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banannabethchase · 1 year

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Matt meets up with a possible client at his Christmas Tree farm on a cold January day. He'll beat the storm to get home on time. Or will he get stuck in a Hallmark movie?

This started by me and Sarah cracking jokes about Matt being Adam's sugar daddy back in the ROH days and him buying Adam a chainsaw, and then it spiraled and this...happened? I dunno it's 98% tropes and 2% Matt saying the word Lumberjack in the horniest voice ever. Enjoy.

Mini playlist (it's a Hallmark style fic, I'm giving it a Hallmark style playlist): Last First Kiss - One Direction You and Me - Lifehouse Everytime We Touch (Yanou's Candlelight Mix) - Cascada Wait a Minute - Sub-Radio

Matt adjusts his tie as he parks, the lack of traffic causing him to be over half an hour early. The charming office is surrounded by stumps and smaller pine trees, and it’s easy to imagine what it would have looked like a month or two ago: Page’s Tree Farm, full of pine trees the perfect height to settle in the living room for the holidays. Truly, the place is as quaint as he could have possibly imagined. Matt makes sure his car’s windows are rolled up and wraps his coat tightly around himself. The forecast said the storm was going to be big, but he’s lived in the Midwest for almost a year now. Sure, California doesn’t see any snow, but he saw some back in March of the previous year. He’ll be out of here before it even starts.

He walks up the path, but the door to the shop and office area appears closed. He pulls on it – locked.

“Damn it,” he mutters, adjusting his scarf up around his ears. The temperature is dropping faster than he expected. “Mr. Page?” he calls, peeking around the sides of the small building. “Mr. Page? Anybody?”

The sun disappears behind thick, grey clouds, and Matt makes his way around the sides of the office to see an open path. He’s torn between deciding if it’s a creepy murder path or a charming woodland paradise. For his own peace of mind, he decides on the latter.

As he steps over a few snow piles, he hears some sort of rhythmic thudding from the woods, and he follows it. “Mr. Page?”

The thudding continues, and Matt reaches a clearing in the area. And feels his entire brain short circuit and fall out of his ass. Matt stares as Mr. Page – it’s gotta be him, Matt recognizes those curls from the photo on the website – swings an axe up and crushes it down on a felled, dry, Christmas tree, cutting clean through it. Like it’s nothing.

Matt is suddenly incredibly overheated in his peacoat, dress pants way too fucking tight. He needs to say something. Needs to call out to him. It’s only polite to announce your presence, right? His mother would be so disappointed. He just stares. Not a single hello or how are you. He’s a sham of a good California boy.

He’s finally jolted out of it when Page lets out this incredible grunt – manful is the only word Matt can come up with to describe it – as he swings down on the thickest part of the trunk.

Stupid tight work pants, but also thank god for the tight work pants.

Matt clears his throat. “Excuse me.”

Mr. Page finally looks up, tossing the blonde curls over his head like a damned swimsuit model in plaid and jeans. “Oh!” He lights up, smile on his face. “Hi. Sorry, didn’t see you there. Are you Mr. Jackson?”

Matt nods, and deliberately doesn’t add, if you’re nasty, because he’s a good man on a business trip and whatever the eff is going on in his pants is completely external to this situation. “Glad to finally meet you in person.” He walks over to Page, sticks out his hand. “You can call me Matt.”

“Matt,” he says, and the goddamn lumberjack of a man has a lumberjack of a handshake, too. His hands are big. Matt is screwed, and not in the way he wants. “You can call me Adam.” He gestures to the stacks of cut wood all around him. “As you can see, I’m in desperate need of your services.”

Matt lets out the most pathetic little whine at the back of his throat, because God and everyone else is trying to kill him right now. “Yeah. I, uh. Chainsaws and other tools.” Matt winces. He’s not making it any easier on himself. “That’s my specialty.” He’s okay with dying now. He’s supposed to be the put together adult here. He’s got years of experience selling things people don’t need, brokering deals with bigger companies to get their investments without losing his and Nick’s majority share of the company. He’s convinced big shot lumber companies to choose his product over that of the leading major business.

And here he is, pitching half a tent in his nicest suit pants over a guy who looks like he could carry him bridal style into a firelit log cabin and fuck him within an inch of sanity. He’s a terrible businessman.

“Perfect,” Adam says. Even his smile is sexy. This doesn’t feel fair. “I got a good group of people working for me, see, but it’s a small town, and they, uh. They’re all characters.” Adam laughs, running a hand through his hair, pushing the few curls that had fallen to across his eyes out of his face. “We’ve busted eight chainsaws in a season. Which is quadruple what I’m used to breaking in a full year.” Matt winces, and he hopes it looks sympathetic. “So I’m looking to invest in a relatively large order.”

Matt nods, back in his game. “Right. And we at Jackson and Jackson are happy to provide you a bulk discount.” He smiles. “We’re always glad to be chosen over the big chains.”

“Well, I sure as hell wasn’t going to Home Depot,” Adam says, laughing. Matt puts that detail in his back pocket. “Plus, small businesses have to support each other, right?”

“Glad to be your first choice,” Matt replies.

Adam’s smile gets a little sheepish. “Sort of. You guys called me back before the Lowe’s rep.”

“I can’t fault you for going with the most timely,” Matt says, taking the time to feel smug, because he deserves to be. Punctuality is his greatest virtue. His only one, if the way he can’t stop thinking about what those hands can do has anything to say about it.

“I got a bunch of old Christmas trees to turn into firewood for the local shelters,” Adam says. “I have people donate them here when they’re done with ‘em, so we can break the trees down and turn them into something useful. But it takes about three times as long without the chainsaws.” He gestures to the pile of trees in the corner that Matt is just now noticing. “They rot quick, though. How soon can you get the saws to me?”

Matt resists a sigh. Of course he’s a humanitarian. Of course he puts his personal time and resources into helping others. Because this isn’t stupidly Hallmark enough. “Let’s workshop that in your office. It’s uh,” he gestures behind him, “it’s beginning to snow.”

Adam looks up, frowning. A few snowflakes flutter perfectly onto his hair. “Huh. You’re right. Didn’t even notice how cold it got.” He swings the ax like a stupid movie character, catching it in his hand. “I always forget how much more energy it takes to cut wood with this.

“Well, that’s a problem I’m here to solve.” Matt shoots him his best smile, because if Adam’s going to be hot, he will be too, damn it. “Let’s go crunch some numbers.”

It takes longer than Matt expects, because Adam is good. He haggles and suggests and flirts just enough to make it work appropriate, and, infuriatingly, makes some really good points. It takes two hours to narrow down a deal that gives them both what they want. Matt wrangles an advertisement in Adam’s main hallway and a recommendation for Jackson and Jackson on the website. Adam gets 15% additional chainsaws for free in their five-deal agreement, but he throws in a smile, so Matt sort of considers it a win for himself, really.

“Well, if you’ll sign here,” Matt says, spreading out the paperwork Adam had printed from his own office computer, “we can get it all ironed out. I’ll scan it and send it to my brother, Nick, and he can fax or scan you a copy of the finalized documents by tomorrow morning.”

“Great!” Adam says. “I mean, if the power stays on.” He glances out the window. It’s practically a sheet of white outside. Matt feels himself start to panic, just a little bit. “Oh, shit. That storm came earlier and harder than we thought.”

It takes everything in Matt’s power not to make a wildly inappropriate comment at that. “I’ll be fine.”

“Like hell you will,” Adam says, and it’s forceful but not unkind. “You been out in weather like that? I’ll be surprised if you can get your tiny ass sedan out of the parking spot!”

“I’ll be fine,” Matt says, rolling his eyes.

He is, he finds, decidedly not fine. The car turns on, but even with Adam digging out the wheels, the snow has practically locked him in the space. “Well,” Matt says, stepping out of the car and brushing snow out of his hair. “This sucks.”

Adam shrugs. “Maybe it’ll let up early since the storm started early.” He gestures to the office. “Come on. It’s cold out here. I’ll light the fire and we can hopefully wait it out until the storm calms down.”

Matt pauses for a minute. He’s got the deal done. He did his job. He wants to leave this place and let himself have the inappropriate fantasies of what he wants this man to do to him happen in the privacy of his own goddamn home. But he’s got literally no alternative.

“Alright,” Matt says. “Yeah.” He rubs his hands together.

“You want a whiskey or something when we get inside?” Adam asks.

