for making this loser (me) happy <3

click here to join my taglist.

[phoebeselwyn]

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY // divorced!simon, single father!simon, f!reader, coffee date, awkward!simon, the kid being adorable

part 1 and part 3

You agreed faster than your brain could process what exactly he was saying. And only after bringing the bags inside and closing the door behind you, you allowed your face to fall into your palms, hiding your stupid smile and blush from imaginary roommates.

It was a date, you knew that.

But not an ordinary coffee date. Well, yes, you were both sitting on a table in this place on the corner of the street, ceramic cups in your hands (because the barista guessed that you weren't just going to take drinks to go), and an apple pie on a plate in the middle. But Alex was sitting next to you, at a wooden table for children. Sticking a part of his tongue out, he carefully coloured a picture of a car, holding a red pencil tightly in his palm.

“Sorry, couldn't leave 'im with Mum today.” That was Simon's first sentence when he rang your doorbell, holding his son's hand.

You immediately shook your head, rejecting his apology. Why did he feel he had to apologize? Alex was an incredible child that you spent more than one evening with, and it made sense that this little boy accompanied you on your first date.

“Has Evelyn called recently?” You asked, taking a sip from your cup.

Simon's eyes darkened and he swallowed hard, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Can we not talk about 'er?”

“Of course! I'm sorry, I just...”

The last thing he wanted was to scare you with his severity. He was worried as hell, sitting here in front of you, knowing full well that a door he had opened in front of you when you first entered the cafe and a cup of your coffee he had paid for meant. It was a date. And all he wanted was to spend time with you, without mentioning his ex.

“It's just...” He sighed. “I just want to focus on ya. On us.”

On us.

These words made your heart jump, in excitement and surprise. Us. Us like the two of you. Like the two of you, like people who have just come to drink coffee and enjoy each other's company.

Simon wasn't rude, he didn't try to get off topic or cut off any of your suggestions. He just didn't want to talk about his ex at the time he should have given you.

“Yeah. Yes, on us.” You nodded.

But neither your smile hidden behind the cup, nor his pleased face went unnoticed.

“But I think Optimus Prime is cooler.”

“Really? But the last time you said you liked Bumblebee.”

“I changed my mind.”

You snorted with laughter when Alex proudly raised his head and frowned, declaring that he had once again changed his favorite character from Transformers. The boy loved watching cartoons and had his own collection of toy cars, so you gave him a pair of Bumblebee pajamas, which Simon claimed the boy wore almost every day.

The three of you stopped at the gate to your property. Simon was still holding his son's hand, but his gaze hadn't left your face for a long time. The way you smiled when you watched the boy talk about his hobbies, the way your eyes lit up when he playfully stated that you were wrong about something. You treated him so gently, and it made his heart melt like ice cream in the sun.

“I think I should go. Thanks for the coffee.” You said, catching Simon's eye.

“Yeah.”

“Are we gonna eat apple pie again?” Alex asked, looking puzzled between the two of you, clearly wanting to be in that coffee shop again. “Daddy?”

“ 'course. We can buy it tomorrow...”

“No, the three of us.”

The three of you.

“If she agrees, we can...”

“I agree.” You managed to answer faster than Simon finished speaking.

And that night, each of you three was smiling for your own reasons.

I apologize for me delaying it for so long and for this part being so tiny🫣 but I swear you will have part 3 tomorrow!

tags: @angel444riley @happppy222 @starfish-sandwich @whothefuckisthisgirl @shadowstriker17 @xoxo-noahneko-xoxo @nbdblogger @spacecowboy-013

[keer-y]

I feel like gator would have an exhibitionism kink, he’d loooove to fuck you on a balcony and show everyone you’re his

oh like… say you travel somewhere for your honeymoon and end up in a nice hotel with a balcony. you’re high up, but not high enough that people can’t see you.

(sorry husband!gator is the best thing to ever happen to me.)

