[unangelic-thoughts]

unangelic-thoughts' Masterlist

Warning: Mature content ahead. 18+ only.

This is in alphabetical order of characters' names.

These are all one shots, unless otherwise specified.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Abby Anderson ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

That's What Friends Are For

Supposed To Hate You

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Joel Miller ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Dr. Miller

Forgive Me...I Want You

Imagines:

Innocent Joel

Yoga Instructor Joel

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Commander Mills ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Survival Instincts

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Negan Smith ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Series:

On The Island Of Kefalonia (9 Parts)

Amnesia (AO3 Link - 10 Parts)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Rafe Cameron ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Addicted

Imagines:

Jealous Rafe When You're Ward's Personal Assistant

Rafe + Gloryhole

[sunnytaimi]

🪻Body fluctuations are normal. Your weight will change, your worth will not.🪻

[yviisxo]

rest in peace to this diva

[nondelphic]

i have the soul of an author and the work ethic of a gen z young adult who quite frankly did not choose to be born

[feluka]

i hate the way fat antagonists have their weight moralized and used as a metaphor for greed and corruption and i hate the way it's overcorrected into fat people being "soft squishy friend-shaped cupcakes who look like they give incredible hugs" and i long for the day we have nuanced, interesting, and complicated fat characters and most of all i long for the day people are normal about fatness

[lemonhoney2460]

i long for the day our society truly accepts weight neutrality

[nondelphic]

the plot is plotting but unfortunately so am i. against myself.

[nondelphic]

i’m not procrastinating. i’m allowing the story to ferment. like kimchi. or a crime scene

[rainekittys]

I post a lot about how fat people deserve to feel sexy and are hot, which is true, but I do also want to remind everyone that fat people should also be able to exist and be respected without being sexualised or you being attracted to them. You should respect people and treat them normally regardless of how attracted to them you are. If your activism centres purely around how much you can sexualise a marginalised group, your activism is shit, sorry

[broad-shouldrs]

Humiliated || Joel Miller

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

word count: 4942

summary: joel accidentally comes inside you

warnings: 18+, minors dni.

a brief moment of dubious consent due to..., accidental creampie, bareback sex, p in v, somewhat subby!joel, size kink, breeding kink, humiliation kink, edging/ruined orgasm

a/n: i wrote this with the intention of posting it on my birthday last week, but life sucks sometimes. anyways, there needs to be more sub!p men fic. am i right, @time-for-my-weekly-spanking? not beta read, so don't yell at me.

The way Joel fucks you can never be labeled as anything other than exquisite. His breath is hot against the sensitive skin of your neck, his mouth closing over the pulse point just below your ear so as to taste the salt of your sweat. The coarse scratch of his chest hair drags across your breasts as he leans in close, the low rumble of his groan vibrating through your ribcage. The muscles in his back shift and flex under the featherlight touch of your fingertips. A large hand pins your wrist above your head, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise, his thick fingers digging into the soft flesh in a way that makes your stomach flutter.

Despite being lost in the throes of pleasure, you can tell how dangerously close Joel is to coming. His thrusts are no longer the steady, rolling grind that he started with, but desperate and choppy. The thick head of his cock grazes against your cervix with every sloppy snap of his hips. The veins along his shaft throb against your stretched rim, his balls slapping against your ass with each stuttered movement. “Joel…” you warn.

He shakes his head fast, jaw tight and teeth clenched as he fights his impending orgasm. “I know, baby. I know. M’pullin’ out, I promise.” 

That had always been the deal between the two of you – he could fuck you bare like he wanted, but he had to pull out – and until tonight, Joel had always been overly cautious. He’d pull out earlier than he needed to, stroking himself those last few seconds before spilling across the backs of your thighs.

Tonight though, Joel seemed to be struggling to hold up his end of the bargain. He rises onto his knees and hooks one of your legs over his broad shoulders. The new angle lets him sink into you further, grinding against that spongy spot inside you with merciless precision. Your body clenches around him, squeezing his cock in a way that makes him break with a choked sound. “Fuck, baby. M’gonna come–”

He rips out of you at the very last second, cock throbbing in the cool summer air. His hand wraps around the thick, slick shaft as he jerks himself with fast, desperate strokes. With an exasperated groan, the first hot rope of come shoots out of him, landing exactly where he wants it - splattered perfectly over your swollen clit. Before you can even react, a second spurt follows dripping down your folds in a sticky, pearly streak. 

The sight of his release painting your pussy flips a switch in him instantly. That primal urge in him that is usually kept locked down roars to the surface. Joel’s chest heaves, his entire body going rigid as every civilized thought gets wiped clean and is replaced with the need to be inside you. “Fuck. Fuck, baby–” He drives into you in one brutal, instinctive thrust, thrusting every thick inch of his cock back into the heat of your cunt. The stretch is sudden and overwhelming despite him pulling out only moments earlier.

“Joel–” you manage to breathlessly exclaim as he turns his head and groans against your ankle. His orgasm hits him harder now that he’s buried where he knows he shouldn’t be, the guilt and wrongness only seeming to intensify everything as he continues to spill inside you.

His whole body shakes with the force of it, completely lost in the rush of filling you when he promised he wouldn’t. “Oh fuck–” he chokes out, gasping and moaning as he grinds himself impossibly deeper, pushing his spend as far inside you as he can. 

Your leg slips from his shoulder and Joel’s body collapses forward with a groan, his weight pressing you into the mattress. He trembles above you, arms braced on either side of your head, too weak to hold himself up fully as he attempts to catch his breath. Even after the last powerful aftershocks ripple through him, Joel stays buried to the hilt, his hips giving a tiny, involuntary roll, unable to stop chasing the euphoric feeling. His cock twitches inside your come-filled pussy, his body refusing to accept that it’s over.

The room falls silent, the gravity of what just happened settling over you until it’s almost suffocating. Joel finally slumps over you, his forehead nudging into your shoulder, arms wrapped tight around your middle like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. His breath is shaky as he burrows his face into your neck and you sense the tension and unease radiating off of him.  “...baby. I–I fucked up,” he admits, voice wrecked from both exhaustion and nerves. 

You can feel the warmth of his release slowly leaking out around his softening cock and you try to lift your head to see, but Joel is heavy over top of you. You tap the side of his ass, urging him to get up and thankfully he understands the gesture. He eases himself out of you, his cock slipping out of you with a wet noise, and falls back onto the mattress, covering his face with his forearm. “Jesus…” you breathe, having propped yourself up on your elbows to look down at the mess he made. The sheen of your slick is smeared glossy across your inner thighs. Joel’s come is everywhere – seeping out of your hole in thick, pearly white streaks and dripping onto the bedsheets beneath you. 

Joel sits up, leaning back on one hand as he takes in the sight of your spread thighs, watching as his come slowly trickles from your entrance. The guilt of breaking his promise to you starts to eat at him; but, alongside the shame is a dark, hungry satisfaction that he can’t push away. The conflicting feelings weave together into some fucked up shame spiral and he lets out a heavy sigh, flopping back onto the mattress. 

He hears you say his name, but the sound barely registers. He’s too lost in his own head, trapped somewhere between regret and disgust. You call out again, this time a little louder, and he rolls onto his side to face you. Without a word, he leans in, one hand cradling your cheek as he kisses you. It’s not rushed or desperate, but rather sweet, as if his lips were trying to say everything he was having difficulty putting into words. There’s an apology in the way that his thumb gently strokes the side of your face. There’s hunger in the way his tongue slides against yours. And, there’s relief in the quiet sigh he breathes into the kiss, like touching you is the only thing keeping him grounded. “M’sorry, baby…” he murmurs against your lips. 

His eyes flick back down to the mess between your thighs, brows furrowing together. “Fuck…look at what I did to you,” he whispers. “As soon as I can feel my damn legs, “we’re gonna get in the car, okay? I’ll drive you to the pharmacy and we’ll see about gettin’ you the mornin’ after pill.” Joel shakes his head, disappointed in himself, but even more so at his cock which twitches with interest. “I promised. I fuckin’ promised and I just…” his voice cracks, “the second I came, I lost it. Buried myself right back in like some goddamn animal.” There’s a short pause, Joel swallowing down a dangerous thought, “Jesus Christ, baby…what the hell did I do?”

You grab Joel’s face with both hands before he can spiral any further, pulling him into a kiss that shuts him up and steals whatever apology was about to tumble out. His lips quiver against yours, unsure if he should even be allowed this kind of forgiveness. It isn’t until the tip of your tongue slides slowly over the seam of his lips that he melts. He lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding and the tension in his jaw finally eases. His hand comes to rest on your waist and he kisses you back, trying to convey his gratitude for not pushing him away.

When you break apart, you rest your forehead against him and brush your thumbs over his stubbled cheekbones. “Should make you go by yourself,” you mumble against his lips, no malice in your voice. “Explain to the pharmacist what you did.”

Joel looks at you with wide, pleading eyes, knowing he deserves every bit of shame and reproach that would come from confessing it aloud. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his face starting to heat up. “Baby…” he breathes out, voice barely above a whisper. 

You smile softly, eyes locked on his, “She’s going to take one look at this guilty face and just know that you couldn’t keep your cock where it belonged.” Joel makes a ragged sound, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “She’ll make you say it too,” you add, dragging your thumb over his bottom lip. “What you did. Out loud.”

Joel’s eyes flutter shut, cheeks burning hotter under your gaze, his forehead dropping to your shoulder in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. You’re not exactly sure what prompts you, but you find yourself sliding your fingers into Joel’s hair, gently tugging his head back up so you can see his face. “Tell me what you’d say to her,” you whisper. “Tell me like you’re standing at the counter.”

Joel shakes his head weakly, attempting to resist your request, but his pupils are blown wide, lust swallowing his irises. His cock twitches with interest, blood rushing to where he’s already growing half-hard between his thighs. 

You let your gaze drop, catching the sudden movement in your peripheral vision. Joel lets out a small, miserable whine and tries to bury his face in your neck again, but you keep your grip firm in his hair. “Joel,” you say, slightly amused but with a strangely cruel undertone to it. “Are you getting hard while apologizing?”

Your question lingers in the air, and the real shock of it hits you, because Joel is not the type to be brought down to his metaphorical knees. He is always the one in control – bigger, stronger, unmistakably male – and seeing him like this almost feels surreal. You can’t help but think that it looks good on him for a change. 

Joel’s breath stutters, his cock betraying him as it twitches under your gaze. His blush deepens until he’s red all the way up to the tips of his ears. He feels exposed, ridiculous and so fucking turned on that it’s making his head spin. “Baby, I–I’m trying not to.”

You tilt your head and let out a disbelieving laugh, glancing down at his cock steadily thickening between you. “Doesn’t look like it. Looks like you’re getting big and hard just from thinking about having to talk to the pharmacist later.”

A shiver zips up Joel’s spine and he barely restrains the groan that wants to escape. He fucking loves it when you call him big. Not just because of the way it strokes his ego – though he loves when you admire his dick – but because the way you say it makes him feel powerful. Hearing you use that word against him, teasing him while he’s exposed like this, makes his stomach tighten. The contradiction of being called ‘big’ while feeling so small and humiliated fucks with his head in the best way. Because no matter how big he is – how easily he could pin you down and take control – here he is, rock hard and almost submissive for you. His cock throbs, heavy and flushed dark, curving up towards his stomach as the tip glistens with a fresh bead of precome.

“Answer me,” you say, voice low and commanding as you give his hair another firm tug until his eyes are trained on you.

“...fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, unable to keep himself in check as you stare down at him. “Yes…okay? Yes, I’m gettin’ hard. I hate it and I can’t fuckin’ help it.”

Joel looks completely mortified, but his hips twitch upward anyway, like his body is begging for attention. His big, guilty brown eyes stay locked on yours, glassy and desperate. A long moment stretches between you while you watch him squirm, shame and arousal practically eating him alive. You lean in closer, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “That’s because you liked it,” you whisper. “You liked filling me up when you weren’t supposed to. You liked fucking up.”

His whole body tenses, his cock jerking with another helpless twitch. “Fuck…baby,” he whispers. “So fucking much.”

You let the silence sit for another beat, just to watch him sit with his admission. His hand flexes at his side like he’s dying to reach out and touch you – to grab your hips, pull you closer, bury his face between your thighs, and eat you out until you’re shaking and pushing him away.  Anything to distract from the embarrassment of telling someone else how much he enjoyed coming inside you. 

When you’re satisfied that you had made him wait long enough, you loosen your grip on his hair and slide your hand down to cup his jaw. “Joel,” you say softly. He responds with a hum, leaning into your touch. “Say it.”

Joel blinks, his breath shallow. “Say what?”

You lean in until your lips are barely an inch from his, “What you’re going to tell the pharmacist.”

Joel’s eyes flutter shut for a second, his lips parting slightly as he half-expects you to lean in and kiss him. When you don’t, he lets out a huff. After a moment, he relents,  “Sorry ma’am,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Can I bother you for Plan B? I…I accidentally…” His sentence tapers off, embarrassment and arousal tying his tongue while you look at him expectantly. “She–she told me to pull out, but I couldn’t help myself.”

You tsk at him, a low, disappointed sound that makes his shoulder tense. You trail your fingers from where it cups his cheek, down the side of his neck, over the rapid thud of his heartbeat in his chest, until you reach his navel. You trace his happy trail with the pad of your pointer finger, purposefully keeping away from his more than interested cock. “Keep going,” you state, more demand than request. “You weren’t finished."

Joel looks at you wrecked, completely at your mercy as you continue teasing him with featherlight touches. “Baby…I–”

You cut him off mid-sentence, wrapping your fingers firmly around the thick base of his cock. He goes stock still, his eyes flying wide open as he lets out a sharp gasp, “Fuck–”. You hold him there, tight and possessive, feeling his cock throb hot and heavy in your palm, but refusing to stroke him. 

“Keep going,” you say calmly, your thumb brushing lightly over the prominent vein on the underside of his shaft. “Don’t stop just because I have your cock in my hand.”

Joel licks his lips, eyes glued to yours, his thighs trembling as he fights the overwhelming urge to thrust up into your fist. “She told me to pull out,” he starts, your grip tightening. “…but I saw how pretty she looked on my cock and I–” He groans softly, enraptured by the way you’re looking at him. “I couldn’t help myself, baby.  I–I just needed to feel you feel you full of me.”

You lean in close, nose brushing against the shell of his ear, and whisper, “Pathetic.”

A broken groan tears out of Joel’s chest, shame flooding his face. He jerks his hips involuntarily, eagerly chasing the heat of your palm. His body shakes – the big, strong man who’s always in control, trembling from a single whispered insult.

“Go on,” you purr in his ear. “Repeat what you’d say to the pharmacist. Word for word.”

Joel’s eyes squeeze shut, his voice is wrecked, cracking with every humiliating word. “...Sorry, ma’am. Can I get a Plan B? I accidentally came inside my girl. She told me to pull out but I…I couldn’t help but fill her up anyway.” His hips twitch helplessly, precome drooling from the tip and leaking over your fist.

“And why not,” you ask softly, adjusting your grip, your thumb swiping over the flushed, sensitive head.

Joel keens, his back arching off the bed. “Because–” he starts, swallowing down a shaky breath,  “because she was squeezin’ me so good that I lost control.”

“I told you to pull out,” you remind him, thumb continuing to move. 

He nods quickly, shame tightening in his throat. “I know, baby. I know. I did at first but…” Joel lets out a strangled whine, only furthering his embarrassment, “...fuck.”

“But what, Joel?” you ask, lips still brushing his ear in a tease. “Finish your sentence.” Your hand slides up his length in one smooth stroke, then back down to the base. He’s so fucking big in your grip, your fingers barely meeting around his shaft due to the sheer size of him. His cock is a complete mess, glistening and still slick with his earlier load. 

Joel’s hands fist the sheets, needing to hold onto something, the fabric pulling away from the edge of the mattress as he fights for control. “I didn’t listen,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “Stuffed myself right back inside.”

You pull back just enough to see his face, his pupils blown with lust, his lips parted as he pants, desperate for more – desperate for something. “Good boy,” you praise. Joel’s entire body seizes up, his cock surging with want, as he attempts to push himself deeper into your grasp. You keep stroking him, the pace excruciating, letting your thumb swirl over the messy come-slick head on every upstroke. “Now tell her why you’re there,” you murmur.

Joel lets out a broken whine, hips jerking helplessly. His voice cracks as he forces the words out, shame and arousal twisting together so tightly he can barely speak.  “ ‘Cause she needs the morning after pill,” he breathes out. “And it’s all my fault.” Joel shoves his hips up, spearing his cock into your grip as he starts fucking your fist in short, needy strokes. “All my fucking fault.” 

The big, dominant Joel Miller is officially gone. In place is this desperate, leaking, shame-drenched version of him who can’t stop confessing how badly he fucked up – how badly he needed to come inside you – and how much he loved it.

“Greedy boy. You just can’t help yourself, can you?” 

He doesn’t answer you. You let him use your hand to get off, watching his face go slack with pleasure before urging his hips down and slowing your hand. Your fingers tighten around him, just enough to control the pace, forcing his thrusts to become shallow and frustratingly restricted. Every time he tries to move, you ease off, keeping him right on the agonizing edge without letting him tip over.

“That’s it,” you croon softly, “Tell her exactly why you need it.”

Joel’s hands fist the sheets tighter, knuckles white as he bunches the fabric at his sides. “‘Cause–fuck…’cause I came inside you, baby,” he groans. “Pussy looked so good covered in my come that I just had to get back inside.”

You feel him swell impossibly bigger in your hand, the thick shaft pulsing in time with his heartbeat, as he teeters dangerously close to the edge. His balls draw up tight, the first warning of his impending orgasm.

