Oops, I Never Uploaded This One To Tumblr (which I Only Realized When Someone Else Did, But Then Was

Yennskier’s 100% incorrect correct quote

Baby fox with a broken leg gets rescued and visits the vet for his cast.

(via)

ok, because i just saw a terrible take, i feel compelled to say that there is no "fic market" to "oversaturate" in fandom. good gravy.

Once Upon a Time

Pairing: Librarian!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Happily Ever After begins in the subway. Word Count: Almost 1.7k Warnings: First meeting, swearing, unwanted advances, slight fluff, protective Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: I need another AU like a hole in the head, but Nix's edit inspired me. @11thstreetvigilante, @sweeterthanthis , @dreamlessinparis , @musingsinmoonlight , thank you for helping me bring him to life. ❤️ Beta read by the beautiful @whisperlullaby (thank YOU as well!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Edit by Nix, divider by @rookthorne and banner by yours truly. Poem by the lovely @maladaptivexxdaydreaming from these prompts.

Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications and please reblog or comment as it means the world!

You met Bucky Barnes on an ordinary night in a quiet subway car.

There weren't many people around, which gave you a chance to sit on an empty bench and enjoy the relatively quiet ride after the long work day.

It never bothered you to ride alone. The restaurant you were meeting your friends at was only a few stops away and it was cheaper than a cab. 

Your mom told you more than once that it wasn't safe, but you argued that neither was walking home by yourself at night. Plus, you carried pepper spray. 

"If you had a boyfriend to walk you home, I wouldn't worry so much."

While you understood her reasoning, your last relationship fizzled almost as quickly as it began and that was over six months ago. You didn't need a reminder that you were single.

You briefly glanced up from your phone and reminded yourself to at least be aware of your surroundings. Which was how you found yourself staring at a handsome man standing a few feet away.

He was tall from what you could see and broad across the chest. From a casual glance, you made out that he had blue eyes behind the glasses perched on his nose. 

The brunette turned the page of the book he was holding and you couldn't help but stare at his massive hands. The leather glove that covered his left hand matched his jacket.

You had to smile when you realized he was leaning against the door which specifically said not to. The leather and relaxed stance added to the allure that maybe he was the kind of man to break the rules.

The book of poetry in his hand that you recognized, however, suggested that he was a thoughtful, deep man. Maybe he was all of those things.

If he noticed you staring, he didn't say anything. That gave you a few more seconds to ponder on how soft his short hair was before you looked away.

You couldn't remember the last time someone grabbed your attention so quickly. He hadn't even spoken to you.

Dream on. Happily Ever After doesn't begin in the subway.

If not, why did you look up to find him gazing at you? And why did he have a small smile on his face?

Don't say anything. A man that handsome probably has someone at home waiting to feel that scruff between their thighs.

"I have that book," you said before you could stop yourself. 

I hope that didn't sound like a line.

"My heart beats slowly when you look at me. When your eyes meet mine, my breath stops."

Though you were only quoting a part of a poem to him, the words rang true: You felt like you couldn't breathe as your eyes met.

His small smile stretched into a grin and you found yourself smiling back before the subway lurched to a stop. 

Whatever moment transpired between the two of you faded as the door closest to you opened. You also noticed the smile on the stranger's face faded quickly as a man stumbled in and over to the empty spot beside you.

"Hey, sweet thing," the guy smirked as he threw an arm over your shoulders. "I'm Blake."

The man had an athletic build and was good-looking, but the alcohol on his breath and leering gaze created a pit in your stomach.

"Hey yourself," you said. You carefully removed his arm and scooted away until you hit the end of the bench.

The guy didn't take the hint and he inched closer. "Nice dress."

You smiled, not wanting to cause any trouble. "Thanks."

"Bet it would look nice on my floor."

Those lines don't work on me, buster.

"It looks better in my hamper, trust me," you said as you grasped the pole beside you and stood up before he could put his arm around you again. 

"What's the rush, sweet thing?" 

"My stop is coming up."

"If you need help getting off, I'm happy to lend a hand."

"No thanks. I have two of my own," you smiled.

The handsome stranger either snorted at your joke or found a funny passage in his book. 

Blake, on the other hand, didn't seem to take the joke well as he got to his feet. "I'm just being friendly. No need to be a bitch."

The sound of whirring metal distracted you from the insult. At least, that's what you thought the sound was. 

"I'm not being a bitch. My stop is-"

"Coming up. Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said, nearly falling into you as you tried to back up more. You had nowhere to go. "If you're so nice, let me walk you home."