MDNI//SMUT- exhibitionism, public sex, oral sex (f receiving), rimming, little touch of spit kink, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, [unsafe] vaginal sex

after the plane ride一one too-long layover and a delayed flight to boot一you’re all too happy to let gator handle checking you into the hotel while you sit in the lobby, massaging your temples with your fingertips. you lower your hands to look at them一the wedding band is a new addition, and you sort of lose yourself in admiring it until you see gator’s boots in your periphery, and then you look up at him.

“room’s ready,” he says. “told’em some sob story ‘bout the plane debacle ‘nd they upgraded us to a suite.”

you smirk. “that was nice of them.”

“told ‘em it was your birthday and our honeymoon.”

“honeymoon probably would’ve sufficed.” you stand up and follow gator to the elevators, taking the room key he proffers you as he handles the bags.

“couldn’t be too sure,” he says, holding the elevator door to let you step on first, and then following you in with the luggage.

“so, are you ready for some sightseeing?” you ask.

“no,” he says. “we ain’t leavin’ this hotel room fer a week.” he glances at the display above the elevator doors, slowly approaching your floor: 5.

“yes we are,” you say. “i have a whole itinerary of things to do.”

“finally got ya all t’myself, without worryin’ about anyone bustin’ in,” he says. “‘f you think i’m lettin’ y’outta my sight for a minute yer crazy. only sightseein’ i’m doin’ is your tits ‘nd ass.”

you roll your eyes. “god, honeymoons really are all about the romance, aren’t they?”

“you know it, kid,” gator says, and leans down to kiss you gently, in contrast to what he’d just implied.

the elevator dings and he leads you down the quiet corridor to your room. you tap the key against the reader and open the door for him, stepping in and holding it as he pulls your bags in behind him. it’s a beautiful room一a bedroom that’s distinct from the living area, and a spacious bathroom with a nice, big bathtub and separate shower, with doors in from the foyer and the bedroom.

“is this costing us any extra?” you ask, and he just snickers, closing up the door behind you.

“you don’t worry yer pretty little head about that,” he says, leaving the bags where they are and hugging you from behind, pressing his lips against the side of your head. “all you gotta worry about for the next 6 days and 7 nights is right here.” he presses his hips against your ass, and even though he’s not hard, you still feel the thick line of his cock.

“oh yeah?” you ask, and he spins you in his arms, a smirk already playing at his lips.

“yeah,” he says, and kisses you. it’s searing, hot right away, his lips on yours and his hands sliding down to slip into your jeans pockets, groping you.

“ok, but一” you pull away, breaking the kiss, though not trying to leave the secure circle of his arms. “i feel disgusting from the plane. i need to take a shower.”

he groans, tipping his head back over his shoulders, but lets you go. “fine. but you better come outta that bathroom in just a towel. no point in gettin’ dressed.”

“deal,” you reply, giving him a peck on the lips before moving away. as you do, he grabs your left wrist with his left hand, then slides his palm down to hold your hand with his, and you know why he did it一your rings glance together for a brief moment as your hands touch, and your eyes meet, and then you’re smiling to yourself as you head into the bathroom.

thirty minutes later一you’re on vacation, you can luxuriate一you appear with wet hair and a towel wrapped loosely around yourself, bare feet padding quietly on the tile and then the carpet as you look for gator.

he’s not in the living area, the pillows on the couch undisturbed and the tv remote exactly where it was left on the coffee table, so you approach the bedroom door, which was wide open and is now partly closed. you also notice that your bags have been moved from the entryway, and when you push open the bedroom door, you see them open and half unpacked on the bed. gator’s still missing.

you step in further and look around the room, and notice the curtains at the windows blowing in just a little from the breeze, and you cross over to them.

gator’s there, sitting on a little cast iron chair and vaping, and apparently your suite has a balcony.

“hey,” you say, leaning against the sliding glass door, which he’s left open.

he turns around, takes in the sight of you in just a towel like he asked, and smirks. “there’s a balcony.”

“i see that.”

his smirk grows. “go figure.”