Joel’s breath catches, his eyes starting to roll back, inches away from satisfaction. You let go, your hand pulling away completely, leaving his cock twitching and bobbing angrily in the air. He lets out a broken sound as his orgasm crests and then crashes without release. His cock kicks hard, pulsing uselessly, a thick bead of precome dribbling pathetically from the tip and sliding down his shaft. His hips buck in the air, every muscle straining as everything fades into a cruel, aching denial. He collapses towards you, his body practically shaking  as he presses his forehead to your shoulder. “Fuck…baby…please…” he begs. 

You let him ache, his chest heaving with quick, uneven breaths, his denied cock twitching and leaking against his stomach. Every heavy throb is visible as he attempts to gather himself. He tries to tamp down his arousal, but underneath is something deeper  – raw, aching need. 

You press a hand gently to his chest, urging him to lie flat and Joel obeys instantly, falling back onto the mattress fully and without protest. You swing a leg over him, straddling his hips, your slick folds parting around him. His head falls back with a guttural groan as you start to rock against him, the fat head of his cock dragging hot and slippery over your swollen clit making you both moan. You feel him shudder underneath you, a low groan vibrating through his chest as he curses silently, “...fuck, baby. Just like that.”

Joel’s hands fly to your thighs, fingers digging into your flesh like he’s barely holding himself together. His breathing is ragged, eyes half-lidded and desperate as he watches you use him. You tease him like that for a few more torturous seconds without giving him what he really needs, a needy whine slipping out before he can stop it. 

Without hesitation, you take his cock in hand, lining him up with your entrance and sinking down all the way to the hilt. The stretch is perfect, your walls squeezing tight around him, greedy for more. A broken moan escapes both of you at the same time as Joel springs up, sitting up beneath you in a rush, one arm wrapping around your back as he pulls you into a messy, desperate kiss. Joel licks into your mouth like he’s starving for you. One hand slides up your back, while the other stays wrapped around your middle as he guides you harder onto his cock. 

“Fuck, baby…” he pants between kisses, “you feel so goddamn good.” Joel’s forehead drops to your shoulder, breath hot against your skin as he lets you take complete control, utterly lost in the feeling of being buried inside you again. 

“Keep going,” you say, pulling off of him until only the tip of him remains inside you, then slamming back down until he’s fully sheathed again. “Tell the pharmacist what you did.”

Joel’s brain is barely coherent. “Fuck–I–” His hands dig into your skin, almost like he’s afraid you’ll leave him ruined and desperate again. “M’sorry, ma’am,” he begins, his words somewhat slurred as you continue to mercilessly ride him, the wet heat of your cunt enveloping him over and over again. “Need a plan B for my–fuck– girl.” His voice cracks as you grind your clit against his pelvis, the coarse hair on his groin prickling into your skin. “I’m sorry,” he groans, starting to babble, the confession spilling out in desperate, shattered pieces. “So fucking sorry. Felt so good. Fuck, baby…you feel so good. Needed to fill you up.”

Joel is embarrassingly close already, his hips stuttering up to meet your rhythm. “Fuck, baby. Hop off–fuck, I’m gonna–” he gasps, starting to panic. His hands scramble frantically at your hips, trying to lift you off him to avoid further incident. 

But you don’t let him. You slam down onto him one last time, taking him as deep as you can, rolling your hips in tight circles that eke him closer to the finish line. Your walls clench around him like a vice and Joel’s eyes widen in shock. “No–baby, wait–I can’t–fuck!”

His panicked warning dissolves into a guttural groan as his cock pulses violently inside you, his eyes rolling back into his head, vision going white, as thick, hot ropes of come flood you for the second time that afternoon. His entire body trembles beneath you, his fingers bruising your skin where he grips you as if you’re the only thing anchoring him to Earth.

The wet warmth of his spend spills from your cunt and drips down his shaft, coating him in his own mess. Joel’s face is slack, experiencing what one can only assume to be pure bliss – like nothing in the world exists except the tight, slick heat of your cunt milking him dry. 

You ride the high right alongside him, your bodies in a perfect, filthy sync until your own orgasm crashes into you without warning. Your thighs lock tight around his hips as white-hot pleasure rips up your spine. You cry out, your head lolling back, his name slipping from your lips as every muscle shakes with wave after wave of mind-numbing pleasure. 

Joel starts to slowly soften inside of you but doesn’t dare look down at the mess. “Still gotta go to the pharmacy, baby.”

The fluorescent lights of the pharmacy feel way too bright as Joel stands at the counter, posture rigid like he’s waiting on his own execution. The pharmacist, a no-nonsense type of woman in her fifties, offers him a polite smile. “How can I help you today?”

Joel’s face immediately burns red, his blush crawling all the way up to his ears. He rubs the back of his neck, glancing over at you like maybe you’ll save him from utter embarrassment, but you don’t. He clears his throat, an attempt at keeping himself from stuttering which immediately backfires as soon as he opens his mouth to speak. “Uh–I–I–uh…I need the, uh…the Plan B pill.”

The pharmacist doesn’t even blink, she just nods calmly and types something into the computer, “One moment, sir. I’ll grab that for you.”

Joel lets out an apprehensive breath, muttering under his breath while his fingers tap nervously on the counter. He prays the ground will just swallow him whole. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbles to himself.

The pharmacist returns with the small blue box and sets it on the counter, scanning the barcode. “Alright, if that’s it for today, that’ll be–”

“It’s my fault,” Joel blurts out, far too loud, before realizing his blunder. “I–I messed up.”

You watch the pharmacist’s eyebrows slowly lift. In truth, your hand reaches for him like you’re going to stop him, but the words tumble out of him quicker than expected. “She told me to pull out but I just lost my head.”

You bite down hard on your lip to keep from laughing, your face heating with a mix of second-hand embarrassment and delight. The pharmacist blinks, completely unfazed. “Oh. Well…it happens. That’ll be $54.11.”

Joel looks like he’s two seconds away from melting into the floor. His neck and ears are bright red, jaw clenched so tight you’re afraid he’s going to pop a vein in his forehead. He fumbles for his wallet, dropping his debit card with a loud clatter, cursing quietly under his breath. You place a steady hand on his bicep and he manages to swipe the card with shaking fingers, refusing to look at you.

When the transaction is complete, the pharmacist hands him the bag, telling him she hopes he has a good day. He can’t even respond with words. He raises his hand, nodding his head and gently takes you by the arm, leading you out of the pharmacy as quickly as he can. When he reaches the sidewalk, he turns towards you, the bulge evident in his jeans, his voice dropping into a hushed whisper only you can hear. “Baby…I swear I ain’t ever been that embarrassed in all my life.”

The minute the front door clicks shut behind you, Joel lets out a heavy exhale, dropping the keys to his truck on the entryway table. You barely make it two steps before he reaches for you, grabbing your hand and pulling you into him, your back flush against his broad chest. His face drops into the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin like he needs the contact to steady himself. 

He turns you to face him and his eyes are soft, filled with adoration and love. The flush of humiliation hasn’t fully faded, his ears tinted pink as he cocks his head to the side and then leans in to kiss you. The kiss starts slow, as if he’s asking for permission, but the moment you kiss him back, it deepens – slow and hungry in the softest way. His hands slide down your back, palms warm and steady, pressing you closer until there’s no space left between your bodies. “Baby…”, he whispers, his lips not leaving yours. “...you were real mean to me.”

You smile, humming in agreement, “Yeah, you gonna let me do it again?”

Joel swallows, eyes dropping to your mouth, his response somewhat shy, “Jesus…I–yeah,we’ll talk about it.”

His forehead rests against yours and he breathes you in for a long moment, then kisses you again. His arms tighten around you as the tension starts to bleed out of his shoulders. “Thank you,” he murmurs, the words barely more than a breath. “For helpin’ me take care of it. For not bein’ mad. For…hell, for everything.”

You feel his body relax fully into yours like he’s finally letting the weight of the day settle. His thumb keeps stroking your cheek in slow, gentle circles as he holds you close, safe in the quiet of your apartment. “Maybe it’s time we start trying,” you suggest. His head whips towards you, eyes wide and curious, trying to gauge if you actually mean it. You nod as if answering his silent question and you swear you’ve never seen him happier.

[littledes1re]

Deep

Cw: +18, mean!joel, really desperate/needy reader, sub!reader, deep throat, crying, oral m!receiving, degradation, unspecified age gap, cum swallowing, lot's of saliva, slapping, hair pulling/yanking

A/N: today is my birthday, so yall are getting fed!!! It's very short, but yummy and i just couldn't get these pics out of my head, like he looks so huge and dada...sooo enjoy pookies <33

The floorboards are cold under your knees, but you don't care about that right now.

Your eyes are too wide, too wet, too desperate, looking up at him with an unbearable ache between your legs and saliva watering inside your mouth. 

Joel towers over you, hands planted on his hips, his jaw tight, eyebrows furrowed. He's looking down at you like you're something he scraped off of his boot. Unimpressed. Bordering on disgusted.

And you know it. You know how much he hates you. 

His jeans strain across his thighs, and there—right fucking there—that thick swell of him, rock hard already, pressing against the denim, swollen in need. Above it, that soft pudge of his belly, that little curve you've pressed your face into a hundred times only when he lets you. Only when he's feeling generous. 

Your eyes drift to that spot you love so much, picturing his cock already leaking for you. 

He tsks sharply, the sound cutting through the tense air like a whip. 

Your gaze snaps back up, but it's already too late. His eyes have gone dark, narrowed down at you with something sharp and cold. Annoyance. Disdain.

"Too god damn desperate," he growls, his voice low and gravelly. "For your own good."

You can't help but nod frantically, your mouth already watering at the thought of him, saliva pooling under your tongue. "Please," you whisper, your voice trembling with raw need. "I need it. In my mouth."

You lean forwards then, nuzzling against the rigid outline of his erection, inhaling the musky scent of him through the denim, your desperation making your hands twitch at your sides, itching to touch but knowing better than to try.

His hand moves fast.

He grabs a fistful of your hair at the scalp and yanks, wrenching your head back so hard your neck cracks. Your gasp cuts through the quiet.

Then his palm comes against your face.

A slap lands across your cheek with a sharp crack, the sting blooming hot and immediate, leaving your skin tingling and your breath catching in your throat. 

You freeze, eyes wide and pleading, the slap only fueling the fire of your need rather than dousing it. Your cheek burns, but you don't pull away; instead, you stay perfectly still, gazing up at him with utter submission, your body trembling with how badly you crave more.

He holds your gaze for a long, heavy moment. 

A small "pathetic" leaves his lips. 

And then, something flickers in his expression—not softening, never that. But a decision. 

"Alright," he says, calm. "You want it that bad? Open the zipper. With your mouth. Only your mouth."

You don't hesitate.

You lean in, your lips brushing against the cold metal tab of his jeans zipper. Your tongue darts out, fumbling, clumsy, desperate to please. You catch the tab between your teeth and tug. The teeth of the zipper part slowly, and you work your way down, your jaw aching, drool already starting to slip from the corner of your lips.

Inch by inch, the fabric parts, and then his cock springs free through the open slit in his boxers—thick and heavy, veins bulging along the shaft, the swollen head already glistening with a bead of pre-cum that drools from the tip. It bobs right in front of your face, so close you can feel the heat radiating off it, the salty scent filling your senses.

You drool again; a fat string of saliva that drips from your lower lip and lands on your own thigh. You don't even notice. All you see is him.

"Jesus Christ," Joel mutters, but there's no tenderness in it. Just exasperation. "Look at you. Droolin' like a bitch in heat."

You don't care. You can't care. You're already leaning forward, lips parting—

His hand clamps onto your hair again, stopping you. The pull hurts on your scalp already. 

"I ain't done talkin'."

You freeze, a whimper leaving your lips.

"I'm gonna fuck your throat," he says, each word deliberate. "Deep. Slow. And you're not gonna gag. Ya hear me?"

You nod as much as his grip allows, a jerky, desperate motion.

"No gaggin'," he repeats, making sure you understand. "Not a sound. You take it. That's what you're made for."

He doesn't wait for an answer.

He guides the head of his cock right between your lips, and you open for him—greedy, hungry, your tongue already stretching out to taste him. He pushes past your lips, past your tongue, and keeps going. 

He's thick. So thick that your jaw aches instantly. You taste every vein, every inch stretched wide around him. He fills your mouth completely, and he keeps pushing, deeper, until his tip nudges the back of your throat. 

You feel your body already rebel—a reflexive clench, a spasm from the back of your throat. But you force yourself to relax, to open, to take.

And then he's past the barrier, sliding into your throat in one smooth, burning slide.

Your eyes start to water. 

Tears spill over, falling one by one down your cheeks. Your nose is pressed against the hair at his groin, and the world has narrowed to the taste of him, the stretch of him, the smell and the sound of his breathing.

He holds there. Just for a moment. Just to let you feel it.

"Good girl," he says, and the praise is so unexpected, so incongruous with everything else, that a sob of relief catches in your chest. But he doesn't let you savor it. "Now we're gonna move. Slow. And you're gonna keep that mouth open."

He pulls back, almost all the way out, leaving just the tip resting on your tongue. 

Then he pushes in again. 

Slow. 

All the way in until his fat head drags against your palate, your tongue and then lands against the back of your throat. 

He sets a rhythm with slow, agonising thrusts that bury him deep, hold for a heartbeat, then retreat. Every time he sinks in, your throat convulses around him, trying to accommodate, and every time he pulls back, you drool—a mess of spit and pre-cum that strings from his cock to your lips. 

You try to breathe through your nose, keep your jaw unclenched and throat relaxed while tears still spill from your eyes. 

Joel watches. His eyes are half-lidded, focused entirely on where he disappears into your mouth, and on your tears. His free hand then comes up, and you feel his rough fingers on your throat—right over the place where his cock is sliding in and out.

He presses down lightly, rubbing the skin.

"You can feel it, can't you?" His voice is a low murmur, almost lazy. "Feel me right here, movin' in you."

You can. The sensation is foreign and intimate, his fingers tracing the bulge of his own cock moving inside your throat. It makes you moan, a muffled sound that vibrates around him.

"Quiet," he says, calm, there's no heat in it. Just a reminder.

He keeps going. Slow, Relentless. Making your throat memorise the veins of his cock. 

Your jaw aches. Your throat burns. Tears and drool mix together, soaking your chin, your neck, the collar of your shirt. 

But you don't care. You'd stay like this forever, if he'd let you.

He thrusts a little deeper, then. Turning a little harder. His rhythm suddenly changes, becoming more urgent, his hips rocking forward with a rougher snap. You can feel his cock throbbing inside your throat while his breathing thickens, the grip on your hair tightening to the point of pain.

"Fuck," he grunts. "That's what you're only good for. Gonna fill that throat of yours. Gonna pump you so full."

Your eyes roll up, meeting his for a brief moment. He's watching you; gaze dark, possessive, hungry.

Then he groans, a low, guttural sound from deep in his chest and his cock swells against your tongue. He thrusts deep one last time, burying himself to the root, and you feel the hot pulse of his release hitting the back of your throat.

There's a lot. Wave after wave, thick and bitter, flooding your mouth. You swallow instinctively, your throat working around him as he keeps twitching, keeps coming.

He holds you there, pressed against him, until he's empty. 

Then he pulls out slowly, his cock sliding wet and spent across your tongue, slowly softening. 

You're a mess. 

Sobbing and sniffling quietly. Spit and cum and tears all over your face. But you keep your mouth closed, holding everything down.

Joel takes a step back. His hands drop to his sides again. He looks down at you, breathing hard.

"Open," he says.

You do. You part your lips, tilt your head back, showing him the inside of your mouth. Clean. Empty. You swallowed every drop like a Good girl. 

He looks at you for a long moment. His expression doesn't soften. 

But he nods. Once.

And that for you, is everything.

Guess who is ovulating again lmao

Taglist: @vickie5446 @thatgirlmendo @ihearttdilfs @pickyeater13 @sweetiegirl16 @afyreinjuly @shivispunk @kyloispunk @marisemonteiroo @meetmeatyourworst @joelmillerswife9 @iveseenstrangerthings50 @idrkman @blueberryfruittart @vanishintoyoubby @dlwrish @brittmb115 @xcallmetaniax @umadirectioner @millersweetheart @wildthyng @armandispunk @chick66i @bratty-spicee @am1a-niigo @hopelessromantic727 @styleslfreak @psclcain @susieqorion24 @rxsemarinusx @jandtmillersgirl @fertilise-me @mitskilover88 @lostboys1987girl @begginforthread @pinkangelglitterdusttt @facethepascal @ddiana111 @twilightblogss @cheeseizts @pedrosgirl03 @swimmingnightcolor @gabfromgreedycity @bartzabel4 @blueflowerstranger @madnessofadaydreamer @sadie6sinks6slut @hopelessromantic727 @miramindlesslywriting

[time-for-my-weekly-spanking]

Love on the brain - Jackson!Joel x f!reader

Rating: Explicit, MDNI WC: 5,1k Summary: As a storm rages over Jackson, you finally confront the man who saved you. And who has chosen to ignore you, even though you're forced to live in the same house. You’re pretty much convinced he hates you. And like a flash of lightning that tears through the sky and lights up the night, the truth finally dawns before your eyes. And maybe it's not what you expected… Tags: Angst, smut with a sprinkle of plot, canon general violence, mention of trauma, mention of blood and death (nor reader or Joel), reader’s pov, no use of y/n, legal age gap (Joel is pushing 60, reader’s age not mentioned but she’s in her 30s in my head) Joel is quite bad at feelings (he’s deep down a softie though🥺), unprotected p in v (look, reader is on the pill but still! Be careful irl, wrap it up!!!), a lot of kissing, soft manhandling, soft choking if you squint, nipple play, fingering, oral (Joel receiving), Joel cums on reader's tits, reader is not described besides having female genitalia, being able bodied and having hair long enough to be pulled, pet names, swearing, mention of food. A/N: Look, I have no excuse, I was horny and I wrote this 😂 It’s very unlikely for me to say that but I’m quite happy with the result and the way I wrote this, so please be kind 🥺 Thanks to @aurorawritestoescape for reading this over and being my lovely beta, I would be lost without you ♥️

Title comes from “Love on the brain” by Rihanna - dividers by @/saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

It was a terrible night in Jackson. It was raining so hard that the sound of raindrops on the roof had been keeping you awake for hours. The wind was howling so loudly against the walls of your house that you feared you would wake up the next day under a pile of rubble. You weren’t usually the type to be easily shocked, but that night, in your bed, with the blanket pulled up to your ears, you thought you could hear ghosts crawling across the floorboards. In the pitch darkness that enveloped you, you trembled like a leaf.

