loveaffaire-recs

[loveaffaire-recs]

Doesn’t know that you trust the metal of his left arm more than you trust the metal ring Steve gave you that lives on your left hand.

Literally crying my eyes out right now, thank you

does he know the way (i worship our love?)

𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, (𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭) 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Summary: He doesn’t quite remember how you fell into bed with each other, only that he’d give anything to take it back, and he’d give everything to keep it going.

Author's Note: I love Fall Out Boy and apparently I'm incapable of letting Bucky Barnes be happy, so here's a drabble-y fic. Also, this is part of @belladonnabarnes's writing challenge, so please do yourself a favor and check out Jaye's writing as well as the other fics written for the challenge. Title (and inspiration) from “Headfirst Slide Into Cooperstown On A Bad Bet” by Fall Out Boy.

Warning(s): Angst, implied smut (very non-graphic), Bucky-centric and Bucky's POV

Word Count: 1,081

( masterlist / ao3 )

These are Bucky’s favorite moments with you: the ones he can steal outside of time and reality, where you’re resting peacefully next to him and he’s awake to just breathe in time with you. The ones where he can pretend that he’s got a steel trap mind instead of a jigsaw memory, where he can pretend he’s a permanent resident in the space beside you. The version of events where he can stay.

Pale moonlight leaks through your blinds and onto your skin, creating a cage of shadow on your bare shoulders. All that can be heard in the room is the rhythmic breathing of your sleep, and the crickets outside.

The moonlight also illuminates the nightstand on your side of the bed, a picture of your husband - Steve, Bucky’s best friend -  protectively watches over you as you rest (possessively glares at Bucky over your shoulder).

It makes Bucky feel sick.

He wonders about Steve a lot, in the aftermath of making love to you. Steve, with his golden hair and winning smile, his endless strength and optimism. Steve, with his betrayals and broken promises. Does Steve know how your smile lights up the whole room? Does he know the way the band of the wedding ring you still wear gleams golden in the early evening sunlight? Bucky remembers your wedding day, remembers the way the two of you beamed at each other. Does Steve know your secret smiles, the shy ones? Had he memorized your gasps and moans, the way you glittered with sweat? Had you screamed his name with the same conviction you now scream Bucky’s?

And had he forgotten it? Because, looking at your hair against the pillow and the serene expression on your sleeping face, Bucky can’t fathom leaving you. Can’t imagine that he’d be able to part from you unless HYDRA took him again.

Despite what everyone had assumed, Bucky doesn’t know why Steve left. He doesn’t know what those seventy years they spent apart had done to Steve, or how the little guy who got in alleyfights, the one he followed to his death, could ever become a man who leaves behind people who care about him for a pipedream that should’ve died at the bottom of the ocean but instead stayed frozen solid in his mind. He doesn’t know how a man who shines so bright he’s basically sunshine can’t melt away his nostalgia and see what’s right in front of him.

Bucky knows, or remembers at least, what happened in the aftermath. Remembers Sam’s rejection of the shield, and the pseudo-cap that came after. He remembers the night you showed up at his apartment, stumbling and screaming at him through slurred words, asking how he could let Steve do this to you and also how dare he make you worry by not answering your calls?

He doesn’t quite remember how you fell into bed with each other, only that he’d give anything to take it back, and he’d give everything to keep it going.

There are a lot of things Bucky doesn’t know - he’s a former amnesiac in a century he wasn’t supposed to see. But he knows one thing: he can never live up to Steve. He isn’t your sunlight, just the only other person on the planet who knows exactly what it is to lose it. You were Icarus. You had loved the sun too closely and got burned because of it, and Bucky’s arms were the vast and open sea you plummeted to in the aftermath. The two of you aren’t lovers, not really, just complementary fragments trying to find somewhere you can fit.

And really, that’s Bucky’s skillset, being not-quite. Not-quite your boyfriend, not-quite a person, not-quite a hero, not-quite dead. He can do this for you, and if he gets to love you in the meantime, that’s just a bonus.

But he doesn’t get to stay. He doesn't know a lot, but he knows that much.

He slowly, carefully, lifts the covers and crawls out of the bed. His clothes aren’t folded or anything but they’re in a pile by the door. The two of you have been doing this long enough for him to have learned how to get out quickly, the way he cases the exits on missions. He knows which floorboards to avoid because they could creak and wake you up. He knows to ignore that nagging feeling that the eyes of his friend on your bedside are watching him go.

He’s never asked you about any of this: how you feel about Steve, or him, or that movie he knows you saw on Tuesday because you tweeted about it and he has your post notifications on. He doesn’t know why you still wear your wedding ring, or why you let people talk to you like you’re Captain Rogers’s widow instead of telling them the truth. He only knows that you do, and he really doesn’t need to know any more than that.

He tries to shut your door as gently as possible, knows that you can startle awake if he does it too loud. He doesn’t look back. That’s part of it, this routine he has with you. When he leaves, he never looks back.

He wonders, sometimes, what it’s like for you to wake up in the mornings after he leaves. Wonders if you open those beautiful eyes and for a second, they’re confused (maybe even disappointed). But he doesn’t know, will never let himself ask, and he’s okay with that. There are a lot of things Bucky doesn’t know.

(For example, Bucky doesn’t know how good you are at closing your eyes and evening out your breathing to make it seem like you’re asleep. He doesn’t know that you wait, with even but bated breaths, for him to stay. Just once.

Bucky doesn’t know, because you never tell him - because he doesn’t stay long enough for you to gather the courage to say it - that he is the strongest and bravest person you’ve ever known. Doesn’t know that you trust the metal of his left arm more than you trust the metal ring Steve gave you that lives on your left hand. That when he touches you with it you feel like the gold from the crevices leaks out into your skin, turning you gold.

Bucky doesn’t know that you watch him walk away from the house everytime he leaves, and hope against reason that this time he’ll turn back.)

[loveaffaire-recs]

I am feral for this man

Idk it this is how I'm supposed to request hc but. Hcs for Bruce when his s/o wears his clothes?

he just makes me so grrrrrr. slight nsfw in these hcs but nothing too graphic!

okay so i just know this man has like, 0 experience with relationships, so the first reaction to his s/o wearing his clothes or asking to wear his clothes would probably be visible and very obvious confusion.

like OKAY. he probably notices that you wear his clothes when he comes back in the morning from a night in the streets and finds you tucked up in his bed all cozy wearing one of his old, oversized shirts (maybe one that he'd worn earlier in the evening) and he'd be like ??? why ??? and also like. you look so fucking cute and it makes him melt but also why are you wearing the shirt he's been wearing for two days straight that has a very obvious hole in it ??? but i don't think he'd say anything about it.

so you keep stealing his shirts. like when he showers, you steal his worn shirt to wear to bed. when he goes out at night you raid his drawers and take his biggest, comfiest shirt and sometimes a pair of his sweats bc they're warm and comfy and they smell like him. it probably gets to the point where he takes his clothes off and just . hands them to you straight away. he's still confused bc like . why would you want to wear his old ass, sweaty shirts but like. whatever. it makes you happy and you look really cute swamped in his huge shirts so he's not gonna complain??

i feel like one day curiosity would definitely get the better of him and he'd have to ask why. like if you get out of the shower and immediately raid his wardrobe looking for the biggest, comfiest shirt you can find he'd just be like "why do you do that" rly softly from the bed and you'd be like huh??? and he'd be like "well you have clothes and pyjamas and if you want big comfy shirts i can buy you some of your own and—" and you'd just have to stop him right there. bc you don't want big, comfy shirts of your own you want his shirts and his sweats bc they smell like him and you miss him when he's out and it comforts you

he'd probably just die on the spot. like then and there. he's a poor baby meow meow who blames himself for a lot of shit that's happened/is happening and like. he pretty much pushes anyone and everyone away but not you and he knows that you love him but hearing that you miss him when he's out and you want to feel close with him always would just make him :') like he'd go WEAK and it'd kinda scares him because he tries so hard to not be weak but man. MAN.

he'd probably just respond with "oh" though. like he wouldn't say any of that shit to you or make it obvious that he's having heart palpitations and his knees are fucking weak.

catch him secretly buying more comfy shirts and sweatpants and hoodies

if he thought you looked cute in his clothes before you're downright irresistible after he figures out why you do it. i think it'd make him more needy and handsy maybe even a little possessive. like he'd always want to be touching you, grabbing your waist or your hips over his shirt, slipping his hand under the shirt you're wearing and resting it on your stomach. no one else is around because he never fucking has anyone at the tower he's antisocial ok so it's not like he has anything to prove to anyone but he just loves knowing that you're his and you want to be his

also like. fucking you while you're wearing his shirt would send him fucking feral. but he'd also be kinda soft abt it.

okay so he's out on the streets and he's been missing you all night, constantly distracted by thoughts of you in his bed wearing his shirt, his hands on your clothed hips and his cock stuffed inside of you and. man. he'd probably come home early. you'd be sleeping, and he'd watch you for a little while from the doorway before cleaning himself up. when he gets into bed, you're roused from your sleep because you know that familiar dip in the bed and you'd grab him instantly and he'd be all over you 👀

y'all would have the best sleepy morning sex. one hand on your hip and the other gripping on to the neckline of his shirt. he'd bury his face into your neck, nipping and sucking on your neck, leaving marks while he fucks you gently. then he'd pull you into his arms, slip his hand up his your shirt and stroke your back gently until you drift off to sleep again.

sometimes he'd just fuck you into the mattress while you're wearing his clothes, mumbling into your ear that you belong to him and he belongs to you and begging you to repeat it back to him :')

also like. you'd wear other random pieces of his clothing. like his sunglasses or that huge leather jacket he wears when he goes out at night. like if he's in the batcave and it's super cold but you wanna join him you'll grab the jacket and go sit with him and he'll think it's the cutest thing ever because it's big on him so you're practically drowning in it. and the sunglasses,,,if it's a bright day and you wanna go lounge in front of a window you'll grab his sunglasses but you end up falling asleep and he walks in to find you asleep with his sunnies halfway down your nose he'd be so <<<333333333333

[loveaffaire-recs]

Walk Me Home - Bruce Wayne x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: this is just a lil bit of fun. i think it was a request, someone asked for batman x civilian!reader with the prompts "you're pretty"/ "you're drunk" + "can i hold your hand?" so this is what came out of my brain :) might do a part 2 at some point <3 im literally about to see the batman again in like 5 minutes so like ,,, good luck to my brainrot <3

Warnings: mentions of violence/harassment, mentions of alcohol / being drunk, language, batguy is quiet and reader is a mess (if i'm not writing adrian im writing an adrian core reader ok that's who i am <3), not proof read or beta read but we die like men! <3

Word Count: 3k+ bc i have no self control!

Summary: you get escorted home by none other than Gotham's own protector.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

The streets are quiet, except for the echoing of heavy boots against the sidewalk followed by the frantic clicking of your heels.

He walks so damn fast. Which shouldn't surprise you, really. He probably has better things to be doing, and the light shining in the sky is proof of that. It's not that you're not grateful for the escort home, you're just not entirely sure why he's using his time to walk drunk you back to their place.

He'd helped you out with some creep in a back alley — and by ‘helped you out’ you mean he kicked ten bells of shit out of the guy in five seconds flat and left him incapacitated on the ground. It was impressive, actually. He helped you up, you said your 'thank you’, and assumed that would be the end of it. You assumed wrong.

It's not your fault that you just so happened to be heading in the same direction. You tried to be quiet, to keep your distance to allow him to disappear into the night, but your clicking heels and blurry vision from the numerous shots and cocktails you'd downed at the club made that a difficult task. He didn't turn around, didn't question why you were following him. He didn't say anything, actually.

But he stopped walking when he came to the end of the street, which made you stop too. He was silent, but he turned his head and glanced back at you, and you felt yourself panic.

“I— Shit. I'm sorry. I just live this way. I wasn't following you, I promise.” You reassured him quickly.

He probably didn't need your reassurance, you had quite literally just watched him take down a man in two swift punches. He could kick your ass if he wanted to. “I'm gonna take a right here, and… leave you alone forever, now. My place is like, five minutes away, so — Oh, okay. You're going right, too. That's— Yeah, perfect.” He'd already set off walking before you could finish your sentence, leaving you in the dust.

So now you're trailing behind him, feeling like you're running a marathon as he attempts to cover four miles in under a minute. Okay, maybe you're exaggerating, but you really can't keep up with him. He's like Lightning McQueen if Lightning McQueen was real, not a car, and kind of goth. That thought makes you smile to yourself.

“Hey, uh… Batman?” You call out. No response. Okay. “Alright, uh… Vengeance? Do you still use that one? I haven't really been keeping up, so…?” No response, again. You figure he doesn't go by Vengeance anymore. “Look, uh— Mr. Batman-Vengeance-…Dude-…Guy?” Wow. That's… wow. You make a mental note to slap yourself for that one later. “Could you slow down a little? Please? You're walking like, really fucking fast.” You feel slightly guilty for asking him to slow down. From what you've seen, he's a busy guy, and he probably has other places to be. But then you remember that you never asked him to walk you home, he made the choice for himself. So you feel less guilty.

He stops walking, and you stop too, almost in shock that he actually listened to you. You're still for a few seconds, and then you see his head turn, and you notice that he's glancing back at you expectantly. And then you remember that you asked him to slow down so you could catch up, and that he's stopped for your benefit. You break out into a jog— well, you try, anyway, one hand wrapped around the strap of the bag on your shoulder. Your heels are scraping against the pavement and you're one wrong move, one wayfaring stone on the pavement away from falling flat on your face. You keep your eyes locked on the ground, only looking up once his boots come into view.

You sigh in relief. “Fuck, man. You're speedy.” You reach out and grab his gloved hand. “You could probably clear the 100m in like, seven seconds flat. Which is cool, by the way." You reassure, nodding your head. "No hate to you.” You walk ahead, but you're stopped dead in your tracks when you realise you're pulling against his heavy, very much unmoving weight. You furrow your brows and tug on his hand, trying to prompt him to move, but he doesn't. So, you turn to him. “Hey, why aren't you—”

His jaw is tense, and you can see the way the veins in his neck are straining under the pressure. You can't quite make out whether he's angry, and it's freaking you out. He doesn't make eye contact with you, but he's looking down at something. You follow his line of sight, casting your eyes in the direction you think he's looking until you see your hand wrapped around his fingers, and it all makes sense.

You let go of his hand like it's hot coal, looking at him with wide eyes. “Shit— I… I'm sorry.” He clenches his fist, so hard that you can hear the leather of his gloves squeaking. “I don't— I'm not sure why I—…. Shit.” You really don't know why you took his hand. It was a mindless decision on your part, really. Something you'd do to a friend or a man you're drunkenly stumbling home with. But he's not a friend, nor is he a date or someone you're taking home to bed. He's literally Gotham’s protector. He's Vengeance or Justice or… Batman. He's Batman. And you thought it'd be a good idea to hold his hand. Fucking idiot. “I'm sorry. That was… that wasn't cool of me. I should've asked first— I mean, I shouldn't have done it in the first place, but I definitely should've asked.” You let out an awkward laugh before falling quiet. He's staring at you. Actually, his eyes are flitting between your face and his hand, which is still somewhat outstretched and balled into a fist. You don't know what comes over you, and you feel so fucking stupid for it, but you're already in too deep to be able to stop yourself. “Can I… Can I hold your hand?”