Matt shakes his head, distracted at the way that Adam walks next to him so closely. With the setting sun and the oranges spreading across the snow, the shadows strike him in ways Matt couldn’t have imagined. He swallows. He’ll stay focused. He’ll stay professional.

Matt and Adam walk into something like a back room behind the store and the offices, something much more cozy and personal. Matt takes in the children’s paintings on the walls, the pictures of dogs and a group of friends on the bookshelves. He reads the titles; everything from Rick Riordan to the Marquis de Sade to Ta-Nehisi Coates. It’s full of strange shelfmates, things Matt would have never thought to put together. He reaches out, unable to resist tracing the spine of a clearly well-loved copy of The Iliad.

“Yeah, sorry,” Adam says. “My stuff doesn’t all fit in my apartment, so my bookshelf has made its way down here over the years.”

Matt nods, not really hearing. He takes in all the titles until he finds himself seated on a big, comfy armchair with a hideous pattern. “It’s lovely,” he says, almost too quietly.

“Thanks.” Adam’s voice is quiet, gentle, soft.

Adam lights a fire with some of the logs he’d cut earlier that day, which Matt manages to convince himself not to get a boner about, and the two of them chat mindlessly as reruns of How I Met Your Mother play in the background. The snow doesn’t let up, they exchange mentioning. The sun sets and the room gets a few degrees colder, but Matt doesn’t mention it, just leans closer to the fire. It’s just a coincidence that it means he leans closer to Adam, too.

They’re halfway through singing along to a Robin Sparkles episode when the TV shuts off and the lights flicker once, twice, and go off.

Adam sighs somewhere in the darkness. “Well, fuck. I was hoping we’d avoid that this storm.” Matt hears rustling. “Give me a few minutes. I’m going to go check the breaker box.”

“You good out there?”

Adam’s laugh is better than any music Matt’s ever heard. “I got this. Done it a hundred times.”

Matt wants to argue that, duh, he knows Adam can handle it, but Matt wants to be of some kind of help. Adam’s out the door before he can explain that, though, so he gives in to his basest impulses and goes too close to the fire, just to get a little warmer.

“Power’s out,” Adam says, walking back in with a flashlight and a gust of wind. There’s snowflakes tangled in his hair. Matt wants to brush them out for him. “Snow’s halfway up the door to your car, too. Sorry, Matt. Looks like you’re stuck here.”

“Oh, no,” Matt argues. “I couldn’t impose.”

Adam laughs, something rumbling and joyful that sends shivers through Matt’s body. “God, you city kids are cute. Nah, baby, nobody’s getting out of here until maybe noon tomorrow, at the earliest.”

Matt squirms at the pet name, unsure he’s deserved it but addicted to the way it sounds out of Adam’s mouth already. “How are you getting home then?”

Adam points upwards. “The stairs. I live on the second story of the business. Makes it easy to take care of everything.”

Matt blinks. “Oh. Well that sounds convenient.”

“It is.” Adam takes Matt in, looking him up and down in a way that gives Matt goosebumps. “You gonna be comfortable in that suit overnight?”

Matt looks down at himself. While immaculately tailored, Matt’s gotten hives just from sitting in the comfiest of office chairs for too long in these pants. “Um.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Adam says. “Come with me. You can borrow pajamas. I’m sure they’ll be a little big on you, ‘cause you’re so short -”

“Hey!”

Adam shoots him a grin. “Despite your vertical challenges, they should work well enough.”

About ten minutes later, Matt finds himself in Adam’s bathroom, in Adam’s apartment, looking like an absolute buffoon. He’s wearing a Dolly Parton t-shirt and it fits okay around his arms, but it’s a little long. That’s not the problem, though. Adam was right – the pajama pants drag on the floor. They catch under his feet as he shuffles around while he brushes with the dollar store toothbrush Adam found under a giant box of Lysol wipes he’d gotten back in June of 2020. He tries to make his beard and hair look at least partway presentable, then pauses, because he doesn’t know why he’s so nervous to leave the bathroom.

He's making sure his half up top knot is angled right, because reasons, when the flashlight flickers once, twice. Then goes out.

“You okay, Matt?” comes Adam’s voice from somewhere in the upstairs apartment. “I think your flashlight went out.”

“I can see that,” Matt calls back. He feels around for the doorknob, and does his best to shuffle out the door. Unfortunately, he trips over the pants and crashes into something sturdy and warm.

“Hey,” Adam chuckles, grabbing him by the biceps and hauling him back up. “You okay?”

Matt’s suddenly delighted for the darkness, with the way his cheeks are burning. “I’m good,” he says, and he hates that his voice sounds a little fluttery. “Unfortunately you were right about the pants.”

“I’m right about a lot of things.” He places his hands on Matt’s shoulders. Matt thinks it must have been accidental, the way Adam brushes some of his hair off of his shoulders and rests his fingertips against the side of Matt’s neck. “I, uh, you wait here. I’m going to grab some more flashlights and light some candles, okay?”

Matt nods, forgetting it’s dark. “Oh, yeah. Course.” Fuck his weakness for people playing with his hair, even when it’s an accident.

He hears rustling again, a little crashing, then sees a light beam cross across the room until it settles on him. He feels too seen, examined.

“There you are,” Adam says, voice warm. “Here, this one’s yours. We probably want to go back downstairs so we can keep an eye on the fire. Don’t want to burn the building down.”

“Oh, definitely not,” Matt says. “That would be, like, the worst business deal in history.”

Adam laughs somewhere in the room, and another light flashes on. “Alright, help me carry these candles downstairs. We’ll set them up around the place. Just nothing too close to the books, okay?”

“Oh, sure, the big city boy’s too stupid for fire safety,” Matt cracks, shooting a grin at Adam as they make their way, carefully on Matt’s part, down the stairs. “I can do some things right.”

“You sure can cut a deal,” Adam says. He sets a candle on the bottom step of the stairs once Matt is out of the way. “You haggle like the grandmothers who show up here demanding a discount because of a dead tree branch.”

“I think I’d agree with them,” Matt says, lighting a candle on a dresser, far from the photo of a strange little man in an elf costume. “There should be at least a five percent discount for a defective limb.”

“How dare you!” Adam argues. He glows oranges and reds by the light of the candle in his hands. “That’s my home grown product!”

“If it’s diseased, it needs a discount,” Matt replies. He relishes the way Adam’s jaw drops in horror, the little smile in his eyes that he fights to show on his lips

“You come into my house,” Adam says, voice dangerously dark but eyes still sparkling, “on the day of a fucking discount chainsaw deal and a snow storm…the bit failed, but you get where I’m going.”

Matt legitimately throws his head back, laughing, falling back against the couch. He feels Adam slide toward him, just a little.

“You want a drink or something?” Adam asks. He sounds a little – there’s something in his voice. Something Matt wants to hear more of.

“Oh, I don’t really drink,” Matt starts, but, as he watches Adam’s face fall, “but I’ll take, like, a ginger ale.”

“I got ginger ale!” Adam says. He’s almost eager as he leaps up and darts across the apartment to the kitchen. Matt can see only a sliver of him as he hears the fridge open. “Oh, and, uh, well, I have leftover pizza. You’ve got to be hungry.”

Matt is, a little bit. “What kind?”

“Pepperoni,” Adam calls. Matt leans to see Adam, butt sticking out, face first in the fridge. It’s a good view.

“Perfect.”

They eat quietly, both of them watching the fire flicker. Matt hasn’t had pizza this good since this little Italian place he grew up with back in California. It doesn’t help the situation that the pizza’s cold, though, and he begins to shiver once he’s done.

“You cold?”

Matt nods, admitting defeat.

“We can get a little closer to the fire, if you want,” Adam says. “Sit on the floor.”

Matt drops to the floor and scoots on his knees over in front of the fire. The blaze hits him like a wall, and he half falls over.

“See, okay, I said on the floor, not in the fire.” Matt can practically feel the laughter in Adam’s voice.

“Oh, shut up,” Matt giggles, reaching out and smacking Adam’s arm. He doesn’t miss the way Adam licks his lips at the touch, and he decides, in that moment, to up his game. What happens in a log cabin in a snow storm stays in a log cabin in a snow storm, right? “Do you have a generator or anything? I’m starting to get bored.”

“What, I’m not enough entertainment?”

“I mean, I’m sure you are,” Matt says, trying not to let on that Adam’s fallen right in his web like a sexy little fly, “but, I mean, TV?”