‘Maybe a cup of chamomile tea might help’, you thought. The idea of ​​going down to the kitchen wasn’t very appealing, but you finally threw back the covers with a huff, grabbed a sweatshirt from the chair next to the bed and threw it over your pajamas.

You padded down the stairs, yawning widely, heading to the kitchen while rubbing your eyes and cursing the dreadful weather. There was a dim light coming from the kitchen, but as you got closer, you thought it was just the moonlight coming through the window. You didn’t bother to fix your hair or even check your reflection in the large mirror hanging in the hallway before entering.

You saw a figure in front of the old open refrigerator. You jumped in fear before remembering that Joel lived in the same house. Yep, the council practically forced Joel to put you up until they finished the repairs in a house near the Tipsy Bison where you could have settled. With Ellie now living in the garage behind the house, Joel's house was unnecessarily large for one person.

So you ended up staying there. 

You tried to be helpful, friendly and grateful. 

But it was as if Joel couldn't help making it clear just how much he disliked having you around.

He walked around grunting, spoke as little as possible, left the house as soon as he sensed you were awake, and came back late every night.

Yes he made coffee before you woke up, leaving a mug in plain sight by the coffee maker for you, along with a small plate of eggs and bacon. He liked things his way and probably hated the idea of you touching his stuff. 

It was giving “either you’re fine with that or you can go to the Jackson’s dining hall, I don’t even care”.

He wasn’t doing anything to make you feel welcomed. 

You were an inconvenience he was forced to tolerate. Nothing more than that.

You rolled your eyes seeing him there, so hard they could’ve stuck in the back of your head. 

“Hey,” you uttered, getting closer to take out an old kettle from the kitchen cabinet. 

“Hey,” Joel grunted back. 

The energy in the room was charged with something unsaid, a linger of tension.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He dared to ask and you huffed a quiet “yeah”. 

He went silent again and kept inspecting his fridge, probably deciding what he was craving as a midnight snack.

He took a bottle of milk out and placed it on the counter before rummaging for a bowl in his cabinet. 

You filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove. 

“Excuse me,” you said, realizing that Joel was standing right in front of the drawer where you kept your chamomile tea. 

He stepped aside, taking his milk and the bag of chocolate cookies that Maria had given him a few days earlier, and sat down at his table. 

Munching on cookies dipped in milk, he looked almost goofy, almost sweet if it weren’t for his frown. You felt like you were bothering him just by standing there in his kitchen.

You turned to take the bubbling kettle off the stove, and poured some water into a cup. 

You sighed, wondering if that night was the right time to bring up the subject. You decided to do it in the end. After all, you were going to be staying at his place for a while longer, and tiptoeing through the house so as not to get on his nerves was starting to wear on you.

“Joel…” you began, with your back to him, your eyes fixed on the steaming chamomile tea cooling on the kitchen counter. 

“Hm?” he mumbled, his mouth full of cookies.

“What exactly have I done to you?”

He swallowed, coughing a little, as if a few crumbs had gotten stuck in his throat from sheer bewilderment.

“What are you talking about?” he replied, a sour note in his voice.

You turned to look at him; he had exactly the expression you expected. 

Annoyed. One eyebrow raised as if to mock you, his mouth twisted into a pout, his hand clenched around the cup, his eyes scrutinizing you.

You felt as if he were looking at you right then, for the first time since you’d set foot in there. 

“You’re avoiding me all the time, you don’t talk to me, you barely even say hello…”

Joel’s shoulders tensed, his chin lifted. “Ain’t true.”

“No?” Now it was your eyebrow that shot up; you could feel disbelief appearing on your face. “Since I’ve been here, that’s all you’ve done. I’m sorry they practically forced you to take me in, and I’m sorry to be such a bother. I wish I had an alternative, but my house isn’t ready yet, and if I go back out there…”

You stopped, a flash passed before your eyes and nearly took your breath away. 

Paul, gutted by an infected while trying to shield you, blood spraying all over your face, his agonizing moans as he died at your feet, and the infected clinging to his neck, sucking, trying to suck away every last drop of his life force.

Your only remaining friend, obliterated in an instant before your eyes, practically a shell of everything he had been up until that moment. 

The blind fury that had exploded inside you, the large rock you’d picked up from the ground, the crack of the infected skull when you smashed it against his head with all the strength that only desperation could give you.

You felt tears stinging your eyes, but tried to keep your composure as you looked up at Joel again.

He seemed smaller now, sitting there in the dim light, the silence broken only by the storm rumbling outside the window.

You walked over to the table, rested your hands on the cold wood, staring at him. 

Joel looked at the cup, then at you, then at a spot behind you as he opened his mouth and said something you couldn’t hear, the words drowned by a thunderclap. 

It felt like the world was about to end out there, all over again. 

And inside, it was a storm of anticipation, silently simmering beneath your skin.

“What did you say?” you goaded him, almost challenging him. At that point, you expected nothing less than for him to throw you out of the house. 

And from the way the wrinkles around his eyes deepened, from the way his eyes seemed to shoot daggers at you, you were convinced he was about to do just that.

Joel stood up and came toward you, barefoot on the wooden floor. 

“Listen, we don’t have to be friends. Why can’t you at least be civil and act like a fucking human being?”

You looked up at him; he towered over you by a full head. His shoulders seemed even broader as he loomed so close to you. He had never been this close before. 

A flash of light illuminated his face, and you thought you saw a hint of sadness in his eyes. 

Maria warned you about Joel being a difficult guy. 

“He’s not bad, you know, he’s just…peculiar. He had to deal with some pretty hard shit.” 

Who hadn’t had to deal with it? You thought. 

You were pretty sure you and Joel would eventually find a common ground.

And somewhere, deep down, you were disappointed in yourself for not having managed to break through Joel’s walls even a little bit.

He still wouldn’t speak to you even then. 

His mouth shut tight and his eyes seemed to be shooting at you.

It was like talking to a wall. And you didn’t know why you were trying so hard. 

Or maybe you did. You wanted him to like you. 

Because it was Joel who had saved you.

He was the one who found you, covered in Paul’s blood, paralyzed with fear, kneeling on the snow-soaked ground with your friend’s head in your lap. 

He killed a couple of infected who were staggering toward you, literally picked you up, and brought you to Jackson without asking any questions. 

And he still hadn’t asked any.

Why go to all that trouble to save you and bring you there if he was just going to act like you never existed?

“Forget it,” you said, picking up your chamomile tea before heading back up the stairs to your room.

You could feel Joel's eyes on your back as you were walking away. 

You crawled back under the duvet, the still-warm cup in your hand, and heard footsteps in the hallway. They got closer and closer until they stopped right outside your door. You could see Joel’s shadow peeking under the door. 

He knocked. 

“Come in,” you said reluctantly.

Joel entered and sat down on your bed. 

Silently.

He was fidgeting with the hem of his night t-shirt. 

“Tell me what you want to say, Joel…I need to sleep.”

“Ain’t no good at this,” he grunted. 

Your patience was thin ice at that point. 

“At what? Fucking talking?”

You regretted being so harsh but you couldn’t help yourself. 

A 60 -year- old man acting like a hermit was driving you mad. And the worst thing was, he was pretty decent to anyone else except you. 

You didn’t know what you did to deserve that stubborn silent treatment. 

“You don’t understand” He tilted his head, watching you through his eyelashes like you were some kind of petty kid, unaware of life and pain and adulting shit. 

You scoffed, “Well, explain it to me, then. Pretty sure you have a tongue and know how to articulate.”

Joel didn’t speak. 

He acted, though. 

He moved closer to you, not tearing those dark, piercing eyes off you even for a second, as if they wanted to pin you to the bed.

Big, sad, and veiled by something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Loss? Fear?

His meaty hand cupped your cheek, his thick thumb pressing against your face right at your cheekbone.

When his face was just an inch from yours, he looked down and shook his head, as if he were once again trying to pull away from something he didn’t want to happen. 

And then, what you least expected, happened. 

He kissed you. 

His lips, chapped from the cold, brushed against yours for just a moment before locking onto them, his mustache scraping against your skin, his nose pressed to yours. His hand slipped down to your neck and rested on your pulse point.

The storm raging over Jackson seemed like a joke compared to the one raging inside you. 

You no longer heard the rain pounding relentlessly on the roof, nor the wind howling like a damned pack of wolves, nor the thunder splitting the sky.

You pulled away from him, your eyes wide like you were a deer caught in the headlights. 

“What the hell does that mean?”

Joel tightened his grip on your neck. 

“You don’t get it?”

You clung to his thick fingers, breaking free from his hold, yelling, 

“First you ignore me like I'm invisible, and then you kiss me... are you fucking messing with me?!”

Instead of answering, Joel yanked you back toward him, kissing you again, this time pressing his tongue against your lips so you’d let him in.

And to your great surprise, your body reacted on its own; your lips parted, your hands clung to his biceps.

You let him in. 

His tongue slid against yours, licking greedily, hungrily, fiercely. 

The voice in your brain that was screaming that it was wrong fell silent, lulled by the taste of Joel in your mouth, by his heavy breathing on your cheeks. Your neck seemed as slender as a flower stem held in his big hand, he was applying a bit of pressure, not hurting you, not choking you, just a possessive grip out of frustration and need. 

You could feel his strength all over you. And Joel kept going. Over and over again, nibbling on your lower lip, sucking it between his own, licking everything he could.

Your tears fell without you even noticing; they rolled down your cheeks and died on Joel’s lips.

You didn’t know why you were crying—or rather, you knew, but you didn’t want to put a name to it.

Frustration. Exhaustion. Nervousness. The need to be accepted by the man who had saved you and then put you aside. 

All you knew in that moment was Joel’s lips casting a spell on you. 

He managed to do that without even talking and it made you feel silly and delusional and dumb. 

But you couldn’t stop. You wouldn’t. 

Because even without naming that overwhelming feeling that was taking over you, it was loud and clear, aching in your bones, igniting in your body like an arsonist's fire. 

Your head was spinning, your breath itching, your pussy screaming between your legs. 

Joel made you lie down on your bed, hovering over you, his hand locked on your neck, his mouth reaching whatever part of you was exposed for him to kiss. 

Your jaw, the tender skin under your ear, your throat, your collarbone. A trail of languid self indulgent kisses ran over you as if Joel was trying to speak through them, as if he couldn’t find his words and was letting his mouth speak in another way. 

The one that brushed over your cleavage was whispering “You mean more to me than you think”. 

The one reaching for one of your breasts over the fabric of your pajamas was saying “that’s what I was trying to suppress.” 

The one on your lips was screaming “I want you.”

When Joel finally muttered something like “We shouldn’t do this” he looked into your eyes searching for some kind of denial, rejection, disgust. 

He only found yearning and need. 

He tried again for some kind of restrain, mumbling “you’re too young” “out of my league” “so pretty it’s infuriating” “I’m just an old cranky man”

but you clung to his biceps in a way that left no doubt about what you wanted, and when your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him close to you, you knew Joel wouldn’t deny the obvious.

Neither of you was strong enough to run away any longer, to fight it any longer, to pretend there wasn’t an invisible force pushing you toward each other—an intricate web of unspoken words and expectations, and bodies yearning for one another in a desperate, carnal, raw way.

His fingers pressing into the soft skin at the back of your neck, just right, holding you in place while he yanked at your too big pajama t-shirt, pulling it down, ruining the hem, the fabric almost tearing up under his force, exposing your breasts. 

His pupils were dilated as he took into the softness of your skin, the roundness of your tits, your pebbled nipples. 

His gaze burned on your skin. 

You moaned as you felt his lips exploring, licking, biting down like he was trying to devour you. 

One of his large palms held your breast firmly, cupping it, while your nipple slipped past his lips, meeting his warm, wet tongue, your body trembling, your head thrown back against the pillow as he swirled around it, suckling on it immediately after, as if he was trying to quench an unquenchable thirst.

Your hips bucked uncontrollably, seeking friction, his hips slamming into you, his growing erection pressing against you. 

“Too many clothes” you moaned in his ear “too many…”

Joel chuckled softly as he felt your hands clutching the waistband of his pants. You didn't want to let go, but you wanted them out of the way—irrational, impatient, frantic. 

“You’re so cute,” he muttered. “Let me go, it’s just a second, I promise”. 

You did as you were told, though not without grumbling.

Even wasting a second felt horrible. He let go of your neck, stood up, and muttered something under his breath “I’m too old for this” or something else you didn’t even hear. 

Old was now your most hated word. He wasn’t old. He was experienced. Your grumpy, moody, irresistible savior. 

He kicked his pants off and he was full commando underneath. A flash of lightning lit up the room and you gasped. His cock was huge, big balls hanging right below it, salt and pepper bush all over his crotch. 

“Fuck,” you uttered. ‘Too much’ was an understatement. But even so, you wanted him more than you had ever wanted anything else.

Joel's cheeks flushed. 

Big, broad, and blushing right in front of your tilted head, your astonished gaze, your half-open mouth.

He tried to look nonchalant with all his might, hopping back on the bed and whispering to you “gonna make it fit” in a hoarse, raspy, voice, as if he had guessed your thoughts.

His hand slipped under your pajama bottoms, brushing against your skin and giving you goosebumps. He moved toward the center, reaching the waistband, and pulled them down.

You kicked them off your legs and to the end of the bed.

Your t-shirt followed right after. 

Joel swallowed. You were almost naked in front of him. 

None of you thought it would have happened and in that moment it felt like you wasted so much time. 

So many weeks holding back, pretending, letting the air charge with a possibility that had seemed unreal, but now seemed inevitable.

Hungry eyes speaking for the both of you. Doing all the work. 

Joel was sitting on his shins on the bed in front of you, your hand instinctively reached for his face, fingertips brushing over the scar on his temple you were dying to know where it came from. 

Every line on his face was telling you more than every word he had ever spoken to you. 

A whole life was in those lines, those birth marks, those faint scars and age spots. 

And those brown eyes. You were drowning in them, willingly. 

“It’s wrong,” Joel hesitated. 

“No”, you placed your index finger on his lips. “don’t say that.”

“Dunno,” Joel insisted again. “Seems pretty fucked up to me.”

You shook your head. 

“I’m a grown-ass woman. Can decide for myself. Frontal lobe fully developed or whatever they’re saying, you know? And I want you, Joel. I want this.”

“Typical of you to use big words at a time like this.”

He was right. It happened quite often when you were nervous. 

You were surprised he had noticed. 

Joel cared about you much more than you'd ever realized. All that bustling around the house, making sure everything was in order, you'd always interpreted it as him liking things his way. Now you understood that his gestures weren't meant to say "don't touch anything else" but "I'm thinking of you," covered up by the gruff, distant demeanor he'd always had.

You moved first, taking his hands in yours, intertwining your fingers with his, before placing them on your waist. 

“Touch me, Joel.” 

His hands remained still, testing your skin beneath his palms.

“Please,” you whined, grabbing at his wrists, sliding them up to your torso, stopping them next to your breasts. 

His fingers tensed, then relaxed and brushed against your nipples. Up and down, gently. 

You moaned. 

Joel’s eyes studied you, as if trying to memorize every distinctive mark on your body, every crease in your skin, every curve.

“Yes…just like that,” you smiled, purring at him like a cat. 

A smirk that he couldn’t hold back played on his lips. 

“So soft and beautiful,” he whispered, almost more to himself than to you, kneading your breasts.

He probably didn’t touch a woman in years but you weren’t even remotely preoccupied with that.

His hands were capable, hands which used to fix, they know how to make things right, they know how to handle with care. 

You’d seen that so many times you’d lost the count. 

You’d also seen how they could be dangerous but you weren’t scared in the slightest. 

You were only scared you wouldn’t know how to stop, craving more and more of what he was doing to you.

You let go of his wrists, caressing the expanse of his shoulders while his fingertips closed around your nipples, pinching and pulling gently. 

A whine escaped your lips as Joel laid you back down on the bed, climbed on top of you, kissed you again, and pressed your body against the mattress.

His rock hard cock was rubbing against your panties, by then so wet that they were useless. 

“Give it to me”, you pleaded, running your hand over a scattering of freckles that dotted his chest.

“Not yet. It'll hurt,” he tried to calm you down. 

Honestly, you were so wet you didn’t believe him, so you kept pushing.

Joel gripped your neck with one hand, letting the other slide down your stomach, all the way to your panties, slipping his fingers under the fabric. 

“Be good,” he teased you, letting you feel his digits just barely on your folds, “or you’ll get nothing.”

You groaned as you felt the tears stinging your eyes again, a single one sliding down your cheek. Joel licked it off your skin and replied unyielding, “Damn, you really are stubborn. 

Maybe I should shut your mouth for a while.“ 

He smiled mischievously, and in an instant a flash of realization hit you.

”Yeah. Maybe you should,“ you nodded. 

”Hmm, want to try? Then maybe you’ll get a sense of what I mean.“

 You watched him straddle you without weighing you down; with both hands under your armpits, he lifted you up and rested your head against the headboard. He picked up the pillow and tucked it behind your neck.

“Like this”

 His cock bobbed in front of your eyes as he stood up slightly to bring it up to the level of your mouth. 

Your tongue shot out instinctively, licking the tip, catching him off guard.

You giggled when you saw him get flustered. 

“Ain’t something to laugh about,” he scolded you, but a small sense of revenge welled up inside you, and you stuck your tongue out again, testing his cock once more. 

It was red and swollen, and you could see a thick vein bulging along its entire length.

It curved slightly upward, which made you think of how deliciously it would hit that spot inside you once it was there. 