That crippling, awkward silence takes ahold of you, suffocating you like a python constricting it's prey. Your cheeks heat up, you're sure they're bright red, and you can't even bring yourself to meet his gaze. God, you're so fucking stupid. So awkward, and stupid, and weird. Which is saying a lot, considering you're stood not even a metre away from a guy who's dressed like an armoured bat. You're just about to back away slowly under his intense stare, to walk yourself home so you can wallow in your own embarrassment in the comfort of your bed, when you hear the leather squeak again.

When you look down, you're surprised to see that his hand is no longer clenched. His fingers are spread apart, almost… inviting. He's still tense, and he won't look at you, but you think he's silently telling you that you can hold his hand. Now you're wondering whether you should take his hand. It would be useful, he's a fast walker and you'd like to keep up pace. But you're also sure that he doesn't want to hold your hand, so maybe it'd be easier to refuse and then the two of you can walk separately again. But then would it be rude to refuse him now? Fuck, you have no idea but he's staring at you now, probably waiting for you to say something or do anything.

So in a split second decision, you reach out and take his hand again, nodding your head just once to affirm your choice.

He looks between your face and your intertwined fingers for just a moment before he sets off walking again. At first, he tries to maintain his pace from before, but now that he has extra weight latched on to him (you) he seems to find that difficult to manage. You're still lagging behind, practically jogging, struggling to keep up even though your hand is in his and he's pulling you along with him. You're surprised you haven't fallen flat on your face yet. Eventually, he gives it up, and brings himself down to a speed that works for both of you. It's not too slow, not too fast. It's good enough for you to steadily maintain in your heels, and you don't feel like you're going to be pulled to the floor at any given moment.

The two of you are quiet, aside from the occasional ‘take a right here’ or 'it's a left here’ coming from you. There's not much to be said, after all. He's a masked vigilante-turned-hero and you're holding his hand for no particular reason. Well, there is a reason, it's just not a very good one. You're sure you could have managed stumbling behind him alone.

Your head is still spinning from the drinks, and you feel yourself knock against him a few times as you walk down street after street, the cold armour of his suit pressing against you and covering you in goosebumps. Every time you stumble in to him, you mumble a quiet apology, and he remains silent. Which is why it comes as a surprise to you when—

“How much further?”

His sudden decision to cut through the silence makes you jump, and you whip your head around quickly. You can't quite make out whether that voice is his. It has to be, obviously. There's no one else around. But it's so soft and quiet that you think there's no way it could have possibly come from him. But it did. You're staring up at him so obviously, with the most in incredulous look on your face. “Oh. You talk.” You say eventually. He tilts his head down, and you see his eyes glance from left to right, almost in confusion, before they land on you again. “Shit. Sorry. That was rude. I just— I don't know. I assumed you're mute, or something.”

A beat of silence. Then, “It's selective.”

You nod slowly, a small smile on your lips, “And you make jokes.”

“I wasn't joking.” He mumbles under his breath, but you hear him.

“Well then, I'm flattered that you're talking to me.” You tease. You're trying to break the tension, just a little.

“How much further?” He repeats, turning his attention back to the street ahead.

“Uh… Like, maybe five minutes.” You answer slowly.

You swear you hear him scoff. “You said your place was five minutes away ten minutes ago.”

Wow. Alright. You fight the urge to bite back, to tell him that he didn't have to walk you home and that you're perfectly capable of making your own way from here. But you're not brave enough for that, and after the incident in the alley, you're grateful for his help and his company. So instead, you sigh, and say, “Yeah. I don't know why I said that. I think I— I don't know. I didn't want you to think I was following you. And I didn't wanna inconvenience you. So I just… said I lived close by. And then you started walking the same way, and you kinda never left. So I'm pretty much still inconveniencing you.” You give him an awkward, thin lipped smile.

“You're not.” He mumbles. It's barely audible, and you're not sure if you're meant to hear it, but you do.

You fall into silence again, though you're finding it hard to maintain. You're buzzing from the conversation you just had with him. It's thrilled you to your core and you want to keep talking to him. Apparently it's not enough to be walking hand in hand with him like some strange couple returning from a 2000s pop vs 90s grunge rock club night. So you decide to make conversation, as awkward as it may be.

“So…” You start, and he looks over at you immediately, caught off guard. “Is that like… your real voice?”

His mouth opens and closes a few times as he tries to figure out how to respond to you. Eventually, “Yeah.”

“Oh. That's cool.” He's still staring down at you, and you can see by the way his lips are parted that he's totally and utterly confused. You are too, honestly. “I was just asking because, uh… y’know, guys in movies and… other heroes, they usually have those weird, gravelly voices. Like they make their voices deeper. If you were in a movie I imagine you'd sound like, uh,” you clear your throat, dropping your voice, “Hi, I'm Batman. I live in Gotham and I walk drunk people home in my spare time.” You laugh at yourself, but he doesn't look so amused. Oh for fucks sake. Why did you do that? You don't even have an explanation for why you thought that was a good idea. You just keep digging yourself in deeper.

Your smile drops. He's quiet. You're quiet. He's staring at you. You're staring at him. You're not sure what to do, and honestly you're considering just dropping to the floor, curling up and dying right then and there. But then you see the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips, and he turns his head away from you, and suddenly you don't feel so embarrassed. It's encouraging to you. So you decide to continue.

“I'm glad you don't sound like that, though.”

“Why?” He responds quicker than you expect him to, and it throws you off for just a moment.

“Oh. Well… I don't know. I just don't think it'd suit you. I like your voice. It's really nice.” Soft and soothing, strangely. Completely opposite from what you thought he'd sound like. It suits him, in a weird way. He's the people’s protector, and you can understand why, because everything about him just seems so… trustworthy.

It's not just his voice that you like, though. As you walk down the street, trying your best to keep your eyes firmly trained forwards, you glance at him occasionally, and you come to the conclusion that you really, really like his face, too. The more time you spend looking at him, the more attractive he becomes to you. Sure, you can't see half of it, but that's not going to stop you from admiring him. You think you're being subtle, that you're stealing glimpses of him, but really you're staring right at him. And although he's not looking at you, he can feel your eyes on him.

“What?”

That's the second time he's made you jump, but it's a sure-fire way to break you from your Batman’s-absolutely-incredible-jawline-induced trance. You blink hard and shake your head. “Sorry.” You cant even begin to count how many times you've said sorry tonight. “You just have… a really nice face. I know I can't see much of it, but you have a really, really,” you pause, “strong jawline. And your eyes are really beautiful. I bet you have a cute nose, too. Soft lips. You're just… you're really pretty.” You admit. Honestly, you don't have it in you to be embarrassed or to cringe at yourself anymore. The hint of a smile he gave you just a minute ago was a major confidence boost to you. The alcohol helps too.

His jaw tenses, and he's trying so hard to look anywhere but at you. You're starting to wonder whether you've made him feel incredibly uncomfortable. But then you swear you feel him squeeze your hand, and although the streetlights are dim and barely illuminating what you can see of his face, you swear there's a tinge of pink to his cheeks now. “You're drunk.” He mumbles.

“And you're pretty.” You retort.

“Drunk.”

“Pretty.”

“Drunk.”

“Pre— Oh. This is me.” You say, stopping suddenly in front of the familiar small gate, and he stops too. There's disappointment laced in your tone. You don't want him to go just yet, but you're home. He's done what he intended to do, and he'll leave just as quickly as he arrived. You sigh, “Well, this has been… nice. Really. Uh, thank you. I really appreciate what you did for me.” You press your lips together. It's so quiet between the two of you now, and you take that as your queue to leave. “Okay. Good night. And thank you, again.” You smile at him and untangle your fingers from his. Maybe you're crazy, but you think you feel him grip on to your hand for just a moment longer.

Oh, fuck. He can't do this to you. Not when you're drunk and your feelings are so, so vulnerable. You have to walk away. You have to remind yourself that he's just being nice, that you don't know him, and that you'll never see him again after this. That one kind of stings, and you're not entirely sure why. No. Snap out of it. He's literally a stranger. You don't know him. But he's been so nice to you and tolerated all of your annoying, drunken rambles. And he's so pretty, and— No. Just walk away.

You take a deep breath and turn away from him, pushing your gate open and making your way through. You're doing so well. Just don't look back. You don't need to look back. It's okay. You leave your gate to shut on its own, and you're listening out for the familiar clang of metal, but it never comes. Instead, you hear heavy footsteps. You whip your head around and he's there, closing the gate gently, about to follow you up the garden path and the flight of concrete stairs that leads to your house. “W— I'm… What are you doing?”

“Walking you home.” He answers. His voice is steady and moderated, as it has been all night, but there's something in his tone that screams ‘duh, isn't it obvious?’.

“But I am home.” You tell him, pointing over your shoulder at your house.

“Not all the way home.”

“I— I think I'll be—…” You stop yourself there, glancing down at the ground then up at him. “You know what, I might need a little help up the stairs.” You smile at him and offer your hand to him. There's a second of hesitation, but he takes your hand and the two of you make your way up the path. His boots, as loud and intimidating as they may be against the concrete, have become almost a… a comfort to you now. It's probably too soon to call it that, but you like hearing his footsteps in tandem with your own. You ascend the small flight of steps that lead up to your porch slowly, with little to no problem. You wobble on your heels a few times, but he's there to steady you, so it's okay.

Soon enough, you're at your front door. You drop his hand and dig around for your keys in your bag (not without the classic ‘oh shit, have I lost my keys?’ moment), pulling them out and unlocking your door. Now you're really not sure what to do. You're home. You're safe. He's walked you here. You have your hand wrapped around the door handle, and he's still here, waiting behind you for…. What? You're not so sure.

You turn around slowly, nervously. You feel like your heart is going to jump right out of your chest. “I… Uh, do you wanna like, come in?” You ask quietly. “For a drink, or something. I think I have like— I don't know. A few beers in the fridge.” Did you seriously just ask him to come in ‘for a drink’? Maybe you meant it literally, but you know what it implies. It's never just a drink. And you know that.

“I don't think you need anymore drinks.” He says.

You can't even bring yourself to be offended. In fact, you're relieved that he took your words so literally instead of considering the implications. You let out an airy laugh, dropping your head, “Yeah. You're probably right. Ignore me."

Silence takes over once again. Fuck. You hate the silence. You're staring at each other, both completely still. It's weirdly tense, and you're unsure as to why that is. “I'm… I'm gonna head inside.” You mumble, though you make no effort to move, or to push the door handle down. You're completely frozen to the spot.

You're surprised when he moves first, taking a step towards you. Fuck. Oh fuck. What is he doing? He's standing over you now, towering above you, actually. You're eye level with the bat right in the middle of his chest plate, and for a moment you're completely transfixed by the steady rise of his chest. You're not intimidated by how close he is, by how he's looming above you. He's done nothing but make you feel safe the entire time you've been with him. It's okay. He's close to you, and that's okay. You're okay. You actually... like being this close to him. He's crowding you against your door, pressing your back against the cold wood, but you don't care. You like it.

All you can hear is your breathing, shaky and ragged. It's all you can focus on. You feel like you're losing your mind, waiting for him to do something— anything. To make any move at all. When you finally gather the courage to look up at him through your lashes, you realise he's staring down at you. His lips are parted, and his eyes are lidded from what you can tell. You have no idea what he wants, what he's doing, but he looks so pretty. You want to reach up and remove the mask. Not because you're desperate to know who he really is, because you truly don't care, but because you want to see all of his pretty face like this.

He leans down slightly, and you feel yourself start to panic just a little bit. Your faces are so close now. Just one jolt upwards from you, just one more slight bend of his knees and you'd be kissing the Batman. Holy—

Holy shit. Is he going to kiss you? Is he— Fuck. Will he kiss you? He's— He's going to kiss you. Holy fuck. He’s— “Are we gonna kiss now?” You blurt out, the tension finally becoming too much. Your question is followed by a prolonged moment of silence.

His reply comes in the click of your door latch, and the slight creak of hinges coming from behind you.

He opened your fucking door.

You're completely taken aback. Confused and reeling because… what the fuck? Did that just happen? You can add Batman being a fucking tease to the list of things you didn't expect to happen or find out tonight. Fuck. You probably have the dumbest look on your face right now. You're completely lost for words. Judging by the way his mouth is opening and closing ever so slightly, you think he feels the same.

“Good night.” He mumbles, stepping away from you, and you silently mourn the loss of his body close to yours. Maybe it's the drink talking, but you miss it already.

He's about to turn away from you, but you reach out and take his hand in yours. You smile at him, squeezing his hand gently. “Good night. And thank you, again.” He nods in acknowledgement, and you loosen your grip, allowing him to make his way make his swift exit, though your hands are still touching until the moment you're no longer in reach. You watch him descend the steps and quickly make his way down your path and out of the gate, his boots beating mercilessly against the ground. But before he can disappear into the night, you call out one last thing to him. “My name is (Y/N), by the way!”

He turns to look at you from the gate for just a moment, and you swear you see the faintest hint of a smile on his lips, though you cant be too sure. And then, he's gone, and you're left wondering when you'll see him again. If you'll see him again.

You might just.

[loveaffaire-recs]

I didn’t know I needed this soft!yandere!Peter in my life but here we are!!

I loved how he’s unhinged but in a low-key way, he’s not outright toxic, I mean he is but it’s hidden under one or two layers and she knows but just can’t leave. Also, absolutely love the hint of angst mixed in every single fluffy bit, it was addicting!🥺🤍

Yandere!Peter Parker x Reader

word count: 2.4K

genres: University!AU, angst

warnings: suggestive themes, toxic peter, manipulation, obsessive and possessive behavior, hints of infantilization, nonsexual allusion to nudity

summary: Ever since the accident that nearly sent you into a coffin, Peter has spent every moment with you out of fear of history repeating itself. Unfortunately, you love him too much to try and say anything about it.

author’s note: this is a part of my 1K followers present week. I hope you enjoy a slightly unhinged spidey boy.

On the night that Peter saw you falling forty stories from the ground, the crack in his behavior shattered into many pieces like a fallen mirror. To think if he did not arrive a second earlier, your neck would have snapped along with your shattering bones. The thought alone of your skin becoming entirely cold and red blood pouring over the gray cement—and it not being his intentional doing—made him vomit into his bathroom sink whenever he thought about it too hard.

Just the proposal of death almost being able to rap at your door was the reason you were under Peter’s warm body in his bed many weeks after the incident. It started slowly, like a boil. He suggested you stay over at his apartment to mentally recover from the situation, but one night turned into a day, which turned into a week. Now you were completely cooked and hadn’t been to your dorm room in months.

Before you even agreed to date him, Peter had his moments. It was as if one screw was never secured correctly whenever he would interact with you. He was always so physically demanding, even when he was only your friend. He would play with your hands and braid random strands of your hair. And when you started dating, he told you how many freckles that graced your pores as a joke.

Keep reading

[loveaffaire-recs]

You have no idea how hard I smiled and how my eyes sparked when I read that part where we got to know that they are mated and engaged🥺😭

ever since

This is my last entry for my 5K follower challenge!

This piece is something that is means a lot and one that was requested so I hope that I did it justice and with the respect it deserves for @omega-shadow​. I’m only slightly nauseous from nervousness but here we go!

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Fluff, oral sex (f receiving), smut. Alpha and Omega dynamics.

Alpha! Bucky Barnes x Deaf! Omega Reader

Summary | Bucky Barnes finds his center in a late night subway ride.

How It Started..

On nights like these, you usually pick the most packed section of the train, free to blend in and read a book until you have to get off. But tonight, you want to be alone, free to stretch out your legs and stare at the mundane advertisements when the word on the page begin to bleed together. It’s dangerous for an Omega, especially one like you who embraces your suppressants with vigor but sometimes forget to take them on a schedule. Your pepper spray hangs off your keys as you eye it when the doors open, wondering when the last time was you ever used it.