“No generator,” Adam says. “I’ve got Clue, though.”

“Can’t play that with two people,” Matt says, shaking his head. “Plus, I’d annihilate you. It wouldn’t even be merciful.”

Adam scoffs. “Please. I’d win with ease.”

“Well, next time we get stuck in a snowstorm with a third person, I’ll take you up on that.” He peeks over Adam’s shoulder, trying to figure out where Adam may keep the games. “What else you got?”

“Life?”

Matt rolls his eyes. “That game is boring.”

Adam blinks. “Life is boring?”

“I’m sorry, if I wanted to rehash my early twenties, I’d be in southern California right now,” Matt says with another hair toss. “Pass.”

Adam shrugs, taking a sip of his ginger ale. Matt mirrors him before he even realizes he’s doing it. “Uh. I have cards?”

Go Fish is more boring than staring at fire, they discover, and they set it aside after the third game that Matt wins.

“Alright, we’re – we’re out of ideas.” Matt sighs. “What could we possibly do…” He trails off, a little too smug about the way Adam’s eyes follow every move he makes. He taps his finger on his bottom lip, twists a little, stretches out in front of the fire. “Truth or dare,” Matt finally says after his little show.

Adam, who had definitely been staring, shakes his head. “Huh?”

“Truth or dare,” Matt asks again. “It’s the only option left.”

“Dare.”

Matt grins. “I dare you to go outside and put your bare ass in the snow.”

“Child’s play.” To Matt’s surprise, Adam stands up and walks out the door before Matt even gets a chance to stand up. He manages to get to the door by the time Adam plops down in the snow. “Easy. This is shit I did in middle school. Up your game, Jackson.”

“Fine. Truth or – ”

“Oh, no,” Adam says, standing. He looks way too smug for a guy who just had his pants down and his ass in the snow. “It’s my turn. You know how to play truth or dare, right?”

Matt rolls his eyes. “Ugh. Fine. Truth.”

“Who’s the worst customer you’ve ever had?”

“Oh, easy!” Matt launches into the story of Brecken Callahan, an absolute dickwad who tried to shit talk Jackson and Jackson, then tried to demand Matt let him in on investing in the business.

Adam follows the story intently, eyes flickering from Matt’s wildly gesturing hands to his lips.

“Okay, now you, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

Matt senses an opening. “Are you gay? Straight? Bi?”

Adam’s smile is slow, dirty, delicious. “I’m bi. Truth or dare?”

“Truth?”

Adam leans in a little closer to Matt. “How many people have you fucked?”

Matt tilts his head, counting on his fingers. He hopes the blush creeping across his body isn’t too visible in the firelight. “Eight. Ten, if you count blowjobs.”

“Of course I count blowjobs.”

“Then ten.” He stretches his arms above his head, tilting his head back, exposing his throat. When he opens his eyes again, Adam’s mouth is hanging open. Works every time. “Truth or dare, lumberjack?”

“Lumberjack?”

Matt raises an eyebrow as he plays with the ends of his hair. “Am I wrong?”

Adam opens and closes his mouth, then sighs in defeat. “Yeah, fine. Truth.”

“How many people have you – have you slept with?”

“Six,” Adam answers, automatically. “Truth or dare?”

They’ve moved closer to each other, the chill in the room gone for the heat between them. Matt’s practically touching Adam now. He’s ready to go in for the kill. Matt swallows. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Adam says, eyes locked on Matt’s.

“Are you hard right now?”

Adam’s eyes widen with shock, the shadows from the candles and firelight reflecting off of them, then they settle. His smile is slow, dancing across the face like the light. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

It’s as good an invitation that Matt thinks he’s going to get. Reaching out to rest a hand on Adam’s thigh is easier than it should be. Adam leans back against the couch, opening himself up to Matt a little bit, all guards down. Matt can see it, now, the thick outline in the grey sweatpants. “That’s, uh. That’s a yes.”

Adam lets out a low laugh. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Matt nearly whispers, so close to Adam it feels magnetic. He doesn’t lean in, though. That’s not how the game works.

“I don’t gotta tell you what I want you to do.” Adam tilts his head up and kisses Matt, threading his fingers through his hair and pulling down against Adam’s body. Matt melts into the touch, crawling into Adam’s lap, throwing a leg over Adam’s hips. Adam takes the opportunity to slide a hand into Matt’s sweatpants, grabbing a handful of his ass. Matt presses against Adam, mouth opening against his, and he almost collapses against Adam’s chest as Adam licks into his mouth.

Matt gets a little dizzy with it, but he gives as good as he gets, running his hands up the front of Adam’s shirt and yanking it up. He hates that he has to pull away from Adam’s mouth, where the taste of ginger ale still lingers, to get the shirt off. Adam laughs as he struggles to get it over his head.

“Truth or dare,” Adam says, shirtless, glowing like Apollo in the orange sparks of the fire. “Works every time.”

“This was my idea.”

Adam laughs, biting at Matt’s throat. Matt hopes it bruises like proof. “I’m the one who said I didn’t have any other board games.”

Matt’s responding laugh is cut off as Adam sucks, hard. There’s going to be a mark, alright. “You try this on all the boys?” Matt asks, leaning down to trail kisses along Adam’s jaw.

“Only the pretty ones,” Adam replies. He slides his hands up the back of Matt’s shirt. “I fucked up when I gave you my clothes. I made my own kryptonite.”

“Effing nerd,” Matt laughs, but rewards Adam with a sucking kiss to the neck. Adam’s hips seem to twitch up outside of his control, a little gasp coming out of his mouth. Matt chases is as it skates off of Adam’s tongue, falling back against Adam like he was built to be there. His hands are so goddamn big as they splay across Matt’s back, as they push the shirt – Adam’s shirt, god – up and over. Matt pulls back so Adam can pull it over his head. His eyes skate across Matt’s chest.

“Fuck, you’re ripped,” Adam murmurs, and he leans in, biting at Matt’s collarbone, down his chest, at a pec. Matt squirms against it, desperate to get closer while also getting more naked. Adam grabs at Matt’s biceps. Matt flexes a little, because he’s always been a bit of a showoff, and Adam lets out this half-hysterical little laugh.

“What?”

“Your biceps are the size of your head,” Adam says, sounding a little dazed. “You could probably, like, bench press me.”

Matt shrugs. “I’ve been working on building muscle.”

Adam laughs again, eyes glazing over. “God, I’m glad you were the consult on those fucking chainsaws.”

“Me, too.”

They fumble against each other until Adam gives up and hauls them both to their feet. They twirl around each other like it’s choreographed as they move up the stairs into Adam’s apartment, Adam catching Matt every time he nearly stumbles on the pajama pants. Matt is suddenly consumed by the smell, touch, feel of Adam all around him. He wants to drown in it, wants it to pull him under.

“What do you want?” he asks Adam, willing to give him whatever the answer is.

“You,” Adam murmurs. His lips burn a trail along Matt’s jaw. “All of you.”

“But specifically,” Matt asks, voice broken off into a bit of a moan as Adam’s hands go for his ass again.

“Wanna get inside you,” Adam says, and it’s enough of a growl that Matt gets a little weak kneed. Adam takes advantage of it, pulling Matt’s legs out from under him so his back falls to the bed. He’s miserable, for just a second, until Adam covers him again, that long, strong body on top of him, pressing him into the mattress.

He won’t hold himself responsible for the moan that comes out of his mouth, but Adam hears it, laughs against Matt’s throat. “You good?”

“Yeah, inside me, good,” Matt babbles. “Now?”

“Wait, baby,” Adam says, and it’s the pet name again, and Matt’s a fucking mess. Adam pushes the pajama pants down and off of him. He’s hit with a wave of chill until Adam’s hands are back on him, manhandling him to where Adam wants him on the bed. Matt rolls over at the touch, pliant, malleable, and all he wants is those hands everywhere.

“Can I…?” Adam asks, massaging Matt’s ass.

“Yeah, please,” Matt says.

“You’re so much politer in bed than in business,” Adam says, but he leans down to nip at the back of Matt’s neck, so he doesn’t really have the mind space to respond. There’s a few infuriating moments where Adam’s hands are nowhere near Matt, but he comes back soon enough. Adam’s finger is already coated with lube, slick as it glides between Matt’s cheeks and teases around his hole. Matt pushes back against it, and is rewarded when Adam gently rests his hand on his lower back. “I’ll give you whatever you want,” Adam murmurs. “You just gotta ask.”