"No, thank you," you said with a grimace as he gripped your hip to steady himself. "Maybe you should sit back down."

"Only if you sit on my lap," he smirked, making the pit in your stomach grow. "C'mon, sweet thing. You can miss your stop."

"I said 'no'," you said louder, reaching into your bag for your pepper spray.

Mom, if you can sense this or if I ever tell you this story, don't say "I told you so".

"Sit down."

The low tone from the handsome stranger made you and Blake look his way. You felt like you couldn't breathe again when you saw the anger in his eyes.

"This doesn't concern you, asshole," Blake snapped.

"She asked you to sit down. I suggest you do as she says."

Blake let go of your hip, but didn't get out of your personal space. "Fuck off."

The stranger sighed as he closed his book and pushed himself away from the door. "Sit. Down." He said, his voice lower than before.

"Or what?"

You didn't speak as your knight in leather jacket armor removed his glasses and tucked them in his pocket. "You wanna find out?"

Oh, shit. Please, don't fight. And why is it making me swoon that he's defending me?

Blake wasn't small by any means, but he didn't carry the power that your hero did. He took three steps forward and that was enough for the jerk to back away. 

"Whatever. Bitch probably doesn't put out anyway."

"Excuse me?" you asked. Why did turning someone's advances down make you a bitch?

"Do you mind holding this, please?" the man's voice warmed as he held his book out for you. Once you took it from his hand, he turned his attention to Blake.

"What the fuck?" he shouted when the brunette grabbed his hand, the one that gripped your hip, and twisted.

"Apologize," he ordered, twisting a bit more to make Blake yelp. "Now."

"Fuck, I'm sorry! Let go, let go!" Blake cried. 

"It's fine," you said as the subway began to come to a stop. "Really, I'm fine."

The stranger let go of Blake's hand and shoved him back onto the bench. "Next time someone tells you to back off, listen. And you better not get off at this stop, you understand me?"

"Got it," he said, not making eye contact as he rubbed his wrist.

The door opened for your stop and you wished you had a little bit longer to talk to the man who defended you. "Thank you," you said.

He took the book from your hand and you couldn't help but shiver as your fingertips touched his. "It was nothing."

"Sorry, this is me," you said, gripping the bag on your shoulder as you turned to get off.

I wish I didn't have to go.

"This is me, too," you heard behind you as you stepped off the train. 

"Oh," you smiled when he walked beside you. Though he was tall and clearly strong, he didn't scare you. "I really do appreciate your help."

"It was nothing," he said again, putting his left hand back in his pocket. "I saw you reaching into your bag for something, so I'm sure you could've handled him."

You nodded, thankful that he paid attention. Most would've ignored the situation. "Pepper spray."

"He would've deserved it," he chuckled. 

"He would've," you giggled as you got to the top of the steps.

"I'm Bucky," he said.

You smiled and introduced yourself, falling into a comfortable silence as he walked beside you toward the restaurant. "Thanks for waking me here."

"Oh," he sounded disappointed, but nodded. "Have a good rest of the night."

Take a chance. Say something.

"Bucky?" you asked before he could walk away. "I know you said it was nothing, but I'd like to repay you somehow for stepping in."

"You don't owe me anything."

"I want to," you said, not wanting to say you just wanted a reason to see him again. "Please?"

He took his wallet out of his back pocket to get you a card. "You wouldn't happen to have a pen, would you?"

"Oh, yeah," you said, digging one out of your bag to give to him.

"I work at the Abraham Library," he explained as he held the card and wrote something down that you couldn't see. "We could always use volunteers."

"I love to read and I'd love to help out," you promised, glancing at the front of the card with his name, number and email address after he handed it to you.

"I'll make sure it's a shift where I'm working," he said, giving you back your pen as well.

"Perfect," you smiled, gesturing to the restaurant. "I should go. I hope you have a good rest of the night, too."

"Hope to see you soon, doll."

You smiled as you headed toward the door and looked back over your shoulder. He stood there with a matching smile and didn't walk away until you went inside.

You felt light on your feet as you went to the hostess station. As you told her the name for the reservation, you looked down at the card still in your hand and flipped it over with a gasp.

"The night I beg you not let the sun rise."

It was the next part of the poem you recited to him. 

Maybe this is the start of my Happily Ever After.

We'll see the new lovebirds again soon. Love and thanks for reading!

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

Geralt can admit that it isn’t his greatest escape plan. But being pushed back towards the waterfall, there are few other options for him and Jaskier to escape alive.