It was perfect, and the only thing holding you back was Joel’s stern gaze fixed on you.

His hand was on your neck again as he made you take it into your mouth, pushing you forward. “You want it so bad, huh? All right, show me what you got.”

You tried to relax your jaw as he pushed it inch by inch between your lips, onto your tongue. Salty, thick, and throbbing, you felt it slide across your palate, filling your mouth.

 Joel was right, and it annoyed you to admit it—even just to yourself. 

It was a big deal. Thick, throbbing, and incredibly imposing.

You struggled to get half of it into your mouth, holding the rest in your hand, saliva dripping profusely from the corners of your lips.

Your pussy, deliberately ignored, was crying out for attention, your panties sticking to your folds. 

Joel looked down at you, his eyebrows furrowed, a bewildered expression on his face as he tried to hold back from cumming the moment you started moving up and down his shaft.

Bobbing your head, you pressed it against your tongue, letting its salty taste coat your taste buds, its vein beating against your lips.

“Fuck, what a sweet mouth, honey. Fucking perfect,” he babbled, clinging to your hair. His hips jerked a little too hard, involuntarily, triggering a gag reflex in you that you could barely suppress.

You panicked for a second, then readjusted your jaw to accommodate its thickness, his bush grazing your nose. 

You moaned as he began to move, trying to breathe through your nose, your hand at the base trying to contain his thrusts inside your mouth. 

“Look at me, sweetheart. I want you to watch me while you do it.”

You lifted your gaze to meet his, and you saw it soften, looking a little pathetic. 

He was biting his lower lip, deep wrinkles furrowing his brow, his mustache beaded with sweat, as he was desperately trying to prolong the moment, not to burst into your mouth right away.

His hand clasped around your hair held you in place, almost commanding, but not tight enough to hurt you—just a delightful tug that seemed to say, “Keep going.”

Up and down, completely covered in your saliva, it went deeper and deeper as your mouth. Your eyes were watery, your lips swollen, and your chin wet, yet you didn’t want to stop. 

Your tongue caressed it, your mouth sucked it in, your cheeks hollowed out, its tip finally reached the back of your throat, and you stayed there until you were out of breath.

Joel pulled out of you with a wet pop, and your tongue darted back to the tip in an instant, swirling around it, then focusing on the underside, a couple more licks and Joel was over the edge.

He stopped you just before he exploded in long, sticky white streaks across your face.

You stopped to lick your lips and savor his taste. 

“See? I did it,” you dared to say, smiling proudly at him.

“You did perfectly,” he growled, petting your hair “now lay down for me, honey, let me give that pussy what she wants.”

“For someone who didn't want to do this, you're really going to town, Miller,” you laughed as he helped you lie back down beneath him.

You had never called him by his last name before, but at that moment you found yourself liking it. 

“Aren’t you just a little minx?” He bit back, smirking, manhandling you on the mattress. 

His fingers clung to the edges of your panties, pulling them down past your thighs.

He took a good look at your naked pussy, unconsciously licking his lips at the sight. 

“Fuck, look at her. She’s drippin’,” He whispered, running a finger through your folds and bringing it up to your eyes. “See? Soaking wet.”

You felt your cheeks burn, almost feeling a little embarrassed for a moment, but then turning the tables, taking his finger and greedily licking it in your mouth. 

“Yeah… just like I said… a minx” he uttered. 

He took his cock in his hand, rubbing it against your clit, and your expression changed instantly, a convulsive moan escaped from the back of your throat. 

“Hmm, you’re not laughing anymore, are you?” He teased. 

He entered slowly, sinking deeper and deeper into you, until your hips were pressed tightly together and your foreheads touched.

He wrapped his hand around your head, beginning to move inside you, stroking your hair, while your tongues entwined again in a kiss filled with urgency, mess, and need.

You took him in almost effortlessly, your walls stretched to accommodate him as if they’d been waiting for nothing else, sucking him in as if your pussy wanted to swallow him whole.

 Joel was trembling, sweaty, and hot, his hair plastered to his forehead, as he thrust inside you. He never withdrew completely; he’d pull back a little only to reach that spot again.

For a man his age, he was holding out for an incredibly long time. But then again, he was well accustomed to holding back around you. Few gestures and an incredible number of words that you knew were trapped in the back of his mind.

You didn't know exactly why—no one had ever explained it to you—but you had always sensed that he carried something broken inside him, a wound that had never truly healed.

You could see it even now, in the way he looked at you, in his almost frightened eyes, veiled by something you couldn’t quite put your finger on but that seemed to say, “I’m afraid to show myself so vulnerable. I’m afraid you’ll see right through me.”

You were almost certain he hadn’t been this close to anyone in years—not like that, at least, not in such an intimate and overwhelming way. 

You felt your peak coming, hard and strong, a breathtaking sensation running up from your tummy to your chest. 

As your orgasm streaked, your hand instinctively returned to the scar on his temple, caressing it as if you wanted to heal it, as if your touch were enough to make it vanish, even though you liked it and it was so intrinsically his.

Joel’s body tensed a moment later, and he let out a grunt, muttering, “Dammit, I’m so close.”

You could feel his cock twitching inside you, so hard, its tip pressing against your sweet spot over and over again.

Even though the temptation to keep him inside you was strong—and you’d been on the pill for a while to help with terrible cramps you suffered every month—in a moment of clarity you decided it was too soon.

“Come on my tits,” you moaned, shaken by his thrusts. 

Joel pulled out of you just in time, moving next to you, aiming for your tits as you arched your back welcoming his thick, long streak painting your skin. 

The feeling of his cum running down between your breasts was heady, it made you feel like a whore and a saint at the same time. Your pussy clenched around nothing, still writhing in spasms.

Joel collapsed onto the bed next to you, breathing heavily, his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“Fuck me…this was…fuck,” he muttered incoherently. 

You chuckled softly as you tried to catch your breath, “Yeah.”

Joel pulled you into his arms and kissed your forehead. “Best mistake I ever made.”

You looked at him sideways, reaching up to his lips and whispering, “But if it feels so good… is it really a mistake?” before giving him a little kiss.

Joel smiled, craning his neck to return the kiss. You felt his smile on your lips.

“Maybe not,” he replied, winking. 

The storm outside was passing and so was the one in your heart. 

npt for the people who showed interest in this wip: @milla-frenchy @broad-shouldrs @604to647 @missadangel @sawymredfox @mcthsman @peepawmiller @baronessvonglitter thank you so much for reading❤️

[yummylavender-soap]

having his mouth pressed against my ear and moaning "good girl, good fucking girl" while he fucks me through my orgasm. bonus: him telling me to "take it", in time with his thrusts, as he fucks me through his orgasm... yeah give it to me please.

the horny hour has struck (•̀ᴗ•́ )و

[deathgasmic]

cursed with "do you still like me?" "are you mad at me?" "did i do something wrong?" disorder

[godmadeaterribleerror]

needed me

✦Bucky Masterlist - Main Masterlist - Read on aO3!✦

✦summary: you can't stand bucky barnes. despite all your attempts to get rid of him, he's always somewhere in your orbit. you say you hate it. hate him. but you're also a very good liar.✦

✦warnings/tags: bucky barnes x female!reader, college!au, frat!bucky, no use of y/n, mutual pining, rivals to lovers but the rivalry is one-sided, no description of reader (pictures for aesthetic only), fluff, angst, love confessions, bucky being a yearner, plot to earn porn, feral level smut, (teasing, stripping, nipple play, praise kink and degradation kink, soft dom!bucky, mean bucky but you're into it, possiveness, dacryphila, pussy spanking, brat!reader, fingering, manhandling, doggy style, dumbification, big dick bucky, p in v sex, creampie), soft!bucky outside of smut✦

✦wc: 9.2k✦

✦Author's Note: one day I'll just write porn without plot. today is not that day. we earn the horny. Enjoy!✦

You’ve gotten used to him. He’s like a fly that lives in your kitchen, and after a while you stop trying to kill it and just give it a name. It buzzes past your head and you swat at it, but it also sits on the window and you pretend it isn’t there.

Bucky Barnes laughs loudly from the table over, and you turn up the music in your headphones.

Telling him to be quiet never works in your favor. He smirks and tries to flirt with you. All his friends oooooo, like you’re still in middle school, then cause even more noise after you reject Barnes and they jump him like a pack of animals.

If you were smarter, you’d sit all the way in the corners of the cafeteria. Where there wouldn’t be a table big enough to fit all of them.

Something tells you they’d find a way to invade your space anyway. It’s one of their traits.

Pissing you off.

You’ve studied them. The little pack—or maybe pride—of frat boys that  Barnes belongs to. It’s a good exercise. Field studying a microculture. You have a whole corner of your mind that’s devoted just to how they behave.

How Barnes behaves, with his pride. If his behavior changes. How it effects his values and actions.

You tell yourself that’s why you tolerate him. He interests you.

A very shiny fly.

You’d been in the same freshman orientation group. Barnes had been one of those boys that you’d long written off—since about middle school, when they’re started cropping up—with his styled hair, proud smile, and natural ease that flowed through the whole room. You don’t  remember much from the actual group—the leader had pissed you off by talking like you were a kindergartener, but most people pissed you off—but at the time, you thought you wouldn’t have to.

It hadn’t seemed unreasonable to think that you’d never see these people again. The girls who you were nice to, but didn’t have anything in common with. The lanky boy who’d tried hitting on all of you, and struck out every time. The… others.

And Barnes.

He’d been charm personified. A sweet cake made out of chivalry and smooth words. You’d walked into the room and thought he was pretty. You’d walked out and thought he was gorgeous.

But that had been fine. Because you’d thought you’d never see him again.

And he hasn’t stopped buzzing around you since.

You’re in separate majors, separate lives, but every single GenEd class you take, Barnes is there. Freshman semester it had been your philosophy class, and you’d had to give a presentation together. You’d done most of the work. Barnes had tried to help, but he was bad at it, so he’d mostly just sat there flirting with you and looking pretty.

“I think man is inherently evil.” He said, grinning at you from the library table.

You snorted. “Of course you do.”

“Yeah, that’s- Is that not what our presentation is about?”

Barnes leaned over you, peering at the computer. His body radiated warmth. You hadn’t touched anyone in a while. You’d almost leaned in him, and he never had to know that.

“Nature versus nurture.” He read from the screen. His tongue flicked over his lips. “Uh- I thought we were supposed to be talkin’ about good versus evil, doll.”

“This is good versus evil.” You muttered. “I’m arguing that all people are good until taught to be otherwise.”

“But- You don’t actually believe that-“

“Yes, I do.”

Barnes snorted. “Yeah. You think everyone is good.”

That made you look up. His attention—so close and heated—made you feel all strangely fuzzy.

You ignored it.

You were going to get very good at that.

“I do think everyone is good.” You snapped.

“You hate everyone-“

“I do not hate everyone. I-“ Your face burned, as he’d just kept staring at you “I don’t.”

Barnes smirked, looking you up and down like you were some kind of fuzzy bunny. “Alright.”

“You’re still looking at me-“

“I gotta look at you to talk to you-“

“Not like that-“

“Like what?”

“Like you- You don’t believe me.”

He shrugged, his smirk widening. You thought about punching him in his smug, beautiful face, but decided that wouldn’t help your case.

“Whatever.” You turned back to your computer with a scowl.

Barnes leaned forward, saying your name far too gently. “Hey, I was just joking-“

“Really? I hadn’t been able to tell.”

He sighed. “If this- If it’s important to you that I believe you-“

“It’s not.”

It had been. For some reason, Bucky thinking that you really hated everyone had itched. You slept poorly that night. Stared at the ceiling with thoughts that tumbled and ripped over each other like a river.

He got under your skin. He’s always gotten under your skin.

After philosophy was theology. He sat next to you in every class, bugging you and trying to invite you to study.

“We work well together-“

“No we don’t.”

“C’mon, doll, we got that A before-“

“I got that A.” You shot him glare. “You stood there like a pretty statue, and bumped us down to an A-.”

Barnes wasn’t been fazed. You remember thinking he’d gotten hotter over winter break. Something in his eyes had started to shine, and he might’ve gotten a new product for his hair. It had smelled like thick, spicy fruit. He still wore it today.

It made you want to throttle him more.

“You think I’m pretty?”

He leaned forward, and that smell had flooded your senses. It was like a second hand high.

Barnes licked his lips. He looked down to yours.

You had to rip your gaze away.

“Shut up.”

He laughed. It sounded more like a sigh.

When he turned back to his own notes, you took a deep breath through your nose. 

He always smelled so good.

And he was always so handsome. And charming. If you didn’t have your wits, you would’ve been dragged into his little den a long time ago. If you weren’t so careful with every place you stepped, you would’ve stumbled into his chest and let him sweep you off your feet like some damsel in distress.

He’s there for Spanish, both semesters of Sophomore year.

The first one, you saw a girl drop him off in class and watched them make out in the doorway. It was sloppy and loud. A few of Bucky’s little pride members had whooped when he walked inside, smirking and wiping his mouth.

You felt sick, and didn’t let yourself think about why.

The second one had been Spanish and arts. A painting class, where he’d made you a butterfly off of your spirit.  

“Look.” He showed it to you with a proud grin. “It’s got your eyes.”

You squinted at it. It did. In an almost shocking resemblance.

“I didn’t know you could paint.” You muttered.

Barnes shrugged. “My best friend is in art school. We’ve known each other forever, I picked up a few things. Nothing big.”

You nodded, looking down at your own—relatively shit—butterfly. It had been more of a bat. You’ll dump it in the trash and start over in hour later.

“Stevie,” you mumbled absentmindedly.

“I- Yeah. How’d you know that.”

“You told me.” You glared at him under your eyelashes. “I listen.”

Barnes stared at you as if you’d just told him he was destined to be a king. It made you a little dizzy.

“And it’s good.” You muttered, against your will.

When Bucky looked at you, a lot of  coherent thoughts tended to… Become lacking.

“Yeah.” He breathed, his ears turning red. “It- It is.”

You blinked. “Well, go turn it in, then.”

“What?”

“The butterfly.”

“The-“ He sat a little taller, his fingers curling on the paper. “Oh. Right.”

“Right.” You frowned. “What were you talking about-“

“Nothing. It’s- Nothing.” He stared at his butterfly with an odd expression, smoothing the edges with careful fingers.

Bucky always moved his fingers so carefully. Like everything he touched was glass. It makes you wonder how he’d touch a soft body below him, though he never gets to know that.

“You want this?”

“The-“

“I’m not turnin’ it in.” He held out the butterfly. “It’s for you.”

You stared at the butterfly. At Bucky.

An image of him wiping his mouth and laughing with his pride flashed through your head. It seared some kind of hole in your heart.

“I don’t think your girlfriend would like you giving drawings to other girls.” You muttered. The words had tasted bitter.

Barnes hadn’t seemed able to tell.

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” He said, giving you another strange look. “I’ve never had a girlfriend.”

You scoffed. “Please-“

“I have fun.” Barnes cut you off, lips twitching. “You know, doll. Fun?”

“I know fun.”

“Uh huh-“

“Stop doing that, I do-“

“Never seen you have it.”

“That’s- I don’t have it with you.”

You spat the words, and Bucky flinched back like you’d flung acid. He blinked, and you swallowed. You hadn’t meant for it to be so loud. To sound so harsh.

“James-“

“It’s fine.” He muttered, looking back to his paper. “I just- If you ever-“

He cut himself off, glaring down at nothing. He shook his head, nostrils flaring slightly.

You’d never seen him look like that before. You hadn’t liked it.

“Whatever.” He sighed. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

And you nodded weakly. To this day you’re not sure what happened.

But you know Bucky had left the butterfly out on the table, after class.

You know it’s still in your bag, folded neatly and tucked safely. You pull it out sometimes to stare at it.

It’s better, really. Not to think about why.

Junior year was the community internship. Again, you and Bucky were in the same class. He bothered you, same as always, but always seemed to have some girl sticking to his side. They barely even seemed to see you.

All you could ever see was them. Running their hands over his broad chest and kissing the stubble he’d been growing. One bit his nose and your hands curled into fists.

You wondered if he made any of them butterflies.

You decide that he doesn’t. He’s only known them a handful of weeks, and he knew you for years.

“We gotta go down the library tomorrow,” he told you. You shrugged.

“I can go myself.”

Barnes frowned. “It’s not in a good part of town, you shouldn’t go alone.”

“I carry pepper spray-“

“That’s not enough.”

You sighed, giving him an exasperated look. “Fine. I’ll bring Brock.”

Barnes stiffened. You’d never seen him stand so tall. “Who’s Brock.”

“He’s in our class? He has been, all semester-“

“You talkin’ about Rumlow?”

You nodded. Barnes worked his jaw, looking off the side and huffing a low laugh.

“What-“

“You’re not goin’ with Rumlow.”

Your mouth fell open. “You don’t get to tell me that-“

“I know.” Barnes crossed his arms. “But I am.”

That had made you feel all gooey, in a very low part of you tummy. You’d gotten good at making sure Bucky didn’t see it.

“Fuck you, James-“

“He’s a dick.” Barnes didn’t waver. “He got kicked out of the frat, you know how big a piece of shit you gotta be for that to happen?”

You paused.

Fuck, that was a good point.

You hated it when he made good points.

“Fine.” You grumble, looking down to your phone. “You got with Natasha.”

Natasha. She’d managed to stick to Bucky longer than the others. She was gorgeous, and smart. You wished she was a bitch, too. It would make her a lot easier to hate.

You thought Bucky would jump at the chance to get one on one with her. They could fuck in the car after, and before, and you could drink yourself to sleep imagining it.

“No. I’m goin’ with you.”

You stick out your tongue. “Well, I’m not going with you.”

“Huh. Guess no one’s going then.”

You’d looked up with a glower. Barnes had raised his brows in challenge. He knew you’d cave. Knew you wouldn’t just let something slip through the cracks because of a petty fight.

He knew you.

You hated him.

“Fuck you.”