“I want you in me,” Matt whines, and he’s not proud of it, he isn’t, but he doesn’t have control of it in them moment.

Adam laughs, low and tantalizing and –

Matt lets out a slow exhale as Adam slowly presses his finger in, so gentle, so hesitant. “You can go faster,” Matt practically begs.

“See, that’s what I wanted to hear,” Adam says, sounding far too put together in the moment. He moves just the way Matt wants it, rougher and faster, and Matt can’t help but press back against it.

“Jesus,” Adam says, “wouldn’t have expected this.”

“Why not?” Matt gasps as Adam teases at adding another finger. “You expect me to be a boring lay or something?”

Adam hums, sliding another finger inside of Matt like it’s nothing. “I just expect the people who come to my tree farm to, you know,” he laughs as Matt gasps at the twists of his fingers, “not be so good at taking my fingers."

Matt keens as he pushes back on Adam’s fingers. “Hope I’m not too much for you to handle.” He looks behind him to see Adam with a positively hungry look on his face. Before he knows it, Adam flips him on his back, pressing his wrists to the bed.

“Too much to handle,” he scoffs, twisting his fingers inside of Matt almost hard enough.

“Fuck me and we’ll see if you can keep up,” Matt says, because it’s been long enough, and he’s not sure if he can wait any longer. Adam pulls his fingers out of Matt, with one last twist that gets Matt exhaling sharply, and reaches over to a drawer. Matt watches him, knowing his gaze is hungry, as he pulls out a condom and more lube.

“Took you long enough,” Matt says, grinning, because he’ll never resist the opportunity to be a little bit annoying.

“You keep that up and maybe I won’t fuck you,” Adam replies, and his stare is so heated that Matt shuts up immediately. He watches, propped up on his elbows, as Adam slides on the condom and slicks himself up. Matt exhales slowly in anticipation, desperate to have that length pushed into him, fucked into him. He doesn’t have to wait long.

“You okay?” Adam asks, hand on the back of Matt’s thigh, propping his leg up. “Like, you…?”

“If you don’t fuck me, I think I’m literally going to explode,” Matt says, trying to level Adam with the same stare he’d given Matt earlier.

Adam laughs, presses a kiss to Matt’s calf, and looks back at him. Matt wants to dive into those eyes. “Okay,” Adam says.

He pushes in, so goddamn slowly, and Matt sees stars. He can’t help himself from sighing, dropping his head back on Adam’s pillow, a little smile playing across his lips.

“You look so good like this,” Adam murmurs, pressing another kiss to Matt’s leg. Matt forces his eyes open – it’s not every day he gets to see a masterpiece painted in front of him. Adam groans a little as he pulls back and pushes in, eyes closed. Matt can’t tear his eyes from Adam’s face, watching his eyebrows draw together, his hair dance across his forehead. He wants to memorize it.

And then Adam picks up the pace, and Matt loses all thoughts in his head.

“Good?” Adam asks, like it could be anything but.

Matt nods. “Yeah, so good. Don’t stop.”

Adam lets out that little laugh again. “Good to know.”

Matt tries to push back against Adam, give as good as he’s getting, but the way Adam slams into him is so deliberate and focused it knocks all sense and planning out of his head. He reaches up to brush a thumb across Adam’s mouth. He presses a kiss to it, then draws it into his mouth, making Matt whimper with the way he sucks at it.

“God, you’re…you’re so…” Matt can’t finish his sentence, arching back as Adam thrusts at a new angle.

Adam laughs, a little choked, a little desperate. “Yeah? You, too.” He ducks his head in against Matt’s neck, pressing kisses, and Matt lets it all wash over him. He clings to Adam’s arms, his waist, his neck, desperate to get his hands on as much of him as possible. The world shrinks to the two of them, to where they connect.

“Matt,” Adam groans, his voice tight, “fuck, I’m – ”

“Yeah,” Matt says, and he slides a hand in between the two of them, curling his hand around his own cock. He doesn’t even need lube – he’s leaking enough to make the motion slick and right. “Me too.”

Matt gets himself there before Adam, coming in strong pulses all over Adam’s chest and his own. Adam’s response is to get unsteady, a little wild, a little rough with his thrusts. All Matt can do is hang on to it, riding through the aftershocks until he feels Adam come inside him with a groan that sounds a whole lot like Matt’s name.

Adam takes care of the mess and then his face is buried in Matt’s shoulder as he collapses. Matt pets through his hair with his fingers, something he hopes is soothing. He’s feeling pretty exhausted himself, though, body thoroughly wrecked and mind calm. “Damn.” Adam presses his face against Matt’s neck.

“Damn is right,” Matt laughs. Adam stirs a little bit against him, lifting his head. Matt can’t resist brushing the hair out of his eyes. The man really is pretty.

“You okay?” Adam asks. “I got a little, uh,” he laughs, “a little enthusiastic.”

“So okay,” Matt says. He grins and drops his head back against the pillow, feeling warm and cozy. “Better than okay. I feel great.”

“Good,” Adam says. “Wouldn’t want you to rescind your chainsaw deal.”

“I could make a hilarious joke about me taking care of your wood,” Matt mumbles, suddenly sleepy.

“You could,” Adam says. He yawns. “I don’t know if I have the energy left to laugh about it, though.” He pushes himself up.

“What? No,” Matt says, before he can stop himself. “Where are you going?”

“Gotta take care of the fire and the candles,” Adam says through another yawn. “Can’t burn the place down.”

Matt nods and follows Adam out of bed, throwing on the grey sweatpants.

“Those were mine!”

Matt points to the elastic at the ankle. “These I can keep up. They are mine now.”

With a shrug, Adam pulls on the red plaid pants. “I guess they are.”

Matt blows out the candles while Adam makes sure the fireplace is safe for overnight, and they trade kisses as they make their way back up to Adam’s room. It feels more homey, domestic, familiar than it should be. Matt blames it on being tired, but he knows, somewhere, that it’s more than that. They fall into bed and under the covers together, and Matt is so exhausted – two hours of driving and the business deal of a lifetime can drain you – that he falls asleep without realizing he’s curling up in Adam’s arms.

He wakes up suddenly, light streaming in through an unfamiliar angle. He blinks, twisting a little when he feels the weight over his waist. His body flushes warm at the memory of the night before. Adam looks near angelic as he sleeps, lips slightly open in a sweet pout and hair fanned over the pillow. Matt shifts back into the bed, soaking in the warmth.

“Hi,” Adam says, voice gravelly. “Mornin’.”

“Morning,” Matt replies. He snuggles in and Adam opens his arms, pulling Matt flush against him. “Sleep okay?”

“I should be asking you that,” Adam says into Matt’s hair. “Since you’re my guest and all.”

Matt leans back into him. “Your guest wants to know if you think the power’s back on.”

Adam sits up, leaving a hand splayed on Matt’s hip like it belongs there. “Looks like it. My alarm clock says it’s 2am, though, so it hasn’t been on for too long.”

“Makes sense,” Matt says. “It’s cold in here.” But he’s awake now, and he sits up, a little disappointed at the way Adam’s hand slips off his waist. He wraps his arms around himself, shivering a bit.

“Is that you hinting you want to wear more of my clothes?” Adam asks, grinning. “I got a hoodie you can borrow if you want to be all high school about it.”

“With that attitude I don’t want anything,” Matt lies.

Adam grins at him, like he knows, like he feels it too. “Sure you don’t.”

The shower takes longer than expected to warm up, but Matt’s not too worried. It’s huge for such a small apartment, and Adam crowds in behind him, hands on his waist.

“Okay if I join?”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t,” Matt laughs, tilting his head back. Adam goes at the hickey Matt had noticed in the mirror from the night before, and Matt squirms against it, desperate for more and less all at the same time.

They soap each other up, and Matt falls against the wall as the body wash rinses off him, pulling Adam in for a lazy kiss and letting his hands wander. Adam grins at him. “Can I blow you?”

“The eff kind of question is that?” Matt asks. He’s been a little hard since Adam joined him in the shower, but he’s at 100% already. “Of course you can.”

Adam drops to his knees. “As you wish.”

“Oh, don’t go all Westley from Princess Br – ” But he cuts off, because Adam is good at more than just negotiation with that mouth.