Rocks tumble over the side into the rushing white waters. Geralt sneers at the edge. He should have known what the angry mob was doing. Should have guessed it. Stupid. And now, Jaskier and himself are standing at the world’s edge with no where to go.

No where to go, but down.

Geralt looks towards the trees, can already see the crowd of 30 gaining on them.

“Geralt, think of something, will you!” Jaskier’s voice is a shrill thing in his ears. But the  is a cover. Fear wafts off of him, though less so than an average human.

It is this reason that he grabs hold of the bard and throws the both of them over the cliff.

Falling from this height is more terrifying than Geralt anticipated. There’s hardly any control he can take. Jaskier is screaming beside him. It lasts a moment, barely an instant, before they plunge into the icy cold water.

The world around him spins. There is no sense of direction. No up or down. His only tether is to Jaskier, whom he refuses to let go of. He will not lose him in the rush of the river.

It’s a fight to the surface, with his armor and his friend, but there have been more difficult battles. The next problem is swimming to the damn shore, but the rocks are slippery and Jaskier refuses to help. Though, he may be in shock.

He’ll deal with that later.

Finally, he pulls them both ashore. Geralt gasps for air, more out of panic than anything else. For a moment, all he can do is lay on his back and look at the sky. His gaze shifts from the bright blue of it to the top of the cliff. There are no signs on the angry crowd. He can’t properly hear them with the rushing water. Even if they were to come after himself and Jaskier, they will have plenty of time to make their escape.

“Jaskier,” Geralt calls out. They should dry off. Get going. Figure out a plan on how to get their belongings back. He turns his head to the side, waiting for the oncoming flood of complaints.

Silence.

“Jaskier.” He sits up, discomfort and discombobulation forgotten. Silence rings in his ears. The bard is always making noise. Singing, humming, tapping. His heart beating. But now, his lungs are quiet in the orchestra that makes up Jaskier.

Geralt scrambles over to Jaskier’s side and turns him over. His head lolls. But he’s still alive. His heartbeat, weak as it is, is still thumping. There’s still time to fix this. Panic, alien and intrusive, has to be pushed down and away.

There’s a trick Geralt learned many years ago in Skellige. Something about… pulling the water from someone’s lungs. He’s never had the use for it before now. Tries to remember all of the specifics.

He tilts back Jaskier’s head, pries open his mouth, pinches his nose, and then leans down to breathe air into his lungs.

Geralt can see from the corner of his eye Jaskier’s chest rise and fall with each breath. Does that mean it’s working? He continues regardless. (This can’t be the end.) Almost dizzy from lack of oxygen on his own, Geralt raises his head and takes a deep breath before returning to Jaskier.

It’s with this shared air that Jaskier finally sputters to life, turning to his side and expelling river water. He coughs violently, his voice rasping. Relief floods Geralt. He is going to have to thank Crach an Craite one of these days.

He’ll have to visit Skellige again. (Go to the coast?)

Now that Jaskier is okay, Geralt has little idea what to do with his hands. He places one on Jaskier’s shoulder. Runs his thumb back and forth in what he hopes to be a comforting motion. “Jaskier?”

Jaskier rolls onto his back and closes his eyes. Taps his fingers against his chest. Breathes. Then, “Did- did I-” Another cough. “Did I imagine things… or did you just kiss me back to life?”

Geralt removes his hand from Jaskier’s shoulder and frowns. “That is not what happened.”

Jaskier, the bastard, opens a single eye. Shining with mischief. Geralt wants to wipe that smirk off of his face. “So you didn’t put your mouth on my mouth?”

“That’s not how that works.”

“True love’s kiss, what a beautiful thing!”

“Jaskier.” Geralt looks away, unable to withstand the joy Jaskier is exuding. “We have to go.”

“Truly, Geralt, I wasn’t sure you had it in you. And here we are! Me, alive and… well, not kicking yet. You may have to carry me. Or, oh! Why not kiss me again? If one kiss brings me back from the brink of death, surely-”

“Jaskier-” This is neither the time or place to talk of… such things. He takes a deep breath in slowly. “Just. Shut the fuck up.”

-

more geraskier

This was so good!!! I need more

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

summary: the world crumbled before you could experience the touch of another. Joel does his best to keep you innocent for as long as he can.

pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x afab virgin!reader.

warnings: 18+ mdni. established, undefined relationship. PUSSY RUBBING. fluids galore. just the tip. perv!joel. unspecified age gap. fingering. dirty talk. overstimulation. male masturbation. FEELS. Joel is a conflicted old man. reader is able bodied. no Ellie. w.c. 2.9k

an: i watched a porn clip and instantly went rabid thinking about jackson!joel.