“You said that already.” He muttered. “And I’m not holding my breath.”

You blinked. “Wha-“

“I’ll pick you up at noon tomorrow.”

He walked away. You didn’t remember how to move for five minutes.

He asked you about Brock the next day. Like he was checking on you. Like he cared.

You don’t let yourself think he does. You’ve reminded yourself of that over and over, since Freshman year.

Bucky doesn’t care about you, so you’re allowed not to care about him. It’s necessary. Important to survival.

Because you’ve studied his kind. You’ve studied him.

Frat boys. In their natural habitat—the college campus—they’re apex predators. They’re loud because they don’t have to worry about being quiet. Most of them are here on athletics scholarships, so they care about that more than their actual classes. The ones who aren’t are rich, and never learned to worry about anything.

They have a lot of sex. They get girlfriends, then cheat on them. Your roommate Wanda knows a lot of people—she’s in a lot of clubs—so you’ve heard all the stories. Seen a few firsthand, or overheard crying in bathrooms. Everyone keeps dating and fucking them because they’re hot and athletic and rich, and you’re all young and stupid.

“It’s fun to make bad choices.” Wanda’s told you. “While we’re still young enough that it doesn’t matter.”

But you don’t make bad choices.

Ever.

You don’t understand that philosophy at all. Why make a bad choice when you could make a good one. Why risk someone curb stomping your heart when you could just… not.

Second semester of junior year, you take a public speaking class with Bucky. He comes up to you in the cafeteria, his pride just as loud as always.

“Hey,” he says your name, standing at the other end of the table. You don’t look up from your computer.

“Hi.”

“You got the homework for public speaking?”

“Yes.”

Barnes clears his throat, drumming his fingers. “You gonna share it with me?”

“It’s online, James.”

He’s silent for a moment, and you look up.

He’s staring at you, the expression on his face unreadable. You almost ask if he’s okay.

“I know that.” He says, rubbing the back of his neck.

You cross your arms. “Did you.”

“Yeah.” He throws you that charming grin. You hate that it still makes you think he’s beautiful. “I was asking if you wanted help with it.”

“If I wanted… Help?”

Barnes didn’t read the quiet, bubbling fury in your tone. He never does.

“Yeah, I was thinking you could come over, practice on me, you know. I’m a very good audience.”

You narrowed your eyes. Barnes kept grinning, and you wonder if he actually thought this was going to work.

“I don’t need your help.”

He deflated slightly. But he didn’t give up.

You’ve never known him to before. You shouldn’t have expected that he would now.

“Maybe I need your help?”

“You always need my help.”

Bucky snorted. “Yeah, you got no idea.”

“What’s that supposed to mean-“

“You wanna come over Thursday?”

“No.”

“Alright, I’ll go to you-“

“I’m working Thursday.”

Bucky paused. “You got a job?”

You nodded. He frowned.

“Where?”

“Corner store.”

His frown deepened. “That’s not safe.”

You scoffed. “Okay, dad-“

“You’re working late, it’s not-“

“I’ve been fine.”

“But what about when you’re not-“

“But I am-“

“I know you are now, but-“ He ran a hand over his face, his voice dropping with frustration.

It always went right to your core, when that happened. You wished it didn’t.

“What about when you’re not?” He demanded. “We live in a city, what about when someone does a holdup and you’re the cashier-“

“Why do you care.”

Bucky went still. He opened his mouth closed it, and gave that tight shake of his head that you know means something, but can never figure out what.

“What corner store.” He grunts.

“Fifth and twenty, why-“

“We’re studying while you work.”

Your mouth fell open. “No-“

“Yeah. Or- I’m studying. There.”

“I can kick you out-“

“You won’t.”

He walked away. And you hate him. You hate that you know he’s sleeping with Natasha—and who knows who else—and that makes you want to sink your teeth into his neck like some kind of claim. You hate that you are going to let him. You hate that he knows you so well he starts fucking things in the homework up on purpose, just so you stop pretending not to pay attention and study with him.

You hate how warm he is sitting next to you.

You hate that you don’t shove him away, and you feel colder when he’s gone.

He came over to work every night for the rest of the semester. You’re sure he had better things to do, but he doesn’t do them.

Bucky sat its behind the counter with you, and does homework. He did funny voices while practicing his speeches, and brushed his hand over the back of your knee whenever he stood up.

You shivered every time. A smug look flashed over his face.

He made you giggle.

You hate him for that, too.

And Wanda’s told you to make the bad choice.

Everyone tells you to make the bad choice.

Wanda had became good friends with Natasha. You try not to feel any way about it—Natasha, who’s touched what you’ve never allowed yourself to reach for—but then Wanda asks if she can move in, and you get sick.

You say yes. You won’t be one of those girls who holds those kinds of grudges.

Natasha moves in when summer vacation starts. And she’s lovely. You hate that she’s lovely. She’s cool and interesting and has pretty hair.

You wonder if Bucky liked running his fingers through it. You lie on the floor of the bathroom and refuse to cry about it, just staring up at the ceiling.

For the first time, you don’t have a class with him. It’s making you choke on clean air, because there’s this spicy, intoxicating fruit smell that’s supposed to be there, and it’s not, and you’re detoxing on a drug you never even got to take.

“My boyfriends coming over tonight.” Natasha tells you and Wanda one night.

Black spots dance in front of your vision. Faraway, you hear yourself say that’s fine.

It is not fine.

Bucky’s going to be here, and he’s going to be kissing Natasha in front of you, and that shouldn’t matter but it does, it does, it does.

But when Natasha’s boyfriend comes over, it’s not Bucky.

It’s Sam.

You know Sam. He’s one of the nice members of Bucky’s pride. He and Bucky are close. He’s always lingering in the background, laughing while you verbally impale Bucky and clapping his friend on the back when he walks it off. He and Bucky shared a room sophomore year. They go to baseball games together and eat five hotdogs every time.

You can’t think of any facts about Sam that aren’t related to Bucky.

And Sam kissed Natasha. And you stood there stupidly, certain that you really must have missed something.

“Oh,” Sam said when he saw you. “You’re Bucky’s girl.”

You stammered. Said a lot of babbling words you don’t really remember, while Sam gave Natasha an amused look. Natasha shrugged, light dancing behind her eyes.

Neither of them feel like elaborating that. No one ever does. There are just passive comments that make you more confused, like Wanda casually mentioning how you really should try going after Barnes and Natasha telling you that Sam asked her out after she and Bucky fizzled.

“We never really got started, though.” She mused. “His heart wasn’t in it. He even told me that, but-“ She laughed breathily. “You know. You think you’re going to be the girl that makes them settle, then you wake up and realize that you’re better with someone who actually wants that. With you.”

You blinked at her. You did not know how it was. You’ve had… affections for one person your entire college career, and you’ve known that he’d never settle with you.

There’s no point in telling Natasha that. With the glint in her eyes, you’re sure she already knows.

“He talked about you all the time,” she told you casually on another day. “God, it was so annoying, but-“ She looked you up and down. It always made you flush. “I get it.”

And people had been doing that a lot, lately. Telling you how much Bucky talks about you. Making little comments you think you’re supposed to understand, but you don’t.

Sam invites Bucky to go out with you guys, because Nat invited him. No one asked for your approval. They probably knew you would never have given it.

“You look nice.” Bucky muttered in the car.

Your thighs were pressed together, your shoulder bumped whenever the car rattled, and you had to keep yourself locked up to not melt into him.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” He sighed. “It’s, uh- weird, right? Us not having a class together.”

You hummed. It was. It made the whole world tilt off it’s axis. Bucky didn’t get to know that.

“You know, I still got homework.”

You frowned up at him. “Okay.”

Bucky cleared his throat, and rubbed the back of his neck. “And, uh- I don’t have a study partner anymore.”

“You’ll find one.” You grumbled. There’s that acid again, stinging on your tongue.

He will. He’s Bucky. There will be a line of people clamoring to have his attention, because you’ve been stealing it for far too long and everyone wants a taste of that spicey, calming fruit-

“I’m still free most nights.” He said, looking straight ahead. “You still work at the corner store?”

You blinked.

Oh.

“Yeah. I do.”

Bucky nodded. His lips twitched. “Okay.”

And sure enough, he’s there on Monday. It’s strange talking about classes you’re not taking, but it makes you want to strangle him less.

Although you haven’t wanted to strangle him in a while. You’ve mostly wanted his hand around your throat, pinning you below him, touching you until everything is just floating light.

“You look tired.” He said. Something in his voice was too casual. Like he was weighing every word.

“I am tired.”

“You been eating enough?”

“I’m eating right now-“

“I brought you food.” He fixed you with a stern glare.

It made you feel all kinds of breathless and gooey.

That night you’ll lie in bed with your fingers between your legs. They’re not thick enough, slipping right in and out of your pussy with no relief. Bucky’s fingers would be bigger.

 “I would’ve eaten anyway.” You grumbled, watching some teenagers move around the drink aisle.

Bucky chuckled. “Sure, doll.”

Your cheeks heated. You went over when the teenagers started shouting about the store not having the right drinks, but you had to stand on wobbly knees.

Bucky hasn’t called you doll in years.

It felt different now. It felt like it matters. 

You’re not going to do the stupid thing. It didn’t matter how much Wanda pushed you into it, or how many comments Nat made about Bucky not sleeping around anymore. You’ve gotten this far. You graduate in the spring. And Bucky will just always be a warm memory you worship between your legs.

He left his folder at the store last night. You thought about giving it to him next time he dropped in, but then Natasha said she was going to his place for some party and you figured you could hitch a ride.

Not because you wanted to see him sooner. Nat made a comment about that, that teasing smirk over her lips.

You ignored her. You’re very good at it now.

The party is raging, when you arrive. It’s loud, so loud. You’ve stepped into the frat boy den, and it aligns with your every study. Hot, sweaty bodies grinding into each other, music you can feel in your ribs, drinks being poured and clicked open. So much noise. So many people.  

“Go find Bucky!” Nat whispers in your ear, and you swallow.

“Where do you think he is- Nat-“

She’s already gone. You have to go find Bucky alone.

You think it’s going to be an impossible quest. There are so many people you’re sure it’s a fire hazard, you don’t know anyone but Sam and Nat—who are sucking face in the corner and no fucking help at all—and if you ask someone random to help you find Bucky, you’re going to get mocked about it.

Weird girl was asking for you, Barnes. Knew you wouldn’t care.

You bite the inside of your cheek, spinning around for any possible direction that might take you to Bucky.

He finds you first.

“You’re here!” Bucky calls your name, and you almost jump out of your skin. “Thought you’d never be here!”

You stumble a little as he collapses over you. He’s heavy, his eyes glossy and unfocused, and you’ve never seen him smiling so wide. He stops you from falling with an arm around your waist, and your breath catches.

“I’m here.” You whisper. “I- I have your folder-“

“Shhh.” Bucky drops his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “Don’t talk ‘bout my school.”

“I-“

“You can talk about your school.” He presses further over you. Backing you against the counter, his fingers digging into your hips. “Love it when you talk about stuff. ‘S smart.”

“Thanks.” You look off to the side, trying to see if anyone is watching.

Bucky grabs your jaw and turns it back. You almost whimper at the intensity in his gaze. You’ve never seen it so great, and you’ve seen it a lot.

“You’re here.” He mumbles. “In m’ house.”

“I needed to drop something off.”

Your voice is soft, but Bucky’s whole face falls.

“You’re not stayin’?”

“I- I don’t-“ 

You stumble, and realize you’ve grabbed the collar of his shirt. You’re already trying to stop him from moving away, even thought you know you shouldn’t.

“There’s a lot people.” You breathe. “I don’t like crowds.”

Bucky blinks. You could swear his eyes clear slightly, even if his grip on you tightens.

“Alright.” He gives that strange little nod. “C’mon.”

“Come- James-“

You squeal as he picks you up. Scoops you into his arms like you weigh nothing. And you knew he was strong, but you’ve never felt it.

Feeling it is dangerous. It makes you want that strength everywhere. Pinning you down and slamming into you, making your head nice and empty as you feel him everywhere.

“You’re drunk, be careful-“

“’M not that drunk.”

“You’re slurring-“

“I’m buzzed.” He says the words more clearly. Like he wants you to hear that he can. “Not drunk. I won’t drop you.”

You grunt, wrapping your arms tight around his neck. He gives you a tiny smile.

“You’re here.”

He says it like he can’t believe it.  Like it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. He’s beaming like he adores you.

You can’t help yourself from smiling in return.

“Yeah. I am.”

Bucky’s grin gets impossibly wider. He kisses your cheek, messy and quick.

It’s like being shocked by lightning. Your heart does a flip in your chest, and you hold onto him a little tighter.

“James-“

“Y’know, you’re the only person I let call me James.” He reaches the top of the stairs, the music dulled by the distance.

The only drum left in your chest is your heartbeat. You wish he’d stop looking at you like that. It’s dangerous.

“You- You never told me you didn’t want me to.”

He hums. “You ever hear anyone else call me that?”

“I- Um-“

“One time a girl tried.” He pulls open a door. “Made me more into it, she got real excited.”

There it is. That toxic curl of jealousy in your gut.

“James-“

“Then I called your name with my dick inside her. Think that ruined it.”

Bucky says it lazily. Like it doesn’t change your whole life.

“What?” You squeak.

He just grins, slowly lowering you down his body.

“I call your name when I have sex.”

“I- I- Why-“

“’Cause I love you.”

“James-“ Your voice cracks, and tears are burning at your eyes.

You’re confused. So confused. You came over with a folder and a mission to be in and out. Your walls had been just as spiked and guarded as always, and maybe Bucky’s been able to slip through a few times, but you’ve learned how to not let that matter. Because it didn’t matter to him.

But now he’s saying this.

And you’re in what has to be his room, sitting on his mattress. If you weren’t so drunk on whatever’s happening, you’d be scanning around. You’d be studying how Bucky keeps his own space, because it’s another thing you’d get to have about him.

Instead, all you can see it Bucky kneeling in front of you. The impossible softness on his face. The lips that he’s licking again. The thick arms, keeping you sitting on the edge of his bed.

You say the only thing you can think of. The only thing that gets you out of here with your heart intact.

“You don’t mean it.”

Bucky doesn’t even flinch.

“I do.”

“You’re drunk-“

“I’m uninhibited.” His eyes shine. “You taught me that word.”

“James-“

“Hmm.”

He leans forward, tilting his head slightly. Your breath catches. You can feel the heat of his breath over your face. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world.

“Freshman year.” He murmurs. He won’t stop staring at you, that soft smile on his lips. “You were so bossy and mean to me.”

You flush deeper. “You- You were annoying-“

“I liked workin’ you up.”

“That’s mean.”

“Got me your attention.” He mumbles. “Otherwise you woulda just ignored me.”

You swallow. “I still tried to ignore you.”

“I know.” He shrugs. “But you didn’t. You’re not as mean as you wanna be. ‘S why I love you.”

Tears burn behind your eyes. “Please stop saying that-“

“But I mean it.”

“You can’t mean it.” Your voice cracks slightly. “It- It’s not fair if you mean it now.”

He frowns again. It’s adorable. Like he’s really worried about you. “What’d you mean, now?”

“I- I mean you won’t mean it in the morning.” You whisper. “And that won’t be fair.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

It’s all you can say. You haven’t even been able to tell yourself the reason, you’re certainly not telling Bucky first.

“’Cause why?” Bucky’s lips twitch. He leans forward until your noses bump. “Why do you care?”

You blink. And you can see it in his eyes.

The challenge.

Why do you care.

Of course you fucking care. You always care. It’s Bucky, it doesn’t matter how hard you tried, you’ve never been able to not care, and now you’re in his room, on his bed, and he’s saying things and looking at you like- Looking at you like-

Your brain short circuits, and it sparks in your core.

Your body moves.

Bucky grunts when you grab his face and drag him into a kiss. It’s quick and rough. A sudden slam of mouths together with no plan or real fire. He doesn’t kiss you back.

When you pull back, you’re sure you’re going to cry. You’re panting, your lips wobbling, and Bucky’s just staring at you.

“I- I’m sorry.” You shrink back. He can’t see you cry. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have- I’ll go-“

Bucky almost lurches. He dives over you like an animal, and before you know what’s happening, you’re kissing again.

Really kissing.

The way you’d always pictured it, in the greatest privacy of your mind and room. Hidden under the covers so no one could see the shame of how deeply you imagined it.

Bucky’s lips moving against yours. That tongue flicking over your lips before he nips on your lower lip, and grins at your moan.

This is that, and better. Because he’s really here. He tastes a little like liquor, but mostly like mint and something that’s purely Bucky. You’re being pressed backwards into the mattress, Bucky moving up until he’s caging you to the mattress. His knees braced over your waist, his chest pushed against yours, his hands wandering and grabbing every bit of you that he can reach.

Rough fingers slip under your shirt, teasing your sides. You gasp into his mouth, and Bucky groans.

“Ja- James-“

“I know.” He mumbles. “Wanna take care of you, doll.”

“Mhmm.” You whine in a half protest. It’s hard to think with one massive hand mapping every curve of your body, and the other sliding up to grab your neck.

Bucky tips your head back, and hums in satisfaction, when you willingly open your mouth to deepen the kiss.

“Please lemme take care of you.” He rasps. He sounds like a man wrecked.

And who are you to tell him no?

“Oh- Okay- Oh!”

Bucky doesn’t waste time. He pulls back with something like clarity in his eyes, licks his lips, and runs a large hand fully up your side. You arch into the touch with a soft gasp, eyes fluttering shut. He wraps around your breast, groaning as his thumb flicks over your perked nipple.

“No bra, hm?”

“Didn’t- Didn’t think I’d be here for more than five minutes-“

“Or you were hopin’ you’d be here.” He teases, smirking down at you. “Right here.”

He pinches your nipple, rolling it between expert fingers. You toss your head back with a moan. Bucky chuckles.

“Yeah, that’s right. This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it doll.”

