Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Joel Miller: 

• Cockwarming
• Outdoor Sex/Getting Caught
• Voice Kink
• Sex Toys/Overstimulation
• Pregnancy Kink
• Cock Worship

Bucky Barnes:

• Praise Kink (reader praises him)
• Temperature Play with his metal arm/mutual masturbation
• Size Difference
• Military Uniform

*I may add more, but as of right now, that's all I plan on writing and posting. If you want me to add someone I've written for in the past (ex: Steve Harrington)...let me know. Also open to adding more kinks. 

Chapter Text

A soft, broken sound tugged you out of sleep before you recognized a low noise frayed at the edges like it hurt to make. You blinked in the dark, straining your ear, until you realized it came from the floor.

Bucky.

The sheets beside you were cold where he’d slipped away, and when your eyes adjusted, you found him crouched against the dresser, knees drawn up, his body curled in on itself. His head was pressed into the wall like he was trying to hold himself together, the faintest tremor running through his shoulders. A muffled whimper broke loose, ragged and desperate, and your chest tightened.

You sat up slowly, letting the blanket fall from your shoulders. For a moment, you only watched, your heart aching as his face twisted in pain—jaw clenched, brow furrowed, and his lips moving with words that he wasn’t speaking.

You knew it was a nightmare, one that was affecting him deeply.

You’d seen the way he fought them, thrashing, or sometimes waking with his hands still curled like he expected to strike. The last thing you wanted was to startle him, to make him believe—if only for a moment—that he’d hurt you like he always feared he would.

So instead, you leaned forward at the edge of the bed and let a quiet hum slip past your lips. A tune as soft as your breath, something half-remembered and wordless, threading into the dark between you.

At first, it was just for him, but the sound wrapped around you too, steadying your own racing pulse. His shoulders shifted as his breath hitched, and you hummed again, gentler with a coaxing tone.

Finally, his head lifted, and his blue eyes were glassy with sleep and shadow. They found you in the dim glow from the streetlight outside. Bucky’s chest rose and fell too quickly, like he’d just surfaced from drowning.

“Did I—” His voice cracked, rough with shame. He swallowed hard, shaking his head. “I woke you.”

The guilt in his tone was sharper than any cry he’d made in sleep. His gaze darted away, like he couldn’t bear to see what you’d think of him, sitting there broken on the floor.

You hummed again, quieter this time, and let your hand hover between you with your palm open and waiting. “C’mere,” you coaxed softly in the dark around you. “Come back to bed, please?”

Bucky’s head jerked in a tiny shake. His chest rose and fell in uneven bursts, and when he spoke, the words scraped out raw. “I can’t. Not after—” He cut himself off, jaw locking hard enough that the muscle jumped. He looked like he was bracing for you to argue, or worse, to leave him there.

Your heart ached at the sight of him. “James, baby,” you murmured gently, your voice threaded with the kind of steady warmth you knew he couldn’t give himself. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He flinched at the name, at the softness of it, as though he didn’t believe he deserved to be called anything but Bucky or anything good because the broken parts of himself had only caused pain.

You slid from the bed carefully, letting the floor cool against your knees as you sank in front of him. You didn’t touch him yet. Instead, you folded your hands loosely in your lap and tilted forward just enough so he could feel your presence and could see that you weren’t leaving him stranded in the dark.

“I’m right here,” you whispered. “I’m not afraid of you. Not ever.”

Bucky’s eyes lifted, blue and fractured in the dim light as they searched your face like he was trying to catch you in a lie. His mouth trembled before he pressed it shut, shaking his head again, though weaker this time.

“You don’t…you don’t know what I’ve done,” he rasped, voice fraying at the edges. His hands curled into fists against his knees, knuckles pale. “I wake up and I see it, over and over. I don’t want you to—” His throat closed off, words breaking apart before he could finish.

You leaned closer, lowering your voice like a promise meant only for him. “I don’t see that. I only see you. The man who fights his nightmares, who still chooses to stay, even when it’s hard. That’s who I see when I look at you.”

His fists flexed, his jaw trembling as if he could hold himself together by sheer will. But when his gaze caught yours again, wet and shining, something inside him cracked. His breath stuttered out roughly, and for a moment, he looked utterly undone, like no one had ever told him he could be more than the sum of his scars.

“You are so strong,” you whispered as your thumb brushed a damp strand of hair from his temple. “You’re so brave.”

For a moment, he didn’t move. His body stayed rigid, chest heaving like he was still caught between the nightmare and waking. Then hesitantly, almost shyly, Bucky lifted his arm and reached for you, his fingers twitching like he was afraid you’d disappear if he touched you wrong.

You inched forward until the warmth of his body seeped into yours. You pressed closer as you wrapped him in your arms, feeling the hard line of his shoulders give just slightly beneath your hold. “You’re not too much,” you murmured against his ear, letting the words sink into him. “You’re exactly what I need.”

Something in him loosened then, a tremor rippling through his chest as he exhaled shakily. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. He clung to you as if you were the only thing tethering him to this moment.

“I don’t deserve you,” he choked, the confession muffled, torn straight from the pit of his guilt.

You shook your head and drew him tighter as your lips brushed the line of his jaw. “Don’t say that.” Each word was deliberate. You pulled back just enough to make him meet your eyes. “You’re so good for me, Bucky. Do you know how amazing you are? How wanted you are?”

His breath caught, the sound raw and unsteady. His metal hand hovered at your waist, not quite touching, as if he still doubted he was allowed. But his flesh-trembling hand found your thigh, his fingers digging in like he needed proof you were real.

Bucky’s blue eyes were wide and glassy as they shone in the dim light. The guilt in them warred with something softer, the part of him that longed to believe you. His lips parted shakily, but instead of words, he leaned in and brushed his mouth against yours like it was a question.

You hummed into the kiss, letting your lips move slowly against his, pouring every ounce of safety you could into the way you touched him. He tasted faintly of sleepless nights, and when you deepened the kiss, his breath hitched, like he wasn’t sure he deserved it but couldn’t stop himself from wanting more.

When you finally pulled back, your mouth trailed lower, finding the sharp line of his jaw. You kissed along it, unhurried, savoring the way the rough scrape of stubble met your lips. His low, broken whimper made your chest ache even as it sent heat curling through you.

“You’re so handsome, Bucky,” you whispered against his skin, your words brushing over him like a benediction. You followed with more kisses, pressing them down the column of his throat, leaving little marks, nothing harsh, just proof that he was wanted.

Your hands wandered without thinking, one tracing down the firm plane of his chest, the other brushing against cool vibranium. He froze under you instantly, body stiffening, like the touch had dragged him back into himself. His jaw clenched, breath caught, and he tried to pull the arm away before you could linger. But you caught it gently, refusing to let him retreat. Your lips followed softly as you pressed reverent kisses to the cold plating.

Bucky flinched at first, a tremor running through him, but you kept going with certainty until the tension in his shoulders began to ease.

“Beautiful,” you murmured between kisses, your voice low and sure. Another kiss against the gleaming metal. “Strong.” Another, just above his wrist. “So brave. And I’m all yours.”

His eyes shut tight as a strangled sound escaped him, half a sob and half a moan. The hand on your thigh tightened, grounding himself in your warmth while you worshiped the part of him he’d tried so long to hide.

You lifted your gaze to his face and saw the way his lips trembled as the tears gathered in his lashes. There was a slight hunger tangled up with shame. So you kissed the metal again until his eyes opened, wet and disbelieving, like he couldn’t fathom you’d mean any of it.

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked softly, searching his face.

Bucky’s throat tightened as he swallowed. He shook his head, the movement quick, almost desperate. “No… no, please don’t.” His voice came out ragged with a pleading tone, like the thought of you pulling away hurt more than anything his nightmares could conjure.

Your hand smoothed over the cool ridges of his arm before you drew him back into another kiss. This time, he didn’t hesitate, just melted into it, his mouth hungry and reverent against yours as though he was afraid he might never get another chance.

You guided him gently, easing him down until his back hit the floor. He went willingly, pulling you closer, and you settled astride his hips, feeling the warmth of him pressed flush beneath you. The shift drew a low sound from his chest, a groan that vibrated through you, and you felt his hands—hesitant at first—rest on your waist like he was learning how to hold you without breaking.

A nervous laugh slipped from you as you looked down at him, brushing damp hair from his forehead. “Sorry—we can move to the bed. The floor can’t be comfortable.”

Bucky shook his head, his grip firming on your hips. “No,” he rasped, voice thick with emotion. “It’s fine here. With you…it’s fine anywhere.”

The way he said it unraveled you. You bent low, kissing him again, slower this time, pouring all your emotion into the press of your lips. When you pulled back, you traced the line of his cheek with your thumb.

“You’re so good for me, Bucky,” you whispered, letting the words sink deep. Your hips shifted just slightly, drawing another shudder from him. “Do you know how amazing you are? How wanted you are?”

His eyes fluttered shut, his breath stuttering as if your praise was undoing him more than your touch. His flesh hand slid up your back, tentative but yearning, while the metal one hovered at your thigh with uncertainty. You caught it, lacing your fingers with cold steel, and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

“Even this,” you murmured. “Especially this. All of you is perfect to me.”

Bucky let out a broken sound, something between a sob and a moan, his chest arching into yours. His lips grazed your throat, tentative at first, as though he wasn’t sure he was allowed, then bolder when you tilted your head to give him more access. Each kiss was a plea, each brush of his mouth against your skin a confession.

“I need you,” he murmured, his voice raw with want and fear tangled together.

You gasped softly when the cold press of metal squeezed your ass through the thin fabric of your nightgown. The contrast made you shiver, heat flooding your core as you rolled your hips down against the thick outline of his cock straining beneath his sweats.

“Need you more,” you breathed, reassuring him with your words as much as your body. You ground against him again, a deliberate, needy drag, and your moan filled the dark as his cock hardened fully under you.

His hands slid up your thighs, rough flesh and smooth metal working in tandem to gather your nightgown. Inch by inch, he pushed it higher until the fabric bunched around your waist, baring you to the cool air. His groan at the feel of your bare skin was low, like the sound had been torn from somewhere deep inside him.

“God,” he rasped, fingertips trembling against your hips. “You’re… you’re something else.” The words cracked, filled with disbelief, and worship.

You let out a soft chuckle, though the heat in your belly left your voice unsteady. Leaning down, you kissed the corner of his mouth before brushing your lips across his. “Says the handsome man beneath me,” you whispered earnestly, rocking your hips once more. You could feel the drag of your arousal over the outline of Bucky’s cock trapped beneath his sweats.

His breath stuttered against your lips, a helpless moan slipping free. His metal hand splayed wide across your back, pressed you closer, while his flesh hand slid lower to guide your grinding. The shame you’d seen in his eyes earlier was gone, replaced with raw hunger but tethered to the reverence you’d coaxed out of him.

“You feel so good, Bucky,” you praised between moans, your words a lifeline he clung to. “So handsome, so perfect for me.”

His eyes fluttered shut, lips parting as though your voice alone could undo him. “Don’t stop,” he begged hoarsely, hips rising to meet yours. “Please—don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” you promised, your voice breaking into a moan as you rocked harder against him. “Every time you touch me, you make me feel perfect.”

The drag of your wet folds over the rough fabric of his sweats sent sparks shooting through you, the friction catching just right against your clit until your thighs trembled.

Bucky’s head fell back with a groan, his jaw tight as his eyes squeezed shut like he was drowning in the sensations you were giving him. “God, sweetheart…” His voice cracked, breathless and rough, the sound alone enough to make you clench around nothing.

You smiled softly through your own haze of arousal, drinking in the sight of him with how your praise had his body loosening, how every desperate noise seemed less like shame and more like surrender.

Your palms slid slowly down the planes of his bare chest, feeling the rise and fall of his unsteady breaths, until you reached the waistband of his sweats. Without breaking eye contact, you slipped your hand inside and tugged them down just far enough to free him.

He was thick and heavy in your grasp, the flushed tip already leaking pre-cum, glistening in the dim light. The sight made your mouth water, and your cunt clench with need. You wrapped your fingers around him, giving a teasing stroke before letting his length rest against your folds.

“Look at you,” you whispered reverently, grinding your hips so your wetness coated him, smearing his cock with your arousal. “You’re mine, Bucky. All of this—every inch of you—is mine.”

His breath tore out of him in a ragged moan, his metal hand clenching helplessly at your hip while his flesh hand trembled against your thigh. “Fuck, baby…” His voice shook, thick with need, breaking on the edge of a plea. “You feel so good…don’t stop, please.”

You rocked again, the blunt head of his cock catching against your clit, making you gasp. “So hard for me,” you praised, guiding his length through your wet folds. “So perfect. Do you know what it does to me, knowing it’s all for me?”

Bucky’s hips jerked up beneath you as a strangled groan ripped from his chest. His eyes flew open, drinking you in like he couldn’t believe you were real, as if every word you spoke was remaking him piece by piece.

“Look at you,” you gasped, rolling your hips so the blunt tip of his cock slid against your clit again, making your thighs shake. “Making me fall apart, and you’re not even inside me yet.”

Bucky groaned, head tipping back against the floor as his throat worked, trying to breathe through it. His metal hand clutched at your hip like he was afraid you’d slip away, while his flesh hand trembled against your thigh. “Please,” he rasped, voice hoarse with need. “Wanna feel you. Need to feel you.”

You gave him a small nod, biting your lip at the sheer hunger in his eyes. “Okay,” you whispered, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “No more teasing.”

Wrapping your hand around his slick, heavy cock, you stroked him once before guiding him to your entrance. The thick head pressed against your folds, already wet from your grinding, and you moaned as you eased down slowly, letting him stretch you inch by inch.