The answer would be never. You wonder if it’s because of the stoic expression you fix on your face when you get into these spaces or if you’ve been that lucky. It’s probably the former, not the latter. Not that it matters, giving a quick wave to the security guard who raises an eyebrow at you taking the empty section. You breathe a sigh of relief when you settle into your seat, inhaling the mix of bleach and leftover cologne from the janitors.

When you rifle through your bag, you can smell it – the scent of leather, fresh cut grass and mahogany. Your eyes narrow at the sight of the man slipping into the train, his head bowed while he furiously types away on his cell phone.

An Alpha.

You can tell by his size and the way he lifts his head at your scent, your eyes locking for a moment before he nods in your direction, taking a seat across from you.

It’s an awkward moment, trying to read your book when you can feel his curios stare on you ever so often before you finally place your book in your lap. As far as Alphas go, this one is handsome, your eyes settling on his metal arm that he flexes on his knee. In these situations, you trust your gut – it’s an instinct you’ve learned to hone and it’s never let you down. Your hindbrain is telling you that you’re safe, something you aren’t sure why your guard is suddenly down but you give him a small smile when he opens his mouth to greet you.

Nice to meet you.

He sits back for a moment, blinking while you can see his mind churning while he thinks before tries again.

Bucky.

You sign your name and try to ignore the little bubble of excitement when he blinks again, a determined expression on his face. You don’t want to think it’s because he’s rusty but rather that he’s trying to keep up with you. That fact alone makes you smile, placing your book in your bag while he looks concerned for a moment.

You could leave him hanging and just… not continue to communicate. He looks down at his phone once more, scrolling through while the train comes to a stop. You gather up your bag, looking at his face when he realizes that this is your stop.

Keep reading

[loveaffaire-recs]

I am SO soft for this couple, this whole dynamic of best friends but something more riles me up so good!!😩🥺

watch me cry • mob!bucky x reader

request: can you write some with mob!bucky x best friend!reader where he makes her cry and they stop talking for awhile? please make it angsty!! [ anon ]

content warning: mob!bucky x best friend!reader, slightly insecure!reader, mob!steve x reader, slight coercion, smut (kissing, handjob), arguing, yelling, crying, heavy angst, violence, use of a gun, mention of blood and wound, eventual comfort and fluff.

"Is he still talking to her?" You ask with a huff.

"Yup," Sam responds in a bored tone, scanning the magazine in his hands.

You bounce on your heels impatiently as you stare the black door down, desperately wanting to know what's happening on the other side of it.

"Won't make time go by any faster, standing here waiting," Sam mumbles. "I'll tell him to call you when he's done."

You're in half a mind to give in and leave, but your stubbornness takes over. "No. I'll wait." Admittedly, you're on edge. When you arrived, Sam informed you that Bucky was in a meeting with a woman he hadn't seen before. Too curious and nosy for your own good, you have to find out who she is as soon as possible.

Sam sighs and is about to speak again when the black door finally opens, making you grin. The woman walks out first, and when you see her face, your smile drops.

Carmen Vienne?

Throughout law school, you were mortal enemies. It sounds juvenile, but you still hate her to this day. She works for a law firm downtown, and any time your paths cross, hell becomes hotter.

When she sees you, she raises a thin brow before smirking. "Y/L/N. How are ya?"

With an eye-roll, you look away, unable to state at her for too long without feeling nauseous.

Bucky exits the room behind her, his face lighting up when he sees you. They share a goodbye and a quick hug, to your dismay, before Carmen leaves again, making you huff.

"Really, Buck?"

"Hi, fairy," He greets you, pulling you in for a tight hug. You don't hug him back, which he immediately picks up on. "What's wrong?"

Pulling away from him, you look him up and down suspiciously before realization hits you. "You slept with her?"

Bucky smooths down his messy hair, a coy smirk pulling at him lips. "That obvious?"

You hit his shoulder, pouting. "You know how much I hate her!"

"Relax, fairy," He says, pulling you into his office and shutting the door behind you. "We didn't fuck. She just... you know, went down on me."

"I hate you," You grumble, folding your arms across your chest. "You know what a bitch she is."

"I didn't mean for it to happen," He insists, taking your hands in his. "It was supposed to just be a professional meeting, and it got a little... out of hand."

Offended, you take your hands out of his. "You're hiring her?"

He nods, making your chest ache. "Just to take a look at things, make sure everything's clean."

"What the fuck?" You step backwards. "You needed a lawyer and you went to her? What the fuck is wrong with me?"

"It isn't about that," Bucky promises. "This has nothing to do with how good of a lawyer you are-"

"Bullshit!" You cut him off curtly. "You need legal help and you didn't come to me? What am I supposed to think, James?"

"I have always told you that I will never involve you in my work," He says gravely. "I'm not risking you losing your job and likely your license for me. Carmen is already a dirty lawyer - and I have no fucking problem putting her career and life at risk." His eyes soften and he steps forward, resting his hands on your shoulders. "I have never, and I will never put you at risk."

Letting out a deep breath, you frown. "She didn't have to suck your dick."

He snorts, rubbing his face. "Oh, God. I swear to you, fairy, I didn't plan on that happening. Love me?"

You still aren't completely happy with him, but you'll get your revenge. "Love you."

"And I love you more," Bucky replies, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your head. "Lunch?"

"Yes, please," You mumble against his chest. "Somewhere expensive, because you're a dick."

He chuckles, stroking you back. "You got it, fairy."

While he leads you out the building, you pull out your phone, making sure he can't see your screen as you respond to Steve Rogers' text.

sorry for the late reply. dinner sounds good. pick me up at 8? x

It feels surreal to be sitting next to the man Bucky has told you countless times to never go anywhere near, but here you are.

"I'm so glad you finally realized how magical the two of us could be together," Steve says softly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. "You've been stringing me along for so long."

The dimly lit lounge is a little more intimate than you would've liked, but you're sure that more than one of Bucky's associates have seen you with Steve, which is exactly what you were banking on.

"Or maybe," You begin, playing with the straw in your drink. "I just ran out of ways to say no."

He chuckles, his eyes flickering down to your lips. "You know, it's funny. All this time, I've been begging for a chance to get you alone, and now that I finally have, I have no fuckin' idea what to say."

"So don't say anything," You tell him softly, moving a little closer. "Just kiss me."

Feeling like the cat that got the cream, Steve wastes no time and immediately places his lips on yours. The kiss is deep and slow, and his tongue pokes into your mouth as he cups your throat and pulls you closer. He takes your hand and places it on his boner, making you gasp.

Your heart races as he stuffs your hand down his pants and groans into your mouth, keeping his arm around your waist.

"That's it, baby," Steve mutters against your lips. "Make me feel good, that's a good girl."

You open your eyes and look over to the bar. There, you see one of Bucky's men, Peter, with his observant gaze on you. The booth you're in is dark, but it's evident that Peter can see your hand moving up and down in Steve's pants. It's a given fact that he'll immediately report this to Bucky - which is exactly what you want.

If he's gonna screw around with your worst enemy, you'll do the same with his.

"Keep going," Steve moans as you jerk him off, his cock twitching in your hand. "Fuck, baby, that's it."

Peter turns and leaves the lounge, making you smirk to yourself. You continue stroking Steve's dick until he sucks in a gasp and shudders, before his cum shoots into your palm.

"Oh, shit," He growls against your neck. "Cumming so fucking hard for you, baby."

You wipe the residue onto his boxers and pull out your hand. He gives you another kiss but you pull away before it can get intense.

"Let's get out of here," Steve mutters, zipping up his pants.

"Actually, I'm gonna head home," You tell him shortly as you stand up. "Thanks for dinner."

He looks baffled as you walk away, and a slight pit of regret builds up in your stomach as you realize what you just did.

Fuck. Bucky's gonna kill you.

The next day, you leave work and go straight to Bucky's office. He sent you a text telling you to come see him and you know that shit is about to go down.

As you walk down the corridor, his men have their eyes on you, each of them staring at you with slight fear. They aren't scared of you, though- they're scared for you, because Peter Parker has a big mouth than runs on its own accord. Your heart races the closer you get to his office, but you know that you only brought this on yourself. Once you get to the door, you slowly push it open a few inches.

"Come in, Y/N," Bucky calls out, knowing that you're the only person in town who'd ever dare to walk into his office without knocking.

You push the door fully open and step in, keeping yourself calm with deep breaths. This will be fine. He'll be a little angry, but then you'll explain why you did it, causing him to apologize, and all will be well.

Bucky is sitting at his desk, wearing a black button-up shirt. His sleeves have been rolled up to his elbows and a concentrated look of anger dwells on his face. He says nothing as you walk over, standing behind the chair opposite him.

"Hi, Buck," You mumble, feeling your heart begin to race.

"All I need," He begins, his voice low and hard. "Is for you to tell me that he was lying."

You don't think he's ever been stoic towards you, and that makes you feel sick. "What are you talking about, Bu-"

He cuts you off by suddenly slamming his hands on the desk and standing up, a deathly glare in his eyes. "Don't you fucking play dumb with me now, fairy. Tell me that Peter was lying through his teeth about what he saw so I can rip his tongue out."

"Bucky," You breathe out, eyes wide. "You have to understand-"

"Tell me he was lying," He utters, his hands clenching into fists on his desk. "Tell me that you didn't have dinner with that bastard last night."

Deciding to hold your ground, and deciding that you have nothing to be afraid of, you straighten up and fold your arms across your chest. "Did Pete mention that I had my hand down Steve's pants, too? Or did he give you the PG version?"

You didn't think it was possible, but the anger on Bucky's face only intensifies. "That isn't funny," He mutters through gritted teeth.

"I'm not joking," You say with a shrug. "You can ask Peter if you want. I'm sure he enjoyed the show."

"What the fuck is your problem, Y/N?" Bucky asks you, seething.

"You are!" You exclaim. "How is it fair that it's one rule for you and another for me?"

"What are you talking about?" He yells.

"It's okay for you to fuck around with Carmen but I can't do the same with Steve?" You shout back, throwing up your hands. "Tell me how that's fair, James!"

"There's a big fucking difference between me getting involved with some bitch you don't like, and you getting involved with that vile motherfucker," Bucky claims gravely. "Do you realize how much danger you put yourself in?"

"Oh please, it was dinner and I'm a grown woman," You respond dryly with an eye roll.

"And he's a monster, Y/N," He tells you with fury in his tone. "How fucking dare you get involved with him after I've spent all these years protecting you from him?"

"How dare I? He didn't hurt me!" You exclaim. "I'm fine, aren't I?"

"He could have," Bucky insists furiously. "You have no idea what that prick is capable of. You think you're safe around men like me just because I've never hurt you? You are not fucking immune to becoming just another victim, Y/N."

"I can look after myself!" You insist sternly.

"No, you fucking can't!" He booms, hitting the desk again. "You're so stupid, you know that?"

Your heart clenches at his words and you take a step back. "Fuck you," You whisper, every inch of your skin feeling lit up with red-hot fear. Fear that Bucky's love for you is dying.

"I've told you time and time again not to go near him," He shouts. "Are you that fucking needy for attention that the second I give mine to someone else, you go looking for it from the first guy that offers you some?"

"Stop!" You cringe, looking down.

"Screwing around with him like a fucking slut," He rages, taking you aback. "You know how fucking embarrassing that is for me?"

You purse your lips together as your eyes well up with tears. This is it. He hates you. His love is dead.

"No, Y/N," Bucky mutters coldly. "You can't just cry your way out of this like you always do. Get a fucking grip and take some responsibility for once."

A weak whimpers leaves your mouth before you quickly turn and run out of the office, the tears hot as they stream down your face. On your way out, you pass Sam and Peter. Peter gives you a regretful look but you speed past him, too focused on your hurting heart to be angry at him right now.

Two weeks. Two entire fucking weeks pass with no communication between you and Bucky.

You don't think you've ever spent 14 consecutive nights in your own bed without Bucky spooning you, and you absolutely hate it. It feels lonely to the point where it physically hurts.

None of your other friends can fill the gap he left. They don't know you like he does. They don't care about you like he does. They don't love you nearly as much as he does.

A part of you regrets the date with Steve, but another part of you knows that it truly was unfair for Bucky to have double standards. You couldn't let him get away it.

His words echo in your head every single day.

You're so stupid, you know that?

Fucking slut.

Take some responsibility for once.

What a fucking prick. God, you miss him.

A strange man has been standing across the street from your apartment. You aren't sure when he first arrived, but you noticed him just over a week ago. At first, you thought he was there to smoke - but now that he has spent seven nights in a row staring at your building, you realize there's something sinister at play.

When you look out the window and see him there again, you let out a groan. You know it's your apartment he's staking out - he's even followed you home from work, though you only noticed that earlier on today when you dropped your phone and had to turn around to pick it up. Who knows how long he's been tracking you?

You don't want to admit it, but you know it's your fault: you got involved with Steve Rogers, and now you're facing the consequences. He's probably keeping an eye on you to make sure you aren't with any other men - God knows how possessive men like him are. A small part of you fears that he's planning on killing you for blocking his phone number, which is why you decide to take a stance.

This is the mess you made. It's time for you to clean it up.

Grabbing the small gun Bucky insisted you keep in your bedside table, you put it into your purse and make your way outside. Once there, you see the man looking away as though to act casual and like he hasn't been stalking you.

You cross the road, keeping an eye out for any witnesses that may be around, before standing in front of him. He frowns, seemingly surprised by your presence.

"What do you want?" He asks you gruffly, raising a brow.

"Stay the fuck away from me," You utter lowly, keeping your hand wrapped around your gun in your bag. "And tell whichever coward sent you to come kill me himself."

It's also possible that one of Bucky's many other enemies are attempting to take you hostage as leverage, and you'd be damned if you prove Bucky right and aren't able to protect yourself.

When the man says nothing, you huff and push past him, planning to make your way to your friend's house a few blocks away just in case you really aren't able to protect yourself. Before you can get far, though, he grabs your arm and pulls you back. You immediately pull out the gun and shoot him in the foot, making him fall to the ground with a loud cry.

"You crazy bitch!" He yells, clinging to his foot. "Why the fuck would you do that?"

"I told you to stay away from me!" You shout, thankful for the silencer on the gun while praying nobody walks past. "Who sent you, huh?"

"Crazy fucking bitch," He whimpers, rocking back and forth.

You roll your eyes at him, shaking your head. "Don't fuck with me, alright? Do you know the name James Barnes? If I see you, or any of your friends, standing outside my home again, he will kill you - and that's only if I don't do it myself. Do you understand me?"

"Barnes is the one that fucking sent me," He reveals with a groan, his hands covered in blood. "He told me to keep an eye on you. I wasn't sent to hurt you."

His words take you aback. Oh.

"Shit," You whisper, quickly putting away your gun. "Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. I'm sorry. Come on; let's get you to the hospital. Shit."

Twenty minutes later, you're in the waiting area while Richard gets his foot fixed up.

"Come on," You grumble as the vending machine spits out your bill for the seventh time. "Just take my money and feed me, damn it."

"What have I told you about these shitty snacks?" A familiar voice rings out from behind you, making you jump. His ring-clad hand reaches out and he scans his phone on the card machine, paying for your shitty snack.

You lean down to pick up the candy bar before turning back to him. "Why buy it for me, then?"

Bucky lets out a sigh. "Because you always get what you want, anyway. And I like being the one who gets you what you want."

"Yeah, sure seems like it," You mutter bitterly, pushing past him. "Two fucking weeks, Buck."

"You blocked my number," He says, turning around to follow you over to the seats. "Do you realize how fucking insane that made me?"