“N- No-“

Your words fall off into a whine as Bucky yanks his hand away. You grab his wrist, trying to drag it back, but he’s too strong.

“Wha- What’re you doing-“

“If you’re gonna tell me you don’t want this.” He shrugs, soothing the edge of your shirt like it’s a blanket. “I’m not gonna do it.”

“But- But I do want it.” You squeeze his wrist, pouting as tears start to gather in your eyes.

Bucky clicks his tongue. He’s moved on to soothing out your hair.

“Bucky, please-“

“Please what?”

He grabs your cheek, forcing your gaze onto his. Heat floods your core at the possessive motion, and your legs fall open. Bucky’s attention flicks down, but he doesn’t waver.

“You gonna spend the whole time pretending you don’t want me?” He demands, dragging his thumb over your lower lip. “Or are you going to be a good girl and let me have you how I want?”

And you realize what that glint in his eyes means. He’s giving you a choice, for how you want this to go. Soft and sweet, or what he wants to do.

What you want him to do.

You might be drooling. Your grip on his wrist tightens, and you feel a little faint. Every fantasy you’ve ever had is above you. You just have to grab it.

“I didn’t come here tonight for this.” You breathe out, testing the waters.

Bucky’s nostrils flare. His plants a hand on your hip, pinning you down to the mattress.

“You didn’t, huh.”

You shake your head. Bucky’s tongue flicks over his lips.

“You need me to show you what you want?” He’s using a low tone that rushes right to your pussy.

You nod, slowly trying to press your thighs back together. There’s too much pressure, you need a way to relieve it.

Bucky grabs your knee and shoves it back open, and you squeak in elated surprise.

“I’ll be good to you, doll.” He mutters, rubbing the inside of your thigh. His knuckles brush near your pussy, and you clench around nothing. “Show you exactly what you need.”

“You- You don’t know what I need-“

Bucky crashes back down, kissing you into the mattress with brutal, unrelenting force. Your arms fly around his neck and he groans, dropping his hips down over yours.

“Yeah, I do.” He says against your lips, rutting down. Forcing you to feel the push of his bulge against your clothed core. “And you fuckin’ know it.”

God, you do. You don’t have a single question of it.

Bucky pulls away, and you grumble in protest, trying to reach up and drag him back far another kiss. Just that is enough for you to feel like you’re in Heaven.

But Bucky swats your hands away, giving you a stern look.

“No touching.”

He starts to pull you shirt over your head, and you scowl.

“You’re touching-“

“I,” Bucky leans down to kiss over the valley of your breasts, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Can do whatever the hell I want to you. Isn’t that right, babydoll.”

He must be putting a spell over you. You nod dazedly, and Bucky laughs. His lips wrap around your nipple, sucking and flicking the little bud like it’s candy. The sensation makes you restlessly needy, the heat between your legs only building and building.

“Buh- Bucky- Oooh-“

There’s an extra, strong little flick that only makes you think of what his mouth is going to be able to down where you need him.

“Fuck- James-“

Bucky groans, biting down softly. Your hips buck with delight, and your whine when he shoves them back down.

“C’mon.” He mutters, slowly kissing back to the other breast. “Keep still.”

You make an incoherent noise, but you try. You really do try.

Bucky wiggles down your pants and underwear without taking his mouth from your breasts, and you force yourself to keep still. Cold air doesn’t even hit your cunt, because he’s so folded over you. Trapping all the frictionless heat between your bodies, letting his covered cock drag against your core whenever he moans and ruts, but never offering anything else.

“More.” You breathe, eyes squeezed shut in frustration. “James, I- I need more-“

You moan as Bucky bites your breast again. He kisses over the hurt, humming lazily.

“Thought you didn’t know what you need.”

You shake your head, legs falling further open. “I- I need you- Bucky I need you-“

“Where’d you need me.” He kisses just under your breast. “’Cause I’m here. Touchin’ you.”

He grabs your thigh, rubbing it slowly back and forth. You try to arch off the bed, but you can’t get an inch out from under him.

“Touch- Touch me more.” You gasp out. “I need you to touch me more, I- I don’t care how, just- Touch me-“

You cry out, as Bucky brushes his thumb over your clit. He repeats the featherlight motion once more, then twice. It’s too much and not nearly enough. Your pussy is weeping, but Bucky just grazes you clit like he’s wiping something off your cheek.

“What a needy girl.” He coos against your skin, kissing along the side of your breast. Up to your neck. “You’re even more reactive than I thought you’d be, sweetheart. And I thought,” he presses his thumb down hard, and you scream.“You’d be plenty reactive.”

Tears push at your eyes, from frustration and humiliation. You’re being pathetic, you’ve dogwalked him the whole time you’ve known him and suddenly you’re a flushed, begging disaster below him.

Bucky sucks a dark spot on your neck, and you moan. His thumb drags between the lips of your pussy and teases over your hole. It’s gone as soon as it gets there, and the sound you make is downright undignified.

“You want to swallow me, don’t you.” Bucky nips at your ear. “Dirty fuckin’ slut.”

Oh, no. That shouldn’t turn you on so much.

“I- I’m not-“

“Yes, you are.” Bucky kisses along your jaw. “Say it, doll.”

You shake your head. Bucky repeats the slow drag, this time swapping for his middle finger, and pushing slightly into your cunt.

“Bucky- Fuck-“

Your arms fly up to grab him. Bucky leans up and fixes you with a stern glare.

“No touching.”

You whimper, but pull back away. You fist the sheets, splaying your body out in the hope it’ll make him you faster.

And it almost works. Bucky’s brow works and he slowly traces up the curve of your waist. Your breathing shutters, as he traces the outline of a love bite on your breast. His finger twists, and the pad of it presses right into the entrance of your pussy.

Bucky meets your glossy eyes, and his jaw clenches. There are big, fat tears welling up.

His voice drops to something soft. “Are you still-“

“Yes.” You push your chest up, trying to give him a better view of your breasts. “Please.”

Bucky nods to himself. He leans fully over you, searching your gaze, and slowly starts to push his finger into your pussy.

Your breath catches. Your eyes flutter, and Bucky grabs your cheeks.

“Eyes stay on me.”

He’s not asking. You don’t want him to. You moan and nod weakly, watching him under tear stained lashes. He slowly pulls his finger out, then drives it back in a little faster. He’s a lot bigger than your own hand is. Everything about him is bigger. You’re worried you’re going to die on his cock.

“You like that,” Bucky coos, squeezing your cheeks slightly. “Look at you, gettin’ so worked up over just a finger.”

You give him a pleading look, and he chuckles, leaning down to kiss your puckered lips.

“You get two when you tell me you’re my dirty little slut.”

You clench down around him, and Bucky groans, pushing in a little deeper.

He finds the spongey spot that makes your vision go all blurry. Your mouth falls open in a long moan, and bucky raises his brows.

“There it is. That’s what a wanna see.”

He pushes harder against it. You squeeze around him again, breath coming in pants.

“Who’s owning this pussy, baby, huh?” Bucky’s eyes bore into yours, and the hot shame pricks more and more over your skin.

You think a waterfall might be coming out of your cunt. The wet sounds as Bucky finger fucks you certainly seem like proof.

You can’t form a full answer. You gape at him, rolling your hips in tiny movements to try and chase a little bit more.

Buckly yanks his finger out of your pussy, lands a harsh smack on your clit, then shoves them right back in. It’s an overwhelming, electric feeling. The tears burst from your eyes, and you almost reach for him.

“That’s a girl.” He kisses your cheek so sweetly, pumping his finger deep into your soaked cunt. “Keep cryin’ for me, babydoll. Let it out.”

You pull at the sheets, a low hum of pleasure building in your lower stomach. Your head tries to roll to the side, but Bucky keeps it up. His staring just makes everything worse and better.

The deep affection in his eyes as he watches you right on the edge. Trying to claw your way to an orgasm while he keeps you from letting go. There’s no attention being given to your clit, only his finger bumping your g-spot. It’s throbbing from his spanking. You want him to do it again.

“Buh- Bucky-“

“Ah.” He pauses, and you almost scream. “Try again.”

“James.” You whimper, giving him your most pleading eyes.

A smile curves on his lips. “Yeah, babydoll?”

“Do it again.”

It’s less than a whisper. Part of you doesn’t even want him to hear it.

But he does. Of course he does. Surprise flashes over his face for the briefest second, and you think about running away. You shouldn’t have asked. He’s going to say no, it’s going to humiliate you more, and then that’s going to make you cum on his hand and he’ll never look at you again-

“What?” His voice dropped. You’re screwed. “This?”

Bucky pulls back and spanks your pussy again. You sob, nodding as the shock rushing through you again. Bucky licks his lips, leaning back to watch you. He does it again, and you seize up.

“Jesus, you’re spilling everywhere.” He traces two fingers through your pussy, and you clench around nothing. “Messy girl, bet you’re going to fucking squirt on my cock.”

You whimper, and Bucky chuckles.

“I know, sweetheart. But you’re gonna love it, aren’t you.”

He spanks your pussy again. Any thought to protest is drained from your head.

“Ye- Yes.” You cry out.

Bucky smirks, prowling back over your body.

“And?”

You blink at him through the tears. “And?”

“What are you?”

Your breath hitches. Bucky holds up his shiny hand, making a gun motion.

“Two fingers.” He reminds you.

And just like that, you cave.

“I- I’m your dirty-“ You hiccup a little, the tears starting to free flow again. “I’m-“

“Look at me.” He reminds sternly. “Come on, be good-“

“I’m your dirty slut.” You push out, grinding your hips up into Bucky’s knee. “James, I’m yours, I’m your cockslut, please-“

Bucky makes a feral sound from his chest, and you sob in relief when he shoves those two fingers into you cunt. You shudder, eyes rolling back and hips grinding down. Bucky doesn’t try to stop you this time, just groaning as he finger fucks you into oblivion.

“That’s it, that’s my fuckin’ girl.” He scissors his fingers, and you writhe in the sheets. “So pretty on my fingers, bet you’ll look even better when I’m fuckin’ you stupid on my cock.”

You moan. “Yes, oh-  Oh my god- “

Bucky twists his wrist and starts to pummel your g-spot, right as his thumb finds your clit. He rubs it tight circles in time with his thrusts, and presses his lips back over yours. You almost can’t breathe, between the pleasure he’s pulling from you and the demand of his mouth. Your body starts to twitch and go all tight.

“I- I’m gonna- James, I think-“

“I know.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your upper lip. “Show me what you’ve got, baby, come on.”

Your orgasm rushes through you, staring in your tummy and leaking down Bucky’s fingers and through your whole system. He pulls out immediately, landing a few more spanks on your weeping cunt. In the post-orgasm sensitivity, it’s almost too much to take.

You spread your legs and beg for it anyway.

“Demanding, aren’t you.” Bucky mocks. “Want to feel me tomorrow, when you walk around all cool and collected, pretending you weren’t callin’ yourself my cockslut a few hours ago.”

You shake your head, shivering as Bucky rubs your pussy back and forth. “I- I won’t-“

“Won’t what? Keep it a dirty little secret. You want me to spell my fucking name on your face, so everyone knows who this tight little pussy belongs to?”

“Nuh- No-“

“You think you won’t feel me? Doll,” Bucky takes his hand away, and you almost start to cry again before he pushes two thick fingers between your lips.

“Mmmm-“

“That’s right.” He mutters to himself, and you can feel his attention as you clean your own release off his fingers. “Gonna ruin you for everyone else, doll, you won’t be able to fuck anyone without wishin’ it was me.”

You pull him away by his wrist, risking the punishment to give him your best, sexiest doe-eyes.

“Don’t want anyone else.” You say, and Bucky blinks. “Won’t pretend I wasn’t with you. Want everyone to know.”

Bucky’s nostrils flare. He stares, shoulders heaving, and you think he’s going to do the thing again. The one where he pounces over you and makes you beg.

Instead he grabs your hips like he’s steadying himself, and stares at you like you’re the moon.

“Flip over.” He grunts.

You frown. “Wha-“

“Over. Just-“

Bucky flips you onto your stomach like you weight nothing, then drags your ass high in the air. You squeal, grabbing at the sheets and trying to look at him over your shoulder.

A massive hand presses you back into the sheets by your shoulder blades. Probably for the best. Your knees were shaking too much to be steady.

“Stay there.” There’s a clink of metal behind you. He’s taking off his belt. “Need to be inside you. Now.”

“James-“

“Please.”

His voice cracks.

You’re far, far past trying to tell him no.

You flop obediently, and it earns you a soothing stoke over the curve of your ass.

“So pretty.” He says it so soft, you’re not actually sure you’re supposed to hear. “Wanted this for so fuckin’ long, ‘s even better than I imagined.”

Bucky rubs his cock between your pussy lips and you moan, melting into the sheets. Your knees almost drop down. Bucky wraps an arms around your waist and drags you back up.

“I’ve gotcha. There we go.”

He keeps rubbing it, gathering your arousal to make the entrance easier. There’s plenty of it. Even more when his fat head presses against your clit, and you wiggle.

“Done so good for me, babydoll.” His praise shoots straight to your already burning pussy. You try to push yourself higher with a whine. “Already nice and stupid for me, just gotta- Fuuuuck-“

Bucky pushes himself in slowly, and you cry out. 

“Oh- Oh my god-“

It’s good he didn’t let you see him before. He’s big. Stupidly big. You can feel every thick vein, every pulse as you squeeze around him, every inch of Bucky dragging through your tight channel. You sob into the sheets, pushing back to try and take more. You have to take more. You need to take all of him, so when he fucks you he can drive every single fucking thought from your head.

“That’s it.” Bucky groans, pressing his face into the curve of your neck as he bottoms out.

He’s folded over you, fully buried in your pussy, breath hot and heavy. You whimper, trying to adjust to the size of him. Bucky’s arm snakes around you, rubbing your clit lightly. Trying to help you relax.

“You’re so tight, baby.” He rasps, kissing behind your ear. “Best pussy I’ve ever fuckin’ felt.”

“Mmmm.” You tip your head, pressing your cheek into the mattress. “You’re so big.”

“I know. But you’re gonna take it, aren’t you?”

You whimper, and Bucky chuckles. The sound vibrates between your legs, not helping anyone at all.

“Yeah. You are.”

And if Bucky says you are, you are.

He starts by pulling almost fully out, then rolling slowly back in. It goes easier than the first time, but still knocks the air from your lungs. Your eyes roll back. A strangled sound leaves your throat, and Bucky laughs.

“Look at you, silly girl. We’ve barely even started.”

“’S- ‘S a lot-“

“But it’s your my fuckin’ cockslut.” Bucky slams his hips forward, and you scream in pleasure. “You’re the one who said it, remember. My. Fucking. Cockslut.”

He emphasizes each word with another thrust, and soft, caring Bucky is gone. The hot, demanding version is back, and he brought your tears with him.

Bucky fucks into your like an animal, pushing you down into the mattress and forcing an impossibly deep angle. You’re sensitive. So sensitive it almost hurts in the best fucking way.

“Can see your pussy taking me, doll.” Bucky groans, his fingers digging into your hips. “Fucking gorgeous, greedy little thing swallowing this cock whole. Pussy made for me to fuck it.”

You keen, and Bucky laughs.

“Jesus, might tie you up and keep you just like this for me. Crying like a brat when you begged for it, can’t ever figure out what you want without my help, huh?”

You can’t form a strong enough thought to respond. Bucky’s drilling into you, and rubbing over your g-spot with every thrust and filling you up until there’s no space for things like words.

“No mouthy little comebacks?” He mocks. “My smart doll can’t even tell me to go fuck myself?”

“I- Jaaames-“

“Yeah, that’s right.” Bucky almost growls. “I own this pussy now, sweetheart. Gonna cum inside and make you walk around with it dripping out of your cunt, make you scream my name so loud everyone hears.”

You babble, clenching down on his cock. Bucky’s hips stutter slightly.

“Oh you love that. Love the idea of everyone knowing that I just made you my stupid little cockdrunk slut. Fuck-“

Bucky wraps an arm around your waist, hauling you back against his chest. You toss your head onto his shoulder, writhing in his arms as he keeps thrusting up into your pussy. God, you hope the music downstairs is loud enough that they can’t hear, but you also don’t know how they could hear anything else. The whole room is filled with Bucky’s groans and your open sobs.

“Still crying, babydoll?” He kisses over your neck, and you whimper, grabbing at his forearms.

“Can’t- Can’t take it-“

“Yeah, you can.”

You shake your head, tears streaming down your face. “Mh- I’m gonna cum-“

Bucky spanks your clit, and you shriek, arching into his hand.

“Fuckin’ cum, dirty girl, soak this dick like a good girl-“

You scream with this orgasm, thrashing in Bucky’s arms as it completely overtakes your senses. There’s a familiar wet feeling coming out of your pussy and slicking over your ass and thighs. Bucky groans, bending over to kiss you as he keeps your impaled on his cock. He thrusting sharply, chasing his own release. You try to grind down to help him, and he moans right into your ear.

“Wh- Where-“

“In.” You whimper. “In, James, wanna feel you, fuck-“

Bucky groans shamelessly as his cock starts to spurt hot cum over your gooey walls. The sound as he keeps fucking up into you is obscene, his lips over glued over yours as you both ride it out.

You’ve never been so ruined before. You think you might smell of cum and sweat for the rest of your life, and you can’t even bring yourself to mind.

And part of you worries that Bucky’s going to vanish. Kick you out of his room now that he got what he wanted, and break the heart you’d just offered him with shaking hands.

Instead, he kisses you before he pulls out, mumbling that he’ll be right back. He draws a bath and cleans you up, gets you water and wipes the dried tears on your cheeks.

“Too much?” He asks softly, and you can see the real worry in his eyes.

 You shake your head, and offer him a tiny smile.

“Perfect.”

His eyes light up. “Really?”

You giggle. “Yeah.”

Bucky kisses your nose, and you hum happily.

“You’re were perfect too.”

“Thanks.” You breathe.