-> follow up to a glimpse of heaven but it's not necessary to read the first part.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐬 ⋅ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Like most of Jackson, the house you share with Joel is quiet and calm when night falls. Rain softly patters against the window as you lie in bed, wide awake. Another night of fruitless sleep under your belt.

You huff irritatedly, your hand collapsing against the mattress as you bitterly kick your bedspread onto the floor. Your oversized shirt clings to your body, your skin dewy from the exertion, and you're close to crying. Your limbs are wrought and overworked after hours of touching yourself with no orgasm to show for it.

Your hand won't cut it; it isn't enough. It can't reach all those sensitive spots that make you float among the stars.

Warmth pools in your abdomen as you think of one that's the perfect size.

A hazy hue of yellow light pours under your bedroom door as it spills from the room across the hall.

Joel.

It takes a long time to get to know someone, but they tend to meld with your soul once you do in one way or another.

From the start, Joel was intimidating. He was so frayed around the edges that you were afraid he'd completely unravel in the middle of your journey. He didn't seem to care for your company as the two of you traveled across the plains to Jackson, hesitation poisoning every fiber of your being, but you kept on with the strange man since no one else was willing to trek across the states. You desperately needed a new life, a fresh start away from the Boston QZ, and Jackson sounded like the perfect spot.

Over time, Joel opened up, conversing little by little as you drove for miles across the now barren US. Usually, after you had a close call with raiders or the lone gunman, he'd go silent, the weight of protecting someone other than himself sinking further into his soul, consuming that much further.

What you never expected was for him to be your first touch.

Sweltering tension slowly grew like a wildfire. Catching each other's curious stares, lingering fingers, and salacious banter until, one night, he slid a cautious hand into your panties. He claimed your untouched sex when you confessed over a roaring fire and a bottle of whiskey that you'd never been with another. His weathered hands were gentle as he sunk his fingers into your core, watching with rabid fascination as you came for the first time, gasping from his touch.

The following day, as he drove you across the interstate with the sun slowly rising, he made sure you knew that wouldn't happen again. "I'm much too old. Don't wanna waste your time with a mean ol' grump like me."

You didn't bring it up again.

One month after settling into Jackson, picking bedrooms, and deciding who would do which chores, Joel had his first taste of you.

It wasn't supposed to happen.

You chewed your dinner slowly in the modestly sized dining room across from Joel. You were so lost in thought that he was concerned enough to ask what was wrong.

"What does it mean when a man eats you out?" you naively pondered, causing him to choke on his veggies.

Joel had never looked so red before as he took a long drink of whiskey. You instantly apologized, explaining that you overheard a group of women conversing while you tended the communal garden.

He raised a hand, curbing your frantic rambles. "S'ok. Figured you'd be learnin' things. Just didn' think I'd be the one you'd ask."

"But I trust you."

His jaw twitched at your words.  

Later that night, Joel fell to his knees at the edge of your bed and tossed your legs over his broad shoulders. "Never tasted a pussy so sweet," he mumbled against your glistening folds as you ran your fingers through his graying curls. You came multiple times on his tongue, grinding his whiskered jaw while he hungrily lapped at your soaked folds like he was dying of thirst.

You didn't bring it up again.

It's warmer in Jackson now. The sun hangs longer in the sky. Snow boots and jackets are stowed away until the next freeze.

You slink from the warmth of your bed and pad sockless across the hall. Lightening flickers brightly under the starry sky. The night rain storm slowly whirls through the city, soaking everything in its path.

Joel's door is open. A soft smile tugs at your lips; it's his way of saying he's still up. He keeps it ajar while he reads before rolling onto his side and bidding goodnight to the world.

Three soft knocks alert Joel from the guitar-building manual he's currently reading. Dread clouds his mind for a moment, wondering why you'd be knocking on his door at this time of night, but he takes a deep breath and grounds himself in the softness of his bed.

"Yeah?" he calls out. His tone is rough around the edges after a long day on patrol.

You poke your head around the door with a timid smirk. He looks at you over his reading glasses before marking his spot and laying his book on the side table.

You don't say anything as you stride into his room. He notices your oversized shirt swaying at your knees before you climb into his bed and curl against his side like a cat. 

He drapes an arm around your shoulder, unconsciously pulling you closer.

"'Nother bad dream?" he questions with a low rumble.

You shake your head. "Can't sleep."

You nuzzle your face into the crook of his shoulder and feel him nod, understanding the endless struggle for a night of peaceful sleep. It's improved since moving to Jackson, but the dreams never end.