“Fuck…” The word tore out of him, guttural, his hands tightening on you like he didn’t know whether to hold you still or help you move. His eyes fluttered shut, jaw clenching as he tried to rein himself in, but every shaky breath gave him away.

Your own mouth fell open as the stretch burned sweetly, your walls clenching around him as you sank down further. Finally, when he was fully sheathed inside you, the weight of him filling every aching part of you, you exhaled a shaky moan.

“God, Bucky,” you praised, cupping his jaw so he’d look at you. “You’re so perfect. So deep inside me—exactly where I need you.”

His blue eyes met yours, and something in him softened at your words. His chest rose and fell rapidly beneath you, and he whispered like it was a prayer. “You feel so good, sweetheart. Can’t believe I get this. Can’t believe I have you.”

You rocked your hips gently, starting a slow, grinding rhythm that had him groaning low in his chest. The friction was delicious, dragging his thick cock along every sensitive spot as you rode him nice and slow, savoring every inch.

“That’s it,” you breathed, leaning forward to kiss his neck as your lips brushed over his pulse. “Just like this. You’re so good for me, Bucky. So perfect.”

“Mmm, you feel so good,” Bucky whimpered against your skin, the sound raw and unguarded as his lips brushed over your collarbone.

You smiled, the corners of your mouth curving even as pleasure dragged a moan from your throat. You sank down deeper onto him, your walls tightening around the thick length of his cock, and you felt his whole body shudder beneath you.

“You’re perfect inside me,” you whispered, pressing a trail of soft kisses down his neck. “So good…my Bucky.”

Each word made him tense and then melt, his breath stuttering like he couldn’t quite process the gentleness of your praise while your body gripped him so sweetly. He let you set the rhythm, hips staying obediently still beneath yours while giving you the control he so rarely surrendered.

Your pace was slow, grinding down to take him as deep as possible before rolling your hips forward, dragging his cock against every sensitive spot inside you. The friction was almost unbearable, your body slick with sweat, each movement pulling gasps from your throat.

Bucky groaned low in his chest, his metal hand coming up to knead your breast as his thumb brushes over your nipple until it hardened under his touch. At the same time, his warm flesh hand slipped down between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit. He rubbed careful circles, gentle at first, then firmer when your hips jerked at the sensation.

The combination made your whole body tremble, heat coiling tight in your belly. “Yes… just like that,” you moaned, riding him a little harder, your praise spilling out in broken gasps. “You’re so good for me, Bucky. You make me feel so alive. So loved.”

His head tipped back against the floor, throat bared as he moaned your name like it was the only thing holding him together.

The tension snapped in you first. Your climax hit hard, your walls clenching tight around him as you cried out, grinding down against his cock while his fingers worked your clit through the waves of release. Shivers wracked your body as you collapsed forward. You pressed your lips to his temple, whispering his name again and again.

Bucky groaned desperately at the way you squeezed him, his hips finally snapping up into you in short, helpless thrusts. “Fuck—I can’t—” he gasped, pulling his hand from between you to grip your waist as though bracing himself.

You lifted your hips just enough for him to slip free, and he fumbled his cock in his hand, pumping twice before his release spilled across his stomach and your thighs. His groan was guttural, body arching beneath you as the release shook through him. Your ragged breathing mingled with his. Then, still trembling, Bucky pulled you down into his arms, wrapping around you like he couldn’t bear to let you go.

“You’re mine,” you whispered against his skin, pressing soft kisses along his jaw. “Every part of you is wanted, and perfect.”For once, he didn’t argue. He just held you tighter, shuddering slightly as he let the words sink into him as much as the afterglow.

Chapter Text

The week had worn Joel down to the bone. He didn’t say much about the raiders he and Tommy had run into on patrol, just a curt, “Handled it.” But the way he’d kept checking the windows, and how his hand lingered at his belt even in the safety of Jackson, told you a different story than words ever could.

So you weren’t surprised when you reached across the sheets in the middle of the night and found only cold fabric. Joel’s side of the bed felt long abandoned. You sighed, slipping your jacket over your nightgown, and pulled on a pair of boots with the familiar ease of someone who had done this before. You didn’t hesitate about where to go.

The square was hushed with lanterns sputtering low, and up on the fence line, a faint glow gave him away—a lamp burning steady beside a man who couldn’t put his ghosts down long enough to rest.

Joel sat hunched in a metal chair, rifle balanced against his thigh as his eyes tracked shadows beyond the walls. His jaw was tight as the lamplight caught the silver in his beard. You climbed the steps slowly, soft-footed, but his head still angled toward you before you’d reached the top.

“Go on back home, darlin’.” His voice was gravelly, rough from disuse. He didn’t look straight at you, his gaze still fixed out into the dark.

“Not happening,” you said, closing the distance until your shoulder brushed his. “It’s late. You need sleep.”

“M’fine.” The word came out more like a growl than reassurance.

You let out a breath that was half a laugh. “Stubborn as usual.” Your hand found the rifle, slipping it from his grip with practiced ease, and leaned it against the wall. He stiffened, ready to argue, but you pressed a finger to his lips before he could speak. Instead of moving away, you eased yourself onto his lap, fitting into the curve of him. His arm, reluctant at first, came to rest around your waist.

“Don’t start,” you murmured, cheek against his shoulder. “If you’re set on keeping watch, then you’re not doing it alone.”

Joel grunted, the sound low in his chest, and gave his head a small shake. It read like annoyance, but you knew him well enough to see the crack in it. It was more defense than denial.

“Don’t be like that.” You let your voice dip warmly and playfully. “We could be at home. In our bed. You could’ve woken me up, and I’d have found a way to distract you.”

His jaw twitched, but he kept his eyes stubbornly fixed on the tree line.

You smiled slowly, brushing your fingertips along the rough edge of his cheek as the hair of his beard scraped under your hand. “Mm,” you added, letting the suggestion linger between you, “you know I’m good at that.”

That finally got him. Joel’s narrowed gaze flicked to yours, heavy with a warning he couldn’t quite back up. “Distract me?” His voice carried that rough drawl, like gravel dragged over stone, but his eyes betrayed him with a hint of curiosity.

You leaned in, close enough for his scent of coffee and cedar to wrap around you. “Playing coy now?” you teased, brushing your lips against the corner of his mouth, then pressing a kiss into the thick of his beard.

Joel huffed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t tease me,” he muttered, but the hand at your hip tightened, holding you in place.

“I’m not.” Your voice came out softer this time as you leaned back just far enough to search his face. “I’m serious, Joel.”

His brows pinched as his eyes narrowed. For a long moment, he just stared, like he was trying to read the hidden meaning in your expression. Then came the short grunt. He turned back toward the fence line. “Ain’t happenin’, darlin’.”

That dismissal sparked something in you. With a huff, you reached for his chin, coaxing his face back to yours. “I’m not askin’ for sex,” you whispered, thumb stroking along the sharp edge of his jaw. “I want—” The words caught as your breath stalled because voicing it felt scandalous in the open air.

Joel’s eyes softened in confusion, though his mouth stayed in that familiar hard line. “Want what?”

Your sigh broke the silence. You shifted, pressing closer as your knee brushes his thigh. The warmth between you made the night air suddenly too cool. “I want you to let me stay,” you murmured finally, the words a ghost against his lips. “Just… let me warm you. Keep you calm.”

Joel froze, his body rigid beneath yours. His hand twitched against your hip, like he didn’t know whether to pull you in or send you away. “Christ,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “You don’t know what you’re askin’.”

But you could feel the truth of him, the way his pulse jumped under your fingertips, and how his eyes flicked down to your mouth and back up again.

“You always think too much,” you teased, brushing your nose against his. “No one’s out here. It’s just us. Let me.”

His jaw clenched, the muscle feathering beneath your hand. He wanted to say no—he always did when it came to something scandalous like this—but the rough exhale that left him betrayed him more than any word could.

“What? You can’t handle that?” you teased when his silence dragged on too long, smirking as you dared him.

Joel let out a rough grunt, the kind that vibrated through his chest. A second later, his big hands were on your waist, shifting you on his lap until you could feel the outline of his bulge through the denim. His answer didn’t need words.

Heat sparked low in your belly as you watched him tug at his zipper, the rasp of metal loud in the quiet night. A smile tugged at your lips, wicked and pleased, because Joel giving in was a rare, addictive thing.

“Damn woman,” he muttered, looking up at you from beneath those heavy brows. “You sure you can handle this? Can’t have you squirm ’cause I’ll…” He trailed off, his voice rougher than gravel, leaving the rest hanging thick in the air.

You nodded before he could finish, eagerness stealing your words.

Joel shook his head like he should’ve known better, but his hands didn’t stop. He shoved his boxers down just far enough to free himself, wrapping a calloused fist around his cock, which was still soft, thickening under his touch. The sight alone made your thighs clench.

His other hand left your hip, hovering in front of your mouth. That unspoken command—one he’d never admit out loud—sent a shiver through you. You spat into his palm, heat rushing to your face at the dirtiness of it.

Joel’s eyes darkened as he worked the spit over himself, stroking slowly a few times until his cock twitched in his grip, starting to swell.

“You don’t have to be hard, Joel,” you whispered with a soft, breathy laugh as your lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Just want you to fill me, keep me warm.”

The sound he made was a half-groan as if his restraint was fraying by the second. His hand clamped at your waist, holding you like he couldn’t quite believe you were asking this of him here, but also couldn’t stop himself from giving in anyway.

“C’mon then.” Joel’s voice was low, more commanding than inviting.

You rose from his lap, nightgown brushing the tops of your thighs as you hitched it higher, thumbs sliding into the band of your underwear. The cotton dragged down your legs slowly, and when you leaned on Joel’s shoulder for balance, his big hand steadied you at the hip. Before you could tuck the garment away from your ankle, Joel’s other hand snagged it clean from your fingers.

“Joel—”

He cut you off by stuffing the panties into his jacket pocket, eyes flicking up to yours with something between mischief and possession. You raised a brow, but whatever protest you might’ve had dissolved as he hauled you back down onto his lap.

He seated you facing him, your knees spread over his thighs. The chair creaked beneath both your weights as he shoved your nightgown higher, baring you to the cool night air. His palm lingered against your bare thigh as his fingers squeezed your flesh gently.

Joel was hard now, his cock jutting thick and heavy against his stomach where he’d freed it. He stroked himself a few more times with the slick from your spit before lining up at your entrance. His eyes flicked up to yours with a searching expression.

“This what you wanted?” he rasped, voice edged with restraint.

You only nodded, a bit breathless as your hands braced against his shoulders. “Please, Joel.”

With a quiet curse, he guided you down onto him. The blunt head of his cock stretched you, heat searing as you sank slowly, inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed inside. Your body tightened around him, so full it almost hurt, and Joel’s jaw clenched tight at the sight of you writhing in his lap.

“Jesus Christ…” he grunted, holding your hips still, trying to keep you from moving. “You’re squeezin’ the life outta me.”

“That’s the point,” you whispered with a shiver, leaning forward to rest your head against his shoulder. The steady thump of his heart beat under your cheek. “Don’t need to move. Just wanna feel you.”

Joel let out a long, ragged breath, his arms wrapping around your waist. His beard brushed your temple as he dropped his head against yours, still muttering. “You’re gonna kill me, darlin’.”

But he didn’t push you off or let you go. He just held you there, cock buried deep as your warmth wrapped snuggly around him while the night stretched quietly around both of you.

You melted into his embrace as your eyelids fluttered shut with content. His body was solid as his hand splayed at your back stroked slow, soothing circles. Joel stayed tense, fighting himself, but the longer you sat joined like that, the more his breathing slowed, and the more his grip softened into something protective. 

You smiled against his shoulder because, for all his grumbling, Joel was giving you exactly what you wanted.

Sleep tugged at you sooner than you expected. The stretch of him inside you, the steady weight of his arms, and the heat rolling off his body worked together, lulling you under. It made you feel safe.

Joel didn’t shift you off or mutter a complaint, though you could feel the tension still strung through his muscles. That was something he always had, even as his hand stayed broad against your back, rubbing idle, absent circles like he couldn’t help himself. The other cradled your thigh, thumb brushing the bare skin in slow, unconscious strokes.

The night was quiet, interrupted only by the distant creaking of the walls and the soft sound of Joel's breathing just above your ear. His eyes remained fixed on the horizon, but his body conveyed a different message: it was rooted, still, and protective.

As your breaths evened out with your head tucked against his shoulder, Joel let out a resigned sigh. He tightened his hold just a fraction, enough to press you closer to keep you exactly where he wanted you. He couldn’t believe he was sitting here with his cock buried deep inside you. Yet, the weight of your warmth made him feel content with guarding Jackson just as he was.

Chapter Text

“That was fun,” you said with a small smile as you and Joel slipped away from the Jackson Square. The lanterns were still burning behind you as laughter spilled out into the night air. The whole town had gathered to celebrate an anniversary of the settlement, or another hard year survived together, you weren’t really sure, and for once, Jackson had felt like more than just a safe place. It felt like home.

Beside you, Joel was quiet. Well, quieter than usual. His jaw stayed tight as his gaze was fixed ahead, and his shoulders locked as if the revelry had pressed too close on him.

“Joel?” you murmured, coming to a stop and touching his arm through his worn green shirt.

He halted, too, blinking as if shaken from a fog. “Sorry, darlin’.” His voice was low, almost rough. “M’tired.”

Your eyes narrowed with suspicion because you knew better. The shadows under his eyes and how he wouldn’t meet your gaze said more than his words. You stepped closer, cupping his face in your hands. The bristle of his beard scraped against your palms, and his hazel eyes darted away from yours with restlessness.