It takes an hour for the two of them working together to dig out the tires, and another, more fascinating hour of Adam looking like a mechanically-inclined cowboy on an ATV with a plow attachment, before there’s a fighting chance of Matt driving out of here. He wants to stall, but he’s not sure what he could do, realistically. Nick’s already called him three times, panicking, and he’d had to promise he’d be back in the city by five to go over the final plans for the next deals and the Q1 meeting that’s planned for tomorrow.

But he doesn’t want to leave.

“Alright,” says Adam, looking like a dream as he swings a leg over the ATV and jumps off of it. “That should do it. Driveway’s ready, car’s out of the snow.” He gestures. “I didn’t even try to pop a tire or anything.”

Matt can’t help but smile. “And why would you do that?”

Adam sighs, walking up to Matt, hands settling on his hips. “Because I am a dopey, romantic freak, and I want you to stay.”

Matt wants it too. He wants it so, so badly. But he can’t. “I want to stay too,” Matt says. “Wish I could. But, uh,” he looks up at Adam. “Maybe next time you could come visit me in the city? We could fake a snow day and turn off the lights?”

Adam’s grin is like sunshine. “I’d love that.” He leans down, and Matt knows it’s the last kiss, for now. He makes it last, though, tries to make it so all he can taste and smell is Adam for the foreseeable future.

When he finally pulls back, it feels the way he did when he and Nick told their friends they were leaving California. The kind of goodbye that aches. The kind of goodbye you’re not supposed to feel with a one time hookup. “Keep in touch. And not just professionally.”

Adam presses a kiss to Matt’s forehead, and it feels like a promise. “I will,” Adam says. He reaches for Matt in a move that feels like it has some interesting potential, but he just grabs at the pocket of the sweatpants and pulls out Matt’s phone. He points the phone toward Matt’s face, and it unlocks. “I’ll put myself in your phone.”

“You’re already in there,” Matt says, grinning. “Remember? Business deal and all that.”

Adam points the phone in his face. “I renamed it Sexy Lumberjack Adam.”

“Well,” Matt says, taking the phone back, “you’re not wrong.”

He waves goodbye, feeling awkward, and slides into the seat of his car. “I, uh. I hope I’ll see you soon.”

Adam nods, then frowns. Like he’s rushing, he half runs his way over to Matt’s car. “One more kiss for the road?”

Matt sighs, relief coursing over him. “Of course.”

It feels like hope.

“Text me when you get to your house,” Adam says as Matt swings the door closed.

Matt nods.

It’s the first thing he does when he pulls into his driveway.

Home!

It’s only seconds before he gets the reply. See you soon <3

#Lookee here it's more smutty fluff #The return of Sara and the Smluff!!#in which Sara writes #HangMatt #Hangman Adam Page #Matt Jackson #wtf i like wrestling now???#sarahcakes613

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arielmagicesi · 1 year

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There’s been some... shitty stuff in my life recently, that I won’t get into, and I was about to go to bed because I’m tired and need to sleep, but I’ve been having trouble motivating myself to get up lately, so I stupidly opened the Internet and stupidly clicked one of the clickbait articles, which was the one about the cult that was started at my alma mater, because the guy who started it was finally convicted today. And I don’t know why, but I reread through a lot of the gory details. I really didn’t need to do that. I’m already in a very fucked-up headspace. So... I’m gonna try and find something really light and cheerful to read before bed.

If anyone wants, I would appreciate just some cheerful words or something, or cute animals or heartwarming fanart, idk. I probably am not up to chatting lol but I might respond. I don’t want to get into what’s happening in my life because it’s not my business to share, but suffice it to say, it’s rough, and I have to stop reading depressing shit to get myself more depressed

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sesshy380 · 1 year

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It's never a good thing when brain wanders while at work. Especially when it comes back with a new pet.

My favorite pairings are any combo of the Bakura's and Marik's. For some reason, however, brain keeps wandering and bringing me back Joey/Kaiba fluff bunnies.

I write one Puppy|Violet fluff story, and now I have more bunnies for them than I do my favorite knuckleheads. This one is currently screaming at me, so we'll see if anything comes to fruition after I write the basics of it.

Whichever weirdo is secretly wanting a 'there was only one bed' fluff scenario with those two, I blame you.

#random stuff #brain wandered off at work and returned with a screaming bunny #a joey/kaiba fluff bunny #that makes 3 puppy|violet bunnies now #whoever is mentally projecting these #can you project a gem or death bunny instead?#i only have one of each atm

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katrinawritesthings · 1 year

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jonghyun / taemin; hot on the trail; PG

Hot on the trail of a real fine life This could be what it means to be alive Can't be too sure but it feels the right way Love is infinite like sun rays

"Jonghyun?" Taemin touches Jonghyun's shoulder gently with his small hand. He's not looking at Jonghyun when Jonghyun glances at him. He points ahead at where the road curves and there's a bigger clearing before the railing, a photography spot. "Can we stop for a minute?" he asks. "Watch the sunrise?"

Jonghyun sighs through his nose, biting his lip. He doesn't really want to. Driving gives him something to focus on, something to take his mind off of his anger. But at the same time, it does sound nice. Mornings are the only time he can really appreciate the sun before it starts turning into a big ball of heat that he can't stand. And it does make him feel a little better that Taemin still wants to do this with him, even if he's angry.

A glance in Jonghyun's right side mirror shows him that the road is still clear. It also shows him that Taemin is still grumpy. Arms crossed, leg crossed over the other, frown on his lips, glaring out of his window.

Well, fine. Jonghyun is still angry too. He doesn't want to be; the last thing he ever wants is for them to be arguing, let alone for an argument to start 10 minutes before they had to leave before dawn to drive 5 hours to get to where they're going on time. But they did, and Jonghyun was right, and Taemin was wrong, so the longer Taemin stays mad, Jonghyun the longer Jonghyun is, too.

He's doing his best to tune it out, though, because they're on a windy road up through the mountains, a sheer rock wall to his side and a sharp drop to Taemin's, tall trees blocking most of the pre morning light, and he's trying to be careful. Of course, that even in itself makes it harder to stay calm, because he shouldn't be the one that has to suppress his emotions. But it's whatever. They'll talk about it later.

Another 20 minutes pass until they reach a clear spot in the trees and a long, straight stretch of road on the side of the mountain. It still drops down sharply at Taemin's right, but the railing is there, and several feet of empty dirt parking space doubles the distance between them and it. Passed it, the forest sprawls, treetops reaching just under their feet, the gray sky tinted pink as the sunrise begins.

"Sure," he says, and pulls off to the side of the road when they reach the curve, easing to a stop in the dirt facing the sun. Taemin is out of his seat belt and opening his door before Jonghyun even has the car off. Rolling his eyes, Jonghyun follows, offering a hand to steady Taemin when he gets to the front of the car and Taemin is still struggling to get onto the hood.

Taemin takes it, and then keeps holding on, helping Jonghyun clamber on top and settle next to him. Hesitantly, Jonghyun settles his arm around Taemin's shoulders. Taemin stiffens, but only for a second, and then sighs and nestles in, leaning their heads together. His hands ball up and hide in his hoodie pocket. Jonghyun ignores that with another roll of his eyes.

Technically, they're not really watching the sunrise; it's already up over the horizon, pinking and oranging the sky heavily. They're just waiting for it to rise up above the cover of trees. It creeps up slowly, and every so often a bright flash of sun will come in through gaps in the leaves.

Jonghyun breathes deeply, the mountain air so cool and crisp that it almost stings his nose. The wind blows over them, making both of them tuck their jackets tighter around themselves. He finds a bird's nest in one of the trees and focuses on it, tiny sparrows fluttering around, dipping in and out, shaking all of the branches every time they land. An early butterfly flits passed and Taemin tenses up more than he has been all morning, grumbling when Jonghyun hides a grin behind his hand and squeezes his shoulder for comfort. A car rolls by behind them.

"I'm sorry," Taemin says quietly.

Jonghyun stops breathing, just for a second. Glancing to his side, Taemin still isn't looking at him. He's staring out at the horizon, but his eyes are unfocused. Jonghyun watches him open his mouth, take a breath, hesitate, open his mouth again.

"I was trying to, like, be gently pushy, but. I was just being a dick.” Finally he turns away from the sunrise, but just to push his face into Jonghyun's shoulder. "And then I got mad that you got mad, and I'm sorry."