“did you do this on purpose?” you ask.

he shrugs one shoulder. “maybe.”

“we’re pretty high up,” you say.

“ain’t that high up.”

you lick your lips. “you wanna risk public indecency on day one?”

gator stands up, pressing close to you and tossing his vape onto the bed behind you, before looking straight down at you, his eyes locked onto yours, leaning closer. “we’re gonna risk public indecency every damn day, mama.” his lips meet yours and this time, it’s less intense, but one arm still wraps around your waist, pressing into your lower back through the plush towel.

“why am i the only one who’s indecent then?” you ask, lips against his, and gator pauses, then snickers.

“a’right,” he concedes. “y’got me.” you take a step back into the room as gator follows you, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off, then untucking his undershirt from his jeans. you watch as he undoes his belt, leaving it in the loops as he slips the button and lowers his fly, shoving them down. he steps out of them as he reaches behind himself, pulling off the undershirt with one hand, leaving himself in his boxer briefs, the black fabric clinging to his thighs, his bulge visible. he looks at you expectantly and you just unwrap the towel from around yourself, letting it fall to the bedroom carpet, and gator’s eyes drift over your form.

“god, fuckin’ look at you,” he says, and you hum quietly.

“everyone’s about to,” you whisper, and gator groans a little as he cups himself through his underwear, half adjusting himself and half rubbing at his length.

you gesture at his underwear. “your turn.”

tongue peeking at the corner of his lips, gator hooks his thumbs into the elastic and pushes them down over his thighs too, stepping out of them as well, the two of you naked as the day you were born as you pass him, letting one hand trail through the patch of hair adorning his chest, and out onto the balcony.

it’s a little chilly out there, especially with your wet hair, and you feel your nipples perk up, the goosebumps take over your skin, but then gator’s behind you, a warm, solid presence, his soft cock already starting to chub up as he holds you back against him.

“gonna give ‘em a show,” you say, and he huffs a laugh.

“they got no idea,” he says, hands sliding over your hips down to your thighs, squeezing them before moving one to cover your mound, the other up to cup one of your tits. “neither d’you.”

“what do you一” you start to ask, but before you finish the question he’s got you pushed up against the railing, hands coming to brace yourself last minute as he kneels down behind you, hands moving to your ass cheeks to hold you open as he trails his tongue over your pussy lips.

“gator一” you gasp, but he doesn’t relent, and instead just pulls your hips back a little, making you bend further at the waist as he wastes no time in trailing his thumb through your folds, wetting his finger. you whine a little as he moves it away, the loss of contact disappointing一but then it’s back on you a moment later, rubbing at your asshole with your own arousal. “jesus christ,” you sigh.

“you wanna give ‘em a show?” gator mumbles against your snatch. “i’m givin' ‘em a show.”

he closes his mouth over your slit and sucks, tongue prodding at you before he pushes it inside, fucking you with the wet muscle as you whine and push yourself back onto his face. the pad of his thumb is rough against your asshole even with the little bit of slick he’d gathered from your pussy, and you tell him so.

“wetter,” you mumble, arms still braced on the railing of the balcony but ducking your head down so he can hear you more clearly. “get it一get me wet, babe, please.”

he doesn’t respond for a moment, still fucking into you with his tongue, drawing it out before pushing it right back in, your cunt already pulsing at the feeling of it, at the anticipation, at the idea that if the people walking by on the street down below glanced up, they could see what you were doing一

“oh, what’re ya thinkin’ about?” gator asks, finally pulling away. “got real fuckin’ tight, mama. was it me?” he rises up on his knees to spit on your asshole, rubbing it into you with his thumb, and that feels better. “or was it somethin’ else?”

you stutter out a sigh. “there’s people down there,” you tell him.

“oh yeah?” he asks. “they watchin’?”

“n-no,” you answer.