Silence fills the bedroom except for the soft pitter-patter of rain against the roof. Joel leans against the headboard, sighs through his nose, and lets his thoughts drift. He's content to sit with you in his arms for as long as possible, even if that makes him selfish.

He wonders if you hope to find someone to settle down with, someone less ridged and mentally maimed, someone less him.

The thought drives a stake through his heart.

He'd be crazy to say he didn't love being around you. Your laugh and lopsided smile took the first brick out of his impenetrable fortress when you spied a deer and her calf frolicking in an open field in Kansas. From then on, it became easier for him to let his walls down.

When you came to him with those big doe eyes and urges about wanting to know what it's like to be touched and desired, he gave in each time despite his reasoning.

He would masturbate each time after getting his hands on you, also thinking about the early days when he'd catch glimpses of you changing or the time he first saw you naked while showering at the YMCA. 

He's still trying to figure out what to make of you. Friends? Lovers? He certainly didn't mean to fall head over heels. Love had no place in his heart, but he'd be a fool to say he wasn't extremely fond of you.

"Can you make me feel good again?" your lithe voice broke the silence.

Joel stops breathing. Your question doused him like a cold bucket of water. He knew this would come back and haunt him.

His hand curls tight around your shoulder as he wrestles with the devil on his shoulder. "Told ya we shouldn't keep doin' this, Sweetheart," he reasons, trying not to break your heart.

"But I can't make myself feel as good as when you've done it. I've tried!" You whine, burying your face into his chest.

"S'not that I don't wanna," he admits, soothing your soft cries. "S'just, you're too precious to do that wit' someone like me."

You lift your head and brazenly brush your lips against the exposed skin of his collarbone, earning a low groan as he curls a large hand around the back of your neck. He tugs you away from his skin, your lips still forming a tight 'O', and pins you with a stern gaze.

"Joel, it hurts." Your watery eyes and trembling bottom lip are his downfall.

"Lay back, Sweetheart, and spread your legs," he orders with a husky tone.

You don't make a noise; too afraid he'll stop if you do. Your cunt beats against the gusset of your panties as you lay on your back, spreading and bending both legs at the knee, just like he taught you.

A warm breath fans down your face as he shifts down your body before kneeling between your legs and tracing teasing fingers over your covered mound. His nails lightly scratch along the worn cotton, making you suck in a frantic breath. He slips a practiced hand beneath the crotch of your panties and deftly explores your folds, gently rubbing small circles on your clit after wetting his fingers with the arousal that's pouring from your cunt.

"Oh, she's achin' real bad, huh?" he groans as your opening clenches beneath his wandering touch.

"Joel, please, I need-" You gasp, hips wantonly grinding against his hand, desperate for any type of friction.

The muscles in his jaw ache. It's only natural you'd be wanting more.

Before he thinks twice, Joel draws his cock out from his sweatpants. Your stomach cramps at the sight as it smacks against his belly; he's massive.

His cock hangs heavy between his thighs like a solid, dangerous threat. It weeps from the dusky tip, shiny liquid dripping from the crown as he squeezes his hand around the girthy base peppered with dark gray, wiry hair.

"Got somethin' that'll make you feel good, sweet girl." he grits, tapping his cock against the covered crux of your pussy. It thwaps devastatingly against your clit, forcing a gasp from your lips as mind-numbing pleasure races up your spine and leaves you staring dumbly up at him.

"S'that what you need? Need my cock to keep 'er from achin so bad'?" his cock is searing as it lies in wait atop your panty-clad mound. You swear you can feel his blood pumping steadily into his shaft.

He cautiously thrusts his hips, sliding his length along your cotton-covered mound. Your slick arousal seeps thru the material, wetting the thin cotton and creating a sensuous touch as he glides along your cunt.

He shoves your shirt up over your chest, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. He licks his lips, "Such'a beauty."

Your cheeks flame at his words. Having such a man say things about you makes you lightheaded.

Joel groans as your panties practically are now see-through from your combined fluids staining the cotton, "Oh, baby." You whine at his pet name. "I got ya. Keep those legs open, just like I taught ya. S'good girl."

He keeps a steady pace, sawing back and forth over your extremely soaked mound. Your puffy pussy lips stick to the soaked cotton, leaving nothing to Joel's imagination. He glides easily along your slit, your juices smoothing his path until your arching your back and chanting his name like a prayer.

Watching you orgasm under his touch is enough to drive him wild. He throws all sense of logic out the window. He's okay with being selfish again.

"Let's get these off, yeah." He hooks two fingers under the elastic and slides your panties off before his words register in your euphoric haze. "Feel even better without 'em."