"And you didn't attempt to contact me at all!" You exclaim stubbornly.

"Because I knew you were angry at me," Bucky claims as you sit down. "And frankly, I was fucking angry at you, too."

"So why send Richard to watch over me?" You ask with a raised brow.

He furrows his brows at you. "What? Just because I'm angry at you, I shouldn't care about your wellbeing?"

"Oh, please," You scoff. "You were just watching me to see if I went on any more dates with Steve."

Bucky rubs his face, exasperated. "I don't wanna argue with you about this any more, Y/N. Can you just admit that what you did was reckless?"

Letting out a long sigh, you can't help but nod. "I guess it was a little reckless. Can you admit that sleeping with that bitch Carmen was a bad friend move that hurt me deeply?"

He sits down next to you, resting his arm on the back of your seat. "I'm sorry, fairy. I should've been more aware of your feelings. I promise, I'm not seeing her again. And I hired a different lawyer."

"And?" You press expectantly.

"And... I love you?" He offers, before trying to wrap his arm around you.

You move a seat away from him, frowning. "You said some really horrible things to me, Buck."

He winces at the memory, a pained look growing on his face. "I am so, so sorry, fairy. I was angry, and I said things that I should never have said. Not to you. I didn't mean a single one of them- I was just pissed off, and I took it out on you, and I shouldn't have done that. The thought of you being in danger drove me crazy, baby. I can't handle the thought of you getting hurt."

You let out a shaky breath, looking down at the ground. "Seeing you with Carmen, I just... I realized that I'm gonna lose you one day, and that terrified me. I guess I just wanted to see if you were scared of losing me, too."

Bucky frowns, immediately moving to the seat next to you. "Woah, woah, woah, fairy, what's all this talk about losing each other, huh? You know you're never losing me, ever. And you know I'd chain you to a fucking radiator if you ever tried to leave me."

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "I just didn't like seeing you with her."

He pulls you into his arms, rocking you gently. "How about we stop seeing other people, hmm? Just for a little while?"

His words put you on edge. "What do you mean, Buck?" You ask him meekly.

"I mean, our last sexual escapades landed poor Richard in the emergency room," He says teasingly, before leaning closer to you. "So, how about we just stick with each other for a bit? I missed you like fuck this past fortnight. I never wanna do this life shit without you again."

Feeling warm in his embrace, you snuggle closer to him and smile. "That sounds good, Bucky."

"Yeah?" He asks, holding you tighter. "Just you and me?"

"Just you and me," You repeat with a whisper, wrapping your pinky around his.

He kisses your forehead, and then your nose, and then the corner of your mouth, lighting you up with the joy you've been missing out on for too long. "I love you, fairy," Bucky mumbles, stroking your cheek. "You're more important to me than anyone else in this world."

Opening up the candy bar, you offer him the first bite which he reluctantly takes. Taking a bite after him, you let the sweet chocolate relax you.

You rest your head on his chest, the two of you staying like that while you wait for Richard to be wheeled out of surgery. All is well.

also, if you are willing and able, i would appreciate if you bought me a kofi - even the smallest of donations helps me out so much! ❤

bucky masterlist

hi! i no longer have a taglist, but if you follow @kinanabinksupdates and turn on notifications, you'll know when i post 🥰

[loveaffaire-recs]

I have no words but holy fucking shit I’m screaming

Collision Course

Title: Collision Course

Pairing: Ari Levinson x Reader x Andy Barber

Summary: You need a change. And boarding a train to nowhere, sets you on a collision course with two brothers.

Words: 6100+ 

Warnings: Ok. Here goes it. 18+ Fingering, oral (male and female receiving), Vaginal penetration - double! vaginal penetration, anal sex, overstimulation, squirting, biting, praise talk, reader unhappy with her life, mention of spousal abuse (in passing), Ari smoking a joint, two brothers having sex with the same woman at the same time - not each other. No incest.

A/N: This fucking beast. lol. It had been rolling through my mind and a challenge set it free. But my brain is completely fucked out now - too bad my body isn’t. I hope you enjoy. I hope I tagged all the warnings. Please comment. It feeds the beast.

I couldn’t look this over any more, so I hope the mistakes aren’t as plentiful as I think they are.

“If you don’t move your ass, we’re going to miss the train,” Andy says, swiping his hand through the air to wave off the smoke from Ari’s joint.

“You know, you could do for one of these. Always so goddamn tense, Andy.”

Andy ignores his brother as Ari pushes off the brick wall, rubbing the blunt on the sole of his shoe before tossing the roach in the garbage.

“Alright. I’m good,” Ari beams, wiping his hands on his pants. Let’s go help some people in need.”

******* Somewhere across town

You fold the ticket over and over in your hands, your knee jumping, anxiety overflowing as people walk past, oblivious. Perhaps if you stood in the middle of the room and screamed at the top of your lungs - maybe someone would finally listen?

Dead-end jobs. Dreams flailing on the ground like a butterfly with a torn wing.  Boyfriends that seem too much work for their worth and friends moving to the offramp more than the on. 

There wasn’t one particular thing. No straw that broke the camel’s back or realization that hadn’t dawned on you before now. 

It was just time.

So, you packed a bag with a change of clothes, toiletries, and asked the agent behind the glass for a ticket on the next train and she handed you a ticket to wherever.

And wherever was exactly where you were headed.

Keep reading

[loveaffaire-recs]

Crying in the fuck club because ALL of this is so wholesome, I ship it so hard😩

White Bread

Chris Evans x Actress!Reader Summary: Literally all the evidence suggests you and Chris are together, just give up. "No (:" -you Word Count: 2k+ Warnings: Fluff, i still used Y/N grrrrrrrrr, actress au, crack fic lol, etc.

A/N: So this is kind of like a part 2 to 'Dude She's Just Not Into You' but not really cos you dont need the context of the first one for this ALSO this is not a series, I just felt there was still inspiration from the last fic so like I'm making another one!!! Here's a p3 i guess lol

I raise a hand and shake my head, "okay, let's get one thing straight. I do not call Chris white bread because of what you may think."

Chris bursts into laughter. The interviewer in front of us chuckles and motions that I continue. I shift in my seat, "one day-"

"Oh my gosh," Chris sighs, knowing where it was going.

"I was eating a sandwich with chocolate spread--"

"It was one time!" he says, pitch rising.

I snap at him, "one time is all it takes, white bread."

"Dear goodness, I regret it everyday."

"You better," I raise my brows, "anyway, he took the sandwich from my hand and ate it in front of me."

"I gave it back! It was a joke."

I scoff and cross my arms, "oh, okay, so I'm just a joke to you?"

Chris sighs and shakes his head, "mom, I wanna go home."

"Well too darn bad!"

TWITTER-VERSE

@cornspice: okay hear me out. if water is a liquid but can turn into solid and gas, chris evans and y/f/n HAVE to be dating @chrisevansdailykrr: Chris and Y/N where spotted walking holding hands. [image attatched] @y/f/nsource: [replying to @chrisevansdailykrr] yes but y/n be doing that to everyone rip @y/ny/nily: [replying to @y/f/nsource] sadly yes, bruv aint special 💔 @marrymeplzy/n: IM GOING FERAL @ChrisEvans JUST WENT ON A DATE WITH Y/N IN A PARK HOLDING HANDS N SAME COLORED TOPS F- @marvelsloot: Okay. So. Chris. And. Y/N. Are. Just. Randomly. Saying. They. Are. Dating. ?. What. About. My. Mental. Health. ? @muricasass: [replying to @marvelsloot] LITERALLY THEY JUST SAY FINE WERE DATING UH WHAT MAAM @buckysthiqthighs: [replying to @marvelsloot] IT HURTS CAUSE I CANT TELL IF THEYRE SARCASTIC OR NOT @wankanda4evah: [replying to @buckysthiqthighs] This is what we get for stanning sarcastic actors 😭

5 minute TMZ video of paparazzi following Chris and Y/N captioned: "We're just friends," yeah right.

One of the guys in the TMZ office explains to their boss, "we found Chris Evans and Y/F/N walking around," the room gets excited, the dude does jazz hands and makes a face, "holding hands, eating ice cream, y'know things friends would do."

One of the girls sat down looks to that man who was speaking, "that's a lot of bullshit."

"Right?" one chimes in.

Another points out, "they even confirmed they were dating in one interview--"

Cut to the narrator explaining that "they're so darn sarcastic, it's hard to say if they were serious or not."

Back to one of the girls, "I think they're actually dating and sarcastically confirmed it to throw people off."

There is a unison of agreement.

Then flashes the actual clip of Chris and Y/N walking around and the TMZ paps meeting them halfway.

The scene is set in a park. I was wearing a cute little baby blue sundress and Chris was looking like a trust fund college frat dude in his khakis. There's an ice cream stand nearby.

"How you guys doing?" one of the paps ask, meriting no response.

The grip I had on Chris' hand tightens as I tug on him. He turns to me and I give him a soft smile, which is honestly more like showing him my teeth, "I wan' ice cream."

"Ice cream?" he repeats then say, "okay."

I break into a smile and do a small hop because of this.

Cut back to the guy in the office, explaining, "when I tell you Y/N is so darn adorable--"

"Yeah, she is."

"--how could he not date her?"

"For real, mans was whipped for her."

Back to the ice cream truck.

I turn to Chris, "I want vanilla."

He does not reply and only pulls out his wallet. He then turns to me and gruffs, "tell that to the guy sellin' the ice cream, doll."

I turn to the said man and raise a finger, "one vanilla, and..." I turn to Chris and ask, "strawberry for you?"

He nods.

The paparazzi asks, "do you two do this often?"

We ignore it but I decide to answer when he clarifies with, "buy ice cream and hold hands?"

I turn to the guy, "if we were friends, I'd do it with you to."

Chris chuckles.

The one holding the camera then asks, "aye, I'm free on Friday, I'm down to chill."

No one gets to answer him because the ice cream man asks for a picture.

20+ mins of Y/F/N talking about her domestic life with Chris Evans

There's an intro of the video:

Hello. I have compiled some of the moments where y/n and chris just weren't slick and basically exposed themselves to the world. Is it far fetched, maybe, but look at this photo [image of Chris looking at each other in the middle of a press photo op] and look me dead in the eye and tell me im wrong oh wait you cant bitch

Chris and I are sitting next to each other. The interviewer asks, "when you're not working, how do you two unwind."

I think for a moment, "I loosen the screws in his head, then I probably make pancakes."

Chris suddenly comes to life, "oh, she makes good pancakes."

---CUT TO---

A clip of one of my solo interviews.

I am read one of the questions, "what is your happy place?"

My eyes widen and I sigh, "dang, that's like a really deep question." I cross my arms and shake my head, "y'know, I'm not going to waste everyone's time trying to answer this properly, so I'm just going to answer the first thing that popped in my head, which is defeating America's favorite white bread in Uno, multiple times."

*A harsh zoom onto y/n's face*

---CUT TO---

It was a long interview and basically it lead to Chris and I talking about ideal types.

"I dunno, I don't really have a type," I say shrugging, then crossing my arms.

Chris purses his lips and nods, "no, I think you have a type."

I turn to him, mildly shocked, "I have a type?"

Chris begins to laugh.

"No, for real, I'm asking. I have no idea if I have a type," I say, which makes him roll his eyes and shake his head. I begin to think, "I- gosh- you know, I watched this thing where they said humans are naturally narcissistic and will go for someone that looks like them, then there was another thing that said, like, if you're attracted to guys, you usually base your standards of your dad and vice versa. I mean, I'm sure this doesn't apply to everyone, but I will say I think guys that are, like, good with kids, patient, and reliable are definitely guys I could categorize as my type. Plus, I am kind of like the mom friend, so..."

Chris turns to me then mutters, "just say you're into dads."

I turn to him, shocked, then burst out, "I COULD SAY THE SAME THING ABOUT YOU!"

"I'M NOT INTO DADS!"

"Oh, but you're a big mama's boy."

He nods and whispers softly, "I am a big mama's boy."

I make a face, "too bad your mom likes me better than you now."

Chris raises a finger, "JUST BECAUSE SHE SAID SHE LIKED YOUR LASAGNA ONCE DOES NOT MEAN ANYTHING."

"She would leave you in the desert for me."

"Noooooo she would nooooooottttt."

---CUT TO---

A puppy interview.

I turn to the crew on set and coo at the puppies running up to me and being all adorable. "You if Chris were here, he'd cry, spontaneously combust then just cease."

I make kissy faces to the dogs, "he might also try to steal all of them and I would help."

TWITTER-VERSE

@mackiesbootie: THIS IS NOT A DRILL. SCOTT JUST POSTED A VIDEO OF CHRIS AND Y/N DANCING WITH THE EVANS NIECES AND NEPHEWS-- @mackiesbootie: YALL SERIOUSLY CANT MAKE ME BELIEVE THEYRE NOT MARRIED AT THIS POINT WTF @chrisevansdailykrr: BITCH [image attatched] @hailhydrax: [replying to @chrisevansdailykrr] @ChrisEvans and Y/N you broke @chrisevansdailykrr, are you satisfied? @Wandas2020vision: [replying to @chrisevansdailykrr] issa mood im dying 👨‍🚀💀 @teaspillzislyf: Chris Evans & Y/F/N are full of shit: a thread @y/ncutebooty: What she says: I'm okay What she means: Chris and Y/N are clearly dating and the only reason why they haven't officially confirmed it is because-- @steverogerswife: yall keep talking sh but just remember y/n has a private account somewhere on twt @poeticb00bs: the fact that y/n knows hers and chris's niche memes is actually kinda scary @steverogerswife: [replying to @poeticb00bs] Evans-Y/L/N is real. Y/N has a private twt. Next question

The said post by scott evans on instagram that made the internet have a meltdown

The caption:

Dont let their size fool you. @ChrisEvans and y/n are about the same age of my nieces and nephews 😂😂

The video is about only 1 minute long. Chris and I were sitting on the carpet in the middle of the Evan's living room. The TV was playing a Barney song but when a kid-favorite started playing, the young ones stood up and starting belting out. This clearly called for a dance break as well.

I picked up Chris' niece and spun her around while we danced. She began to giggle. It was everything

Chris and the other kids began to rip up the dance floor.

And for a moment, Chris and I turn to each other, sharing a laugh. There was nothing said, nothing to say, but still we had a warm, knowing look between us.

Scott, who was filming the whole thing made a, 'oop', sound then ended the video.

[loveaffaire-recs]

This is so fucking cute and the comments on the YouTube vids are a wholeass mood😭

Dude, She's Just Not Into You

Chris Evans x Actress!Reader Summary: You and Chris were lovers in a major motion picture. Beyond that you were great friends off screen. Except no one believed that. Everyone could see how whipped that meatball was for you, except you lol. Word Count: 2k+ Warnings: A lot of pining, fluff, also i used Y/N n stuff ASHDHaL:SFHASLHF disgostin, actress au, crack fic lol, etc.

A/N: ayyy I kinda made a another one that kinda could be p2 but not really so if ur into reading it lol here it is

20+ minute YT video captioned: Chris Evans & Y/F/N Test To See How Compatible they are with each other.

It's an all white background and two chairs.

Chris is in a sweater and slacks, as am I.

"Hi, my name is Chris Evans," I say making Chris turn to me and knit his brows mutter, "so who am I?"

I turn to him and examine his soft expression. I place a hand on my jaw and hum in thought. I look at his sweater and I turn back to the camera, "-and today we're going to be seeing how-" Chris laughs softly in the background, "compatible we are."

I turn to the bearded man, "now Ronaldo, I know we're dressed like we're on the same team, but we aren't."