"Thank you," Jonghyun says just as quietly. It means a lot. It really really does. He wasn't expecting this until after they got home from the thing tomorrow, at least. He doesn't apologize back because he has nothing to apologize for, but he does say, "It's hard to be me."

Taemin nods; he knows. That was the whole reason their argument started. A self deprecating comment, said honestly. Because Jonghyun truly believed it. Jonghyun continues, "And I know that. It's hard for you to." He doesn't want to say put up with, and he searches for the right way to put it. "You didn't sign up for this, when we first got together," he says eventually. Not at all. Jonghyun didn't even know he was like this himself back when they first started dating. He was too busy bottling everything up to notice that it was there. "But–"

"Neither did you," Taemin mumbles. It surprises a laugh out of Jonghyun, partly amused, partly bitter.

"I sure fucking didn't," he grins. When he popped out of the womb he sure didn't sign up for having a brain that hated him 30 something years later. But here he is. Dealing with it. Getting into arguments about it. Sitting up on the side of a mountain, watching the sunrise, holding his babe under his arm, existing with it. "I appreciate that you've always stuck with me," he tells Taemin, "even when it's frustrating and I’m being like that and you can't understand." Taemin shifts under his arm, getting comfortable, turning his face back out to the sky. "And I'm grateful that you always try to help.”

"But I need you to remember that I’m the one that knows what it's like to be me best," he says. "And when I say what you're doing isn't helping, then I know better than you whether that's true or not."

"I know," Taemin says quietly. He sighs, rubbing a hand over his cheek, his fingers into his eyes. "I was just." He sighs again, shaking his head. His mouth works as he tries to come up with excuses, as he decides not to say each one. Jonghyun knows what they are, even if he doesn't say them–it was early, he was sleepy, it scares him when Jonghyun talks like that, his instinctive need to help was louder than the voice telling him to back down for a minute and think. Jonghyun understands each one, and he appreciates that Taemin isn't trying to push them on him. He appreciates that after a minute, all Taemin says is just ‘I'm sorry,’ again.

"When we get home again," Taemin says, hesitantly, reaching over and playing with Jonghyun's jacket zipper. "Can we talk more about things that I can do to help? That won't make it worse?"

"Yeah," Jonghyun says. They can do that. He would like that a lot. They've had that conversation before, but it's one of those ever-changing conversations. Another new one wouldn't hurt. Taemin nods, cheek rubbing against his shoulder.

Conversation over, Jonghyun adjusts himself to get more comfortable on the hood of the car. He moves his hand from Taemin's shoulder to his hair, petting him, playing with it.

On the horizon, the sun finally breaks out from behind the trees. It rises slowly, brilliantly bright, sending sunrays streaming out through the leaves that warm them where they sit.

#jongtae #jonghyun #taemin #pg #oneshot #fluff #Sometimes it just be like that #it took Jonghyun a long fucking time to get to where he is about knowing that he doesn't have to apologize for the mental illness ™#but he still has a long way to go and he’s still figuring out how to be him and how to exist and Taemin wants to help but Taemin knows #even less #they're just figuring it out together as they go along and it's messy but they like each other too much to stop now #ydw #Steam Powered Giraffe hitting in once again with the bangers #everyday I think about the growth from wired wrong #to hot on the trail. You go you funky little robot #Maybe someday we'll be in a place where we can see that we are not wired wrong...#The distance hasn't always been clear but finally with our love it could appear...#Black lady crying and saying wow.gif #anyway hey it's me happy egg I have returned : )#ignore that time last week when I accidentally reblogged Gandalf big naturals here for a minute

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buckyalpine · 4 months

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40s Sergeant Barnes with a nurse and a Sergeant kink (and breeding and house wife kink, virginity loss). This was supposed to be a pure smutty drabble but then I got in my feelings and added some fluff and angst but I promise Bucky is still a dirty, nasty little fuck in this. Just with a sweeter ending. The one he deserves.

Listen just imagine what a cute, sexy menace Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes would be just waking up from an injury when his eyes flutter open to the pretty nurse he’s been eyeing from the day he started. You’re not a shy, dainty little thing, nope. Not at all.

You bark out orders like a drill Sergeant and one glare from you is all it takes to get everyone in line and on task without a second thought. Even his superiors are scared of you, biting their tongue when you stitch them up and send them on their way before running off to your next patient.

Bucky was in love.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” he rasps, throwing you a charming smirk while you roll your eyes in response, shaking your head. "How'd I get so lucky, got a my little angel tendin' to me"

“I see your injury hasn’t stopped hurt that mouth of yours Sergeant" You quirk an eyebrow while he playfully huffs as you change the dressing covering a gash on his abdomen. You swab the area clean and he doesn't flinch even though you know it must burn like hell, his muscles tensed while he continues to watch you with heart eyes. "Now you know I'm not your little angel, I got 20 other men to fix up, you better be out of this bed as soon as you're all healed up"

“C’mon sugar, you're breakin' my heart" Bucky gives you a little pout with those perfect lips and you catch the twinkle in his eye as he looks over your form with complete admiration. He loved your sassy, take no shit attitude and it's taking everything in him to calm himself down so he doesn't get a hard on right there in front of you.

"You'd tell that to a cat with three legs if it was in a nurses outfit" You try your best to not give into his flirty comments and puppy eyes, knowing damn well he's a heart breaker but he makes it so difficult when he continues to woo you with his boyish charm.

He can't help but chase after you; catching the way your eyes always dart around with anxiety when his group returns from an operation, relief flooding them when you finally spot him. He loves your indifferent attitude, patting him down to make sure he's uninjured but your furrowed brows and the tiny pout on your lips give away that you're worried.

How can he just let you go. Every time you check over him, he needs you closer.

So much closer.

"Ms. y/l/n, Sergeant Barnes is requesting you in his tent, he says it's urgent"

You shake your head looking over at the time, quietly making your way over to the tent he's stationed at, thankful that a number of troops were sleeping so you wouldn't be seen as you quickly slip inside.

“And what hurts now” you sass with your hands on your hips seeing the soldier in perfect health, doing your best to assess him without letting him know.

"Always checkin' over me" Bucky chuckles, seeing what you're doing; his words making your cheeks heat up, "Knew you cared about me sugar"

"Well what am I doin' here" You give him an unconvincing huff, struggling to keep your voice steady, refusing to meet his eyes, keeping your gaze on his silver dog tags instead. It doesn't help that he's handsome as hell with a light dusting of scruff covering his cheeks. Bucky's never seen you flustered before and it evokes something in him, all the blood in his body rushing south seeing your fingers twitch.

All he wanted to do was kiss you but now-

“Help your Sergeant out doll” He whispers, taking another step forward till his chest brushes against yours, his hand coming to tilt your chin up, "Will you?"

You gasp feeling his hardness press against your thigh, your heart fluttering wildly as his thumb traces your lips, any semblance of control you had slipping away feeling the warmth of his skin.

“Y-yes Sergeant Barnes”

His lips press against yours, soft and sweet, a stark contrast to the way his body was screaming for him to pick you up and toss you onto his cot.

"Sweet like sugar" He lets his hands fall to your waist, pulling you flush against his body while your arms drape on top of his shoulders. You stand on your toes chasing more of his lips and he chuckles at the needy whine you let out when he pulls away for air.

Now let's say your first night together was actually quite tame. He kisses you again and you swoon when he repeatedly checks in with you before going any further. His hand slips under your skirt, letting his fingers toy with places no on else has touched. With each night, he needs you more and more until he can't hold off any longer and neither can you.

You sneak into his tent and this time he doesn't hesitate to undress you completely, not when he needs you bare with nothing separating you both. You feel your heart race as he lies on top of you, draping a thin sheet over himself when you shiver at the chill night air. You feel his body heat instantly warm you up, his heavy cock resting between your soaked folds.

"Are you sure, sugar?" He asks, his hand cupping your cheek and stroking your skin.

"Please Sergeant" You whisper and the way you say his title makes his cock twitch. There's something so different about you when you're in his bed, a sweet little bunny giving herself to him completely. It drives him feral with a need to make you feel good, make you cry for his cock and his cock only, to keep you nice and full of him.

You don't look twice at anyone else and here you are completely naked in his tent with your tight little virgin cunt, your legs spread open so he can put his dick in you; there was no way he was ever going to let you go.