He swallows hard at the sight laid out before him. The sheets splay and curve around your naked body, making you look like an ethereal being sent to test his limits.

"Gonna give 'er a kiss, Sweetheart," his deep timbre vibrates your body as he draws close and touches the bulbous tip of his cock to your exposed folds. Blood rushes to your cunt instantly, bordering on the edge of pain. You cry out from the intense contact, and arousal slips freely down your crack as he traces his cockhead up and down your soaked slit.

"How's she feel?" He anchors his head, looking down at you from under his lashes.

"S'nice," you half whisper, half moan. The wanton bliss slowly consumes you the more he rubs against your sticky folds, keeping a hand locked around his girthy base, his crown glistening with your combined arousal.

Your eyes tear open, back arching like a bow, when he cants his hips and taps his cock square in the center of your cunt.

"M'not gonna fuck you, sweet girl, wanna keep you whole," he declares, holding true to his word despite the overwhelming need to claim you.

He can't be the one to sully you. "Ain' much left'a this world that's as sweet n' pure as you."

Your core quivers as his dusky, throbbing crown glides along your glistening seam. He tentatively explores uncharted areas, brows furrowed with concentration, fighting with inner demons who want to claim, corrupt, and mold you for only his touch.

His name leaves your lips with a mess of desperate, frustrated moans, "Please, Joel."

He snaps out of his haze. He's done almost everything he can to keep you safe and protected in this new way of life. He'll be damned if he doesn't grant you anything you ask for.

"S'hurtin' somethin' fierce, huh?" He grunts, angling his hips until his cock lines up with your fluttering hole. "Bet she needs somethin' big'er than fingers to ease 'er throbbin'."

His cock catches on your opening, forcing a hiss through his clenched teeth. As tight as you are, he can't stop from pushing into your warmth. He blocks out any sense of reasoning that's shouting from the back of his mind as he slowly nudges his cock into your weeping, inviting hole.

Joel goes brain-dumb momentarily, watching in immoral awe as your core ever so slowly swallows his fat tip and breaches your quivering hole, forcing a raspy whine from your throat.

So warm, safe, and wet.

Joel's never felt anything like you. He wants to bury himself, slide his cock as deep as he can, claim every inch, endlessly fill you with his cum, and keep you only for him.

You frantically reach for him, hands clutching the air as he rubs a callous thumb over your clit while keeping a steady hold on the base of his cock.

"S'all she's gonna get," he states, returning to his senses and hissing when your cunt tightens. "S'just the tip."

A soft begging whine bubbles from your lips as you extend your arms, needing something solid to hold before latching onto his wrists.

Your hips move on their own, desperate to feel his length completely shunted in your velvet warmth, but brute hands envelop your hips and pin them to the bed.

He shakes his head, salt and pepper curls fraying across his forehead. "Don' be greedy now." He tuts, narrowing his gaze down at you.

A garbled mess of nonsense tumbles from your lips as your fingernails dig into his muscular, hairy forearms.

"I know. S'big, huh?" He lands a solemn thumb on your clit, rubbing tender circles around the tiny bud. "Stay wit' me, sweet girl. Wanna feel you come on my cock."

Your mind spins. It's all too much, and yet, not enough. Your head tosses from side to side, and you're frantic to survive, breathing hard and fast, waiting for the drop to come and, at the same time, never wanting it to come.

"Don't I deserve it? Keepin' you safe all this time." Joel muses, stroking his cock in time with his teasing thumb. His eyes never leave where he's splitting you open. He's barely penetrating you, but it's enough to know if he had, you'd be struggling to take him.

"Come on, Sweetheart. Let go f'me," he urges, his touch growing faster. Severe, tightly drawn circles tease you closer to the edge.

Your stomach flips. A heaviness settles in your throat, your heart lodging in the tight confines, your blood pumping faster and faster. A lithe whine slithers free, escaping into the dimly lit room and burrows into Joel's mind.

His jaw clenches, and a dark growl rumbles from his chest, "Thatta' girl. Make'a fuckin' mess'a me."

Your dripping hole quivers and throbs around his swollen tip as you come with a silent scream, body locking taut, trying its best to engulf his length entirely.

Joel curses, jerking his length with long, steady tugs and rubbing his weeping, cream-covered tip around your soaked folds before his spine goes straight, and he yanks his cock from your core, curling in on himself and spilling his seed all over your belly with a deep, gravelly moan.

You sag into his sheets, spent with a shiny thin layer of dew and white ropes of spend painted across your abdomen.