He pulls back, running a hand through your hair. His eyes soften.

“You still want me to take it back?”

And you almost laugh. Why would you ever possibly want to go back.

“No, thank you.”

Bucky chuckles. “So polite. Think I fucked some manners into you-“

“I had manners-“

“Yeah, but you’re gonna be nice to me now-“

“Don’t hold your breath-“

He shuts you up with a deep kiss. You could get used to it.

“Let me take you out.” He breathes when he’s done, looking at you with unending hope in his eyes. “For real.”

And you wonder.

If it had really been there, the whole time.

“Okay.”

✦End note: i love being so self indulgent with my horniness.✦

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[shadowqueen2024]

Pairing: QZ!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings/Content: 18+ MDNI, Qz!Joel, unestablished relationship (more like friends with benefits), P with minimal plot, rough sex, unprotected piv (wrap it before you use it), fingering, Joel walks in on reader, voyeurism (I think? - Joel watches reader), dirty talk, riding, slight edging. Let me know if I miss any.

Summary: For the last week and a half, Joel has been busy working himself to the bone to get ration cards for the deal he was trying to make with some people through the QZ. This left you feeling hornier by the day, and usually, he'd be able to fuck it right out of you. But now that he's busy again, you decided to take matters into your own hands, unaware that he comes back earlier than expected.

AO3 | Main Masterlist

Ride Him Rough

The silence in your small QZ apartment had become a physical presence, a thick, heavy blanket that smothered every sound but the frantic, desperate beating of your own heart. It had been eleven days. Eleven long, frustrating, cock-starved days since Joel had last touched you, let alone fucked you into the mattress the way you craved.

He was working a deal, something big that promised extra ration cards and a slightly better cut of whatever contraband was making its way through the QZ this month. You were proud of him, of his grit and determination to secure a better life for both of you, but your body didn't give a damn about pride. It only cared about the deep, aching void he’d left behind, especially because he left the two of you high and dry the last time.

Usually, when the tension built up like this, he was there to fuck it right out of you. His calloused hands would grip your hips, his voice would be a low growl in your ear, and the sheer, overwhelming force of him would make you forget your own name, let alone your frustrations. But now, he was gone from dawn till well after dark, collapsing onto the couch with a grunt and a beer before passing out, the scent of grime and sweat clinging to him like a second skin.

Tonight, the ache was particularly bad. It coiled low in your belly, a hot, tight knot of need that made your thighs press together. You’d tried everything—reading a worn-out paperback, organizing your meager pantry, even attempting to mend a hole in your jeans. But every thought circled back to him. The way his dark eyes would darken when he looked at you, the rough texture of his beard against your inner thighs, the thick, heavy weight of his cock filling you so completely it almost hurt.

A frustrated sigh escaped your lips. The apartment felt suffocatingly warm, the air thick and still. With a sense of resignation, you gave in. You couldn't wait any longer.

You shucked off your worn jeans and simple cotton panties, leaving them in a heap on the floor. The cool air of the room kissed your heated skin, raising goosebumps on your arms and legs. Lying back on your narrow bed, you closed your eyes, letting your mind drift. You pictured Joel, his broad shoulders blocking out the dim light of the single bulb overhead, his hands fisted in the sheets on either side of your head.

Your hands began to wander, tracing the familiar landscape of your own body. You cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over the already-pebbled nipples, imagining they were his rougher, more demanding hands. A soft gasp left your lips as you pinched one, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your clit. It was a pale imitation of his touch, but it was something.

Slowly, you let one hand drift down your stomach, the apex of your thighs and finally, your cunt. You were already slick, your body betraying its readiness, its desperate need for him. You spread your legs wider and let your fingers slide through your wet folds.

Your middle finger circled your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. You bit your lip, a small whimper escaping. It felt good, but it wasn't enough. You needed more. You needed the stretch, the fullness. You needed him.

You slid one finger inside yourself, then a second, curling them just so. Your hips began to rock, a slow, languid rhythm that matched the movements of your hand. You pictured Joel above you, his dark eyes locked on yours, his jaw tight with concentration as he drove into you. "That's it, darlin'," you imagined him growling, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your entire body. "Take what you need."

Your movements grew more frantic, the slick sounds of your fingers pumping in and out of your cunt filling the quiet room. Your other hand abandoned your breast to grip the sheets, your knuckles white. You were so close, the coil in your belly tightening to an almost painful degree. You could almost feel him, his weight, his scent, the delicious friction of his cock against your inner walls.

"Just like that," you breathed, the words a ragged whisper. "Joel, please..."

The click of the front door unlocking was so faint you almost missed it, lost as you were in your own pleasure. It wasn't until the heavy tread of combat boots on the creaky floorboards registered that your eyes flew open, your hand freezing mid-motion.

There, leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom, was Joel.

He looked exhausted, his flannel shirt rumpled and stained with the day's grime. But his eyes... his eyes were sharp, alert, and fixed on the hand buried between your legs. He wasn't angry or surprised. He looked… hungry. Predatory. A slow smirk spread across his lips, a sight that sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, so potent it made you dizzy.

"Don't stop on my account," he said, his voice a low, gravelly drawl that sent shivers down your spine. "Looks like you were just gettin' to the good part."

Your breath hitched, a mix of mortification and raw lust warring within you. You should have been embarrassed, scrambling to cover yourself, but the intensity in his gaze held you captive.

He watched you like you were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen, his eyes darkening as they took in the sight of your glistening fingers, your heaving chest, the flush that spread from your cheeks down to your chest.

"Joel," you whispered, his name a prayer on your lips.

"Go on," he commanded, his voice soft but firm. "Show me how you touch yourself when I'm not here. Tell me what you were thinkin' about."

His words gave you the courage you didn't know you possessed. He didn't move from the doorway, just watched, his presence a tangible weight in the room. Slowly, deliberately, you resumed your movements, your eyes locked on his. You slid your fingers back inside your cunt, the wet, obscene sound echoing with the sound of your moans. Your hips began to rock again, a slow, deliberate roll that was all for him.

His gaze was intense, unwavering. He watched as you pumped your fingers in and out, as your thumb brushed against your clit. He watched the way your body arched, the way your breath hitched with every movement.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice thick with lust. He finally pushed himself off the doorframe, but instead of coming to the bed, he moved to the worn-out armchair that sat just a few feet away.

He sank into it, the old springs groaning in protest. The new angle gave him a perfect view of your splayed body and the work your hand was doing between your legs. "You're so fuckin' wet, darlin'. All that for me?"

You nodded, unable to form words, your fingers working faster, chasing the release that was just out of reach. The sight of him sitting there, fully clothed, watching you with such raw hunger, was intoxicating.

"Tell me," he demanded, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Tell me what you were thinkin' about."

"You," you gasped, your back arching off the bed. "I was thinkin' about you."

"What about me?" he pressed, his hand going to the prominent bulge straining against the denim of his jeans. He palmed himself roughly, a groan escaping his lips. "Tell me everything."

"Your hands," you panted, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment before forcing them open again. "Your mouth. The way you feel inside me. So deep and thick."

He groaned, a low, guttural sound that went straight to your core. He couldn't wait any longer. He popped the button of his jeans and slowly lowered the zipper, the sound loud in the quiet room. He reached inside, and your breath caught as he freed his cock.

He was hard, so hard it looked almost painful. He was thick and long, the head a dark, angry-looking purple that already glistened with pre-cum. A thick vein ran along the underside, pulsing with his heartbeat. He wrapped a calloused hand around his shaft, giving it a slow, firm stroke from base to tip, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Is this what you were thinkin' about?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. "This what you needed?"

"Yes," you moaned, your hips bucking wildly. "God, yes. I needed to feel you so bad."

He continued to stroke himself, his movements slow and deliberate, matching the rhythm of your own hand. "Faster," he commanded. "Make yourself come for me. Let me see you fall apart."

The command sent you hurtling towards the edge. Your fingers flew over your clit, your other hand pumping into your cunt with reckless abandon. The knot in your belly tightened, your thighs began to shake, and the world narrowed to the sight of Joel fisting his cock, his dark eyes burning into you.

"Joel, I'm... I'm gonna..." you cried out, your voice breaking.

Just as you were about to tip over the edge, he spoke again, his voice sharp and authoritative. "Stop."

Your hand froze, your body trembling. "What?" you breathed, confused and desperate.

"I said stop," he repeated, his own hand stilling on his cock. He stood up, shoving his jeans and boxers down his thighs before kicking them away. He was naked from the waist down, his legs and hard cock on full display. He stalked towards the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. "I didn't work my ass off for eleven days just to watch you get yourself off. You wanted this cock? Then come get him."

He sat on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his elbows, his cock standing proud and erect, a silent invitation. "Ride him, darlin’. Now."

You didn't need to be told twice. You scrambled to your knees, your body trembling with anticipation. You straddled his hips, your knees bracketing his thighs. His hands came to rest on your waist, his grip firm, possessive. You reached down, wrapping your hand around his thick length, marveling at the feel of him, hot and heavy in your palm. You guided him to your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your slick, aching folds.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "I wanna see your face when I slide inside you."

You met his gaze, his dark eyes burning with an intensity that stole your breath. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, inch by thick, delicious inch. The stretch was exquisite, a slight burn that quickly gave way to a profound sense of fullness. You took him all in, until you were fully seated, his hips flush against yours, his cock buried deep inside you.

You both groaned, a shared sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. For a moment, you just stayed like that, savoring the feeling of being connected again, of having him fill the ache that had plagued you for days. His hands roamed your body, tracing the curve of your spine, cupping your ass, pulling you even closer.

"Fuck, I missed this," he breathed, his voice thick. "Missed this tight little cunt."

You began to move, a slow, experimental roll of your hips. The friction was incredible, his cock dragging against your inner walls in a way that your own fingers never could. You braced your hands on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your palms, and started to ride him in earnest.

You found a rhythm, a steady rise and fall that had you both gasping for air. His hands guided your movements, his grip on your hips tightening as you picked up the pace. The room filled with the sounds of your pleasure—the slap of skin on skin, your breathless moans, his low, guttural grunts.

"That's it, darlin'," he growled, his eyes dark with lust. "Ride my cock. Take what you need."

You did. You rode him hard and fast, chasing the release that had been so cruelly denied. The coil in your belly tightened again, this time with a vengeance. You could feel your orgasm building, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatened to consume you whole.

"Joel," you cried out, your head falling back. "Oh, God, Joel..."

"I'm right here, baby," he grunted, his hips bucking up to meet yours, driving his cock even deeper. "Come for me. Let me feel you squeeze my cock."

His words were your undoing. With a final, desperate cry, you shattered. Your orgasm crashed over you, a blinding, all-consuming wave of pleasure that left you shaking and breathless. Your cunt clenched around him, rippling and spasming as you rode out the intense waves of your release.

Joel wasn't far behind. With a loud, guttural groan, he buried himself deep inside you one last time. You felt the hot, thick spurts of his cum filling you, coating your inner walls. He held you tight, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his body shuddering with the force of his release.

For a long moment, you stayed like that, a tangled, sweaty heap of limbs. The only sounds in the room were your ragged breaths. Slowly, you came back to yourselves, you lifted your head, looking down at him.

His head was still buried against your neck, his breaths slowly evening out. Once you try to get off his lap, his grip tightened to hold you there, before lifting his head to look at you.

“Next time, you wait for me to fuck you proper. Got it?”

You nodded, a small smile spreading on your lips, “If you take this long…”

He lets out a brief groan, dropping his head to your shoulder before you slid off him, both of you letting out a sharp breath at the loss of feeling.

“Ain’t gonna happen,” he retorts, tugging you down into the bed, lying his head onto the pillow with a huff.

“We’ll see.”

Taglist (Let me know if you'd likee to be added or removed): @kokoluwie, @cozymochaa, @picketniffler, @christinamadsen, @harriedandharassed, @rosharanfiction, @xfanficluvrx, @isabellaboo2025, @kirsteng42, @missadangel, @bishtrouille, @death-in-a-tar0t-card, @mystickittytaco, @missladym1981, @armandispunk, @whattheflipsiesss, @isimpforfictionalmen, @haileycopter17, @needz1nk, @anoverwhelmingdin, @stellar3em, @javiismyhsbnd, @taniamiller

Tags from WIP Wednesday: @ess-evo, @milla-frenchy, @time-for-my-weekly-spanking,

[rosiecherie]

rafe loves overstimulating you!

you woke up as he kissed you, soft at first, almost sweet. but his hand was already sliding down your body, his rough fingers slipping between your thighs before you were fully awake. you made a sleepy sound, trying to cuddle into him, and that's when you felt it, the cold press of silicone against your clit.

"rafe?" your voice came out confused.

"shhh baby," he murmured against your neck, clicking the vibrator on low. "just let me."

you moaned before you could help it, your body responding to the sudden pleasure. he pushed inside you slow, filling you up while the toy buzzed against your sensitive and swollen clit. it felt good, too good, and you were already clenching around him. "fuck, rafe, that's—"

"i know, honey." he cut you off with a kiss, starting to move inside you. "that's the point." the pleasure built fast. too fast. your hands gripped his shoulders as your back arched, and you came with a broken cry, your walls fluttering around his cock. but he didn't stop. he kept fucking you, kept the vibrator pressed right where you needed it least.

"wait, wait—" you gasped, trying to push his hand away. "it's too much, rafey."

"no it's not." he pinned your wrist above your head, his pace never slowing. "you can take it."

your second orgasm crashed built inside you before the first had fully faded. tears slipped down your cheeks as you shook beneath him, a loud moan came out of you. he watched you fall apart, his eyes dark and hungry, and he didn't let up. "r-rafe, seriously please, i can't—"

"you're gonna." he pressed harder with the vibrator, fucking you deeper. "you're gonna keep coming for me until i say stop."

your pussy was soaked, making wet squelching sounds with every thrust. you were already overwhelmed, oversensitive, and he was right, he made you come again, a third time, your body jerking through it as a sob broke from your lips.

"good girl." but he didn't even slow down. his hips kept slapping against yours, the vibrator never leaving your clit. you were shaking so hard you could barely breathe, every nerve inside of you on fire.

"please, rafe, please stop, i can't, i can't do another one" you begged, your voice cracking. tears were streaming down your face now, and you tried to move away, but his weight pinned you down. "yes, yes you can, baby." his voice was low, almost gentle, but his eyes were cold. "you're doing so good for me. just one more. give me one more."

"no, no, please" you sobbed, but your body betrayed you. the fourth orgasm ripped through you again, violent and uncontrollable. you screamed into his shoulder, your nails digging into his back as you shook around his cock. "that's it." he groaned, fucking you through it. "that's my girl."

you were a total mess. soaked, shaking, crying. every muscle in your body was tense, and the vibrator felt like fire against your clit. but he still didn't stop. he turned the toy up a notch. "rafe, no! i swear i can't—" you barely choked out, trying to clamp your thighs shut. he forced them open with his knees.

"you can and you will." he thrust harder, faster. "you're gonna come on my cock until i'm satisfied." the fifth one came without any warning, a sharp and painful surge of pleasure that made your vision go white. you couldn't even scream anymore, just a broken whimper as your body tensed up, pussy clenching so tight it almost hurt him. rafe groaned, pace finally faltering.

"fuckkk, there you go." he pressed down on the vibrator, grinding it against you as he came inside you, hot and thick. you felt every pulse of his release, your oversensitive cunt milking him dry.