“What’s wrong?” you asked softly. “You’ve been quiet all evening. I know these things aren’t your thing—”

Before you could finish, Joel caught your wrist and tugged you with sudden urgency down the narrow alley beside the Tipsy Bison. Your back met the cool brick wall, his broad frame caging you in all in a flash.

“Joel—” you started, breathless.

“Been thinkin’ about you all damn evenin’.” His words rasped out like a confession. His hazel eyes were darker now, and full of the heat he’d been holding back.

A startled laugh escaped you, shaking your head as understanding clicked into place. So that was the weight he’d been carrying. Not tiredness, but desire. “Honey,” you murmured, brushing your lips close to his, “you could’ve told me. We could’ve left early… gone home.”

He sighed, dragging a hand down his beard, frustration and want written in every line of Joel’s face. “You’re too good for me,” he groaned, voice breaking around it.

You smiled, rising onto your toes to press a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Then let me be good to you.”

Joel’s hand found your hip, fingers tightening like he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Christ,” Joel muttered, voice rough, before spinning you to face the wall. Your palms flattened against the cold brick, his body crowding in close. His mouth found your neck, kissing and dragging over your skin as he mumbled low words of praise that melted into your ear.

You bit your bottom lip, shifting your hips back to grind against the hard line of his cock through the fabric of his jeans. His low groan vibrated against your throat, and you couldn’t help the little giggle that slipped free. The absurdity of it—the two of you pressed into an alleyway when home wasn’t even far—only made the thrill sharper.

“We should head home—”

The clink of his belt cut you off, the sound loud in the hush of the night. Your stomach tightened as he rasped, “We’ll be quick. Just need to feel you.” The growl in his voice made your knees weak.

You hiked up your dress with shaking hands, bunching the fabric around your waist. Hooking your thumb under your underwear, you tugged it aside, baring yourself to the cool night air. Behind you, Joel’s breath hitched.

“Fuck…” His curse came out ragged as he stroked himself, his fist working slowly at first. The wet, slick sound as he dragged his calloused thumb through your folds told him everything he needed to know. “Already drippin’ for me.”

Heat flooded your cheeks as you leaned into the wall, arching your back for him. “Always,” you whispered.

Joel groaned low, pressing the blunt head of his cock against your entrance. His free hand slid up your stomach, then over your ribs, before gripping you firmly as he held you still.

“Gonna have to keep real quiet, darlin’,” Joel growled against your ear, the heat of his breath ghosting over your skin. The warning only made your walls flutter around him, drawing more of him in. His curse rumbled low in his chest. “You don’t want the whole damn town knowin’ what we’re doin’, right?”

You managed a shaky nod, but your agreement came out as a broken whimper when he shoved another thick inch inside. The stretch burned just right as your palms splayed against the rough brick as you fought to keep steady.

Joel groaned, the sound guttural as he slid his hand up your body—cupping your breast, skimming your throat—before clamping over your mouth. His palm muffled the desperate noise that tore out of you. “Baby,” he pleaded, his voice rough with restraint, “y’know I love the noises you make, but you gotta be quiet.”

He didn’t wait for your answer. With a hard thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, the force driving your chest against the wall. His hips snapped against yours again and again, as each stroke was fast and unrelenting. The slap of skin echoed in the narrow alley, obscene in its rhythm.

Your muffled cries vibrated against his hand as your nails scraped the brick, seeking something to hold. Joel’s grip at your hip tightened, dragging you back onto him, using you to take every inch.

“Fuck—feel so good, baby,” he hissed, teeth gritting as he pressed his forehead to the back of your head. “Like you were made for me.”

The pace was ruthless, every thrust a gamble against discovery, and that danger had your body clenching even harder around him. Joel felt it as he groaned into your hair, and drove in rougher, chasing the edge with a desperation he never showed before.

“Joel!” you whimpered against his palm, the sound muffled but desperate. Your body arched into his, every thrust punching a cry from your throat. “Oh, right there—”

“Shh.” His voice was a rasp and broken with effort. His hips snapped harder, pace losing rhythm. “I know, baby. Almost there, I can feel you.”

Your fingers scraped against the brick again, searching for something to hold as your walls fluttered around him. The reaction dragged a curse from Joel, his forehead pressing into your shoulder like he was trying to hold himself together.

Then his control cracked. His thrusts grew sloppy and urgent. With a strangled groan, he pulled out, his cock slick and glistening with your arousal in the dim light. He fisted himself fast, calloused hand working his length, and with a rough grunt, he spilled into his palm, messy streaks of his release dripping through his fingers as his chest heaved against your back.

You glanced over your shoulder as your lips curved in a small, amused smile. You’d never seen Joel this wrecked and undone.

He caught your look, eyes still dark with a jagged breath. “Don’t give me that grin,” he muttered, wiping his hand hastily on his jeans before cupping your jaw, pulling you into a rough kiss. When he pulled back, he continued. “Gonna take you home and make you come ‘til you can’t even walk.”

But before you could answer, footsteps scuffed against gravel at the mouth of the alley. Two voices—tipsy and laughing— drifted closer from the Tispy Bison as they weaved their way down the alley closer to where you and Joel were.

Joel’s hand clamped back over your mouth, his body shielding yours as his other reached blindly for his belt. Your heart was hammering as you froze, the air between you still thick with the smell of Joel’s release as the voices grew louder.

“Crap,” you hissed, tugging your underwear back into place with shaky hands before smoothing your dress down over your thighs.

Beside you, Joel was already yanking his jeans up, fumbling with the zipper and relooping his belt with a quick, sharp tug. His breathing was still rough, chest rising and falling as he stepped closer, shielding you just as the sound of laughter spilled into the alley.

Two younger women rounded the corner with flushed faces from drink, and their arms looped together. They stopped short, blinking as they took in the sight of you and Joel: you pressed back against the brick, hair mussed, cheeks warm; Joel standing in front of you with his broad frame taut, and his hand clamping around yours like a brand.

For a beat, no one moved. Then Joel gave a curt nod, muttered, “Evenin’,” and all but dragged you past them.

“Sorry—” you blurted as you passed, your voice breathless and uneven.

The women didn’t answer. Not with words, anyway. One arched her brow, the other smothered a laugh behind her hand as their eyes followed you both as if they’d caught every detail without needing proof.

Joel’s grip on your hand stayed firm until you were clear of the alley, his stride purposeful with a tight jaw. Your cheeks burned hotter as your heart raced not from what had happened, but from the knowledge that people in Jackson weren’t as blind as you’d hoped.

By the time you and Joel left the square behind and reached the quieter stretch of the neighborhood, his stride finally slowed. A rough grunt rumbled out of him, more like frustration than relief.

You glanced up at him, catching the scowl etched across his face, and couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up.

“Joel, they didn’t see anything,” you said softly, brushing your fingers against his arm.

“Didn’t need to,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Whole damn town’s gonna know. Dumbass move, takin’ you in a goddamn alley like a—” He cut himself off with another growl, clearly more mad at himself than you.

You bit your lip, fighting back another laugh, and nudged him with your shoulder. “And so what if they did? It’s natural, Joel. Sex shouldn’t be taboo.”

He shot you a look from under his brow filled with a half-scandalized, half-flustered expression. “You say that like we were sittin’ down to supper, not—” He stopped again, rubbing a hand over his beard with a low groan. “Christ. You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Your grin widened, warmth bubbling in your chest. “Maybe. But admit it…you liked it.”

Joel grunted again, unconvincingly. His ears had gone pink, and that alone made you laugh harder as he tugged you closer, trying—and failing—to look unbothered.

Chapter Text

“I’ll be quick,” Bucky promised with a small, lopsided smile as he tugged open the dresser drawer. He pulled out a pair of boxers and grey sweats, tossing them on the bed in a casual manner. When he glanced back at you, his brows raised when he caught you staring at the page of your book without having turned it in minutes.

“Baby,” he said gently, “I’m gonna take a shower.”

You hummed absently, only then blinking up at him. “Oh—sorry. Okay.” You smiled, a little sheepish. “Be quick.”

His chuckle was low, but warm, like it came from somewhere deep in his chest. “I will be. Can’t have my girl missing me too much.”

The lighthearted tease pulled a grin from you, but before you could respond, the sound of a faint scrape and a click of metal caught your attention. Your eyes shot up, just in time to see Bucky unlatch his vibranium arm and lift it free of his shoulder.

Bucky moved with practiced ease, carrying it to the bed and setting it carefully at the edge near his sweats, the weight of it sinking into the mattress near your feet. The sleek plates gleamed faintly in the lamplight, still faintly cool from the air. He didn’t notice the way you were staring—too busy padding barefoot toward the bathroom, broad back disappearing as the door shut with a soft click.

And then it was just you. You and the book you weren’t reading, and the silent weight of his arm at your feet.

Your gaze slid to Bucky’s arm, your pulse quickening despite yourself. You’d touched it before, kissed the sharp lines of steel when he let you, but there was something about it lying there unattached like a piece of him he had left behind. The air seemed colder near it, your skin prickling as though you could feel the chill from here.

Your thighs pressed together instinctively as a quiet ache stirred low in your belly. You imagined the way the cold metal had once skimmed your skin, the contrast of hard and soft, heat and chill, and your body clenched with desire, sparking a sharper sensation.

You licked your lips as the book slipped forgotten into your lap. You knew you should wait for him, but your hand twitched with anticipation. Your fingers itched, and your gaze lingered once more on the metal arm, its silent presence making your pulse race.

With a soft exhale, you slid from beneath the covers, the forgotten book slipping from your lap to the floor with a dull thud. Your gaze lingered on the metal arm lying at the edge of the mattress, the gold lines catching the lamplight, almost beckoning you.

This wasn’t the first time you’d thought about it. In fact, it hadn’t been just your idea anymore.

You remembered the first time you’d teased him about it, months ago, half-joking but filled with curiosity. “Bet that arm of yours could do some things,” you’d murmured, laughing into his chest. The way Bucky had gone stiff beneath you and pulled back like you’d burned him made you instantly regret it. His panic had been raw with guilt flashing in his blue eyes as he shook his head.

But you had held him and whispered reassurances into his skin until his breathing steadied. You’d told him you’d never push, never use a part of him he wasn’t ready to share. And slowly, every so slowly, you watched him come around.

The first night he’d finally agreed to keep the arm on during sex, you’d gone even slower than he had. You kissed each plate of metal like it was holy, worshiping what he thought was monstrous. His voice had broken when you whispered, “This is you, too, Bucky. Every part of you is mine to love.” And then hesitantly, he’d touched you with it. A single finger, brushing along your hip, then lower. The cool metal against your heated skin had made your breath catch, your back arch, while your thighs shook around him. He’d stared, wide-eyed, when you came undone so fast you nearly cried from it, and after that moment, everything shifted.

Now it wasn’t just your fantasy. It was something you shared together. You’d explored the vibration, the strength, the way he could hold you down with the arm while his other hand worshiped you, soft and careful. And every time, he’d asked first. Every time, he made sure. And every time, you said yes.

So when your eyes lingered on it now, lying dormant on the bedspread, you didn’t feel guilt. You felt a pulse of heat low in your belly, and a spark of anticipation because Bucky had given you that trust. He’d told you, voice low and gruff but sure: “If you want to use my arm, doll…it’s yours.”

You traced the cool metal with your fingertips, shivering at the contrast of warmth from your skin, and a slow smile curved your lips as you thought about how good it always felt. How good Bucky always made it feel when the two of you used it together. With the shower running behind the closed bathroom door, heat pooled between your thighs at the thought of just how you’d welcome him back to bed tonight.

It didn’t take long before your nightgown was abandoned in a careless heap on the floor, your skin already flushed from teasing yourself with the cool edges of his hand. You had dragged his metal fingers across your nipples until they stiffened into aching peaks, gasping at the way the chill shot straight down to your core. Every brush of steel against your heated body made your thighs clench tighter, leaving you wetter.

Now, lying back against the pillows, you flipped his arm over and pulled it to the center of the bed. Your breath caught as you hovered above it, the anticipation curling hot in your belly. You knew you it was reckless and needy, but the thought of Bucky walking out of the bathroom to find you spread over his arm made your pulse race harder.

A soft whimper escaped as you straddled the forearm, lowering yourself until the cool vibranium brushed against your folds. The moment the hum of power coursed through the plating, the faint vibration traveled into your clit, and your whole body jolted with a sharp cry. The sensation buzzed deliciously, and you rocked against it greedily, slick arousal coating the grooves and seams of the metal.

Your hips moved on instinct, grinding down to chase the friction. The contrast was maddening as your heated skin pressed against cold steel, every nerve alive with sensation. “Oh, fuck,” you moaned, shuddering as the vibration pulsed against your clit, as sharp little shocks of pleasure built fast.

Your hand slipped to your breast, tugging at your nipple as your thighs shook around the arm. The wet sounds of your cunt dragging against the smooth metal filled the quiet room, and the thought of Bucky hearing them through the bathroom door sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you.

“Bucky…” you gasped as your head tipped back, and your eyes squeezed shut. You weren’t even sure if you were calling to him or just praying he’d see you like this, undone and dripping all over the part of himself he once thought unworthy of your touch.

The vibration thrummed harder against your clit as you shifted, grinding faster, your arousal smearing across the palm until you were trembling. Heat coiled tight, threatening to snap, and you cried out as you chased it, knowing he could walk in at any second.

“Feels so good… don’t stop, Bucky,” you moaned, your hips rocking harder against the vibrating arm, lost in the slick grind and the fantasy of him beneath you. Your head tipped back as your eyes squeezed shut, and the steady hum buzzed against your swollen clit and dragged you closer to the edge of your orgasm.