“mm,” he replies, splaying his hands out on your ass cheeks again, pulling you open even further. “too bad.”

you have nothing to say to that anyway, but all of your thoughts melt away into pleasure as gator moves his mouth back onto you, but not your pussy一he drags the flat of his tongue over your asshole while two fingers curl into your cunt, and you’re leaning against the balcony railing just trying to stay upright now, because your knees are buckling as gator rims you, leaving his fingers deep inside of you, still, just pressing down against your front wall trying to find your g-spot.

you spread your legs a little further and gator leans into you even more, letting the tip of his tongue press against your hole as he tries to press inside of you too一and this time, as his tongue enters you, you feel your body give a kick as his fingers finally find what he was searching for.

“oh, yeah, ok,” he mutters against your ass, then delves right back in, licking at you from the inside, his lips pressed tight to you, as he massages your g-spot inside, fingers pressing close to it.

“gator,” you say, loud, a warning, though of what you’re not sure. you’re still up against the railing, and at the sound of his name you see one of the passersby on the street below glance around for the source.

your gut kicks.

“they heard me,” you whisper to your husband, and gator hums, before pulling away, sucking at your rim as he does.

“who did?” he asks, letting his thumb circle your puckered ring.

“someone down一there,” you reply, breathy and uneven.

gator doesn’t reply一he only snickers, and then his mouth is back on you, tongue inside your ass as he fucks it shallowly.

“baby,” you whine, flexing your hips back against him, and he stars to fuck your pussy with his fingers now, properly, firm and not too quick, but not too slow, just the way you like. “fuck.”

that time, it’s loud, but there’s no one on the street below, so it’s wasted.

you’re dripping down gator’s palm, coating his hand with your arousal, as he fingers you and as you curl your arms around the railing, holding onto it as he ruins you from behind. he eats your ass, taking it in turn to curl his tongue into you before pulling it out and licking long, fat stripes over the slight gape, the way you’re open and ready for him, before letting his tongue move back inside, lingering in you.

he pulls away entirely, letting his fingers slide out of your pussy, and you close your eyes and rest your forehead against the balcony rail as he speaks.

“god, taste so fuckin’ good back there, mama,” he drawls, and you clench up at what he’s saying and what he’s saying. “never get enough’a ya.” you whimper as he traces his lips over your pussy. “fuckin’ delectable.”

you whine at his words and then again, louder, as he sucks your folds into his mouth, tongue sliding through your center to lap up every bit of arousal he’d coaxed out of you. he moans, the sound muffled as he eats your pussy this time, tongue sliding into your slit as he presses his hands to your ass cheeks一but instead of holding you open, he squeezes them into his face, effectively burying himself in you, and you take a shuddering gasp as he cradles your clit with his tongue, undulating against it as you shiver in the cool breeze, and then again when you notice someone glance up. you’re not sure if they see you一not sure if they really even looked up to the fifth floor一but you thrill a little and gator can tell.

“see somethin’ y’like, mama?” gator asks as he pulls away and surveys you, the way you’re looking down at the street.

you turn to look at him over your shoulder, and nod. “someone looked up.”

gator grins. “yeah?”

you nod, legs quivering, and then you watch in gleeful anticipation as gator rolls back onto the balls of his feet and stands up behind you, fully erect now, his cock jutting out from his front as he leans over you to let his front rest on your back.

“wanna hear ya sing fer me, mama, a’right?” he asks, licking at the shell of your ear, kissing the lobe before leaning further into you, curling himself around you and taking your mouth in a searing kiss that has you parting your lips for him, letting him tongue fuck your face as you whine into his mouth, the kiss filthy and sloppy, messy, spit coating your lips and his as he kisses you.

“gator,” you mumble as he pulls away, one hand rubbing at your lower back, his lips on the back of your shoulder. you feel him move his arm between your bodies, taking hold of his cock as he presses the tip against your asshole just for a moment.

you startle, turning to look at him with half-lidded eyes, because you’re not prepped and there’s no way in hell you’re letting him leave to go find the lube in your jumbled luggage.

he lets his cock just barely rub against you. “just givin’ ya somethin’ ta think about fer later,” gator says.