Chris pulls his head back and makes a face. He turns over his shoulder and whispers softly, "are you talking to me? This is awkward."

I snap two fingers at him, "focus, focus, Zhao. You have the attention of a two year old."

Chris begins to look around, "am... am I in the right room?"

"I'm here to prove to everyone that I am the superior Chris Evans because I actually listen to what you have to say--"

He sucks in a sharp breath and straightens his back. He raises his brows and a finger, "aLrIghT, first of all--"

"--quit mansplaining, Johan-- but also the entire film we're in heavily relies on the compatibility we have. Thus if we are found incompatible because of your incompetence, you are the sole reason why this film would have any bad ratings whatsoever."

Chris looks dumbfounded but he eventually sighs, "well, you know what, that seems soundly fair."

I nod, "as it is."

"But your sweater is still ugly," he randomly spurts, making me turn to my white top then to his white top. I stand from my chair and position my arms into a T, "excuse me, this is above my paygrade. My cultured feet will not be insulted by a mildly amusing piece of white bread, thanks."

The comment section of this video:

IM SCREAMING THE VIDEO HASNT EVEN STARTED AND THEYRE ALREADY AT EACH OTHERS THROATS I SWEAR THEIR BICKERING IS A WHOLE MOVIE ITSELF [3k+ likes]

Chris: I- Y/N: absolutely not [1.5k likes]

"I think Y/N is an absolute great person. She's so passionate and kind. Everything she does she puts her heart out. I know how cheesy it is to say, but I have never met someone like her." -chris evans "Imma be real witchu... I don't get it." -y/n freaking y/l/n [5.1k likes] >>>20 REPLIES<<< It do really be like dat sometimes 😔 [1k likes] MS Y/L/N COLLECT UR MAN OR GIVE HIM TO ME THX [2.6k likes]

I love how Chris gets most of the questions right and still is wrong lmao 😂 [200k likes]

OKAY BUT NO ONES TALKING ABOUT HOW SHE GOT ONE ANSWER WRONG BUT IT WAS ACTUALLY STILL RIGHT [61k likes] >>>500 replies<<< Ya'll can't convince me they're not dating. [3k likes] SHe wAs so pressed about it toooo HELLLPPP [2.5k likes] I think they're talking about it now lol [657 likes]

3 minute highlight clip from a solo interview captioned: Y/F/N On 'How Hard' It Was Working With Chris Evans

The scene is set in a red carpet event. Loud ambient noise in the background and infrequent camera flashes.

I'm wearing a one shoulder, sparkly, green tunic dress. I stand in front of an interviewer wearing something quite similar. She starts off with that, "Look at us, we're matching."

I smile back at her and match her enthusiastic tone, "Yeah! Look at us, in the trends. Had we been wearing the same color, someone would have gotten fired."

We share a laugh.

"So tell me how it was working with Chris Evans."

"Horrible," I say with no hesitation. I roll my eyes dramatically and huff, "the dude kept eating my muffins on set. Just because he had unlimited bread options as Captain America doesn't mean he can just steal my french toast too."

"Oh gosh, I had no idea."

"Yeah," sigh, "it's just not right." I look up and pretend to hold back tears. The dear interviewer plays along and pats my shoulder. I shake my head and raise a hand, "no, I'm fine. I just-- I want America to know that that man you love so much, is a glutton for gluten. It's kind of sad to see how much that bright star has faded."

The comment section of this video:

You just can't spell Y/F/N without dramatic. [104k+ likes]

This woman is so extra and I AM HERE FOR IT. QUEEEEEN [15.5k likes]

14 minutes of y/n hating chris & chris proving her otherwise (that's the video)

We're seated next to each other. The interviewer is in front of us and the movie poster behind.

"Do you ever look at someone and say, 'man, that dude is hecka ugly'? Well, folks, that's how I feel when I see him," I say turning to Chris who was already looking at me.

Chris says casually, "I think I'm pretty good looking."

"Well, that's what makes you ugly," I turn to the interviewer, "no one likes a self-aware hot guy."

Chris smiles, keeping his eyes fixed on me, "so you agree?"

--CUT TO--

Same setting, different time and interviewer.

Said interviewer asks, "After working on a film for a year, what has been your favorite thing to do together."

There is a short pause.

Chris answers, "you know, I think I'd say something like having coffee. Like, we would go to cafes and just sit there, read a book, and chill."

"Clearly it was enjoyable because I didn't talk to him at all," I say with a firm nod.

"Says the girl who made me rush into the makeup studio just to tell me that stupid joke she had."

My eyes widen in defense, "Oh well sorry you have no humor. Literally everyone in the makeup department laughed at the joke."

"If I had said the joke you wouldn't have let me live that down."

"Yeah, but you wouldn't have said that joke because your a dry piece of-"

--CUT TO--

I'm sitting alone in a studio. The video is in black and white.

"If you could get one trait of Chris Evan's as your own, what would it be and why," I read the question off of a cue card and place it at the back of the deck. "Okay, first of all, I would not touch that man with a 20 foot pole. Okay. Get that on record."

I push the hair out of my face then think for a moment, "second of all, Chris, I think these days, has such a lovable image. You know like, I think before he got his shield, he was type cast as a bad boy, but he really is just a really big, lovable guy, you know. And, I feel like I would want to be someone who feels like that, you know."

The comment section of this video:

Y/N: Chris Evans 🤬👹 💩💢🔪 Also Y/N: Chris Evans 🥰💖🤰✨🌸 [40k+ likes]

5 minute clip: Chris Evans On Dating Rumors with Y/F/N

It's a red carpet event. Chris is in a suit and shades. "So," the interviewer asks Chris, "what do we think of Y/N?"

"Well, we think she's great. She's super talented, super hard working, super funny. She's great."

"Yeah, and we know how playful and wild your interviews can get."

Chris purses his lips in a soft smile and shakes his head, "she's a tough cookie, you know?"

"Do you like tough cookies?"

"I mean, a cookie's a cookie. I like cookies. I like them anyway I can get. You can always eat a harder cookie with milk, so."

"Would you say you're the milk to her cookie?"

Chris breaks into a left booby grab laugh. Once he settle down a bit, "I don't know where this is going but I don't wike it."

"I mean, you two are so comfortable with each other. Haven't you ever thought of dating?"

He sighs and shakes his head. He half-heartedly says, "Wow. I mean, what could I have ever thought about if not dating a tough cookie. Look, hey, let's ask her now."

I am about to pass by him, but I'm so rudely interrupted.

Chris borrows the mic from the interviewer, "have you thought of nothing else but dating me?"

I am, admittedly, taken aback. In a few seconds though, I turn to my shoulder and utter one word, "security."

10+ minute panel interview titled: Love Loop Stars Chris Evans and Y/F/N Interview In New York

"I'm really curious," the interviewer asks, "how did this all start? The bickering, the sarcasm, does it come naturally, or was there a tipping point between you two."

The two of us were laughing at the start of the question, knowing exactly where it was going from the get go.

"Well, I'm honestly a naturally sarcastic person. I think Chris and I have a similar sense of humor, but mostly I just like getting a rise out of him. He's such a confused old man sometimes and it's hilarious, which is why try my darndest to give the world the content they deserve. The PR team actually encourage me."

Chris's shoulders shakes in laughter. He shakes his head in disagreement.

"And how do you feel about her banter?"

"Well," he drags out, "not that I can stop her, but with every sarcastic comment she gives-- although... I do get a little nervous-"

"Wait what?" I turn to him with an incredulous look on my face.

"Well, you know you start thinking."

I roll my eyes, "oh my gosh, you just want me to sing praises on live TV and tell the world how much I love you."

Chris starts getting defensive and raises his hands. Red begins to rise up from his neck to his cheeks.

I continue on anyway, "Okay, ya'll better make sure the cameras are recording because I won't say this as often." I clear my throat, "I-" gag noises, "love Chris Evans."

The room cheers.

It's Chris's turn to stand and bring his arms together into a T, "time out." He disagrees, "this is wayyyy above my pay grade."

[loveaffaire-recs]

Peter getting freaked out when the reader jokes about not knowing that they are dating reminds me of that scene in the movie when he said “you look pretty” and then MJ gets all sarcastic and he freaks out 😭 my jittery babyboy!!!🥺

This was hella cute, who doesn’t want a boyfriend who’s obsessed with your tits in a cozy, loving way😩

Peter Parker who is just like obsessed with boobs. That’s all good want. Some nice comedic fluffiness😚

word count: 532

warnings: boobs :)

a/n: thank you so much for requesting! we love a boob-obsessed king. hope you enjoy!

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Peter loved your tits. It was like second nature wrapping his arms around you in the night to cup your breasts. Or nuzzling his head into your chest as you watch a movie, using your boobs as pillows for his tired head.

It all started a few weeks after you started dating. You were laying in your room watching a movie, cuddled up to Peter’s side. When you decided to turn off the lights for the night you sat up, unintentionally hitting Peter with your tits.

“Oops, sorry,” You chuckled at his surprised face.

But Peter wasn’t mad. If anything it just made him love you more. He never realized, what with his scarce dating knowledge, how soft and jiggly boobs were. To say he was hook was an understatement.

You laid back down after the lights were out, tried, and read to head to bed. But Peter’s mind was whirling. He just wanted to touch them, just for a second.

“(Y/N)?” Peter whispered in the dark, only the light of the TV danced around the room.

“Hm?” You hummed out, contently listening to Peter’s heartbeat, noticing how it began to speed up.

“Can I—well, you know how we’re dating, right?”

“No, Peter, I had no idea,” You said sarcastically, but Peter didn’t pick up on that.

“What?! What do you mean? Remember at the park, remember? We kissed and then I swear you agreed—”

“Peter, I’m just messing with you,” You chuckled, gently stroking his cheek to calm him down, “what’s got you all worked up?”

“Oh, right, sorry,” Peter mumbled, loving the warmth from your hand on his skin, “um, well I-I was just wondering…”

“What, Pete?”

“I-If we’re dating—which we are—could I maybe—only if you want to, o-or if you’re okay with it—I kinda wanna, possibly—I just wanna—could I—”

“Peter just spit it out!” You laughed, playfully hitting his shoulder.

“May I touch your breasts please?” Peter said softly.

You looked at him for a moment before bursting out laughing. “(Y/N),” Peter whined, “I’m serious! I just wanna feel them.”

“I know,” You wheezed, wiping a tear from your eye, “you just sounded like a little boy asking to use the restroom in a British boarding school.”

Peter let out a groan, flopping down into the pillows like a fish.

“Peter,” You giggled, “you’re my boyfriend, of course you can touch my tits. You can kiss them too if you’d like.”

“Really?” Peter lit up, reaching out to touch you before quickly retracting his hand, “this isn’t a trick, right?”

You nodded, “Yeah it is, you caught me. My tits are electric and I was trying to electrocute you. Darn, my plan has been foiled.”

“I’m gonna go out on a whim here and say that that was sarcasm.” Peter eyed you suspiciously before finally putting a hand on your boob and giving it a gentle squeeze. It was so soft and jiggly and all he wanted to do was fall asleep on them.

Forgetting to go home, that’s how Wanda found you the next morning. Both asleep with Peter’s hands tucked under your t-shirt, clutching your breasts.

“I knew it,” Wanda gasped, “just friends my ass.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

@ptersmj @princessofguineapigs @peterbenjiparker @cherrytholland @itsapeterthing @justapurrcat @kelieah @iovebug @celestialholland  @hollandcrush @scarletspideyy @blissfulparker @spidernerdsblog @spideyspeaches @andilovetowrite @sinisterspidey @hollandsdream @annathesillyfriend @lovelybarnes @white-wolf1940 @wierdteenagenerd @arvinsescape @super-not-naturall @allthisfortommy @selfcarecap @misshale21 @morganwilliams @loveaffaire @illicitparker @tomfknholland @pogueslandia @tomshufflepuff @bi-lmg07 @aayaissaa @sophiaparkerbarnes @runawaywithmyghost @micaelaf05 @hallecarey1 @a-daydreamers-day @holland-styles @cloudyfeel @peni5parker @tomsoxytocin @slut-for-steve-rogers @vavilip @kitkatt18-blog @kittkatt2015 @kitkat2015 @bookfrog242 @slutforfics @wildxwidow @hollandsfirstlady @hollandswife @writesforholland @prancerrparkerr @petesrparker @arlo-sanders @sxuxgarplxum @peter-parkers-gf @namoreno @niallberry @iaminlovetomhollandmarvel @nakyuu77 @1-800-lov3r @bisexualdragongirl @xoxokiaraaxoxo @hollandsvogue @hallecarey1 @marvelobsessed10031917 @z3ndaya-blog @swiftnmarvel @avashoefest @sunflowerfive @yunho-leeknow @xxxstormyninixxx @bellawherethehellyoubeenl0ca @marvelhasmyheart235 @kierstiniscrying @lowkey-holland @blahblahblah-boo @harryhollandsgirlfriend @hollandlover19 @itscaminow @petrsipdeyparker @jewishdelis @bradtomlovesya @virginmaitai111 @ietss @hunnbunimdun @teenwishes08 @tombrlholland @fuckingbloodyhello @inavaparker @spencereidshoe @potters-heart @itsusernameme @sienna14 @ghostlyspiderversebeautyfire @ghostlyspiderversebeautyfire @harryssmommy @ava11111

[loveaffaire-recs]

Andy is so soft and I’m a whore for him😔

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐞

pairing: andy barber x pregnant!reader

summary: you let andy know he wasn't very nice to you a few days ago 😤

warnings: talking about a blow job, soft domestic fluff

word count: ~300

a/n: look at me allowing myself to post something short !!! growth 🤌🏼 but i just want to talk about domestic andy 😖😖

━━━･ ༓ ･━━━

Opening your eyes, you glance at him on the opposite end of the couch and sigh, watching him give you the foot rub you asked for. “Why are you so nice to me?”

“Uh, because…” he laughs. “You’re my wife and the mother of my child. And I love you.” You just hum, resting your hand on your growing belly, and close your eyes again. “And if I’m ever not nice to you, I want you to let me know.”

“Well,” you sigh again, peeking one eye open to see his reaction. “You weren’t very nice to me the other day…”

“What?” His fingers still on your foot for a brief second as he looks at you, genuinely unsure what you’re talking about. “When?”

“When you wouldn’t let me give you a blow job,” you pout, crossing your arms for good measure.

Letting out a short laugh, he hangs his head before looking at you again. “Hey now,” he chuckles. “The other day when I was doing phone calls and meetings? What was I supposed to do–”

“Uh, let me suck your dick,” you scoff. “Duh.”

“I can’t stand you,” he smirks, looking back down at your feet in his lap.

“See,” you whine, pulling your feet away from him. “You’re being not nice again.”

“Wanna do it now? I’ll let you,” he winks and wiggles his eyebrows.

“No,” you yawn, curling up and resting your head on the arm of the couch. “I’m tired now.”

“Ah– hm, ok,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Talk about not being nice…”

━━━･ ༓ ･━━━

tag list: @chris-butt @patzammit @denisemarieangelina @thummbelina @pppsssyyyccchhhiiiccc @princess-evans-addict @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @la-cey @turtoix @katiew1973 @harrysthiccthighss @tvckerlance @bluemusickid @rocketrhap3000 @mrspeacem1nusone @flovds @starlightcrystalline @stargazingfangirl18 @geminievans1 @doozywoozy @americasass91 @dwights-new-plague @wwwmarissa92 @redhairedfeistynerd @whxre4cevans @aubreeskailynn @white-wolf1940 @melchills-j @xoxabs88xox @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @before-we-get-started @chrissquares @christowhore @ice-dtae @mariestark @justile @christhickevans @cevansrogerss @dilfbarber

[loveaffaire-recs]

THIS WAS SO CUTE! I didn’t want it to end🥺🌸

𝖒𝖞 𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖘 𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖊𝖐𝖘

☼ 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Chris Evans x Reader

☼ 𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: you're a little out of it after a love making session, but Chris knows how to make you feel better.