You were so far gone in it that you didn’t hear the bathroom door creak open or sense the shift in the air until a low voice rasped from the doorway.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty like that, baby.”

Your eyes snapped open as your breath caught. Bucky stood in the threshold, damp hair curling against his temples, with a towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. Drops of water traced down the planes of his chest, but his blue eyes were locked on you, filled with hunger.

Heat flooded your face, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. Your hips rolled harder against the metal hand, each vibration sparking another whimper from your lips. “Bucky—please, fuck. Need you.”

He shook his head slowly, though the corner of his mouth tugged upward in that crooked half-smile that always betrayed him. “I just took a shower,” he said, voice thick and teasing. “Got all clean, and here you are… makin’ a mess of yourself.”

Your lips parted on a moan, your fingers curling into the sheets. “Only messy for you,” you whispered breathlessly, grinding harder, trying to chase the coil of heat that threatened to snap.

Bucky’s jaw tightened, his chest rising faster with every rock of your hips. He stepped closer, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe as though holding himself back. His voice dropped, low with worship. “That’s it, sweetheart. Don’t stop for me. Show me how good it feels. Show me what’s mine.”

The words sent a shiver through you, and your thighs trembled as the wave of pleasure built sharper. You moaned his name again, body arching as you gave yourself over to it, while his gaze devoured every second, his towel hanging looser with each breath he took.

“Bucky—please…” you moaned, hips grinding faster against the cool vibranium plates. Your arousal smeared across his palm as you reached a trembling hand out toward him.

He only shook his head, a quiet tsk leaving his lips as he stepped closer, water still dripping from his chest. “Ah, you want my cock, baby?” His voice was low, edged with amusement. “Should’ve waited for me.”

Your eyes widened as he let the towel slip from his hips, the heavy length of his cock already half-hard, and bobbing against his thigh. The sight made you nearly leap from the bed to reach for him, but his firm tone stopped you. “Now,” he drawled, tilting his head, his eyes fixed hungrily on the way you were riding his arm, “be a good girl. Finish what you started. Maybe then you’ll earn your reward.”

A whimper tore from your throat as you bit down on your lip, grinding harder, desperate for release. “I’m sorry,” you gasped, the words tumbling out broken and breathless.

Bucky’s expression softened even as his smirk lingered. He moved to the edge of the bed, towering over you, his voice slightly coaxing. “It’s alright. I’m not mad. You’re just my needy, beautiful thing.” His gaze dropped to where your folds slid shamelessly against the vibrating metal. “Go on—rub that pretty clit on my arm. Let me see you come for me.”

The order made your stomach clench, heat sparking low as you rode faster, the hum of the vibranium sending shockwaves through your body. Your hand flew to your breast, squeezing, tugging at your nipple as your thighs trembled with the effort.

“Touch me,” you begged as your voice broke, your eyes pleading up at him. “Or… or touch yourself. Please, Bucky.”

His jaw flexed, the hunger in his eyes darkening as he gave a single nod. “Since you asked so nicely…” His flesh hand wrapped around his cock, stroking lazily at first, just enough to make your mouth water. His thumb spread the bead of precum along the thick head, his breath catching as he watched you grind desperately against the metal arm.

“Fuck, look at you,” he rasped, stroking faster in time with your movements. “So wet, makin’ a mess all over me. That’s it, sweetheart. Don’t stop now—wanna see you fall apart.”

The sight of him fisting himself while his voice coaxed you on pushed you closer to the edge. Your clit throbbed against the cool vibrations, your hips rolling harder, your body clenching tighter. His eyes locked on yours, blue and burning, and it was too much. Your orgasm crashed over you in sharp waves, a strangled cry leaving your throat as you came undone against the hard steel, grinding through every pulse until your body trembled.

Bucky groaned low at the sight, pumping his cock harder, chasing his own release while your name spilled from his lips like a prayer.

You whimpered as your hips still rocked lazily against the cool metal, and your fingers teased your nipples, dragging out the aftershocks of your orgasm. Bucky’s gaze burned into you, his cock working steadily in his fist, veins bulging along his forearm as his breathing turned ragged.

“God, baby…” he groaned, eyes flicking between your swollen clit grinding against his arm and the soft peaks of your breasts under your touch. His jaw tightened, a curse breaking free as his hand pumped faster, precum slicking his strokes.

You leaned forward, mesmerized by the way he came undone for you—his thighs tensing, chest heaving, lips parting on a guttural moan as his release spilled hot over his knuckles and lower stomach. His blue eyes fluttered shut for a heartbeat before snapping open again, fixed on you like he needed to watch the way you watched him.

“Fuck,” you breathed, biting your lip as warmth spread through you at the sight. “You’re gorgeous when you come, Bucky.”

He let out a shaky laugh, running his clean hand over his face before glancing down at the mess across his abs. “Yeah? Pretty sure you just about killed me sittin’ on my arm like that,” he rasped, voice hoarse but teasing.

You crawled closer, tugging the towel from the floor and handing it to him. He wiped himself down with a sheepish smile, then leaned in to press a damp, sweet kiss to your temple. “You always surprise me. In the best way.”

Your lips curved as you nuzzled against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart. “Guess that means I still get my reward, then?”

Bucky huffed a laugh, slipping his flesh hand around your waist and pulling you snug against him. “Oh, you’re gettin’ a reward,” he murmured, brushing his lips against your hairline. “As soon as I catch my breath.”

Chapter Text

“C’mon, you stupid piece of shit.” You muttered under your breath, smacking the walkie-talkie against the scarred wooden table. The thing rattled in your hand as the antenna bent at an awkward angle. You needed to check in to see if Matt had made any progress finding the meds he promised.

Static hissed through the cramped, dim apartment, loud enough to make your teeth grind. You leaned in, your thumb holding down the button. “Hello? Matt? Are you fucking there? Copy?”

The reply was nothing but crackling emptiness. You released the button with a groan, dragging a hand over your face. “Goddamn bastard—”

“Who the hell is Matt?” a gravelly voice cut in suddenly.

You jerked back as your heart slammed into your ribs. The walkie, now resting in your palm, felt foreign and dangerous. That voice didn’t belong to Matt. It was older, lower, wrapped in a lazy southern drawl that rumbled through the static like it was meant to be heard in a dark room.

You hesitated, then pressed the button slowly. “Who the hell is this?” Your voice came out sharp and defensive.

It didn’t even take a second before he came back. “Ain’t Matt, that’s for sure.” His tone was dry, almost amused, but edged with something heavier. A beat later, he added, “Pretty sure he’s dead.”

Your jaw locked as heat crawled up your neck, and you slammed a fist against the table, rattling the walkie again. Fantastic. Your supplier was gone, and whoever the hell this was had his gear.

“Excuse me?!” you snapped, leaning close to the mic. “How the fuck do you know that?”

A pause followed that was long enough you thought he might not answer. Then his voice returned, lower this time, steady as stone.

“Found his stuff.”

The way he said it with an eerie calm made your pulse quicken. Whoever this man was, he wasn’t some desperate kid stumbling into a score. He sounded dangerous and experienced, but something about the rasp of his voice made it impossible to pull the walkie away from your mouth.

“Great, well, enjoy the new walkie, motherfucker.” You spat into the receiver before snapping your thumb off the button. A string of curses tumbled out under your breath as you shoved back from the table, pacing the narrow length of your apartment.

Matt was supposed to meet a contact, pick up ammo, and bring it back by tonight. You’d thought you could count on him. Now he was gone, and from the sound of things, it hadn’t been some clicker that got him. Someone had taken him out. Maybe someone with a slow southern drawl that didn’t sound the least bit rattled about it.

You dragged both hands through your hair, muttering, “Goddammit, Matt.”

Static hissed again, sharp enough to make you glance at the walkie where it sat abandoned on the table.

“You there?”

The voice rolled through the room, low and unhurried, making you freeze in place.

You shouldn’t have answered. Every instinct told you to ignore it, smash the walkie to pieces, and never wonder again who the hell was on the other end. But something about the timbre of his tone—rough, weathered, carrying an edge that was both threat and promise—pulled at you. It settled heavily in your mind and curled low in your stomach.

Your fingers hovered over the receiver before you pressed the button anyway.

“What do you want?” you demanded, trying to cover the way your pulse jumped just from hearing him speak.

“I didn’t…kill him. His stuff was just lyin’ there. Ain’t no body.”

You frowned at the walkie, brows knitting tight. “Didn’t ask if you did,” you shot back. “And I don’t care if you did.” Static filled the silence that followed, long enough you thought maybe you’d lost him. Then the voice returned, slower this time.

“Guess that means you ain’t Sherry?”

You rolled your eyes, groaning under your breath. Of course, Matt had probably scrawled her name down in that damn journal he never let out of his sight. Sherry was his girlfriend here in the QZ. Whoever this man was, he’d clearly thumbed through it.

“No, I’m not Sherry,” you said at last, your tone clipped. Then softly, with a sigh added, “I was…his partner. But not in that way.”

The pause on the other end stretched again. You found yourself leaning closer to the walkie without realizing it, waiting for him to return. Finally, he answered, the weight of his voice filling the small room. “You ain’t FEDRA, are you?”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head though he couldn’t see it. “If I were FEDRA, I wouldn’t be wasting my breath on a stolen walkie.”

“Good,” he muttered, the single word rough, like gravel grinding together.

Your stomach tightened at the sound, a shiver darting down your spine before you could stop it. His voice carried a steady, unflinching weight, and you hated how much you wanted to hear more. You were already addicted to a stranger’s drawl bleeding through static.

Your thumb hovered over the button restlessly. The smart thing to do would’ve been to let it end there. There was no reason to press. No reason to ask about Matt or the man who had his gear. But as the silence stretched, the itch to fill out the emptiness won out.

“Uh—the guy was my smuggler.” You kept your tone careful, every word measured. “He was supposed to be getting… something for me. Ammo. You didn’t happen to see that in his stuff, right?”

Static swallowed your question. The silence dragged so long you started to regret asking, your thumb twitching against the button again.

Then his voice came back, low and even. “Nope. Don’t think he made it that far.”

Your throat went dry. “You sound pretty sure.”

“I’m sure,” he said, no hesitation in it. Then, after a beat. “You in deep enough to need ammo, you oughta know what you’re doin’.”

It wasn’t quite a threat, but it wasn’t harmless either. He was prodding, testing you.

You narrowed your eyes at the walkie, as if you could stare him down through it. “You're a smuggler too?”

A soft grunt of amusement came through. “Somethin’ like that.”

The way he said it made your pulse skip, and you caught yourself leaning closer, as if the rasp of his voice could pull you straight through the speaker.

The days blurred into weeks, each one marked by scraps of conversation carried over static. It became a strange rhythm—you checking in, him deciding whether or not to answer. Joel. That was all he’d given you: no last name, no details, and nothing that could tie him down.

He was always guarded. It was like he rationed his words the way people rationed food in the QZ, but you found yourself drawn to it, that sparseness. Every sentence felt deliberate, like a stone dropped in still water. You wanted to know what rippled beneath the surface.

Most of the talking ended up being on you, filled with rambling about the market stalls, the ration lines, and the little victories of the day. Joel rarely offered more than a grunt or a low chuckle, but somehow, it was enough. His voice filled the small, dim apartment in a way silence never had, scratching an itch you hadn’t realized was there.

Loneliness pressed on you less when you knew, at some point, the walkie might crackle and his voice would spill through again.

Maybe it was pathetic, how much you looked forward to it, or how you would replay his words in your head when the nights stretched too long, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

Today was no different.

Your thumb hovered over the button as your heart thumped a little too fast for something as simple as a call over a walkie-talkie. “Joel? You there?”

A few seconds later, Joel’s voice cracked through the static. “Yeah, m’here.”

Your lips curved into a small smile before you could stop them. God, it was ridiculous—smiling over a man you’d never met. You didn’t even know what he looked like, only the weight of his voice, but somehow that was enough. It was, sadly, more than enough. It lingered in your chest, low in your stomach, curling into heat you tried to ignore.

“What are you doing? Obviously not smuggling,” you teased, forcing your tone light as you drifted toward your bedroom. The last bit of sun bled orange across the windowpane, casting your sheets in fading glow. You settled on the edge of the bed with the walkie pressed close.

“You’re clever,” Joel drawled, the sarcasm in his voice thick.

You huffed a laugh, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see you. “Nah, just observant.”

He grunted again, softer this time. “Just woke up,” he admitted. “Long day yesterday with a smuggle.”

The words rasped over you, the kind of gravelly roughness that made you imagine the stretch of him waking, the sound caught in his throat. You sighed, easing back onto your bed, the walkie resting against your collarbone.

“You sound it,” you murmured, your voice more intimate than you’d meant it to be.

Static hummed back at you before Joel spoke again in a lower tone, as if he’d caught the shift. “That right?”

Your chest tightened as you tried to laugh it off, keeping it casual. “Yeah. Guess I caught you at a bad time.”

“Nah, you didn’t.”

You blinked, startled by the quickness of his reply. Joel never wasted words, never reassured, but there it was, plain as day. Heat crept up your neck, and you let out a soft, awkward laugh.

“Oh. Well… cool.”

You braced for the usual lull, the silence that always stretched too long between his sentences, but instead, Joel surprised you again.

“So, what’s your day been like?” His voice came through low and steady, a hum beneath the static. It sounded almost careful, like he’d tested the question before saying it aloud.

You shifted on the bed, lying back so the walkie rested against your chest. “Long, as usual.” Your sigh feathered against the receiver. “Don’t you ever miss it? Life before? Having a lazy day where you could just… sit on the couch, watch TV, and order takeout. Waste time without worry.”