when he finally pulled out and turned off the toy, you were limp, gasping, tears still wet on your cheeks. he kissed your forehead, soft and possessive. he smiled down at you, a perfect mess, all wrecked just for him. "see, baby? you can take it."

~~~

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[grugruel]

Stop me if it hurts.

Pairings: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: A supply run goes south, and Joel has to save you. The damage done brings you closer.

At the end of the day, you're belly up on the bathroom floor with joel on top of you, sweaty and panting.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: soft!joel, pinv sex, oral sex (f recieving), fingering, creampie, "I love you", cum eating ish, pet names (sweetheart, baby, girl), slight overstimulation.

AN: I've laboured guys. I might have cooked. The end is sloppy in more ways than one😼 I'll fix it up, though. I've still got to proofread. But until then, ENJOY.

Reliable arms carry her far. Bloodied and torn, but she's still alive. By his virtue alone.

He'll glance down at her from time to time, whenever he can spare vigilance from their surroundings. There's worry sharpening his eyes. Yet, the edges dull when their eyes connect and he finds hers glinting with gratitude.

Disconnected by shock, but safe in his embrace. Fatigue from the day's horrifying events take over, and the girl doesn't reflect before caressing his neck.

Joel smiles, it's quick and sweet. But it falls as reality floods the pair, drowning them in consequences. The softness she values disappear from his eyes, seamingly reminded of the dire situation they find themselves in.

She shouldn't have, she knows it. His divided reaction lurches in her stumach while the question festers in her mind. Which situation was it? Emotional or physical–Infected or her father. One wedging between them while the other forces them closer.

Her thoughts become muddled, she doesn't know. The girl's adrenaline drops and she struggles to keep her eyes open as her subconscious is assured of safety in his embrace.

Worry furrows his brow once again. Snow crunches underfoot as his pace picks up, desperate to get you to safety.

The bright blue sky and light snowfall encapsules the determination in his features. Her eyes are drawn to his strong stubbled chin as fingers sink into her skin.

Then it goes black.

—

Her father's worried face and relief washing it clean as he catches sight of his girl. He knows she's in good hands, he knows she needs to be taken care of. She gets snippets of their conversation while swaying in and out of consciousness. "Take care of her, Joel." And "Get her warm." Among a few. In the back of her mind is an image, her father's eyes relenting to a friend. Admitting that his grown daughter would rather have Joel's help in such a delicate situation. Then, his parting words comes rushing back. "I trust you."

—

Coarse fabric strokes her face, stinging shallow wounds. Wincing at a particularly nasty cut, she opens her eyes to find Joel's face inches from her own. "It was the best I could find," he murmurs, a damp towel in hand.

She sighs in with relief, happy to see his face again and the girl gets a sudden urge to stroke the grey strands at his temples. "At least it's clean."

Joel smiles, the dent between his eyebrows loosening. He's relieved by her light mood. It's a good sign. "Not anymore," he jokes.

The girl blinks, noting that the brownish red towel had once been white. It doesn't worry her, the cuts she can feel are mild. It's the pain she cant see that alarms her, a dull ache haunting her muscles. She tries to move, but a blinding pain shoots through her and she groans. "Mggh-- Fuck. Is it bad?"

"I dont know, I'd have to see for myself." He sits back, eyes searching her body. "Your face took the worst of it. I can't find any blood apart from the cuts on your face." Joel rubs the towel over her forehead, his thumb soothing the skin as he moves along. "But, I expect there'll be a lot of bruising."

"Will they scar?"

Joel's gaze flick between the wounds, assessing them. He doesn't say it, but he's apologetic.

She nods, putting on a facade of indifference. "Cool, cool." She feels her face. The skin on her forehead, chin and cheek have split. A few scars are little to trade for her life, but it sucks either way.

"You're not gonna like it, but we need to get you walking–figure out where it hurts."

The girl nods again. She takes a moment to catch her breath, then sighs, "let's get it over with."

Joel ditches the towel and kneels beside her, circling an arm around her back to get a steady grip on her body. "Ready?"

She puts an arm around his shoulders and braces a hand against the back of her chair. "Ready," she exhales.

It hurts less with his help, but the side of her abdomen wails in protest. "Oof-" Worn floorboards creak as the girl takes a few steps without a limp. That's good news. "Mhh-- Its my side," she huffs. The room seems to warp around her, blurring her vision. "Feels like my waist 's gonna snap in half."

"Alright, alright," he exhales, relieved by the miraculous steps as she is. "We'll have to take a look, got a bath running upstairs," he begins, bending down to slip an arm beneath her legs. He smells of leather and pine.

The girl stops him. "I can walk, Joel." Pushing him away by the chest. "Promise," she says, but the dizzy spell lingers and the force from her own arms make her stumble.

Joel hauls her into his arms, shooting her independece down. "Now's not the time to be stubborn," he chuckles.

She wants to protest further, but there's immediate relief along her midriff as he takes the weight off the damaged area. She didn't realise how her body strained, but once gone, a relieved tear rolls down her cheek. "Thank you," she whispers.

Glancing down, Joel has to swallow unwelcome emotions. The tear has streaked dialuted remains of blood. She's strong, but hurting. Three words want to slip by his lips, but he swallows them too. He doesn't dare answer at all.

They journey the rest of the way in silence. Once arrived, Joel nudges the door open with his shoulder and steam swarms the pair. Gently, he sets her down on the tiled floor.

It's dark as little light seeps in from the hallway. But it's the heat that presses her mind, making it hard to focus on anything else. She's overdressed, sweat already coating her skin. Unzipping her jacket, she strains to pull it off. Hissing as she's forced to move her side.

"Gently," Joel calms her, stepping in to help and slides it down her arms. Without another word, he sinks to his knees and starts untying her shoes. Joel looks up, there's devotion in his eyes. Kind and unyielding. He cares for her like she cares for him, but this isn't news. It's hazardous however.

With their eyes locked, the girl carefully bends forward to brace a hand against his shoulder, aiding Joel in the removal of her shoes. He slides a hand behind her calf while the other grab the heel of her boot, pulling it off. It pains her, and he notices. "Just one more," Joel reassures her as he switches legs, making quick work of the second to spare her the pain. "Well done, sweetheart."

The pain affects her less than his words. Joel straightens out and looks her over. "Still need any help with that?" He nods to her hoodie, hands on his hips.

"Please." She's never enjoyed the feeling of helplessness, but if someone has to save her–she'll ways choose Joel.

"Raise your arms," he instructs, and gathers the fabric into his palms. She wears a t-shirt beneath, and as he begins to pull, it catches on the hoodie and hikes above her abdomen. Joel gets an involuntary glance of her exposed skin, and duty catches him in the act. He's quick to grab the shirt and pull it down as he slips the hoodie over her head. "Alright," he clears his throat and discards the hoodie. "Want to sit down for this?"

She shakes her head.

"Stop me if I hurt you."

She nods.

"Hey, look at me."

Doe-eyed, she faces him.

"Say it."

The girl's gaze flick between his eyes. Stubborn versus stubborn. He desires to strengthen her autonomy–by doing as he tells her. It's contrasting. And the thought of his hands on her body was a remedy of its own. Yet, she relents. "I'll stop you. . . If it hurts."

There's the beginnings of a smile, proud in it's curve as he hitches the t-shirt on his thumb and lifts it enough to inspect her side. A tall bruise stretches up her midriff, darkening her waist and ribs. He plants his hands around her ribcage to feel for breakage, and her breath hitches as he gets to the bruise. Joel lock eyes with her, ready to stop. But the 'stop' never comes.

The girl rolls her eyes. "You're not hurting me," she reassures him.

Joel nods slowly, inspecting the purple skin. "Nothing seems broken," he says, softly tracing the length of her ribs. And his thoughts take him elsewhere.

It was supposed to be a supply run. Ordinary and well-practiced. She wasn't supposed to come, but Joel had allowed it. She wanted to, he tells himself. But deep down, it was because of his own slefishness. He wanted her by his side, unsupervised by her father for few hours. Just the two of them.

He strokes the purple skin, transfixed by it's blotchy pattern. He was the cause of her pain. "I'll wait downstairs," he breathes. Prepared to give her space. Yet, he doesn't move.

"I might need your help," she offers, giving him a reason to stay. But there's protest brewing in his features. She continues, "just turn around, Joel. It's not that serious."

His arms are crossed as he gages her. One would think it's the look of a man firm in his decision. But Joel sighs, and a moment later his back is turned, leaning against the doorframe.

He eyes the floor out of respect, but the day has taken it's toll. He's worn, and look up to stretch his neck. Too late does he remember the small mirror above the sink. Inside it's fogged up frame is the girl, half-naked and glistening from sweat. And Joel's consience fails.

She releases pained grunts pulling on the back of her shirt, hoping to avoid extra strain. "Oh for fu-- Joel?" She pants. The fabric had slipped from her grip, and the girl can't bother doing it all again. "Joel?" The girl repeats. Turning her head sideways, she catches his eye in the mirror. "Think 'm gonna need that help after all." She doesn't question why he's looking at her or why he hasn't refrained. She knows.

The girl turns around and lifts her shirt, revealing the small of her back. Joel moves closer until his lips are inches from her neck, their breaths come heavy and his hands slide beneath the fabric. All rational sense vaporize along with the steam as he pulls it off. "Want me to continue?" He asks, whispering over her shoulder.

The girl shivers. "Yes."

Rusty fingers unclasp her bra, snapping it open. Gently, he slides the straps down her arms. Thebra hits the floor, Joel grasps her biceps and rests his forehead between her shoulderbaldes. "Tell me to stop, baby." Lips brush against her spine.

She furrow her brows as the words cut through her. "I won't." She knows it's hard for him, how he wishes to be free of these feelings. But it's hard for her aswell–being told of his wish to stop.

Joel moves closer, pressing his chest against her bare back. His hands find the buttons on her jeans, undoing them one by one. Then, he sinks his knees once more, and their gazes meet over her shoulder. Joel focuses on her eyes as he hooks his thumbs into the denim waistline and pulls it down. From their restriction, her panties follow. And she steps out of them both before Joel stands back up and looks away, grabbing her waist. He helps her step into the bath without a glance in her direction. Duty outways lust.

The girl adores his display of respect. She always has. Sitting on the edge of the tub, his fingers sink deep into her untouched side. He holds her weight with one arm, enabling Joel to spare her bruised side. Her eyes light up. She adores how considerate he is. There are a hundred qualities most men lack, which all come natural to Joel.

Sinking into the water, her aching body sighs. It loosens the tension that constricts her muscles and allows the girl to move without much pain.

"Im always thanking you."

"You never have to," he says, then moves to leave. He has done his duty, lingering would be a breech of it.

But she grabs his hand. "I want to thank you properly."

He shakes his head, refusing to look at her. "Im not trading you for a few minutes of pleasure."

"Joel." The girl places his hand over her heart, coarse fingertips soaking up waterdroplets that glisten on her skin. "I'm right here," she whispers, leaning closer to cup his face, gaining no response. "Inches away, wanting you . . . Loving you."

That gets his attention. Finally, he looks at her. The gravity of their situation opening his eyes.

"You mean the world to me," she murmurs and slip his hand beneath the surface, guiding it atop her breast.

Joel inhales, fingers itching to move. To squeeze and massage. To give her everything she needs.

"I love my father, but he doesn't get to decide who else I give those words to." She beckons him closer. There's no force. Only slight pressure dimpling his cheek as she retracts her hand. It's the simple threat of her touch slipping away that makes Joel follow.

Their noses brush. "Tell me you love me too," she whimpers, squeezing for him, making his calloused fingertips dig into her breast.

Joel groans, chin jerking in chase of her lips. But he uses all the willpower he can muster to halt his urges, closing his eyes to focus.

"Tell me, Joel." She pecks the corner of his mouth, stubble prickling her lips. "Tell me. . ." Her hand squeezes harder around his.

"Fuck, girl," he groans, clenching his free hand. Joel tries to shake his fingers loose of restlessness, but it doesn't work. Enough is enough, he thinks. And puts them to use instead.

Joel rolls his shirtleeve up before softly grabbing her jaw. Slowly, his hand leaves her breast and dives beneath the surface. He leans closer, when an inch away he whispers, "I love you." Their lips connect as his hand slides down her abdomen. The kiss is considerate, and they're hungry. But this moment will weigh heavy in their memories, it would be a shame to rush.

Fingers slip behind her neck for purchase as Joel deepens the kiss. Yet, keeping the thumb on her jaw he applies a soff caress to preserve it's innocence.

The girl has never felt love this strongly before.

His hand sends shivers up her spine as jt dives between her thighs, cupping her mound.

She gasps and pulls away by reflex. Their eyes connect. Joel hesitates, his fingers pausing just as they reach her clit.

She shakes her head. "Dont stop, Joel. Dont stop." She had been entranced by the kiss, the sudden pressure caught her of guard. But her hand slips from his cheek to pull him closer by the shirt. "Please," she breathes, brushing her lips against his before inching back. Teasing him into action.

Luckily for her, it works. He slides two fingers between her folds before sinking into her core. She moans, eyebrows furrowing from the sudden pleasure shooting through her. "Yes . . ."

But as she leans in to kiss him, Joel pulls back. "Let me look at you, sweetheart."

The girl smirks and rests her cheek on the bathtubs edge, cushioned by the back of her hand.

Combing through her damp hair, he tenderly pulls it away from her face and gathers it in his fist. Joel simultaneously picks up the pace. He rubs his hand against her mound while thrusting his fingers, long fingers curling against her insides as his palm rubs against her clit.

He has experience, but that's to be expected. The girl was just in tatters by the raw talent he possesses. The knot tightens in her stumache, uterus roiling from the stimulation of her walls. She can only try to convey the pleasure he gives her. Her panting picks up, nonsense words falling from her lips.

"You're so beautiful," he says and strokes her temple. Gazing at eachother, his expanded pupils betray his thoughts.

The girl smiles, but the sweet moment passes as his fingers curl and her teeth sinks into her lip. "You-- Mhhg . . . You'll make me blush . . . Joel."

He smiles back, teeth and all. Those are rare. "You already are."

She can imagine. Rosy and satisfied by his hand. Her lungs strain as breaths expell in moans, high in pitch to signal her approaching climax.

"Jesus- 'm close," she cries, eyebrows creasing painfully. "You're s' fuckin good . . . Wanna be good, too." Her hand falls to his jeans, attempting to undo the buttons while she navigates through blinding pleasure, stars filling her vision.

"Let's focus on you, baby." The words push her over the edge and the pressure bursts like a dam, washing over- and filling her with ecstacy. "You're doing so good," he murmurs and levels his head with hers. The girl's fingers curl reflexively, sinking them into his thigh. Joel hisses, brushing his lips over hers. "Thats it . . . Good job, sweetheart."

"Kiss me," she whimpers and Joel obides without question–for once. Their lips meet again, comforting and soft. Joel's and leave her sex to move both into cupping her face, and the restrained her falls around her face. He pulls her closer

Tracing a nail up his thigh, she loops a finger through a belt hoop and tugs. "Need you . . . "

He disconnects their lips and sits back. Hand dripping of water and foam, he leaves wet stains on the fabric of his shirt as he undoes it's buttons. "Im yours."

—

The girl blinks and the next thing she knows–she finds herself on the floor. A rug pulled beneath her back and a large palm beneath her head, he lays her down.

Even though the air is warm and clingy, goosebumps cover her skin as cold tile stick to her ass.

Leather groans as he pulls the belt loose of it's constraints and denim rustles as his pants hit the floor. Then, Joel kneels before her.

The girl cant take her eyes off him, it's a sight she can never tire of. She's seen him shirtless before, but the circumstances were different. He looks different now–in the pale light, removing his clothes with intimate intention. Perhaps it's her view of him that's changed. He looks softer, somehow. She's noticed glints of it before, when they talk and in the way he looks at her. But it never lasts long. She imagines this version of him prominent before the outbreak. His default setting. But now, for the first time in a long time, his guard is completely lowered.

"Ready?" He asks and kisses her forehead, tip prodding at her entrence.

She nods eagerly, the need for him pent up and ready to release in tears unless she can have him soon. "Im ready." Her voice breaks.

Deleting the space between them, Joel drives forward and enters her. They gasp, then smile. Eyes connected as they explore the shape of one another. He's big, but the girl takes him perfectly. "Fuck," she moans.

"Stop me if i hurt you," he tells her again, always conscious of her well-being. But she realises late that it was more of a warning. Because Joel pulls out, pauses and thrusts back into her. He laces their hands together, move them above her head and then strike into her again.

"Holy shi-" she cries out in surprise and sinks her nails sink into the back of his hands.

Targeting her neck, he kisses the soft spot above her collarbone. " 'M sorry . . . Need you so bad." Laboured breaths and deep moans hit her ear. They're finally close in the way she always dreamed of.

His thrusts are deep and strong, but never forceful. Dull twists of pain go through her side with each thrust, but the warm water has limbered her up. They're barely noticeable. Besides, she would never let anything pull this man out of her. Joel had been so diligent at prioritising her that she never registered his own needs. "No It- 's ok." The stuttering of their bodies puts pause between her words. " 'S good, feels so good."

Sinking teeth into her neck, he leaves love bites that will let everybody know who she belongs to.

She nuzzles his profile and kisses his ear, attempting to grab his attention as her hands do little good. "Let me touch you, Joel . . . Please." She rocks her hips to meet his thrusts, it's all she can do.

His member twitches inside her, the actions getting to him. "Bad idea, baby," he grunts, then lowers his body what little there's left and uses his weight to thrust deeper, simultaneously pinning her hips to the tile.

Frustration bubble up as her walls clench around him. "Please, please," she whimpers.

Joel staggers, hands reflexively squeezing her as he push them hard into the tiles. "Cant . . . I won't last long enough for you." He gathers himself and trails kisses up her neck–soft and expertly–until he reaches her lips.

"Joel." His name is barely audible as it falls from her lips, her panting and pitched tone make words difficult to convey. "C- mmh, cum inside me for all I care." Her teeth sink into his bottom lip. "Just let me get you there."

He relents with a breathy groan, taking some weight off her hips as his hands slip to her wrists. He gives them a final squeeze of dissatisfaction before realeasing and caging her in with his forearms.

"Thank you," she smiles and pecks his lips. But she has a goal in mind. The girl puts her hips in motion then wrap her legs around the snall of his back, pushing him deeper still. She wraps a hand around his neck to pull him in for a kiss, while the other finds his back to claw.

"Fuck." Joel's thrusts falter as he pushes into her hard. "Feels so nice, girl . . . 'M- mhh, gonna cum."

She smiles against his lips, tongues dancing around eachother. "Good."

"Want me inside?"

"Please."

Joel's pace stutters and he slams his fist into the floor as he spills into her core. The pleasure overwhelming him. "So fucking good, I love you, sweetheart," he pants.

Satisfaction floods her chest, heart beating thrice as quick by his words alone.

"I love you," he continues, placing kisses down her throat. Hands slide down her sides, grabbing her ribs as his lips attach to her breast.

She gasps. "Shit-- Joel, it's alright. I dont have to-"

He sucks the plush flesh inte his mouth while kneading the other. Not taking no for an answer.

The girl moans, back arching. "Now isn't the time to be stubborn," she teases, using his own words against him.

He smiles around her nipple, biting it softly before he travels south. His fingers dimple her thighs as he hooks them over his shoulders and the pair lock eyes. Smug, he smirks.

She rolls her eyes and smiles back. "Go on, then. Big guy." One would think the girl has learned to control her tongue around Joel, because getting smart with him always end with a valuable lesson.

"Smart mouth," he exhales, damp breath fanning over her cunt. The girl swallows, and then he dives in.

She has no idea how many women he's been with, even though hes aware of her short history with one or two at Jackson. No matter how long it's been, Joel's tongue has kept its experience.

Lapping and sucking, he attacks her clit. Licking a stripe trough her folds just to tease her while paying no mind to the seed spilling out of her core. He might spit it out or use it as lube. She cant tell, because its all too much.

She topples over the edge quicker than expected. But he doesn't stop. He has a lesson to teach and she to learn. Tears roll down her cheeks as stars cover her eyes. "Fuck, Joel," she mewls. "I get it, I get it."

He let's out a throaty chuckle and slips his tongue out of her core. "Good."

Catching her breath, she heaves herself up as he crawls onto her. Joel braces his knuckles into the tile, keeping his arms straight to level his head with hers. Leaning in, they smile in unified satisfaction as their lips connect. He tastes of salt, a mix of their juices.

"I love you, too."