☼ 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔨𝔫𝔤𝔰: aftercare, subspace, insinuations to smut, mentions of food and eating (specifically ice cream), Disney World, little space, mentions of previous sexual abuse, fluff, tears.

☼ 𝔞/𝔫: thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy! title is from 18 by 1D!

Chris hummed, his fingers trailing after the brush that was sweeping your hair into a pony tail. he smiled as he secured the scrunchie in your hair, his eyes locked on you. you had your puffy eyes closed, and sighing in contentment as him playing with your hair soothed you.

you always got quiet after sex, and Chris was used to it. sometimes it was because you shouted yourself raw, other times you were simply exhausted, and Chris never forced you to talk.

he knew to be gentle, and he knew to use touch to communicate, rather than words, and more recently, ASL. anything to make you more comfortable, he was more than willing to do.

his hands rested on your shoulders, and you opened your eyes. he gave you a warm smile, and pressed a kiss to your head. 'ice cream?' he signed, and you nodded, a small smile gracing your face. knowing you were still sore, he helped you from the stool in the bathroom, and watched you carefully as you went to lay down on the resort bed, towel still wrapped around your freshly washed body. 'sit.' he signed, keeping his face firm, so you'd know to sit and stay.

you did as he asked, and he walked over to the unopened suitcase laying on the desk, and flipped it open. he dug through the suitcase for the toiletry bag, and pulled out the tub of Comfrey Bruise Cream. he set it on the desk, and searched through the bag for some suitable clothes that wouldn't rub too harshly on your bruised and raw bottom and privates. he pulled out a pair of black Reebok shorts, as well as a KISS graphic t shirt that was 3 times too big. it was a simple outfit, but you loved it, and wore a variation of it almost every night.

he knew your bum would be too bruised for underwear, so he opted out of them, knowing the shorts had built in ones. he grabbed a comfy sports bra, and grabbed the cream from the table before making his way over to you. he'd cleaned you up briefly after with a wash cloth, but he was more concerned about making sure you had. a good range of movement.

"lay back on the bed," he said quietly, and you obeyed instantly, showing you were still in your subspace, and completely obedient. he removed the towel, and spread your sore legs. the opened the tub of cream, and scooped out a dollop, warming it between his fingers before applying it to your bruised skin.

"i gotcha pretty good, honey," he sighed, as he saw the extent of the bruising, and guilt swarmed in his stomach. you had a tendency to be rather bruised after, and he always felt bad. it was never his intention.

he finished applying the cream, and helped you to sit up. he slid the bra on your body, followed by your shirt. he pulled you to a stand, and guided your feet into the shorts before pulling them up your legs.

"okay. shoes, then we can go." he said, and you nodded, walking over to your shoes with a slight limp. you pulled your black vans on to your feet, and waited obediently by the door. Chris smiled at you, and handed you your phone, which he had taken from you when you started acting out on the plane. you took it from him, and held it firmly in your grasp, your other hand taking hold of Chris's as he led you out of the hotel room.

Chris tried to take you outside as soon as he could after, knowing the vitamin d helped bring you back to yourself more than sleeping did. he led you to the elevator, where you glued your bum to the wall like you were taught to do. the doors opened, and Chris gestured for you to walk inside, and he followed.

you grabbed his hand again, and held it the entire elevator ride. you continued to grip it as he led you through the lobby, squeezing it when you jumped at the sudden rise in volume. your body relaxed as you exited the doors, and he led you to the beach area that held hammocks, beach loungers, some picnic benches, and most importantly, and ice cream stand.

he led you up to the ice cream stand, and ordered what he wanted. he turned to you to ask what you wanted, despite knowing you'll order the same flavour. but, he turned back to the stand when he saw you staring off into the lake, and watching the last rays of sunlight bounce off of the glimmering Florida water. he ordered for you, and a touch of his MagicBand to the debit machine later, he was leading you over to the closest picnic bench.

'sit,' he signed again, before adding another. 'stay.'

you nodded to show your understanding, and turned your head back to face the water, the sounds of the waves hitting the sandy beach soothing you. you heard heavy footfalls behind you, and soon enough you were being handed your ice cream in a bowl. you pouted slightly, wishing you had a cone instead, but Chris stopped that with a look.

"don't. just eat." he said firmly, beginning to lick his own ice cream. your chin wobbled as you dug your spoon into your ice cream. tears dripped down your cheeks as you put the ice cream into your mouth. you sniffled, unable to hold it back anymore, and Chris finally looked at you.

"oh, honey," he sighed, switching sides of the picnic bench. "i didn't mean to make you cry." he wrapped an arm around you, and you curled into his side.

"i sorry," you whispered, and Chris curled you closer. "i so sorry."

"shhh, don't be. i shouldn't have been so firm. i know you're sensitive, especially right now."

you were very sensitive and quiet, especially when little. you had gotten out of a relationship where you were abused sexually whilst little, and he knew that you slipping so soon after having sex was definitely trudging up some bad memories.

he hushed you, wishing he could take the bad thoughts out of your head and crush them. he finished his ice cream rather quickly, before picking up your now melting ice cream, and loading some of it onto the spoon, and nudging it at your lips.

trying to get you to eat was the hardest part, even when little. he ended up having to feed you most of the time, not that he minded. you opened your mouth and accepted the treat. then you did it again, and again, and again, and before you knew it, the bowl was empty. Chris got up briefly to throw away the garbage, and you wandered over to the water. you took your vans off, and left them at the edge of the beach, before venturing down to the water.

Chris glanced up at you as he walked back, and smiled as you walked lazily around in the water. he could hear you babbling to your self, knowing you were slipping even further. you squealed quietly, and bent over, most likely to fish out a pretty rock. Chris thought fondly of the small rock collection his mom had, all of them from you. you'd find a rock, and would keep it safe in your pocket until you saw Lisa, at which time you'd run up to her and hand it to her with the biggest smile on your face. she'd give you a hug, and put it in her small rock collection that she kept in her living room.

Chris walked up to you, and his eyes found the bruises peaking out from your shorts, and watched as you stood back up. a small wave headed towards your feet, and you jumped. Chris winced and ran towards you as you landed, shockwaves of pain no doubt shooting through you as you landed. you wobbled and fell backwards. you squeezed your eyes shut, expecting the cold water to soak through your clothing, but opening them when you felt strong arms around your body.

you giggled, your mouth falling open. "dada caught me!" you said, and Chris chuckled, stabilizing you, and lifting you onto his hip.

"yes, dada did." he smiled, knowing you were back to your happy self. "how about this? we go back to the room, and we can put on Tangled? you're gonna need your rest for our big day in the parks tomorrow." he asked, and you nodded, your legs kicking in excitement.

"yeah! 'et's go, dada!"

his hand ran up and down your back as he flipped you around to his front to carry you better. he picked up your shoes, and the two of you headed back to the hotel room, him happy that his ice cream trick worked.

[loveaffaire-recs]

HE IS SUCH AN ASSHOLE BUT I LOVE HIM

enamel - excerpt

i actually have some time off coming up, which means i can finish some of these mini series before i move back into my longer series! In the meantime, i hope you enjoy this little excerpt of enamel.

ransom drysdale x female reader

enam·​el • to beautify with a colorful surface

snspired by summer walker’s ‘i’ll kill you’. which, give it a listen and you’ll get the gist of where this will go.

warnings: 18+ ONLY. DNI if you are a minor. Language, world building.

summary | if your marriage to ransom drysdale was a lit match, he’s the kerosene.

Hips swaying to the music, your eyes are focused on the woman that spies your husband across the way, walking with an air of confidence while you tip your glass to your lips. It’s another party, another chance to pretend you enjoy being around people. Your social bank is nearly tapped out, holding it together with a tight-lipped smile and a tilt of your head toward the cronies that would love to get their wrinkled fingers on your skin. They know better, even with their old money and ironclad NDAs, to touch what belongs to Ransom Drysdale.

Her lips are near his ear, leaning into him while you continue to focus on every detail of their interaction, from his nod and the smirk on his face as her lips move rapidly in a whisper in what you know is a proposition. When his eyes meet yours across the room, he arches his eyebrows before he gives you a shit eating grin, turning his attention back to her.

Downing the last of your champagne, you make your exit, head held high, catching a glance of Ransom noticing your departure, his eyes narrowing before the current object of his attention is pushed aside. Your stride is confident - powerful - when you descend the steps, the music fading behind you.

“Mrs. Drysdale,” the valet greets you. “We’ll have your car here in a moment.”

Keep reading

[loveaffaire-recs]

HOMEWRECKER • P2

18+

Part 1

He has a girlfriend. His brother is your best friend. He's an absolute douchebag. But he's also hot, the best weed plug in town, and has a soft spot for you. What's the worst that could happen?

Content Warning: Frat!Ransom x Reader, drug use (smoking), intoxication, glorification of cheating, forbidden relationship, slight smut (mentions a boner, making out, ass grabbing, coupla spanks, daddy kink).

You met Gerrard on the first day of college, when you sat next to him because you thought he was the best looking guy you had ever seen in your life. He was surprised at how forward you were, and had to constantly shut down your attempts to flirt because he liked that you weren't intimidated by him like everyone else, and he wanted to keep you as a friend.

Of course, the only reason you weren't intimidated was because you didn't know who he was - if you were aware that he was the filthiest that filthy rich could get with one of the most intense families on the continent, you'd be a little less eager to approach him.

Two years later, you have no complaints. He has thus far kept you as far away from his family as possible, including his older brother who in his words is the antichrist in human form, and you get all the benefits that a rich guy's best friend could get.

"This is why people get the wrong idea about us," You tell him while twirling his credit card between your fingers. "You're such a sugar daddy for me."

Gerrard rolls his eyes at your words. "I want you to use my card to pay for our food. I'm hardly showering you in gold, buggo."

"Still," You insist, standing up from the table. "You spoil me, G. I mean, what if I asked you to give me the moon?"

With a wink, he grins. "Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down."

You snort, giving him a glare. "And if I asked you to buy me a diamond ring?"

He shrugs, unaffected. "I'd get you the biggest one I could find."

"See what I mean?" You ask with an incredulous laugh. "We need boundaries, G. This friendship goes two ways. Which is why," You put his card down and pull yours from your purse. "I am paying for lunch today."

"Y/N, I swear to God-"

"Back in two shakes of a lamb's tail," You sing before rushing over to the bar, where you order the food. While you're waiting on the drinks, a couple walks up beside you, flirting and giggling between themselves. You let out a sigh, yearning for a little slice of that. Just to be wanted by someone, even if only for a few hours.

When you return back to Gerrard with the drinks in hand, he can immediately tell that your mood has been soured. "What's wrong, bug?" He asks before taking a sip of his beer, concern in his eyes.

You slump down in your seat, putting your card away. "I haven't had sex in two months."

He immediately snorts, before his face falls and he places his hand on top of yours. "You poor little thing."

Rolling your eyes at his sarcasm, you pull your hand away from his and huff. "It isn't funny. You once crowned me the Queen of one night stands; what happened to that girl?"

"Maybe you should try getting an actual boyfriend?" Gerrard offers with a shrug. "I mean, you had all your slutty fun in freshman year. Why not look for a meaningful relationship with someone?"

With a scoff, you narrow your eyes. "That is literally the stupidest thing you've ever said. And papa, don't preach; you've never had a girlfriend yourself!"

He holds his hands up in surrender. "This isn't about me; I'm very satisfied with my bachelor lifestyle. You obviously feel like you're missing something."

"Not in a romantic way," You insist. "It's hard to find a guy these days who just wants sex with no strings attached."

"Seriously?" He raises an eyebrow, wondering if you know the same guys he does.

"You'd be surprised. They may put up a player front, but they're all softies on the inside," You complain, resting your head on your hand. "They always want to go on dates, or take me home to meet their mommy, or take it slow. I'm too young to get into a serious relationship and waste six months on some guy who's either gonna cheat or get bored. Usually both."

"Wow. That's depressing," Gerrard sighs, raising a brow. "But if you met a guy and you genuinely liked him, wouldn't you want to have a serious relationship with him?"

You shrug your shoulders. "Can't see that happening. I'm barely halfway through college; I don't want to meet my soulmate yet. I just need an absolute asshole with no regards to my feelings, who won't go all soft on me after one shared night."

He laughs at that, looking around the bar. "Masochist."

"But that's the thing; I wouldn't be getting hurt," You insist. "I just want someone who won't make me feel guilty for not wanting anything more than sex, you know?"

"I guess," He muses, meeting your eyes.

"You know who'd be perfect?" You ask, smirking. "Your brother."

Gerrard's face instantly drops. "Don't even joke about that, Y/N."

"I'm surprised he has a girlfriend," You admit. "He doesn't seem the type for commitment and anniversaries."

"I can't even begin to describe his relationship with Astrid," He grumbles, before going on to do exactly that. "They're so toxic, both of them. Always on and off; dramatic breakups, dramatic makeups. Ransom and Astrid are a fucking mess."

"Why doesn't he just end things with her?" You wonder out loud, wrapping your hand around the bottle.

"I don't know. Too much history, I guess," Gerrard speculates. "She always knows the right thing to say to get him back."

Remembering the events of the party, you cringe and cover your face. "I can't believe how high I got."

"Did he do anything?" He asks you with a frown. "You can tell me if he did."

"God, no," You insist, shaking your head. "He was really nice. Me, on the other hand..." Flashes of you grabbing his hand and placing it around your throat and moaning into his ear fill your head, making you groan. "I was so embarrassing."

Chuckling, Gerrard shakes his head. "You were fine. Coming to the party on Friday?"

Instantly, you want to say yes. Mostly because you want to get high with Ransom again, but you can't let Gerrard know that - he'd probably get jealous that you're becoming friends with his brother.

"Uh, I'll decide on the day," You say casually. "Probably not."

"Alright," He replies, before slyly muttering, "Guess they were right to call you boring."

"Hey!" You exclaim, wide eyed. "Who the fuck said that?"

"Nobody," He promises with a laugh. "Nobody thinks that, I swear."

Biting your lip, you tilt your head. "So what do people think of me?"

"I thought you didn't care about that stuff?" Gerrard asks you with a frown.

You shrug, playing with the chipped corner of the table. "I don't really. But if people are saying things, I'd like to know what."

He sits back in his chair, holding his beer to his chest. "Ransom thinks you're funny."

A jolt of excitement shoots through your heart. "Really?"

Gerrard snorts, giving you a suspicious on. "Why; you got a crush on him or something?"

"No, but that's literally the best compliment ever," You say, bouncing your leg.

"Omari thinks you're cute," He goes on to reveal.

Omari Adebayo; one half of the Adebayo twins and easily the most eligible bachelor on campus. He's also Ransom's best friend, so being on his radar is incredibly intimidating.

"Cute?" You frown. "Like baby cute or hot cute?"

"I'm guessing hot cute," Gerrard clarifies with a shrug.

"Nice," You smirk. "Check me out; Omari Adebayo and Ransom Drysdale want to fuck me."

"Don't get too big-headed, buggo," He warns you sternly. "Also, I forbid you from going there with any of them."

"Really?" You ask, feeling a little disheartened.