Static buzzed, filling the pause. For a second, you thought you’d pushed too far into personal ground. Then his voice rumbled through again.

“Yeah,” Joel said, slower this time, like he was turning the memory over in his head. “Miss the quiet. Bein’ able to shut the world out.” A low chuckle followed, brief and rough. “Can’t even remember the last time I slept in.”

The sound tugged at you in your small, dark room. You closed your eyes, imagining him in the shape of those words: stretched out, unshaven, voice thick from sleep.

“You sound like you could use it,” you murmured.

Joel grunted in response, but something about the timbre made your stomach flutter.

You chewed on your bottom lip, nerves making you reckless. “Isn’t this the part where you ask me what I’m wearing?” The tease slipped out with a soft laugh, lighter than you felt.

Static hummed back at you for too long. You sat up straighter in bed as your heart climbed into your throat. Had you gone too far?

When Joel finally spoke, his voice was rougher than usual, edged with suspicion. “Is that what this was? A whole plan to…lead to this?”

Heat flooded your cheeks quickly. “What? No—I was just—” You stumbled, words tangling uselessly in your mouth. The laugh that followed was breathless and a dead giveaway.

Joel let the silence stretch again, and you swore you could hear him breathing on the other end. When he spoke next, his tone had softened, though it still carried that puzzled weight. “You’re a strange one.”

Your stomach flipped, the words hitting harder than they should. “And you’re impossible,” you shot back, trying for playful, though your voice cracked a little around it.

“Maybe,” he drawled, quiet enough you almost missed it.

You lay back down, the walkie pressed against your chest as your pulse raced. The tease had slipped too close to the truth, and you hated—and loved—that his voice alone had you flustered.

Well… what are you wearing?” you asked, trying for casual, though your voice carried an edge of curiosity you couldn’t quite disguise.

On the other end, Joel let out a long, heavy sigh. The kind that made it easy to imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose, deciding whether you were worth humoring. You didn’t even know what he looked like, but the sound alone was enough to conjure a picture: broad-shouldered, weathered, tired, and the kind of man who carried his age like a weapon. The thought made your thighs press together.

“A flannel… and jeans,” he muttered at last with a flat tone like he was waiting for you to laugh at him.

You did with a snort. “You slept in jeans?”

“So?”

You bit down on a smile as heat curled in your belly at the stubbornness in his tone. “Jeans aren’t comfortable, Joel. But I guess that means you’re always ready for something to happen.”

The static buzzed between you. Then Joel’s low rumble drifted through, like he was speaking more to himself than to you. “Somethin’ like that.”

Your pulse quickened at the weight of those words. You shifted against the mattress, the walkie hot in your hand, wishing you could see the face behind Joel’s voice—see if he looked as unbothered as he sounded, or if he was fighting the same restless edge you were.

You let out a soft breath, daring yourself. “I’m wearing… nothing.” The lie came out with a teasing lilt, light enough to sound like a joke, though your pulse was hammering so loud. You braced for silence, or for him to shut it down with some clipped, practical answer. Instead, his reply came quick, that low drawl curling down your spine.

“I doubt that, darlin’.”

The way he said it made your skin prickle, heat pooling between your thighs as you shifted against the sheets. He chuckled under his breath. “Stop teasin’ me. Tell me the truth. You got some kink for this shit?”

Your mouth went dry. “What—no.” The denial tumbled out sharp, defensive. “No, I—I just…” You swallowed, cheeks burning, then blurted the words before you lost your nerve. “I just like your voice, Joel. It’s… sexy.”

Silence stretched, thick enough you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears. Then his voice cut back in, softer now, edged with something unreadable.

“That so?”

It wasn’t a question so much as a test, the drawl of it settling low in your belly. You bit your lip, clutching the walkie tighter, hating how much you wanted him to keep talking so that you could feel it all over again. However, nothing could have prepared you for Joel’s next question.

“Do you think about my voice a lot?” Joel drawled, like he already knew the answer.

The sound of it made heat lick up your spine, and your thighs press together again. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep the moan from slipping out. You swallowed hard, and you pressed the button on the walkie-talkie quickly.

“Yes…” The word came out breathy and shameful, like a confession at an altar.

A low hum rumbled through the static, deep enough to make your heart stutter and your body ache with want. Joel didn’t need to see you to know what he was doing to you—his voice alone painted you open.

“Do you think about it when you touch yourself?”

The question slammed into you roughly. Your whole body jolted with want as your thumb slipped on the button. “What—no,” you stammered, too quickly. The lie tasted bitter on your tongue. You could still feel the echo of the times you’d given in, his drawl bleeding through your memory as your fingers worked between your thighs.

Joel seemed to hear it in your silence, the way your breath caught, and how you fumbled. “Mmh,” he hummed slowly and knowingly. “Sounds like a yes to me.”

Your pulse raced with embarrassment and arousal tangling together until you couldn’t tell the difference. You pressed the walkie tighter to your lips, desperate to keep the connection even as your body begged you to shut it off.

“I—I…” The words stuck in your throat as shame and need collided.

“Don’t get shy now, darlin’.” Joel’s voice poured through the static with just enough grit to make your belly tighten. “Tell me the truth.”

Your breath shuddered as your free hand slid down your chest, fingertips grazing the swell of your breast through your shirt. Heat prickled across your skin as the urge to fess up overtook the fear. “Yes,” you whispered, then pressed harder on the button. “Yes, I’ve touched myself to the thought of you.” You tried to sound sure, tried to bury the quiver in your voice.

A beat of silence stretched, loud enough you rushed to fill it. “I couldn’t help it, okay? Your voice is—”

“Sexy,” Joel finished for you, cutting in before you could stumble further. His tone wasn’t smug, but matter-of-fact, like he was testing how the word landed in your mouth. “Yeah, so you told me. It’s odd. Don’t understand it.”

You let out a shaky sigh as your eyes slip shut. “You don’t have to understand it, Joel. It’s… just—your voice turns me on.” The words spilled out raw, a confession soaked in hunger.

Another silence, heavier this time. You thought maybe you’d gone too far until Joel came back on the line, his drawl lower, different.

“You want me to whisper dirty things to you, huh?”

The question hit like a spark, your thighs clenching instinctively.

“No—that would be weird,” you blurted, heat crawling up your neck.

Joel’s low chuckle rolled through the speaker, just enough to sink straight into your gut. “Darlin’, you just admitted you touched yourself to the thought of my voice. Can’t get it any weirder than that.”

You exhaled hard, clutching the walkie tighter like it could tether you. “You—you don’t have to.”

“Maybe I want to.” His voice dipped lower, like he was tasting the idea right alongside you. “Now hush and listen.”

Your pulse kicked as you slid back on the bed with your heart hammering.

“Start slow,” Joel drawled, his words dragging over you like sandpaper and silk all at once. “Run that pretty hand down your stomach. Feel how worked up you already are.”

Your fingers obeyed before your brain could argue, brushing over your shirt, the edge of your breast, then down your stomach before stopping at the waistband of your shorts. A breathy sound slipped past your lips, and you pressed the button with a trembling thumb. “I’m…doing it.”

“Mmh. Knew you would.” His praise was rough, but it made heat creep up your neck nonetheless. “Now, touch yourself for me. Nice and easy. Don’t rush.”

You gasped softly as your fingers slid beneath the waistband of your shorts, then your underwear, finding yourself already wet. 

“That’s it, darlin’,” Joel’s voice was low and coaxing, steady as a heartbeat. “Bet you’re soaked, huh? Bet you’ve been waitin’ for me to tell you exactly what to do with your pretty pussy.”

Your thighs squeezed together, your body shuddering with need as you whispered, “Yes…”

“Tell me how soaked I made you,” Joel rasped through the static.

You whimpered as your words caught in your throat, as your hips lifted off the mattress. “I’m—I’m so wet, Joel,” you admitted breathlessly. Your middle finger dragged from your entrance, gathering slick before circling up to your clit. The sharp shock of pleasure made you gasp.

“Yeah,” Joel groaned low, like he could picture it. “Knew you would be. Rub your pretty clit slow for me, darlin’. Nice circles. Don’t rush.”

Your thighs trembled as you followed his instructions, back arching against the sheets. Every flick sent sparks up your spine, and his voice kept your heart racing.

“That’s it,” Joel drawled, the sound wrapping around you tighter than hands ever could. “Keep it steady. Want you to drag it out. Feel how good I make you.”

A broken moan slipped past your lips before you slapped your palm over your mouth, embarrassment flashing hot.

Joel chuckled, the low sound vibrating through the speaker. “Don’t hide it from me. Lemme hear. I like hearin’ what I do to you.”

Your body obeyed before your brain could catch up, your whimpers spilling free as your fingers pressed harder, faster on your clit desperate for more.

“Good girl,” Joel praised, gravel thickening his drawl. “Now slide one finger inside. Slowly. Wanna hear how sweet you sound when you’re full?”

You whimpered his name again, heat spiraling in your belly as you pushed a finger into yourself, walls clenching tight around it.

“Christ,” Joel muttered, his voice dipping low. “Wish it was my cock stretchin’ you open right now. But I’ll settle for knowin’ it’s my voice makin’ you this desperate.”

“Fuck—” you moaned, voice breaking as your middle finger pumped in and out of your dripping entrance. The fantasy of Joel filling you made your walls clench tighter. The wet sounds of your arousal echoed in your quiet room, tangled with your breathy whimpers. “Joel, don’t stop—please.”

“Fuck, darlin’,” Joel groaned through the static, his drawl thick and ragged. “That’s my girl. Keep goin’, just like that. Want you to fall apart for me.”

Your free hand clutched at the sheets, knuckles aching as you curled another finger inside yourself. The stretch made your hips buck, a strangled gasp tearing out of you.

“There you go,” Joel coaxed, his voice like gravel dragged slowly. “Two fingers now? Yeah, you’re greedy for it, huh? Bet you’re squeezin’ ‘em tight, imaginin’ it’s my cock instead.”

A desperate whimper answered him, your body trembling with each thrust of your fingers.

“Rub that sweet clit while you fuck yourself,” Joel ordered roughly, like he was right at your ear. “Wanna hear you lose it for me.”

Your thumb found your swollen clit, rubbing fast, sloppy circles, the pleasure crashing through you like a wave about to crest.

“That’s it, darlin’,” Joel praised, voice dark with need. “Don’t hold back. Come for me. Want to hear you come to my voice.”

The command broke something loose inside you. Your back arched, thighs shaking violently as the orgasm tore through you, every muscle tightening as you cried out his name into the walkie. White heat spread from your core, rippling out until you collapsed against the mattress, boneless and panting.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” Joel growled, satisfaction rumbling in his chest even through the static. “Knew you could do it for me. Just wish my hands were on you instead of yours.”

You nodded breathlessly, slipping your damp hand out of your underwear and shorts. Your chest rose and fell in shaky waves, lungs fighting to catch up with the way Joel’s voice had just unraveled you. His low hum of praise still lingered through the static until you finally found your own words.

“That was—” you sighed, the corners of your mouth tugging up into a soft, blissed-out smile. “That was great.”

“M’sure it was,” Joel rumbled, a hint of gravelly amusement in his drawl, like he was picturing you laid out, ruined, just from the sound of him.

Your cheeks heated, but curiosity pushed past your nerves. “Do you wanna…jerk off?” The question tumbled out in a hushed tone.

A beat of silence followed before Joel’s low chuckle rolled through, enough to twist in your stomach. “Nah, darlin’…not tonight.” His voice dipped with suggestion. “Maybe next time I’ll let you hear how good you make me, too.”

The line went quiet, but the echo of his words clung to you, leaving you wide awake, and your body aching with the promise of more.

Chapter Text

Your eyes widened like this was the first time you were seeing Joel’s cock, but it wasn’t. No, this was the first time you were really taking him in under the pale gold of the early morning light. His length was impressive, sure, but it wasn’t what had you licking your lips. It was the thickness—the sheer weight of him resting heavy against his thigh, the girth that always stretched you until you were trembling. Every time he filled you, it was a fight between pain and pleasure that left you aching for more.

“Uh—sweetheart… you’re just starin’,” Joel muttered gruffly above you, his brows pulling together as he shifted against the headboard. His voice betrayed a hint of awkwardness, like he wasn’t used to being looked at this way, adored. But he hadn’t stopped you when you’d kissed your way down his stomach, or when you had settled between his spread thighs, greedy gaze fixed on him like he was something sacred.

You giggled softly, tilting your chin up to meet his uneasy stare. “Oh, right. I was just… admiring.”

Before he could respond, you spit into your hand and wrapped it around the base of his cock. Your fingers didn’t close all the way around, which never failed to make you shiver with want. Joel groaned low, head tipping back against the wall as your grip slid from base to tip. The veins beneath your palm pulsed against your skin, thick and prominent, making your mouth water. Sometimes it made you want to trace every ridge and vein with your tongue. 

So, this time you did.

“You’re so handsome, Joel,” you murmured reverently as you leaned in. Your tongue laved slowly up one of those thick veins, savoring the salty taste of his skin. The head of his cock flushed a deeper red under your touch, pearled with the first bead of precum.

Joel’s hips jerked, a guttural noise escaping him before he could swallow it down. “Christ—fuck, darlin’. Give a man a warnin’.”

You chuckled against his cock, lips brushing the sensitive head as you whispered, “Sorry.” Another soft kiss followed, then another, trailing worshipfully over it. Your hands stroked and squeezed, each movement paired with your tongue sliding, licking, circling, like you couldn’t decide which part of him you loved most.

Joel’s big hands fisted in the sheets, his chest rising and falling faster now. “Ain’t… ain’t used to bein’ spoiled like this,” he admitted, voice roughened with arousal.