“on the balcony?”

“you know it,” gator quips, and you don’t have time to react other than to smirk at him before he changes the angle at which he’s holding himself and presses the head into your wet slit. you open easily for him, taking him in, but he doesn’t fully move into you. no一he teases you instead. he pops the head in… and then pops it right back out, leaving you gaping just a little after him.

“gator,” you say, stern, and he just caresses your lower back again.

“easy, mama,” he says, and lets the head move inside of you again, watching your slit flutter around him in the broad daylight. “we got all the time ‘n the world.”

“please,” you say, trying a different tactic, but it doesn’t work.

he just nudges his hips backward, the head of his cock leaving you again, and this time, you just hang your head, resting it against your arm on the balcony railing, as he enters you for a third time.

“like this ‘just the tip’ shit,” he says, making you moan as he pulls out yet again, then moves back in. “makes ya sound all desperate.”

“and why do you think that is?” you ask, but your voice cracks and he snickers behind you. you hear him hum softly to himself, and then a quiet, wet smack that you know is the sound of him pulling his finger out of his mouth.

“can’t imagine,” he answers you, and then you feel, at the same moment, his cock enter you fully in one movement, while he eases his finger, coated with saliva, into your spit-slick asshole.

“f-fuck,” you say, not expecting it, and that time, a couple on the street below both hear you, both turn to look up, and both spot you. your cheeks flush as they stare for a moment, taking in exactly what they’re seeing, and then they turn and rush away. “they saw us.” even as you say it, the man looks back as they hurry down the sidewalk. you feel heat rush through you because of it.

“oh, fuck yeah,” gator says, moving his free hand to your hip as he slides his finger out and back in, and then he’s moving his hips against yours properly, fucking into you as your walls seem to suck him back in every time一like now that you have his cock in you, your body does not want to let it go. he’s snapping his hips into yours and it’s audible一maybe not to the street below, but you can hear it, and it just turns you on even more than being caught did.

“what’d i say, huh?” gator says, leaning over you. “wanna hear ya. ev’ryone does.” he licks at your neck, and you loose a moan. “that’s what i’m talkin’ about.”

“gator,” you moan his name even louder, pushing your hips back against him, your asshole clenching tight around his finger, your pussy spasming on his cock as he fucks you, raw and rough. your elbows are pressing up against the balcony rail, tits on display and you cup them, playing with your nipples, which only draws another loud gasp from you.

“fuck yeah, love hearin’ ya,” gator says, and finally pulls his finger out of you so he can grip your hips tight with both hands, holding you in place as he slams his cock into you, skin slapping skin, your arousal coating your thighs, his front, cock thick and hot as he pounds against you.

“so good,” you groan, fingers pinching your nipples, rolling them as your body is jostled up against the rail and then pulled back by gator onto his cock一he’s so fucking hard and heavy inside you, his balls slamming into you with each thrust. “gonna fuckin’一fill me up?”

gator makes a noise akin to a chuckle, but it tapers off at the end to become a high-pitched little whimper. he recovers quickly enough to speak.

“you fuckin’ know it, mama, gonna have ya drippin’ me out after.”

“will you watch?” you ask, the words leaving your lips before you really even know what you’re saying.

“will i一what?” gator repeats, both of you fucked out, neither really fully there, so cloudy with lust and arousal and the feeling of chasing your high.

“watch,” you repeat, and gator’s rhythm falters for a few thrusts in a row, uneven jabs that still have you light-headed. “watch it come out of me.”

you feel his hair tickle the nape of your neck as he presses his forehead against your upper back, needing to take a moment to compose himself.

“yeah,” he says, switching his thrusts up a little, fucking you in longer, deeper strokes. “gonna fill ya up ‘nd then sit ya right一right up above me on the bed, yeah? let it fall right outta ya inta my mouth.”