"You tell me if it's too much, alright?" His lips tickle your neck as kisses your skin while rubbing his heavy cock through your folds, coating it in your slick, "Breathe for me"

He slips his tags into your mouth as he starts to press in, the initial sting making you bite down hard onto the metal feeling a mix of pleasure and pain. You whine at the way he stretches you open, your thighs squeezing around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Shhh, that's it love, doin' so good for me so good for your Sergeant, look how you're takin' all of me baby" He looks down to where you're both connected as he continues to slowly push himself in till hes fully sheathed inside you. He gives you time to adjust, slipping his tags out of your lips and letting his tongue lace with yours instead, his balls already throbbing with how tightly you were squeezing his cock.

"Please-Sergeant" your heels press into his ass desperate for him to move, gasping when he starts to slowly roll his hips, barely pulling out.

"I got you love-don't worry" Bucky moves as slowly as he could not wanting to hurt you, taking just as much care of you as you had with him countless of times.

But he can only keep up at that pace for so long. Your muffled whines and moans don't help the way his mind is already spiraling. His pretty little nurse all spread out just for him, taking his raw, bare cock in her soaking pussy, squeezing him so tight, he was only a few strokes from cumming.

If it were up to him he would've proposed on the spot, thinking about making love to you on your wedding night, seeing you all shy and sweet wrapped up in soft white lace. If you were his wife, he'd take you apart every which way, not giving a fuck about traditions, taking you right on the dining room table.

You'd be the prettiest little thing for him to come home to, such a good wife all dirty just for her husband. Only he'd know the way your mouth would slobber all over his cock like your life depended on it. The way you'd moan at the taste of his cum. Bucky's eyes rolled back at the thought of you with nothing but some heels and a string of pearls he'd put around your neck while he stuffed you with cum and emptied his balls in you.

"S-Sergeant-I-oh god" You whimpered feeling his cock grow harder, your pussy pulling him right back in, feeling the coil low in your belly pull tighter and tighter as he hit that spot.

Meanwhile Bucky's jaw clenched as he felt his balls pull tight to his body, the tip leaking steadily in your pussy. His mind spiraled into places he didn't think would exist before he met you, rogue thoughts he only entertained when he had his dick in his hand. The harder he fucked you the more he thought about how gorgeous you'd look with a swollen belly.

Fuck, imagine if he got you pregnant right then and there. That nurses uniform would no longer fit you. Everyone would know he knocked you up, your perfectly round tummy carrying Sergeant James Barnes' baby, breasts heavy with milk, God, he wasn't going to last-

“Gonna let your Sergeant pump you full of cum?” He pants, letting his hands grip onto your hips like his life depends on it, the wiry hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit.

“Yes!!” You sob, biting down onto his shoulder to keep your cries down while he continues to fuck you into oblivion. You don't understand how such filth can spew from that pink, pouty little mouth of his. "Please-please-need-youI-I'm gonna-"

"M'yours sweet girl, m'all yours, go on, cum for me love, cum on my cock, it's all yours" He gazed into your eyes, cooing at your parted lips and sweat slicked skin. It didn't take long for you to shatter around him his lips smashing against yours to swallow your moans.

"Want your cum Sergeant" You beg , desperate to have him claim you from the inside.

"Oh fuck baby, y-you can't say that, m-gonna, oh fuckkk" Your words throw Bucky right off the edge as he lets out a deep groan stilling his hips and shooting endless ropes of his spend into you. You both lay in comfortable silence, your fingers playing with his hair; his usual kempt brown locks now disheveled .

“Y’know m’gonna marry you” his scruffy cheek nuzzles into your neck as he continues to stay deep inside you as his cock softens, “after all this is over. Gonna put a ring on that finger”

His words send a different wave of emotions over you, feeling more safe than ever, clinging onto him as tightly as possible. You let a whimper slip out and he pulls away from your neck with an expression of concern.

“What is it love” Bucky coos, wiping away the tears that slip you, stroking your cheek while you bite back a sniffle.

“Do you mean it? After this is all over?” You weren't sure what Bucky would want-there was still a war going on. Anything could happen. Perhaps this was just to keep his bed warm. Something to keep him calm, you were just someone to-

"Of course sugar" Bucky presses a firm kiss to your forehead, silencing the thoughts that tried to run wild. "You're mine"

And of course he gets his happy ending. Because when it's all over, he gets the ring for the girl he loves. He's on one knee, proposing to you with the sweetest words. He treats you like a princess on your wedding night, making love all night long until the sun is up.

There isn't a surface in the house he's left untouched. Nothing makes him more feral than moaning for his pretty wife, constantly taking her hand and wrapping it around his cock, watching that diamond glint with each stroke.

It doesn't take long for you to feel a little squeamish, knowing all the tell tale signs.

The day you tell him he's going to be a dad is one of the happiest days of his life. There isn't a single night that goes by where he isn't nuzzling his face into your tummy, talking to your little one.

Everything was perfecttt.

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chuluoyi · 4 months

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the secret wife

- nanami kento x reader

follow the first years’ misadventures as they find out that apparently, the infamous 7:3 sorcerer is also a dutiful and loving husband in private!

genre/warnings: crack, fluff, the first years are simply chaotic, an attempt at humor, gojo cameo (he’s so insufferable), mentions of pregnancy, nanami being the best husband there is

note: based on an anon's suggestion, this is a spin-off to love entries' wife (so gojo is married to love entries reader naturally!) this is full chaos and crack omg so sorry and isn't proofread bc i’m kinda tired so pls forgive any mistakes and my dry humor :')

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

On one fine, sunny day, which was supposed to be a calm and relaxing afternoon...

“Hello? Yuji—”

Megumi could've sworn, they weren't usually this nosy.

“Gojo-sensei! It's urgent!”

Call it indulgence, because Nobara's curiosity just got the better of her.

“Oh? What's—”

“Does Nanamin have a wife!?”

And Yuji... well, he just needed answers, because the three of them were now in the ‘Mom and Baby’ section of department store, having just witnessed a monumental sight of their esteemed mentor, Nanami Kento—

—with a remarkably stunning woman hanging onto his arm.

“Huh?” Gojo's confusion was evident from the other line. Oh, yeah. Yuji had decided to cut to the chase and call him too, hoping for a swift clarification.

Okay, so why were the trio—plus Gojo on the speakerphone—hiding behind a pillar just to spy on Nanami and his very possible wife? Let us rewind 30 minutes before...

Yuji considers himself to have an exceptional eye and taste for women.

And 30 minutes ago, when he fell on his butt on the rough, hard asphalt in the jammed Shibuya crossing after accidentally getting shoved by the crowd, and encountered a kind, vivacious older woman—you, who extended a hand to help him up, he was even more convinced of that.

“Are you alright, Itadori-kun?” your soft voice entered his ears, catching him off-guard, and Yuji was certain of two things then.

One, that you were just like a literal angel descended from skies above, all dolled up and pretty with your flowy sundress.

“Ah, uh—” he stammered, eyes darting everywhere and anywhere at once as his palm started sweating after clasping your hand. “I-I am…”

And two, for the life of him, he had no idea who you were.

But it registered late in his mind to ask as he was busy controlling his ragged breathing and instant crush, and before Yuji knew it, you graced him with another kind smile and went on your way.

And did he feel so miserable afterwards.

. . .

“She’s sooo hella pretty, Fushiguro! And she knows me! Me!”

Megumi sighed, eyeing his friend in disgust. Truthfully, all he wanted was to return to the dorms and collapse onto his bed, and not listen to his friend’s incoherent ramblings.

"You sure you weren't imagining things?" Nobara questioned with slight irritation. "After you embarrassed us in front of Gojo-sensei's wife a while back, please think more before you act."

"I'm not, I swear! She said my name!"

"Itadori, can you please just not?" Megumi grumbled, having enough of this ruckus. "I want to walk back in peace."

And so tucking away his pout, Yuji walked in silence just as his best friend asked, and he was really going to leave it at that when suddenly he caught the sight of a familiar pristine coat and the sundress from earlier. “Oh?”

"Isn't that Nanami-san?" Nobara also spotted him, her eyes widening when she saw you, who was happily beaming as well as Nanami's light chuckle. "And wait, who is—?"

"That's her!" Yuji burst out, pointing decisively in your direction. "That's who I was talking about!"

Oh, no. Megumi dreaded it already. He could already see the utter catastrophe—

"I'm going after them!"

"Wait, Itadori! Me too!"