“Then get used to it,” you whispered, looking up at him with wide, wanting eyes before closing your lips around the thick, sensitive head of his cock.

Joel’s deep and guttural groan made your head spin as his head thumped back against the headboard, and his eyes squeezed shut. The sound vibrated through his chest, ragged and unrestrained, and it only spurred you on. You swirled your tongue around the flushed tip, savoring the taste of him, like it was something you’d craved forever.

You didn’t go down on him often—Joel always insisted on putting you first—but this morning, you wanted to make him understand how much you adored every inch of him. This was your chance to worship him the way he deserved.

You smiled against the head of his cock before sinking lower, easing him slowly into your mouth. Your lips stretched wide, jaw already aching, but it didn’t matter. You wanted to feel that heaviness on your tongue, wanted him to know you loved the way he filled your mouth. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking gently, letting him glide deeper before pulling back to lick along the thick vein running up the base.

God, you never thought you’d find a cock beautiful, but Joel’s was a sight. The sheer girth, the veins that bulged beneath your tongue, the way his flushed skin contrasted with the deeper hue of the tip. It all made you ache with want. Even his balls, heavy and full, drew you in. You loved the way they slapped against you when he fucked you, loved the weight of them now against your palm as you cradled them, stroking your thumb across the coarse hair. Joel kept himself trimmed, but he was still rough, manly, and the faint musk of him only made your mouth water more.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel groaned, his voice breaking as his hips shifted, betraying the restraint he was trying to hold onto. His hand twitched like he wanted to stop you, but instead it fisted in the sheets, knuckles white. “Darlin’, I—fuck—I can’t—”

You hummed around him, the vibration making his cock twitch against your tongue. You wanted him like this—ruined, helpless, and falling apart under the worship of your mouth. And Joel, for all his control and gruffness, was crumbling for you; every sound he made proved that he couldn’t hide how good it felt.

“Fuck, that’s it, darlin’,” Joel groaned, voice breaking into a ragged moan that tore straight from his chest. His thighs tensed under your hands, the thick muscle twitching as he fought to stay still.

You bobbed your head steadily on his cock, lips stretched wide, tongue swirling along the underside with every descent. What you couldn’t fit into your mouth, your hand wrapped around and stroked in time, slick with spit. Drool slipped from the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chin and onto his stomach, but you didn’t care. You were drunk on him, dizzy with the weight of his cock filling your throat and the guttural sounds he couldn’t hold back.

Your free hand cupped his balls, rolling them gently, teasing your thumb along the coarse hair. Joel choked out a curse, his hips jerking despite himself, and the head of his cock hit deeper into your throat. The reaction only made you moan around him, the vibration sending him further over the edge.

“Christ almighty—” His hand shot to your hair, not pulling, just clutching, like he needed something to hang on to. His voice was wrecked now, every word dripping with desperation. “You’re gonna—fuck, baby, I can’t hold it—”

You sucked harder, stroked faster as your tongue traced the thick vein that pulsed under your lips. His cock throbbed against your tongue, the taste of precum salty and heady, and you moaned like it was the sweetest thing you’d ever had.

Joel’s hips lifted off the bed as he finally gave in, a guttural growl tearing from his throat. Spurts of his cum filled your mouth, spilling over your tongue in messy waves. You swallowed as much as you could, your lips sealing tight around him to take every drop, but more dribbled past your lips, coating your chin and hand.

Joel groaned through it, his body shuddering as his chest heaved like he’d just run himself into the ground. His head fell back, a sheen of sweat glistening along his temple, as his hand loosened in your hair. “Goddamn,” he rasped, voice hoarse. “You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart.”

You laughed softly, breath warm against his skin, as your tongue traced up his length, licking away the mess he’d left behind. The taste of him lingered on your tongue, but you didn’t shy away from it. You wanted every part of him. Joel’s big, calloused hand slipped into your hair, gathering it carefully, making sure it didn’t get caught or tangled as you worked. Even in his haze, he thought of you first.

“You don’t gotta—” His voice was hoarse, frayed at the edges.

“I want to,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of his softening cock. Then another, reverent and unhurried, trailing over the curve of him as though you couldn’t stop yourself. Your lips brushed against the wiry hair at the base before you tilted your head up to meet his gaze.

Joel looked wrecked, undone in a way you rarely saw—hazel eyes dark and glassy, chest still heaving as his whole body slackened against the pillows. For a man who so often carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, he looked… lighter now.

You smiled softly, peppering more kisses along his length before crawling up to straddle his lap. His hands found your hips automatically. You leaned forward, kissing the corner of his mouth, letting the tenderness linger.

“Darlin’…” His voice cracked, and he shook his head like he didn’t know what to do with the moment, like he didn’t know how to accept being cared for like this.

You cupped his jaw, brushing your thumb over the scruff of his beard. “Let me love you, Joel.”

He closed his eyes for a long beat, and when he opened them again, the gruff edges had softened. His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, pulling you into a deep, lingering kiss.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his voice rough but steady. “Reckon I ain’t felt this loved in a long time.”

“Well, get used to it.” You whispered with a tender smile.

Chapter Text

“Ugh, I have nothing to wear,” you groaned, tossing another bundle of shirts onto the bed in defeat.

From where he sat on the edge of the mattress, Bucky let out a low chuckle filled with warmth and teasing. “You’ve got plenty to wear, sweetheart. Wear that dress I like… or the blue one with the little flowers.” His voice softened with affection, like he was already picturing you in them.

You shook your head, groaning again. “That’s too formal. I just… wanna be comfortable.”

He tilted his head, watching you frown at the pile of clothes like they’d personally wronged you. Then his gaze flicked toward the dresser, and the corner of his mouth lifted. “Then wear one of mine.”

You blinked at him. “What?”

Bucky’s smile deepened, a hint of mischief glinting in his blue eyes. “Wear my red Henley. You love that one, don’t you? Always staring when I’ve got it on.”

Your stomach flipped as heat crept up your neck. “Bucky, no… it won’t even fit. You’ve seen me. I’ll stretch it out.”

He shook his head, rising from the bed with that easy grace, and opened the drawer to pull it free. The deep red fabric looked impossibly soft in his hands, the shoulders broad with the sleeves long. “Baby,” he said gently, walking it over to you, “I could wrap you up in this shirt and still have room to spare. You’d look so damn good in it. So beautiful.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. You had never considered yourself small, but the way he said it, along with the way his eyes took you in, made you almost believe him. The thought of being wrapped in Bucky’s warm shirt, embracing you completely, filled you with a sense of being loved.

Bucky pressed the henley into your hands, leaning down to brush a kiss against your temple. “Trust me, sweetheart. Try it on. I wanna see you in it.”

You hesitated only for a moment before nodding, taking the Henley from Bucky’s hands. Your fingertips grazed the fabric. It was soft, worn in a way that spoke of comfort, and carried that familiar scent of warm sandalwood and amber that clung to him. You swallowed, pressing it briefly to your face, then sighed and slipped it over your head, bracing yourself for the usual tug at your chest or hips.

But it didn’t come.

The shirt slid over your body with ease, the fabric loose around your arms, the hem falling far lower than you’d expected, almost like a dress. You blinked down at yourself with a stunned expression, and a small smile tugged at your lips as you smoothed the fabric over your curves.

“See?” Bucky’s voice was low, almost reverent. He was leaning back against the dresser now, arms crossed as his blue eyes were fixed on you like you were something he wasn’t supposed to touch but couldn’t stop staring at. “Told you. Looks better on you than it ever did on me.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks under the weight of his gaze. The shirt swallowed your frame in all the ways you hadn’t expected, the broad shoulders making your own seem smaller, the sleeves grazing your wrists, the neckline dipping just enough to show a hint of skin. You’d never thought of yourself as small—never—but right now, wrapped in something of his, you felt almost delicate.

You laughed softly, a little shyly. “Guess it does fit.”

“It fits,” Bucky murmured, pushing off the dresser with a wolfish smile, “but don’t think for a second it makes me forget what’s underneath.” His hands slid to your waist as his fingers flexed over the fabric as though he couldn’t decide between tugging you closer or ripping the shirt right back off.

Later, when you both finally left the house, his restraint barely lasted. You walked beside him through the crowded street, feeling his hand settle heavily and protectively on your hip, his thumb rubbing circles into the red fabric of your outfit. He leaned down several times, whispering in your ear about how good you looked, how everyone else could see you wearing his clothes, and how much he loved that.

As you walked beside his broad frame, you couldn't help but notice just how much bigger he was than you. His palm easily spanned the length of your side, and his long strides made you quicken your pace just to keep up. Next to him, you felt smaller than you ever had before, yet cherished. Judging by the way he kept touching you, it was clear that Bucky liked it that way.

It wasn’t long before you and Bucky arrived at Sam’s place. He was hosting a BBQ get-together, and you couldn’t pass up Sam’s legendary ribs.

“Well, there’s my favorite troublemakers,” Sam called, smirking as you and Bucky walked up the path toward his backyard.

“Hi, Sam!” you greeted brightly, waving before he pulled you into a quick side hug.

The aroma of grilled meat and smoke wafted through the air, accompanied by the sound of laughter and music echoing from the patio. But even as you stepped forward, you felt the steady weight of Bucky’s palm sliding back to your hip, his thumb tracing an idle pattern against the curve of it like he couldn’t quite let go. He wasn’t possessive about it; there was no tight grip or sharp pull. It was softer than that, like he just needed the reassurance of you close. His fingers were spread wide and warm through the thin fabric of the Henley. You couldn’t ignore how easily his hand spanned your side. The contrast made you swallow, suddenly more aware than usual of how big he was beside you.

Sam’s voice carried from the grill, pulling Bucky into conversation, but even then, his arm brushed against yours, his knuckles grazing your thigh when you sat down, his broad chest pressing lightly against your back when he leaned over to reach for something. It wasn’t demanding—it was constant, a quiet gravity that tethered him to you.

At one point, you shifted in your seat, laughing at a story Sam told, only to find Bucky’s metal hand resting along the back of your chair. His shoulders eclipsed yours, his thigh easily twice the size of yours pressed to the side of your leg. You never thought of yourself as small, but sitting here, surrounded by his frame, you felt folded into him in a way that startled you.

When you tilted your head to glance at him, you caught him already looking at you, lips curved in that subtle, knowing smile. “You good, sweetheart?” he murmured, low enough that only you could hear as his thumb stroked along your waist again.

You nodded quickly, forcing a smile. “Yeah, fine.”

Bucky’s brows knit as he searched your face, his thumb still stroking your waist. He leaned in closer. “You sure?”

You hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek before admitting, “Just… admiring you.” The words came out softer than you meant, shy and almost swallowed by the noise of Sam’s backyard.

Bucky’s mouth twitched into a half-smile. “Admiring me, huh?” His tone was teasing, but his eyes softened like he wasn’t about to let you hide behind it.

You shifted under his gaze, shrugging lightly. “It’s just… when I’m next to you like this, I feel… smaller. And I’m not small, Bucky. But with you…” You trailed off as heat flooded your cheeks.

For a beat, he didn’t say anything. Then his flesh hand slipped from your hip, and he lifted it in front of you. “Gimme your hand.” You blinked, a bit startled, but placed your hand in his. He lined your palm against his own, dwarfing it instantly. His fingers curled over yours like he could fold you up inside his grip, the size difference undeniable.

“See that?” he murmured, eyes locking on yours. “Doesn’t matter if you’re small or not. You feel that way ‘cause I’ve got you. Always.” His voice dropped lower, edged with something more tender. “And I like knowing I can cover you like this. Protect you. Hold every inch of you.”

Your breath hitched as your thighs pressed together instinctively as his thumb brushed lazily over the back of your hand, sparking heat straight down your spine. The way he looked at you like you were something precious and wanted made your pulse skip.

You swallowed. “That’s… exactly what I mean.”

His grin tilted wickedly then, leaning in so close his lips brushed your ear. “Good. ‘Cause the way you fit against me? Makes me wanna keep you there all night.”

You giggled softly as you rolled your eyes, and heat crept up your neck. “Bucky…”

But his gaze didn’t waver. The corner of his mouth tugged up, though his eyes stayed intent on yours, burning hotter than the summer air around you. “I mean it. If you’re up for it, when we get home…” His voice dipped lower, enough to make your stomach clench. “I’ll show you.”

Your breath caught, pulse skipping as you tried to focus on Sam cracking jokes near the grill, the hum of conversation all around you. But the weight of Bucky’s hand on your hip, the quiet promise in his words—it had you squirming in your seat until the very end of the night.

By the time you got home, you barely had the door closed before Bucky had you pressed gently against it, his lips brushing your temple. “Been thinkin’ about you all day. The way you looked at me… the way you said you feel around me.”

Your heart thudded against your ribs. “Because it’s true. Around you, I—”

“I know, sweetheart,” he soothed, tilting your chin so you had to meet his eyes. “You don’t need to explain. Lemme show you.”

He guided you to the bedroom, but his touch never left your body. His hand spanned your back, sliding over your hip, then curling around your thigh like he needed to keep reminding you how much bigger he was. When you sat on the edge of the bed, he held his palm up again, coaxing you to place yours against it. The difference was stark. His fingers swallowed yours, his thumb almost wrapping all the way around your wrist.

“See that?” His voice was husky and frayed at the edges. “Do you see how you fit against me everywhere. Even when I’m inside you.” Heat pooled between your thighs at his words. You bit your lip, unable to stop the needy sound that slipped from you.

That was all it took. Bucky pushed you gently back onto the mattress, climbing over you, his chest broad enough to blot out everything else. His thigh pressed against yours, easing them apart with effortless strength, and his hand slid down to cover your hip completely.