"Shit." Joel curses, breathing heavily as he holds himself by his hands, which press into the mattress by your head, keeping you locked beneath him.

You hold his studious gaze. His dark eyes ruminate, tinged with mood, as his gaze drills down into your very core, threatening to demolish your soul. You resign that this was nothing special. Just another night you won't talk about again.  

Joel eases off of you with a grunt, his bones aching from the tension despite the brief, pleasurable relief, and tucks his cock back away into his sweatpants. He shuffles to the bathroom momentarily before returning with a damp washcloth.

He wipes the cloth over your belly and between your thighs, cleaning the combined arousal from your skin before chucking the rag into the hamper with a sigh.

"I know," you mutter, grimacing as you roll onto your side and sit up, tugging your shirt down. "I won't mention it again."

A solid, warm hand on your shoulder stops your retreat. "Stay," Joel whispers with soft, yearning eyes. "I wan' you to stay, sweet girl."

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

𝙄 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮

Summary: Filming different home ✨videos✨ with different characters.

Pairings: Andy Barber x fem!Reader, Steve Rogers x fem!Reader, Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader, Ari Levinson x fem!Reader

Warnings: All smut – filming, blow job, swallowing, thigh riding, cumshot, some spanking (just twice I guess), anal plug use, unprotected sex, overstimulation, creampie, 18+

Word count: ~1,500

A/n: Shout out to the lovely anon who gave me ideas for Steve’s part 🥰

♡ ⊹ ° .　˚ 　 𖧷 · 　° .　 ♡ ⊹

Andy Barber

“How do I look?” You tease him, winking right at the phone in his hand, recording you kneeling in front of him.

“Fucking gorgeous.” His free hand moves to rest on your cheek, his thumb ghosting over your lips until you part them enough to take it into your mouth.

Giving him a show already, you suck on his finger, swirling your tongue around, and let him push it further until you gag lightly.

“Better be getting my good angles,” you joke, catching your breath when he pulls his hand away.

“You don’t have bad angles, sweetheart.”

With a lighthearted roll of your eyes, you set your hands on his hips, fingers hooking into the waistband of his briefs. They still there, your lips following to press kisses against his lower abdomen, then trailing lower. His cock twitches at the attention, earning a quiet groan from him and a giggle from you. Another teasing look to the camera and you’re biting your lip, moving back enough to finally pull the fabric down just to let his cock spring free.

You waste no time taking him into your hand, lazily stroking him a few times before leaning in to run your tongue along his length slowly, all while keeping your eyes on him above you.

“Christ, honey,” he groans, watching you through the small screen to make sure he’s capturing it. “Keep going.”

His breath hitches when your lips wrap around the head of his cock, your tongue paying special attention to the sensitive spot on the underside.

Feeling his free hand once again, this time on the back of your neck, you take the hint and begin taking more of him into your mouth. Your hand covers what you can’t handle, moving in time with your mouth.

You moan around him, the vibrations causing his breathing to quicken and an involuntary thrust of his hips. That makes you gag, swiftly pulling your head back but still working him with your hand.

“Do you want me to swallow?” Your question comes out breathless.

It takes him a moment to register what you said, his own mind too hazy to answer coherently. “I– Uh,” he pants, looking down at you. “You don’t have to.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Yes,” he blurts out, just needing you to keep going.

You double your efforts, pumping your fist quicker until you know he’s on the edge. Opening your mouth, you beg for it. “Give it to me. Please, cum in my mouth.”

It does it for him. A guttural moan rips from his throat, his hips stuttering as his release spills into your mouth.

He watches you as he catches his breath, swallowing everything he gave you, and he curses under his breath.

Sitting back, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, looking up at him once more. “Was that good or do we need to film a take two?”

♡ ⊹ ° .　˚ 　 𖧷 · 　° .　 ♡ ⊹

Steve Rogers

“There’s my pretty girl,” he coos, panning the camera up toward your face. Your hands quickly move to cover it though, your cheeks immediately heating up at the realization of what you’re doing. “Hey, don’t be shy. This was your idea,” he teases. “Look at the camera.”

Slowly lowering your hands, you place them back on his shoulders for support, picking up the pace of your hips again to grind your cunt against his thigh.

Doing your best to offer some eye contact to the camera for him, you can’t help but laugh and turn your face away. Your laugh suddenly turns into a whine though when he flexes his thigh, adding to the pressure against your aching clit.

“Good girl,” he praises when you don’t stop. “Keep going. Look so pretty like this, darling.”