He makes a disgusted face and nods. "Trust me; my brother and his friends are not the kind of guys you wanna get involved with."

"I'll take your word for it," You mumble, but on the inside, you're only more intrigued by them.

"I did well to keep you away from them last year, so you can understand why I'm a little concerned about you becoming acquaintanced with them," He goes on to say, leaning forward. "Do not go there, bug."

"Don't worry; I'm not planning on it," You promise.

"Not even Benji?"

Your eyes widen. "Wait, he counts?"

"Yeah, he counts!" Gerrard says with a laugh.

"But-"

"He's one of Ransom's best friends, so he counts," He states curtly, frowning at you.

"You know, I don't think they're actually that close-"

"Bug-"

"But he's so cute!"

"Y/N." He's using his serious tone, so you sigh and sit back with a pout.

"Fine," You grumble, picking up your beer. "They're all off limits. I understand."

You know you're a terrible person for it, but you've spent an hour trying on outfits and judging their wearability based on how you think Ransom would react to them.

"Ass looks good," Archer muses, looking you up and down from where he is lying on the couch. "The cleavage is... very adventurous."

"I was thinking the same thing," You say with a smirk, turning to the side in front of the full-length mirror.

"So, who's the lucky guy?" He asks you, waggling his brows. "Who we tryna impress?"

"Nobody," You mumble, biting back your smile. "Just wanna look good, is all."

"Mhm." The disbelief is clear in his tone, making you narrow your eyes.

Walking over to where he is laying down, you fold your arms across your chest. "You got something to say, go ahead and say it, darlin'."

Archer smirks up at you. "You've never been one for parties, Y/N. Now you're going out two Friday nights in a row, getting all dolled up in dresses so short I can tell you what color panties you're wearing. So, what gives?"

Glaring at him, you lift up your knee to hit him in the leg. "Mind your own damn business, Archie."

He holds his hands up in surrender, chuckling. "Alright, alright. Just make sure he ain't an idiot. I'm sick of dealing with assholes eating all my cereal."

"He's not an idiot," The words leave your mouth uncontrollably and you immediately regret it. Seeing his eyes widen, you rush away, but Archer is on his feet and chasing after you.

"I fucking knew it!" He yells as you sprint to the kitchen. "Who is he, Y/N?"

"Nobody special!" You shout back between laughs, running around the breakfast counter.

Archer stands opposite you, breathing heavily. "Do I know him?"

Who doesn't know Ransom fucking Drysdale?

"I don't think so," You lie with a shrug. "I didn't even know of him 'til last week." Another lie.

"What's his name?" He asks, a spark in his eyes.

"Ahhh," You wave your hand dismissively. "John Doe."

"Come on, Y/N," Archer implores, leaning over the counter. "I gotta do a background check before you get involved with him. Just give me his name."

Your excitement dwindles down and you let out a dejected sigh. "It doesn't matter, anyway. He has a girlfriend."

Archer visibly deflates, his lips pulling downwards. "Oh. That sucks."

"Yeah," You whisper, running your finger over a splinter on the counter.

"But you're still dressing up for him?" He asks with a raised brow.

Saying nothing, you purse your lips together, knowing he'll be disappointed if he finds out you're happy to flirt with an unavailable man.

"Y/N," He drags your name out with a pitiful look on his face. "If he isn't willing to break up with her-"

"It isn't that deep!" You insist quickly. "We've barely even spoken - he's just the kind of guy who flirts with every skirt he comes across, and it's nice to have a little attention. It means nothing and he's loyal to his girl. As far as I'm concerned, anyway."

"If all you want is a little attention, you could get it from any other guy on campus," Archer says, running a hand through his curls. "I just don't want you to get hurt. And I also don't want you ruining this guy's relationship."

"I won't do either of those things," You promise, before glancing over to the clock. "Gerrard's gonna be here any minute. I need to go."

"Alright," He mumbles, watching as you return to the living area and slip on your white Vans. You may be willing to wear an uncomfortable bra to impress Ransom, but you'd be damned if you put yourself through the pain of heels just for a sly wink.

Damn, you really hope you get more than just a sly wink.

Where last week was more of an intimate occasion for the twins' birthday, today is an absolute rager. There's barely any room to stand, and you cringe as Gerrard pulls you through the crowd, feeling strangers' hot, bare skin brush against yours. Loud music booms against the walls and vibrates in your ears, and you know that tonight is going to be very different from last week.

Finally, you reach the kitchen, where there's some breathing room. Gerrard pours himself a vodka cranberry, but you have something else on your mind.

"You're looking for Ransom, aren't you?" He asks with a smirk, his eyes on his glass.

"W- what?" You sputter, letting out a nervous laugh. "What are you talking about?"

Gerrard rests his arm around your shoulder, leading you back out of the kitchen. "You wanna get high?"

Realization and relief both hit you at once, and you give him a small smile. "You know me too well, G."

"Come on; I'm sure he's around here somewhere," He says, walking through the crowd of dancers and reaching the back room, where Ransom taught you to smoke.

Once again, most of the people in here are crowded around the X-Box, playing a game of Tekken. Gerrard taps someone on the shoulder and when they turn around, you feel a little fearful flutter in your stomach.

It's Omari fucking Adebayo. Campus royalty; the guy everyone wants.

"Hey, man," He greets Gerrard with a handshake before his gaze falls onto you. "Y/N, right?"

Holy shit, he knows your fucking name. "Uh, yeah," You reply with a small smile.

"Omari," He introduces himself, as though you don't fucking know already. "It's great to finally meet you - you know, I saw you here last week, but I didn't get a chance to say hi."

"Yeah," You whisper, feeling incredibly shy under his attention.

"D'you know where my brother is?" Gerrard asks him. "Y/N wants some candy."

Omari's eyes light up and a grin grows on his lips. "Does she, now? Well, look no further."

A bout of excitement hits you when he pulls out a small pink bag, but you're slightly disappointed that you don't have an excuse to be looking for Ransom anymore. Thinking on your feet, you clear your throat. "Uh, actually, I'd rather smoke."

Gerrard looks a little confused at your request, but Omari continues to smile. "Is that right?" He asks teasingly, taking a step closer to you. "Why don't you come outside with me, then?"

Damn. Well, that was the last excuse you had to see Ransom, so you decide to roll with it. Besides, smoking a blunt with Omari fucking Adebayo is far from the worst way to spend your Friday night.

Placing his hand on the small of your back, Gerrard looks a little uncomfortable. "Ah, I don't know-"

"Calm down, Baby Drysdale," Omari says, patting his shoulder with a wink. "I'll look after her."

Gerrard looks down at you with a raised brow and you give him nod of reassurance. "I'm a big girl, G."

Reluctantly, he watches Omari link his arm in yours and lead you out of the apartment, hoping to God he doesn't regret letting you get to know Ransom and his friends.

Omari takes you downstairs and out into the courtyard of the apartment complex, where there's a section marked off for smoking. "Couldn't we have just gone to the balcony?" You wonder out loud, hugging your arms as the cool breeze slaps against your skin.

"We could have," Omari says, resting his elbow on your shoulder. "But I prefer the view down here."

You aren't sure what he's talking about, but when you reach the smoking area you see it. There's a perfect view of the lake, which is glistening under the moonlight. A few other people are standing around smoking, a couple of guys shaking Omari's hand in greeting.

"You smoked before?" He asks you as he pulls out a perfect joint and a yellow lighter.

"Yeah," You reply, deciding to leave out the fact that you've only ever done it once. He lights the joint and takes a puff, handing it to you while he blows out the smoke.

The two of you take turns with it, while making small talk about how his birthday went and the new car his parents bought him. Surprisingly, he's a lot less intimidating than you thought, and much more warm and friendly. Five minutes later, three more people show up in the smoking area - one of them being a person of particularly high interest for you.

"Yo, Ran," Omari greets him with a grin, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

Ransom is accompanied by two girls, one of which you recognize as Ashanti; Omari's twin sister. The other girl has her arms folded across her chest and a sour look on her face, and you're in half a mind to offer her the joint.

"Who's this?" Ashanti asks, giving you a small smile.

"'Shanti, this is Y/N; Gerrard's friend," Omari tells her, before looking down at you. "Y/N, this is my sister, Ashanti. You already know Ransom - and this is his girl, Astrid."

Oh. Oh.

You take a proper look at her this time, taking in everything about her. She has long light brown hair, perfectly curled, high cheekbones, big eyes and full lips, and she's wearing minimal makeup. All in all, she's incredibly pretty, and you can't help but feel like an idiot for putting in so much effort when Ransom has someone like Astrid to shower with attention.

"Hi," You manage to get out, before bringing the joint back up to your lips. If you're gonna get through this, you're gonna need to be a little less sober.

Astrid looks you up and down, her nose pulling up slightly before she turns to glance at Ransom. "I'm cold."

God, she's glorious. She's like one of those runway models, striding down the stage knowing exactly who they are and what they're here for. They don't waste time making eye-contact with the audience; they're here to walk and that's all they'll do. And that's Astrid. She's here to prove her ownership of Ransom Drysdale with her arm linked in his and her pout directed up at his face, and she doesn't give a single fuck about her audience.

"Isn't it so cold tonight?" You ask, wanting to impress her for some reason. Feeling a need for her to look at you and think, hey, that's someone I wanna be friends with.

Instead, she narrows her eyes at you and says nothing.

Your favorite thing about being high is that you don't really care about anything. So, when you see the dirty look on her face directed right at you, you hand Omari the joint. "You don't have to be such a bitch; I was just agreeing with you," You mutter bitterly, immediately causing a rift in the atmosphere.

Ransom and Ashanti bite back their smirks while Astrid lets out a scoff, and Omari gently pulls you backwards. "Woah there, Y/N," He mumbles, taking your arm in his hand.

"Did you just call me a bitch?" Astrid spits, a deadly look in her eyes.

Oh, God. Oh, fuck. Cool girl hates you. Abort mission.

"No," You insist, feigning confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Hearing Omari snort sets you off, and pretty soon you're both laughing loudly. Astrid huffs and storms back into the apartment building, closely followed by Ashanti. Ransom is left to stand there with a whisper of a smirk on his face as he watches you giggle, before he takes the blunt from Omari.

"Enjoying your night?" Ransom asks you while Omari falls into conversation with someone else behind you.

You shrug, feeling warm under his gaze. It's as though you've been waiting a decade to see him again, and there's something intoxicating about being the person he's talking to. "It's been okay. Not as fun as last week," You admit bashfully.

"No? Why not, tiger?" He asks before taking a puff.

The nickname makes your cheeks heat up and you take a step towards him, stealing back the blunt. "'Cause... you weren't here."

Ransom blows the smoke out and it hits your cheeks, basking your face in warmth. Once he processes your words, an arrogant look grows on his face. "Yeah? You miss me?"

Feeling needy and clingy, thanks to the weed, you nod, wrapping your hands around his arm. "I did."

"Sorry I was late," He says softly, looking you up and down before meeting your eyes again. "Astrid changed her outfit almost ten times."

You laugh, even though you most definitely changed your outfit at least twice that amount. Nudging his arm, you raise a brow. "She's too pretty for you."

Ransom is taken aback by your comment, and he pouts. "What; you calling me ugly?"

"Noooo," You drag out, pulling on his arm while having a toke from the blunt. "It's just that you'd shine a lot more next to like, a 7. Now Astrid is a fullblown 10; she drowns you out. You deserve to be the star."

"Oh, yeah?" He asks, taking the joint from you and placing it between his lips. "Know any 7s?"

With a cheeky smile and a higher-pitched voice than usual, you lean closer into him. "Me."

He gives you an odd look, like he's trying to read your mind. For a second, you're worried that you've made things awkward, but Ransom soon soothes your concern when he looks down at you with a blank stare. "Follow me, little tiger." With that, he hands Omari the blunt back, who is too busy flirting with someone else to notice you and Ransom wandering off to the side of the apartment block.

"Here we are," Ransom sighs, gently pushing you against the wall. "A little more privacy."

Looking up at him, you feel your heart race. "I don't think your girlfriend would appreciate you standing so close to me."

Chuckling, he places his hands on your hips and moves even closer until his boner is pressing against your stomach. "I don't give a fuck," He mumbles, bringing his face down to yours. "She's not here right now, is she?"

You shrug, giving him a coy smile. This is bad. This is so bad. This is the worst possible thing you could be doing tonight.

"I really shouldn't kiss you right now," He grumbles under his breath, before throwing his head back and looking up at the sky. "Fuck."

Biting your lip, you squeeze his bicep. "Do you want to?"

"You know I fucking do," He mutters, looking back down at you.

"I was under the impression that Ransom Drysdale gets whatever the fuck he wants," You say slyly. "Was I wrong to think that?"

He smirks, resting his forehead against yours. "You're fuckin' dangerous."

"And you're not her little bitch," You whisper back to him. "Are you?"

Without further delay, he crashes his lips against yours, with a sheer desperation to his action. For a split second, the image of his girlfriend comes to your head - but when he lets out a low groan into your mouth, all your morals and ethics go out the window.

Fuck Astrid. Ransom's too hot for you to have any sense of empathy or common decency right now.

Your hand moves up to run through his hair as his slip down to squeeze your ass. Sticking his tongue in your mouth, Ransom spanks you gently, making you gasp. When he hears the small moan you let out, he spanks you harder, making your legs shake.

"Fuck," He groans lowly, pulling away from the kiss. "You're such a naughty little girl."

His words make you laugh innocently as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. "I can't help myself."

He growls, digging his fingers into your ass as he grabs two handfuls of it. "You make me wanna do the nastiest fucking things to you, you know that?"

Biting your lip, you lower your voice. "So do 'em, daddy."

Frustrated, Ransom lets out a low groan, looking up at the sky for a few seconds. When he looks back down at you, he looks calmer. "What are you doing Sunday?"

You look up at him suspiciously. "Why?"

Sneaking a glance to the side to make sure you're still alone, he presses himself harder against you. "I seem to remember promising to teach you how to use a bong. And tiger, daddy doesn't like breaking promises."

Excitement courses through your veins, you feel your core tighten, and you clutch onto the hem of his sweater. "You can't teach me now?" 

He sighs. "Not tonight."

"Whyyy?" You whine, pushing your arms together to accentuate your cleavage, your heart fluttering when you see him look down at it.

Biting his lip, Ransom lowers his voice to a whisper. "My girlfriend's here tonight, tiger. And, as a matter of fact, so is my brother."

You should feel guilty, but you can't find it in you to care. All you want is to be naughty with Ransom, because it sets off butterflies in your stomach that fly around deliciously and stimulate all your sweet spots.

"Oh," You whisper, trailing your fingers down to his belt buckle. "So we have to keep it a secret?"

He chuckles, and the sound is the most magical song you've ever heard. His hand tightens around your hip, making your heart race. "Exactly. You can keep a secret for daddy like a good little girl, can't you?"

Your hand slips further down and you cup his boner, making him suck in a breath through his teeth. With a sly smile, make your voice as sweet and innocent as possible. "Promise I will."

Stroking your hip, Ransom smirks down at you. "That's my girl."

hi! i no longer use a taglist, but if you follow @kinanabinksupdates and turn on notifications, you'll know when i update 🥰

[loveaffaire-recs]

HOMEWRECKER

Frat!Ransom x Reader

18+

He has a girlfriend. His brother is your best friend. He's an absolute douchebag. But he's also hot, the best weed plug in town, and has a soft spot for you. What's the worst that could happen?

Content Warning: Frat!Ransom x Reader, drug use inc. edibles and smoking, intoxication, glorification of cheating, a lot of OCs, Reader and Ransom are unethical and terrible people, forbidden relationship, slight smut (sexual choking, daddy kink, jizzing in pants, a little dirty talk).