“oh一fuck, ok. oh, god,” you say, imagining it一imagining standing on your knees above gator, letting his spunk leak out of your cunt and onto his waiting tongue.

“c’mon, mama,” gator says, wrapping an arm around your middle and holding you up against him一you’re still leaning on the railing, but now on your tiptoes, the only things really supporting you the railing and gator, his arm tight around you and his cock inside you. “lemme hear ya.”

“gator一” you sob, loud enough that you know he can hear you, your hotel neighbors can hear you, people below can hear you. you glance down一sure enough, there’s another couple of people staring up at you, and you push back against gator as best you can, just the thought of extra eyes on you making you squeeze down on his cock.

he crowds right back into you, pushing you a little more upright, so that he can hook his chin over your shoulder and look down at the people below, one now pointing up at you on the balcony.

“got an audience,” gator mumbles, and with no warning he snaps his hips into you. you cry out, and the people on the ground seem to realize that you’ve spotted them spotting you一they fumble against each other, rushing away. “aw, too bad.”

“they were watching,” you say absently, because you’re practically gushing around him now, you can tell, right on the brink of your orgasm.

“oh, i saw,” gator says, right in your ear. you feel yourself tense up, your legs tightening, as his teeth catch your earlobe and tug at it just a little. “whatcha think they thought, huh?”

“i一i think一” you start to answer, but gator moves his right hand from your hip to your thigh, his fingers searching your slick folds for your clit, the pads moving over it quickly, circling it, bringing you even closer.

“yeah?” he says, burying his cock in you to the hilt, feeling you fluttering around him as his cock jumps a little at the tight, wet heat of you.

“think they were jealous,” you supply, and he grinds his front against your ass, his chest on your back, nipples poking you and hair tickling you, all of it just arousing you even more. your cunt is soaking his cock, you can tell; you’re so goddamn wet it’s all on your legs.

“oh yeah? of you?” he asks, pulling out just enough that when he fucks back into you, you really feel it. “or me?”

“god, i don’t一know, both of us, both,” you stammer out.

“oh, ya think so?” gator asks, his cock sitting in you now, thick, constant, throbbing. he’s moving his fingers over you slowly, keeping you on the edge. “think they wanted a chance t’fuck this tight little gash’a yers? wanted t’know how it feels when all they could do’s look?”

“yeah, yes. probably, gator,” you mumble.

“too bad ‘sall mine now,” he says, moving his left hand from your hip now, curling it around your left hand on the railing, fingers lacing with yours, his wedding band flush beside yours. “this pussy’s all mine, ‘nd this cock’s all yours, right mama?”

“uh huh,” you say, leaning your head back onto his shoulder as he assaults your neck with his teeth and tongue, laving it with licks and kisses, cock sheathed inside you, so deep you can feel him even when he’s not moving, pressing against you from everywhere.

“want it? want it deep?”

“yeah,” you breathe, and gator sucks at your neck as he moves his fingers faster over your clit, rubbing it with intent now, with purpose, wanting to feel you wring his cock until he fills you up. he doesn’t move his hips again, just lets the pressure and tension of your walls build up around him as you reach your end, coming around his cock, and the feeling of it is what pulls him over the edge with you, his sticky, hot come releasing into you. it’s almost overwhelming, the way it spreads inside of you, his cock twitching with each shot of come he gives you.

your orgasm lasts for what feels like forever一you’re pretty sure that by the time you come down, your knuckles white around the railing, gator’s fingers still laced with yours, he’s been ready to pull out for several seconds already.

he doesn’t, though, just keeps his mouth at your throat, keeping you stuffed full of his cock and come.

“bed?” you ask, and he moves his hand through your slick folds, making you shiver at the extra stimulation, before he moves it up to your stomach, pressing against you like he can feel himself there.

“in a minute, mama,” he mutters, his chin still on your shoulder. “tryna take in the sights.”

you elbow him and he laughs, but just holds you tight as you survey the city skyline in the distance for just another moment, finally retreating into the hotel room to let him watch something far more interesting between your legs.