Angling the camera back down to where your core meets his leg, he chuckles, the movement once again making you whimper. “You’re making such a mess,” he points out, referring to the wet spot on his pants. “I’ll have to make you watch this later so you can see it too.”

“Steve,” you whine, partly from dreading the humiliation of that, but also from feeling yourself quickly approaching the edge. “Can I–” You don’t get the question out before letting out a desperate moan.

“You can do better than that.” His tone is teasing as he puts the camera back on your face. “Ask nicely.”

Too focused on chasing your high, you don’t have the chance to be timid. “Please, can I cum?” You’re looking right into the camera this time. “Please, Steve.”

“Let go for me, sweetheart.”

Throwing your head back, your hips jerk against his leg, pleasure washing over you in waves. He stops filming when you fall forward, body slumping against his. He needs both hands free to hold you, rubbing your back gently as you steady your breathing.

“That was really good,” you breathe out, laughing a little.

“That’ll definitely come in handy,” he chuckles. “Good idea, sweetheart.”

♡ ⊹ ° .　˚ 　 𖧷 · 　° .　 ♡ ⊹

Ransom Drysdale

“Fuck,” he breathes out, dropping his face to your neck.

He gives you a minute to come down from your second orgasm tonight before pushing himself off of you and leaning over to grab the phone from where it’s been propped up and filming from the nightstand thus far.

His fingers tapping against your side get your attention, your eyes fluttering open to be met with him holding the phone now, making you the main focus.

“Turn over, babe. Let’s see that pretty ass now.”

Groaning, you turn over onto shaky hands and knees, giving him the perfect view of your ass and the pink heart-shaped jewel on the end of the anal plug he got you.

“Hell yeah,” he marvels, pushing on it, earning a whimper from you. It’s enough to make your arms give out, your face resting against the sheets now. “Good to keep going, babygirl?”

“Yes, please.”

You gasp feeling his cock push back into you. He easily falls back into his rhythm from before, hips slapping against your ass with each thrust.

“You look so fucking good from this angle,” he grunts, punctuating his praise with a slap of his hand against your ass.

“Shit, Ran,” you choke out, gripping fistfuls of the sheets in your hands. Still sensitive from your last orgasm, you feel like you’re right on the edge again.

“What, gonna cum again already?”

“Please,” you whine. “Want you to cum with me.”

He curses under his breath, and his thrusts become harder, determined to make you fall apart again.

“Oh, God–” The trembling of your legs tells him you’re right there.

“Come on,” he pants, slapping your ass one more time. “Give it to me.”

With a scream of his name, you’re hurdling over the edge for the third time, cunt spasming around his cock, and it’s enough to bring him with you. Quickly pulling out, he jerks his cock until his cum is painting your ass, giving him the perfect frame to end the video with.

♡ ⊹ ° .　˚ 　 𖧷 · 　° .　 ♡ ⊹

Ari Levinson

“God, look at you go,” he groans, teasing as he watches you through the screen of his phone, bouncing on his dick.

“Stop,” you whine, but can’t help but laugh. “You’re making me nervous.”

“How am I making you nervous, sweetheart?”

“Do I look okay?”

“You look fucking amazing,” he breathes out. “And the best part is this view is all for me. Only for me.”

Pressing your hands on his chest for leverage, you grind your hips deeper, both of you letting out moans from the new angle.

“Want you to make yourself cum, pretty girl.” His free hand slips down from your hip, his thumb pressing against your clit. Rolling your head back, you cry out his name. “Come on.”

“I’m gonna–” Your own silent moan cuts you off, your vision going dark as you hit your peak.

When your legs begin to quiver, he takes over, thrusting his hips up, chasing his own climax. “Right there with you, baby. Fuck–”

His hips still and his thighs tense as his release spills inside you. Your heavy breaths are the only sound in the room until he asks if you’re ok.

“My legs hurt,” you laugh, dropping your face as you become aware of the camera on you again.

“Here, lift up,” he begins, panning the camera down to where your bodies are still connected. “Up…”

Listening, you slowly push off of him, letting his cock slip out of you, and you whimper. It’s followed by his groan though as he watches his cum drip out of you. “That’s it,” he smirks. He ends the video there, tossing the phone across the bed. “Come here.”

Gently falling forward, you lay on top of him, his arms coming up to wrap around you.

“I can’t believe we did that.”

“We can delete it right away if you–”

“No,” you chuckle, pressing a kiss to his neck. “It’s okay. I kinda want to see it.”

♡ ⊹ ° .　˚ 　 𖧷 · 　° .　 ♡ ⊹

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The Half Hour S05E09 – Emily Heller