Too late. Before he could stop them, Nobara and Yuji had followed the pair. Reluctantly, Megumi trailed behind them too, albeit wearing a vexed scowl. Yet despite his misgivings, he couldn't deny that the things he saw over the next 30 minutes were genuinely unexpected.

Nanami consistently led you to a quieter spot away from the bustling crowd, his hand holding yours firmly. He would occasionally throw you a smile, or when you didn’t hold hands, then he’d wrap an arm around your waist. And to the trio's bewilderment, they also saw him tenderly brushing his lips against your head while on the escalator.

Soft and gentle. It was a side of Nanami Kento they had never witnessed—either with anyone else or even himself.

The two of you ventured through home appliances, visited food stalls, and eventually... the ‘Mom and Baby’ section.

"Do you want to rest for a bit?" Nanami's voice held a touch of concern as his hand settled on the small of your back, and seeing that, Nobara positively swooned.

"Oh, no, I'm fine," you responded with a reassuring smile. "Let's head over there. I'd like to see that next!"

Watching you and Nanami meticulously going through strollers and cribs like a pair of would-be parents was apparently too mind-blowing for Yuji and Nobara, leading to the decision to call Gojo right then and there. And, as they say, the rest was history.

"Last I heard, Nanami wasn't married," Gojo answered resolutely. "If he is, then it's the ultimate betrayal because he never told me!"

"But we see him with a woman! At mother and baby care section!"

Gojo hummed in thoughtful manner. "Okay, students. Now I'm tasking you to see this to the very end! Keep me on the line!"

With that, Operation: Uncover Nanami's Wife was officially underway, and frankly, the way the three of them were clumsily tailing the 7:3 sorcerer made Megumi want to facepalm. How was it that Nanami hadn't noticed their rather conspicuous attempts at all?

Now you were fawning over baby clothes, cutely trying not to squeal as you picked a little blue and yellow overalls. "Kento! Kento! Look, how cute!"

And all of them were floored once again when the expression on his face softened, as a warm smile adorned his lips. "Yeah, they are."

"Is she pregnant? She doesn't look it..." Nobara remarked, squinting and frowning, still watching the two of you like a hawk.

"Or maybe they're shopping for someone else?" Megumi suggested, earning teasing grins from Yuji and Nobara, to which he quickly rolled his eyes, as they chorused, "Looks like you're curious too!"

After a while, you moved from the clothes to sections stocked with mother's necessities. Yuji leaned against one of the racks, pressing his ear against it, with Nobara and Megumi crowding behind him, attempting to catch a snippet of your conversation with Nanami.

"I think we should get some heat packs and these pillows—"

"Oh, Kento! You're such a worrywart, I still won't need them for a few more months—"

"Wait, what?" Yuji whipped his head around in surprise, causing Nobara, who was leaning on him, to stumble and inadvertently collide with the racks.

"Eh? Huh!?"

Unfortunately, the racks weren't sturdy enough, and the force caused them to sway dangerously. Nobara, sensing her imminent fall, instinctively grabbed Yuji's arm to steady herself. However, he got tugged instead and their combined weight exacerbated the situation, leading to the racks quickly toppling over and a deafening commotion ensued—

Crash!

"Careful!" Nanami immediately pulled you behind him, a protective arm around your shoulder, sensing your shock from the sudden crash. He was on high alert, expecting some sort of attack of cursed spirits, but instead, he was met with the most astounding sight of the bickering culprits amidst the fallen racks.

"Kugisaki! What are you doing!"

"You dumbass! Why didn't you stop me from falling?!"

"Itadori-kun...?" Nanami called out in utter disbelief, his mind couldn't fathom as to why the first years were here. However, his attention quickly shifted to Megumi, who was seething and sending his friends a glare so hard it could drill a hole into them.

Then, the boy swiftly fixed himself into a low bow in front of him, ashamed, disregarding Yuji and Nobara's groans altogether. "Nanami-san, I'm very, very sorry on their behalf."

"What are the three of you doing here?" he inquired, and poor Megumi seemed at a loss, huffing as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of where to even start.

Meanwhile you were full of worry for the fallen kids. "Oh my gosh, are you alright?"

For the second time today, you tried to help Yuji to stand on his feet, and this time, he really had a good look over you.

It wasn't exactly noticeable due to how loose your dress was, but now he could see that under it, your belly was slightly rounded—an unmistakable baby bump.

Amidst his shock and pain, Yuji couldn't bring himself to take your hand as he inadvertently let this slip, "N-Nanamin! You knocked her up!"

Nanami blinked. You gaped. Megumi and Nobara went pale in sheer horror, ready to murder their friend on the spot for his extreme height of rudeness.

“Itadori-kun,” Nanami cleared his throat then, and if he was offended, then he chose not to show it. “First of all, I’m sorry for not introducing you sooner. This is Y/N, my wife, and yes,” his tone hardened slightly, “She’s carrying our first child.”

“S-so you are married!”

“Yes, that was what I—”

“What the hell?! NANAMIIII!”

Oh, the freaking phone. After his fall, Yuji’s phone ended up on the floor, and of course, Gojo did hear all of the entire madness, evident from how his voice blared from the phone.

Nanami frowned, unwittingly reaching out towards the phone. “Who—?”

“NA-NA-MI!" Gojo screeched in righteous exasperation, and the former immediately pulled away from the phone with a cringe. “How could you?! I invited you to my wedding! Are you a hermit or something—how could not tell anyone!? Didn’t you say I can officiate—”

“I said no such thing. Please refrain from saying outrageous things, it’s both annoying and misleading,” Nanami stressed, growing more irritated by the mere sound of Gojo's whining voice and feeling his patience waning rapidly.

"Aren't we friends?! How—!"

"Should I find you instigate one more of this... shenanigans with the kids, I won't hesitate to report you to Yaga and your wife," he interjected then with clear irritation, and right that second, Gojo shut himself up.

Yuji, Nobara and Megumi couldn't help drawing that one conclusion in wonder: So, that's what Gojo-sensei is afraid of.

Nanami swiftly ended the call with a flick of his finger, returning the phone to the still mystified Yuji. Turning back to the trio, Nanami's irritation simmered as he glanced at the mess of broken goods on the floor, as well as noticing the approaching clerks.

"You three..." Nanami started, his voice rising slightly, unfaltering even as the three of them flinched. "Do you realize what you've done? Are you so idle that you can ditch your assignments?"

"Kento, don't be too harsh," you rebuked, placing a hand on his arm with a frown on your face. Nanami sighed, looking over the situation once again. It was a whole rack of baby necessities destroyed; plates, glasses, and whatnot scattered across the floor.

Nobara bit her lip in anxiety. “Oh my god, who's going to pay for all this damage?” She could already imagine the staggering amount this mess would cost. This is worth millions, anyone can go bankrupt.

There was only one person who can and will. Immediately, both Nanami and Megumi turned to her with a shared resolve.

"Gojo," Megumi blurted.

"He will be charged for everything," Nanami added with spite.

Epilogue

"You just love those kids, don't you, Kento?"

That night, when both of you were ready for sleep, Nanami had one hand caressing your still growing belly, and you teased him with a chuckle.

"Huh?" your husband looked at you in mild confusion as he stopped stroking you. "What do you mean?"

You giggled again. "You said to put it on Gojo's name, but in the end, you were the one who covered the damages first."

Nanami huffed lightly. "That's because I can't get the kids in trouble. But mark my words, I'll make sure Gojo pays up later, by force if I need to." He made a face when he remembered just what a massive bill it was. "That's too much money to be spent carelessly. We have our child and our future to consider."

"You're always like that," you sighed fondly, taking his hand and placing it back to the swell of your belly. "Always on the first line of defense for the students." Your smile widened. "It makes me think... just how lucky our kid will be with you as their father."

"On the contrary, I'm counting my blessings that they'll have someone as soft as you for their mother," your husband retorted with a smile, kissing your temple. And your heart melted into a puddle by his affectionate gesture.

"That's too sweet... ah, yeah," suddenly, you were reminded of a critical thing. “Kento, have you ever considered telling everyone else that we're married? At least to people at school?”

Nanami always wanted privacy for safety reasons most of the time, and you understood that, but seeing that Gojo and the first years knew already, you thought it might be the best time to let everyone know.

"I honestly don’t see the need to, why?"

"People like Gojo are confused—"

Your husband rolled his eyes then. "Don’t worry, dear. People like Gojo exist to spread the word so we don't have to."

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