“You’re so damn soft under me,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear as he ground his hardening cock against your core through your clothes. “So small when I’ve got you like this.”

Your breath hitched, back arching into him, every nerve lit. “Oh fuck—”

He kissed you hard, stealing the breath from your lungs, and when you gasped against his mouth, he took his chance. His flesh hand slid beneath the Henley, calloused palm grazing your stomach before gliding higher, spanning your ribs until he cupped one breast with a reverence that made your back arch. His metal hand caught your thigh, the cool plates a stark contrast to your heated skin as he pushed your legs wider beneath him. His voice rasped against your lips, thick with hunger.

“You’re mine, sweetheart. All of you. Every curve, every inch.” He shifted his hips until the thick press of his cock ground against your core, making you whimper. His smirk curved against your mouth. “Let me show you how perfect you are.”

Clothes fell away quickly after that—your shirt (his Henley) tugged over your head, his black t-shirt discarded somewhere on the floor. By the time his hands had finished roaming your bare skin, you were trembling. He pulled you down on top of him, blue eyes molten as he lay back against the pillows.

“C’mere, sweetheart.” His voice was soft and coaxing, though there was no mistaking the hunger beneath it. He patted his chest, then slid his hand lower, guiding you over him. “Sit on me.”

You froze, heart hammering. “Bucky…”

“Yeah.” His smirk softened into something almost tender. “Right here. On my face. Let me taste you.” His metal hand traced the curve of your thigh, as if to soothe your nerves. “You think you’re too much, but baby—” his fingers squeezed your hip, almost spanning the whole thing “—you’re not. You’ll never be too much for me. Let me prove it.”

Your lips parted, hesitance warring with the way his words pooled heat low in your belly. “I’ll crush you—”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, you couldn’t. I’m built to carry the weight. Yours? That’s nothin’. I want it. I want you right here, lettin’ me make a mess of you.” His voice dipped lower, thick and rough with need. “Please, ride my mouth. Show me that pretty pussy.”

Your thighs trembled, but you let him guide you forward until you were straddling his broad chest, then higher, your knees braced by the headboard. Bucky’s hands—one warm, one cool—gripped your thighs and urged you down, and the second your wetness brushed his lips, he groaned like he’d been starved.

The sound shattered what was left of your hesitation.

Your head tipped back with a broken moan as his tongue slid between your folds, slow at first, savoring. The room filled with the wet sounds of his mouth on you, your gasps and moans mixing with the guttural groans he let out each time you rolled your hips against his face.

“Bucky—oh, God—” Your hands scrambled for purchase before gripping the headboard, knuckles aching.

He only moaned louder, the vibrations shooting straight through you, his hands tightening on your thighs as if daring you to press down harder. Every flick of his tongue, every hungry suck on your clit, made you see stars.

You chanced a glance down and nearly came at the sight. Bucky’s blue eyes locked on yours, wild with need, his face buried in you like he could drown there and die happy. “You’re so fucking perfect up here,” he rasped when he pulled back just long enough to drag his tongue flat from your entrance to your clit, smearing your wetness across his lips. “Look at you. My perfect girl ridin’ my mouth like she was made for it.”

The praise tipped you over the edge. You ground down helplessly, thighs trembling, cries spilling into the air as he devoured every bit of your release like it was his own salvation. Bucky didn’t stop as his grip only tightened, dragging you back down onto his tongue as if proving his point: you weren’t too much. You were everything.

Bucky worked his mouth harder, tongue flicking in relentless strokes until your whole body shook above him. The pressure built until it snapped, your orgasm tearing through you with a cry muffled against your own arm braced on the headboard. Your thighs clamped around his head, trembling, but he only groaned into you, holding you down until every last shudder rippled through your core.

When you finally sagged forward, gasping for breath, Bucky eased his grip and guided you carefully down his chest. He helped you settle on your back beside him, his flesh hand rubbing soothing circles into your thigh while his metal palm trailed worshipfully over your stomach, up to cup your breast.

“Fuck,” he rasped with swollen lips, and his chin glistening. He brushed two fingers through your slick folds before bringing them to his mouth. He licked them clean with a groan, then popped them free with a filthy smirk. “You taste like heaven. Could live down there.”

You shivered at his words, heat sparking again despite the orgasm still echoing through your body. His gaze raked down your form like he was memorizing every curve, every quiver of your skin beneath his touch. He kissed your hip, then the soft swell of your belly, then higher, whispering against your skin. “So damn perfect. All of you.”

Chapter Text

It felt…wrong. Dirty, even, to have traded a couple of blankets and canned goods with some stranger in Jackson for sex toys. But underneath the guilt was a rush of anticipation you couldn’t ignore. The vibrator and cock ring had been discreetly wrapped in brown paper, tucked into your tote, and then hidden deep inside your jacket as you made the walk home.

Your heart thudded with every step past familiar faces. If anyone knew Joel’s partner was walking around with something like that? He’d die of embarrassment—hell, maybe you would too.

The moment you stepped inside, you tore through the house like a thief, checking every room until you were sure you were alone. Once in the bathroom, you unwrapped the toys with trembling hands, giving them a quick scrub and sterilization before tucking them into a plain bag and burying it in your nightstand drawer.

And then…life got in the way. Weeks passed in a blur of patrols, chores, and teaching at the schoolhouse. You and Joel had your usual rhythm in bed, which was sometimes slow and tender, and at other times, urgent and wild. No matter what, the sex was good enough that you forgot the toys even existed.

Until tonight.

You pushed open the bedroom door, exhausted from a long day wrangling kids, and froze. Joel sat at the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched, the little vibrator balanced in his big hand like it was something foreign. His brow furrowed deep as his thumb brushed over the button, his head tilted like he was trying to figure out how the damn thing worked.

“Joel?!” The word ripped out of you in a gasp. Your tote bag slipped from your shoulder and thudded to the floor as you hurried forward, reaching for it.

He pulled his arm back before you could grab it, eyes cutting to yours with that sharp, assessing look that always made your stomach flip. “What the hell is this?” His tone wasn’t angry, but confused, maybe even a little curious.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

Joel shook his head slowly, his grip tightening on the toy. “What the hell you need this for when you got me?” His voice dipped lower, a rough rasp that wasn’t quite jealousy but close. “I make you feel good, right?”

“Give it back.” You muttered, reaching again, but Joel only lifted the toy higher. His hazel eyes cut into yours, searching. 

“I make you feel good, right?” He asked lowly.

You swallowed, shifting from foot to foot. The way he asked wasn’t defensive so much as…hesitant, like the idea of you needing something beyond him hurt in a way he didn’t want to admit. “You do,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “God, Joel, you do. This isn’t because of that.”

“Then why?” he pressed, still holding the vibrator, his thumb brushing the button like he might turn it on.

You hesitated, tugging your lower lip between your teeth because admitting it felt silly. But Joel had never been anything but understanding when it came to you—even in bed. You blew out a breath and sat beside him, your hand resting on his thigh.

“I just…wanted to try it,” you admitted in a rush. “I thought maybe…if we used it together, you could, I don’t know, make me come a lot. Like past the point where I usually stop. I wanted to see what it felt like to…” Your voice dropped, heat crawling over your cheeks. “To be overstimulated.”

Joel’s brows drew together, his jaw ticking as he studied you. For a long moment, he said nothing, just breathed heavily through his nose. Finally, he exhaled, a deep rumble that made your skin prickle. “You’re tellin’ me you want me to…push you. Keep goin’ even after you’re shakin’ and beggin’?” His drawl wrapped around the words, like it was a dirty secret, but there was a flicker of concern in his eyes, too.

You nodded, your cheeks hot. “Yeah. With you. Only you.”

The vibrator hummed suddenly as Joel pressed the button without breaking eye contact. The sound filled the quiet bedroom with a suggestive tone. His mouth curved into the barest hint of a grin. “Christ, darlin’,” he murmured, killing the vibration with another press. “You got no idea what you just asked for.”

“You should’ve just told me,” Joel muttered roughly. He set the vibrator down beside him on the bed as his brows furrowed, studying you. “Ain’t nothin’ I wouldn’t do for you. Especially not this.”

“I know,” you said quickly, your hands lifting in a small, guilty gesture. “But I forgot about them—I swear. I traded for them and forgot.”

“Them?” His head tilted as his eyes narrowed, and suspicion crept in.

You let out a nervous laugh and stood from the bed, pulling open the nightstand drawer. “Oh, you didn’t see what I got you?”

Joel’s gaze tracked your movements with a guarded look, a crease digging between his brows. “You got somethin’ for me?”

You nodded, holding up the small black ring between your fingers. His face twisted, first in confusion, then outright disbelief.

“What the hell is that?” he demanded.

“A cock ring,” you said simply.

His reaction was immediate. “Hell no—”

“Joel, it’s not bad.”

“The hell it ain’t—”

You dropped to your knees in front of him before he could finish, the position catching him off guard. His breath hitched as you reached out, laying a steadying hand on his thigh. “It’s not a bad thing,” you said softly, but firmly as your eyes locked on his. “I love that you can’t always hold back. I love it when you come quickly because you can’t stand being inside me a second longer. I love you, Joel. All of you. This isn’t about fixing anything.”

Joel swallowed hard, his jaw ticking as he tried to read your face.

You rubbed his knee gently, your thumb pressing circles into the fabric of his jeans. “This is just…so you can keep going if you want to. If you’d agree to overstimulate me.”

The air between you shifted, heavy and charged. Joel’s lips parted, like he wanted to argue, but the way your hand rested on him and the glimmer of hunger in your eyes seemed to still him.

“I don’t…wanna hurt you, baby.” Joel’s voice was rough and filled with hesitation. His big hand came up to cradle your cheek, thumb brushing tenderly across your skin like you might break if he pressed too hard.

You tilted into his touch with a soft smile. “You won’t,” you whispered. “I promise. If I feel uncomfortable or need to stop, I’ll let you know. You know I would. I trust you, Joel.”

For a long moment, he just stared at you, hazel eyes dark as they searched yours for any flicker of doubt. Concern tugged at the lines on his brow. Then he let out a heavy sigh, like he was surrendering to the weight of your certainty. His thumb slid lower, along your jaw, until his palm cupped your whole face. “Alright,” he murmured, still gravel in his tone but softer now.

Your grin widened, relief sparking in your chest. “Really?”

Joel nodded once..

“That means you’ll do it? Even wear the cock ring?” you asked, surprise bubbling into your voice.

Joel huffed a laugh, though his mouth stayed set. “Don’t mean I ain’t skeptical.” His hand drifted from your cheek down to your collarbone, fingers brushing absentmindedly over your pulse. “But if this is somethin’ you want…we’ll try it.”

You squeezed his knee, biting your lip. “We can even use a safe word,” you offered, trying to ease him. “Something simple. If I say it, we stop. No questions asked.”

Joel’s brows knit together again, that protective streak flashing in his eyes. “Darlin’, you sure about this? ‘Cause once I start…don’t know if I’ll be able to keep myself reined in.”

Your heart skipped, heat curling low in your belly at the raw honesty in his voice. You leaned closer, pressing your forehead to his. “That’s exactly why I want it,” you whispered. “And yeah—I’m sure.”

It didn’t take long for Joel to prepare. He’d cleaned and sterilized the vibrator and cock ring himself, grumbling about “standards” under his breath until he was satisfied. Now the toys sat neatly on the nightstand, waiting, while you crawled onto the bed, bare and flushed as a shy smile tugged at your lips.

“Aren’t you gonna get undressed?” you teased with a brow raised. Joel stood at the side of the bed, flannel still buttoned, jeans snug on his hips. His gaze roamed over you slowly before his hand went to his belt.

“Not yet,” he drawled.

Your brows knit, curiosity flickering. “Why?”

He sighed through his nose. “Darlin’, relax. I wanna take my time.”

You expected him to toss the belt aside, but instead, Joel sat on the edge of the mattress, the worn leather strap draped across his palms. His thumb rubbed absently over the length of it, eyes fixed on you with a look that made your skin heat.

“You want to tie me up?” you asked, half-joking. But Joel didn’t smile. His silence and the way he worked his jaw as if he were considering it told you everything you needed to know. “Oh.” Your voice lowered, surprise giving way to a spark of arousal deep in your belly. “Well… I wouldn’t be against it.”

Joel finally looked up, hazel eyes dark and unreadable. “Yeah?”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah. Honestly…it’s probably best. If you’re gonna overstimulate me, I don’t wanna…try to push you away.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “You listen to me, darlin’. You don’t like it, you tell me. Don’t matter if you’re tied down, don’t matter how far gone you are. You say the word, and I stop.”

Your chest swelled at his insistence. “Okay. Then we’ll use a safe word.”

Joel gave a curt nod. “Somethin’ easy. Somethin’ you won’t forget in the moment.”

You thought for a second, then smiled faintly. “Red. If I say red, you stop.”

“Red it is.” His eyes softened as he reached out, brushing a strand of hair back from your face. “Won’t let it get that far, but…I need to know you’re safe.”

“I am,” you whispered, kissing the heel of his hand. “With you, I always am.”

Joel blew out a slow breath, still clearly wrestling with the weight of it all, but when his gaze dropped to your body spread out on the bed, his hunger betrayed him. He set the belt down within reach, then leaned over you, his big hands sliding up your thighs with practiced ease.

“Gonna start with my tongue,” Joel murmured, his voice low against your skin as his beard grazed your inner thigh. He placed the belt within reach on the bed, a waiting promise, before lowering himself between your legs. “Get you relaxed and ready.”

Your breath caught, arousal already pooling fast. “Y’know I love when you eat me out,” you whispered with a contented sigh, tipping your head back into the pillows. Your legs parted wider in invitation.

Joel’s lips brushed reverent kisses along the inside of your thighs, like he had all the time in the world. His big hands spread over your hips, anchoring you down, and then he pressed a kiss just above your mound before dragging his mouth lower.

“Smell so fuckin’ good, darlin’,” he rasped, his breath hot against your cunt. His thumbs stroked soothing circles over your skin before he finally dragged his tongue through your folds, savoring you.

You moaned softly, hips jerking slightly, but Joel’s grip held you steady. He licked you again, then latched onto your clit, sucking with gentle pressure that had your toes curling.

“Oh, right there…” You whined, your voice breaking.

He hummed in response, the vibration shooting through you, his tongue flicking lazily against your clit like he knew exactly how to tease you right to the edge without rushing. He pulled back only to kiss your swollen clit tenderly. Your hands threaded through his hair, tugging lightly as your thighs trembled. Joel pressed them apart again when you tried to close them, determined to take his time. 

“Easy, baby. Just let me have you.”

It was too much and not enough all at once—the wet heat of his mouth, the slow rhythm of his tongue, and the way he breathed you in like you were something holy. The pressure inside you tightened, your body arching as pleasure spread like fire in your veins.

“Joel, I’m—oh, god, I’m gonna—”

He sealed his mouth over your clit and sucked, tongue flicking quickly. That was all it took as your back bowed off the bed, a cry ripping from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you. Joel didn’t stop like he usually did, not until your legs shook against his shoulders and you pushed weakly at his head. Only then did he ease back, chin glistening with your arousal. His eyes were locked on yours with something both hungry and unbearably tender. He kissed your inner thigh again, softer this time, like sealing a promise.

“Ready for more?” Joel’s voice was low as his lips ghosted over your trembling thigh.

You nodded, eyes flicking to the belt lying beside you on the bed as heat crept up your spine. “Yeah. I’m…kinda excited,” you admitted with a shy smile, though your heart was hammering.

Joel’s hazel eyes softened, but there was a weight of protectiveness in them as he reached for the belt. “You’ll tell me if it’s too much—”

“Yes. I swear,” you cut in quickly, your voice filled with certainty because you needed him to know how badly you wanted this.

He gave a slow nod, jaw tight, then held out his hand. “C’mere.”

You offered your wrists with a teasing little grin. “Tie me up, handsome.”

Joel huffed a laugh, rolling his eyes, but you caught the twitch of his lips before he leaned in. Carefully, he wrapped the leather around your wrists, knotting it in a way that kept you snug but wasn’t hurting you. His big, calloused hands brushed over your skin as if double-checking that you were safe. The gesture made your chest ache with how much he cared.

“Comfortable?” he asked gruffly.

“Yes,” you breathed, arousal humming through you again. “More than comfortable.”

Joel kissed the inside of your bound wrists before lowering them back to the mattress. Then his palms pressed against your thighs, easing them wide, spreading you open like you were something precious he was about to savor all over again.

“Look at you,” he murmured, gaze lingering on your wet folds. His thumb traced lightly over your inner thigh before he bent down, his beard grazing your skin, his mouth so close you could feel the warmth of his breath. “So fuckin’ pretty like this.”

The first stroke of his tongue made your whole body jolt. Joel hummed low in his throat, lapping at you slowly while his hands pinned your thighs in place. He circled your clit lazily, savoring the way your hips bucked despite your bound hands tugging uselessly above you.

“Joel—please…” you gasped, your voice already breaking.

He shushed you with a kiss against your clit, then slid one thick finger into your dripping cunt. The stretch made you keen, walls clenching tight around him. Joel groaned into your pussy at the feel of it, curling his finger just right as his tongue worked your clit.

“God, baby… squeezin’ me already,” he rasped against you before thrusting a second finger in beside the first, filling you more. His rhythm was slow, but coaxing you higher while his mouth never relented.

You tugged at the belt around your wrists, arching off the bed. “Oh—fuck, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he murmured, his voice hot against your swollen clit. “Gonna take every bit of it for me.”

Joel didn’t stop when your voice broke; if anything, the low growl in his throat deepened, sending vibrations straight through your core. His tongue circled your clit just right, the perfect pressure, while his fingers kept a deep, steady rhythm inside you.

“Joel—fuck—” you gasped, hips jerking uncontrollably. Your muscles clenched tight around him, and before you could even warn him, the orgasm tore through you as pleasure hit sharp and blinding, a wave crashing over every nerve. You felt the gush before you heard it—the slick, wet sound as it spilled over Joel’s fingers, coating his beard, his mouth, and the sheets. He didn’t slow down, just groaned low like he’d been starving for it.

When you finally sagged back against the pillow, trembling and glassy-eyed, Joel drew his fingers out and licked them clean with a quiet hum. Then, at last, he leaned over you. His lips were glistening, his eyes dark and soft all at once.

“Hmm,” he murmured with a crooked grin. “Been a while since I made you squirt like that.”

You let out a dazed laugh, chest still heaving. “Guess you still got it.”

Joel chuckled, brushing your damp hair back. “Still got it, huh? You make it too damn easy.” He pressed a slow kiss to your temple, lingering there for a second before pulling back just enough to search your face. “You okay, darlin’?”

You nodded, voice shaky. “Yeah… good. Really good.”

Joel studied you a second longer, thumb tracing along your jaw. “You sure you wanna keep goin’? ’Cause I was thinkin’ maybe I oughta see how many more times I can make you do that.”

You blinked, half-dazed, half-turned on again by the gravel in his voice. “You’re teasing.”

Joel’s smirk deepened. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like seein’ you come undone over and over till you can’t say my name right.” His fingers dragged lazily down your stomach, ghosting over your glistening folds, making you twitch. You gasped, thighs trembling, and Joel’s smirk softened into something almost reverent.

“Still so sensitive,” he murmured, circling your clit with just the barest touch. “But you’re still needy for me. Ain’t done yet, are you?”

You shook your head helplessly, breath catching. “No… please, Joel.”

“Good girl,” he said, his drawl a promise. “Then let’s see how far I can take you.”

Joel’s thumb brushed along your lips before he kissed you, swallowing the shaky sound you made as the belt stayed snug around your wrists. When he finally pulled back, his eyes swept over your body. “How many times you gonna come for me tonight?” he murmured.

You swallowed hard. “I—I don’t know…”

Joel’s mouth curved into the faintest smirk. “Wrong answer, baby.” His drawl slid over you like velvet. “As many times as I want.”

Before you could reply, he reached for the vibrator on the nightstand, thumb flicking the switch. The hum filled the quiet room, low and threatening. He trailed it lazily along the inside of your thigh at first, teasing you before drawing little circles until you started to squirm.

“Spread those pretty legs,” Joel ordered softly, his tone still tender but brooking no argument. “Or I’ll have to tie them too.”

You obeyed, your breath hitching as he eased the toy higher, closer to your pussy. When the tip of it finally met your clit, the jolt of sensation made you gasp, arching off the bed. Joel caught your leg with one of his big hands, holding it down firmly against the mattress.

“That’s it,” he whispered, leaning in so his beard scratched your jaw. “Take it for me. You’re okay.”

The vibrations rolled through you, too much and yet not enough. “Joel—” you gasped, writhing under his grip, but you didn’t say the safe word, the one you’d agreed on. His hand slid to your belly, cradling it as the vibrator moved in slow, steady circles. 

“That’s my girl. Don’t run from it. You wanted this, didn’t you? Wanted me to push you a little.”

Your whimpers came faster now, thighs trembling as Joel kept you spread open, the low buzz of the toy driving you right up to the edge again. His voice stayed right there with you, praising. “Good girl… breathe… let it hit you.”

And then it did—another orgasm crashing over you, violent and electric, your body shaking against his hold. Joel eased the toy back just a fraction, still teasing, and drawing out every aftershock until you were whimpering against the pillow.

He pressed his mouth to your ear. “Think you’re done?” he murmured, voice full of dark promise. “We’re just gettin’ started, baby.”

Joel’s eyes darkened as he stripped, each movement deliberate, his shirt falling to the floor, his jeans pushed down with a shove of his hand. You lie against the headboard, wrists drawn together by the belt as your chest rose in quick, shallow breaths. You should have felt shy, but Joel’s focus burned away everything but want.

“Let’s see how this thing works,” he murmured, holding the black cock ring in his palm like he was weighing it. The look he gave you as he slipped it over the base of his cock made your stomach flutter. He flexed his fingers around the ring, testing its stretch, then met your gaze. “You’re already shakin’ and I haven’t even slipped inside.”

Your lips parted, but no words came. Joel’s mouth quirked into a crooked smile as he climbed back onto the bed, knees braced between your thighs. One broad palm slid under your knee, pushing it open until you were spread wide beneath him. His other hand drifted over to the vibrator on the nightstand, thumb pressing the button until a low hum filled the room again.

The sound alone made your hips twitch.

Joel leaned close, his breath hot against your ear. “This what you wanted, darlin’? Me holdin’ you open, makin’ you take it all?” His voice was gruff, but threaded with a tenderness that made your heart pound.

You whimpered a soundless yes as his mouth found your neck. The vibrator skimmed across your inner thigh, then hovered just over clit. Joel didn’t push it down yet—just held it close, tracing lazy circles that made you arch against it.

“That’s it,” he rasped, nudging his hips forward so the thick weight of his cock pressed against your entrance without entering. Your pussy pulsed and clenched around him slightly like it wanted to swallow him whole. “Breathe. Feel me right here.” He shifted his hand, cupping your belly as though he owned every inch of you, then moved the vibrator until it buzzed right against your clit, making you gasp.

Joel smiled against your throat. “Tell me if you’re done,” he whispered, voice a low rumble that vibrated through your bones. “Otherwise I’ll just keep you right here, beggin’, until you’re comin’ so hard you can’t even say my name.”

You could barely breathe, the world narrowing to Joel’s weight above you and the deep, rolling pulse of pleasure that had already wrung you out. Your body trembled against his, hips jerking, but even through the haze, you managed to shake your head as muffled words tumbled out between gasps. “Don’t stop.”

Joel groaned, a low sound that came from deep in his chest. “So damn needy,” he rasped, his voice rough and tender all at once. “Tremblin’ under me like that.”

You swore the tone of his voice alone could make you come again. He’d always taken charge in quiet ways, a guiding hand, a firm word. But this—this was different. His touch was sure, commanding, his patience stretched thin by want. 

Then, without warning, the pressure on your clit deepened. The hum of the toy grew sharper, digging into every nerve just as Joel pushed the head of his cock inside you. The collision of sensations made a cry break from your throat. Your body jolted, the pleasure teetering between unbearable and blissful. Your thighs tried to close, trembling from the intensity, but Joel caught one in his palm, his grip firm as he pressed it open again. “Uh-uh. You can take it, sweetheart,” he murmured, thumb tracing lazy circles against your skin. “You’re doin’ so good for me.”

He eased in deeper, inch by inch, until you could feel his breath stutter against your ear. “That’s it,” he groaned, voice gone ragged. “You feel that? How good you fit around me?”

You couldn’t answer, only nod, whimpering as your body clenched around him. The vibrator thrummed relentlessly, each pulse sending a shockwave up your spine. Joel must’ve seen the way your body arched, the way your chest heaved. He bent down, brushing a kiss against your lips.

That was all it took. The tension in you snapped, pleasure rushing through your body until it left you shaking. You came undone around him, a soft cry spilling against his mouth as he held you there, still inside you, murmuring quiet praises that melted into your skin.

Time blurred after that—waves of pleasure fading into soft aftershocks that left you boneless and trembling. The air was thick with heat and the faint scent of sweat and skin, with Joel’s breath still uneven against your neck. When he finally stilled, his body pressed to yours, you could feel his heart pounding.

He didn’t pull away right away. Instead, Joel’s hands wandered slowly over you, his fingertips tracing the outline of your hips, your ribs, the marks he’d left behind. “Easy now,” he murmured against your temple, voice roughened to a rasp. He pressed a trail of gentle kisses down your shoulder, his thumb brushing over the faint tremor still running through your thigh.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

You managed a small nod, your voice coming out as a whisper. “Yeah. More than okay.”

Joel exhaled with relief and disbelief, softening his features. “Didn’t mean to take you that far,” he muttered, almost to himself, his hand cradling your face. You turned into his touch, smiling faintly.

“Hey,” you murmured, catching his wrist before he could move away. “You didn’t hurt me. You were perfect. Besides, I didn’t use the safe word.”

That settled him. Joel pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before finally easing back. He disappeared into the bathroom, the faint sound of running water and cabinets opening drifting through the quiet room. When he returned, he carried a warm, damp towel, his sleeves rolled up on the flannel he’d thrown on with his hair still mussed.

“Let me take care of you,” he said softly.

You stayed still as he cleaned you, his movements tender. He murmured small apologies when you flinched from sensitivity, his hand steady even as his voice shook. Once he was done, he wiped his own chest, then tossed the towel aside and crawled back into bed beside you.

Joel gathered you against him, tucking your head under his chin. His skin was warm, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. One arm slipped around your waist, the other spread protectively over your stomach, holding you close like he could keep the world away just by being there.

“You wore me out, Miller,” you teased, voice still a little dazed.

He chuckled. “Yeah, well, you about killed me, sweetheart.”

A comfortable silence fell, broken only by the soft rhythm of your breaths syncing with his. Joel pressed a final kiss into your hair, his hand still rubbing small circles against your back.

“Thank you,” he murmured, voice low enough it was almost a secret.

You smiled against his chest. “For what?”

“For trustin’ me like that.”

You lifted your head just enough to meet his gaze. “Always.”