Frat parties are great. You don't like attending them often, but when you do, you admittedly have a lot of fun. Without Gerrard keeping watch over you, you probably wouldn't feel so at ease, but you know you can trust him and his friends which means you can let loose.

He has interesting friends, to say the least. Gerrard Drysdale is the perfect socialite, known by pretty much everyone on campus. You, on the other hand, prefer to keep to yourself, which is why you tend to feel a little out of place when he pulls you along to events such as this party.

It isn't as packed as you expected it to be. Most people are crowded around the island in the kitchen, spectating and participating in an intense game of beer pong.

"Thirsty?" Gerrard asks you teasingly, his hands on your hips as he walks behind you through the crowd. "Or hungry?"

You weigh the options as you stumble through to the back room, where there's a little more breathing room. "Depends," You begin as he lets go of you and moves to stand by your side. "How long am I planning on staying?"

"You're staying 'til the fuckin' end, bug," Gerrard insists sternly. "Now: are we drinking or eating?"

Letting out a groan, you side-eye him, smirking. "Fuck it. Let's eat."

He claps his hands together and whoops. "That's what I like to hear!" Grabbing your hand, he leads you over to the corner of the room where his friends are standing around the foosball table.

Most of them look over at you when they spot you and Gerrard approaching them, but only one of them holds your attention. He's tall, with fluffy brown hair, and the bluest eyes that glimmer even in the dimly lit room. The look on his face tells you he's sure of himself; confidence practically oozing off of him in waves. The black sweatshirt and jeans look like they were designed just for him, their simple nature only accentuating his beauty.

You know exactly who he is before you're introduced to him.

Ransom Drysdale.

Your best friend's brother. Ransom is two years older than you and Gerrard, putting him in his final year of college, and he has so far made a big impression on the student body during his time here. He's known for spending too much money, flirting with everything that walks, and also for being the best source for weed.

He notices the way your eyes are glued to him and he grows more arrogant, the corner of his mouth pulling upwards in a smirk as he takes a step towards you. "Tiger print silk," He mutters, referring to your top before lowering his gaze. "Short black skirt."

"This the part where you tell her she must be a Weasley?" Gerrard asks him with an eye-roll. "You're such a fuckin' weirdo, Ran."

"Eat shit, Gerry," He says to him without taking his eyes off you. "It's good to finally meet the girl my baby brother spends all his time with. Tell me, what's your name again? Because I know your parents didn't legally name you Bug."

"Y/N," You reply, trying not to burn under his intense gaze.

He repeats your name lowly, wrapping his lips around it as it runs off his tongue.

"Ransom's the shitty older brother I told you about," Gerrard informs you, before looking back at him. "Did you bring edibles?"

"You know who you're talkin' to?" Ransom retorts with a raised brow, before smirking down at you. "Want a little candy, tiger?"

"Sure," You muse, not missing the way his eyes linger on your cleavage.

Reaching into his pocket, Ransom takes out a small, neon blue bag of weed-infused candy, which he opens up and slips his fingers into. Pulling out a rainbow strip of candy, he holds it out to you, a naughty look in his eyes. "Open up."

Fluttering with excitement, you part your lips, keeping your eyes hooked onto his. He places the sweet onto your tongue, watching your mouth as you chew it.

"Be a good girl and swallow," He mumbles, an arrogant smirk on his face.

"Alright, back off," Gerrard warns, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. "Fuck have I told you about that?"

"About what?" You ask, frowning up at him.

Ransom chuckles, handing Gerrard the bag before holding his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright. You two kids have fun, now - and remember, tiger: the more, the merrier." He leaves after shooting you one last wink, and you smile at Gerrard.

"You heard the man," You begin, reaching into the bag. "The more, the merrier."

"I'm high," You tell the stranger, grinning at her while you watch her making some kind of cocktail. "Like, so fucking high."

"Oh, yeah?" She asks you with a laugh, pouring in a bag of Jolly Ranchers to the mix. "Where are your friends, honey?"

You look around, waving your hand. "Oh, you know. Somewhere. Nowhere."

Her eyes narrow and she leans forward. "You're Gerrard's girl, aren't you?" 

"Mhm," You say, standing up straight. "His best friend."

She snorts, but something about the look on her face fills you with unease.

"What?" You ask, clenching your hands into fists. "What's funny?"

"Nothing," She mumbles, opening up a bottle of rum. "Just adorable that you're still keeping up the whole 'we're only friends' bit."

"What the fuck?" You whisper, taking a step back. "You think I'm lying? You- you think I'm a liar?"

Looking around, you wonder if everyone else thinks the same. Oh, God. Do they all think you're a liar? That you harbor secret feelings for Gerrard? Does everyone hate you?

Breathing heavily, you back away from the kitchen island, needing to get away from the girl and her judgmental looks - and her shitty cocktail-making skills. A million paranoid thoughts are running through your head as you rush to leave, needing to get away from this stupid party and these stupid people.

Just as you enter the living area, you crash into someone's chest, making you whine.

"Woah, there," A familiar voice says as he places his hands on your arms. "You okay?"

You look up to see Ransom, and you feel a little relief that you're with someone you recognize. "I- they all think I'm a liar," You rant, terrified. "They all think-"

"Hey, hey, it's okay," He promises, a little out of his jurisdiction as he scans the room, hoping to see Gerrard. Ransom isn't very good at the whole comforting thing, and he'd much rather get his brother to fix this issue than try doing it himself. "Uh, you're just high, alright?"

Shaking your head, you grip his biceps and stare up at him. "No; I know they hate me, I know it."

"Nobody hates you, tiger," Ransom insists. Nobody even fucking knows who you are. But he can't say that to you. You're already upset. "It's just the weed. Listen; come with me, let's get some fresh air, yeah?"

Deciding you can trust him, you allow him to lead you out to the balcony, where a few smokers are scattered around. You look up at the sky and laugh, leaning into his chest. "Oh, my God."

The smile grows on his face without his permission at the sound of your giggles. "What is it?" He asks, doing his best to hide his own chuckles.

"Cloud dog," You answer, staring up at the sky where a cloud in the shape of a dog's head resides. "Cloud dog!"

Ransom snorts, looking up to see the same thing. "Fuck me."

"Cloud dog," You repeat between laughs, finding it to be the funniest thing you think you've ever seen.

Glancing down at you, Ransom watches you laugh and squeal under the moonlight, and tilts his head. "You know, you're like, super fuckin' hot, right?"

You frown, your laughter ceasing. "No."

"You are," He insists, nodding. "You could get any fuckin' guy you wanted; why the fuck do you follow my brother around like a lost puppy?"

"He's my friend," You say with a pout. "G is my best friend. I don't follow him around. He's my friend."

"Wait - seriously?" Ransom questions, sobering up. "You don't have like, a crush on him or anything? You've never hooked up?"

"Ew, no!" You exclaim, swatting his shoulder. "Gerrard and I are only friends, and it's always been that way and it always will be that way. We aren't each other's type."

"No?" He asks, leaning against the railing with a raised brow. "So, what is your type?"

The dangerous look in his eyes makes you bite your lip. Curse those damn edibles. Weed has a way of bringing out your horny side, along with the side of you that doesn't give a fuck about consequences, which is a tricky combination. Stepping towards him, you trail a finger down his chest. "I like tall guys... the ones with blue eyes."

"Got a little song going there," He mumbles, swallowing thickly when he sees the hunger growing on your face.

"I can sing for you if you'd like," You offer with a sultry voice, bringing your lips up to his ear. "I can sing real loud for you, daddy."

He brings his fist to his mouth and bites down on it, cursing the circumstances. With a deep breath, he places his hands on your hips and gently pushes you backwards. "You're high, tiger."

"And horny," You whisper, biting you lip and fluttering your eyelashes. "I'm so fucking horny, Sir."

"What's going on out here?" A familiar voice booms, making you gasp and pull back.

"Hey, G," You say with a giggle, smiling over at him and holding your hands behind your back. "Ransom and I were just getting some air."

"Getting air, huh?" Gerrard asks, strolling over with a less than trusting look on his face.

You wrap your arm around his torso and he wraps his around your shoulder, just as you lift your mouth up to his cheek and whisper, "G, I forgot that weed makes me horny."

He immediately snorts. "Calm down, buggo."

Pouting, you deflate, feeling like he's disappointed in you.

"Hey man, don't tell my tiger to calm down," Ransom says sternly, frowning at his brother. "Let her enjoy her night. Don't be such a downer."

With narrow eyes, Gerrard lowers his voice. "Where's Astrid?"

Confused, you pull on the hem of his shirt. "Who's Astrid?"

Sighing, Gerrard shakes his head, a deathly glare on his face as he looks at Ransom. "You're a fucking dick." Then, he looks down at you. "Has he touched you?"

Ransom scoffs, disbelief on his features. "Gerrard-"

"Has he fuckin' touched you, Y/N?" Gerrard repeats curtly, anger in his eyes as he stares down at you, cupping your chin in his hand.

You feel your heart break at his cold demeanor and you weakly attempt to pull away from him. "You're scaring me, G."

"Get off her, man," Ransom mutters, pulling on his brother's elbow before serving him with a bitter look. "She's high as fuck. Do you really think I'd stoop that low?"

"I don't fucking know, Ransom," Gerrard spits.

"He didn't do anything, G, I swear," You cry, pulling on his arm. "Nothing even happened."

A tense silence grows between the three of you as the brothers stare each other down, pure anger in their eyes.

"So..." You mumble, attempting to resolve the tension. "Who's Astrid?"

Gerrard scoffs. "Yeah, Ransom. Who's Astrid?"

Ransom sighs, shrugging. "Astrid is my girlfriend."

You nod once. "Cool."

Taken aback by your aloofness, Gerrard raises a brow. He was expecting you to be angry with Ransom for being such a flirt while in a relationship, but you don't seem to care at all.

"Anyway, can we go back inside, now?" You ask with a whine, rubbing your bare arms. "I'm cold."

With that, you walk into the apartment, leaving Gerrard there with a blank look. Ransom smirks, patting Gerrard's chest as he walks past him. "You gotta calm down, brother."

Having practically eaten the entire bag of candy, you are on cloud nine. You don't get high often, which you're grateful for, because it makes it feel all the more intense when you do indulge.

Your head feels light, you have no concerns, and you feel free to be yourself.

The party itself has died down a little, and you're currently sitting in a small room with Ransom and his friends. Most of them are focused on the X-Box gaming session that's going on, but all your attention and awe is being showered onto Ransom who is making himself a blunt.

"Pour it out," He mutters, tipping the grinder over as the weed falls into the paper. "Not too much, not too little."

"Can I eat it?" You ask, looking at a big green nugget with wonder.

Ransom snorts, shaking his head. "No, you cannot, tiger."

"I really wanna," You whisper, reaching your fingers out towards the weed that sits on a plastic baggy.

"No," He says sternly, rolling up the joint. "You'll get really sick if you eat it."

"Just a little," You insist playfully, utterly fascinated by it as the smell wafts over you. "A little bite."

Suddenly, Ransom grabs you by the throat, a dark look in his eyes. "I said no."

Your heart flutters and a whimper leaves your mouth as you look up at him with delight, your legs squeezing together. After a few seconds, he lets go, but you already feel your panties dampening. Never before has something so violent turned you on, but you're pretty sure you just discovered a new kink.

Done with the blunt, Ransom places it between his lips before his eyes lower down to you. "Now," He begins lowly. "Wanna smoke?"

You bite your lip, your hips grinding against the couch subtly. "I've never smoked before."

A smirk blossoms on his mouth and he takes the joint from it. "You wanna try it?"

A nervous giggle leaves your throat as you instinctively snuggle closer to him. "I'm scared."

"Scared?" He repeats incredulously, his eyebrows furrowing together. "What's there to be scared of when you're with Ransom, huh?"

With a smile, you timidly lift up your shoulders. "Nothing?"

"That's right," He says with an arrogant grin. "Absolutely fuckin' nothing; not when you're with me."

"Okay," You mumble, intoxicated by his presence alone.

He looks you up and down before placing a hand on your leg, making you shiver. "Do me a favor: ask my friend Benji over there for my lighter. He's the one losing terribly at NBA."

You happily comply, getting onto your knees and crawling to the end of the couch to reach where Benji's sitting on a chair. Meekly, you tap his shoulder. "Excuse me, Sir?"

He turns his head, doing a double take when he sees you. Pausing the game, much to the others' dismay, he grins at you. "What can I do for you, babygirl?"

Laughing softly, feeling warm inside at the nickname, you move closer to him. "Um, Ransom wants his lighter back."

He raises his brows. "Oh, I see. I see. And, uh, what are you gonna give me in return?"

"Don't be a dick, Ben," Ransom calls from his seat, but neither of you pay him any mind.

"I'll give you a kiss," You offer, looking down at his pretty lips. Admittedly, the only thing you have on your mind right now is sex, and you don't really care who knows it.

"Yeah?" He asks, his eyes filling with excitement.

"Benji," Ransom grumbles with a warning tone from behind you.

Before he can stop you, you plant your lips on Benji's, giving him a slow kiss. Just as his tongue slips into your mouth, you pull away, giggling.

"Here you go," Benji whispers, taking the lighter out of his pocket and handing it to you before gently grabbing your chin. "And listen- you ever need anything else, don't be afraid to ask me, babygirl."

"Okay," You mumble, slowly crawling back to Ransom who is sitting with a stern look on his face.

"Gerrard would be pissed at me if he knew I let you do that," He says, taking the lighter from you.

"Is that my problem?" You tease, nudging his shoulder.

"Oh, that's how you're playing, huh?" He mutters, smirking. He then places the blunt between your lips, flips open the lighter and brings the flame up to the end of it.

"What do I do?" You ask with a frown.

"Just breathe in, tiger," Ransom whispers, tossing the lighter onto the coffee table. "It's gonna burn a little on your first toke, but don't panic."

You do as he says, and you immediately feel an intense burning sensation in your throat, as though you just swallowed fire. Pulling the blunt away from your mouth, you cough incessantly, bending forward. Ransom chuckles and rubs your back, taking the joint from your hand.

"Just breathe for me," He instructs you gently. "It only hurts the first time."

You snort at his words once the burning sensation has soothed. "Yeah, I've heard that one before."

He laughs while taking a puff, blowing out the smoke slowly.

"How'd you make it look so easy?" You ask with a pout.

Ransom hands the joint back to you and rests his arm on your shoulder. "You gotta suck in, and then take in another breath; let it go down to your lungs."

You frown with confusion. "Wha-"

"Suck," He commands, his eyes dark as he moves his face closer to you. "Breathe in again. And then breathe out, tiger."

Repeating his words in your head, you bring the blunt to your lips, keeping your eyes on his the entire time you suck in from it. Once you've sucked, you breathe in again, and then you breathe out, grinning when you see the smoke leave your mouth.

"That's it," Ransom says with a smirk, stroking your arm. "Good girl."

He tries to take the joint back but you keep it, wanting to take another hit. Letting you have your fun, he watches with great interest as you take a puff like a fucking pro, as though you've been smoking for years. Ransom can't help but feel a little proud.

You hand the joint back to him a few tokes later, blowing the smoke out towards the ceiling and watching it dissipate. Your eyes land on the smoke alarm which has been covered with a sock, making you laugh at the absurdity.

"Feel good?" Ransom asks, chuckling with you.

Looking back down, you meet his eyes and nod. "I feel so fucking good."

You watch as he smokes and blows it out on your face because he can tell you enjoy it. Honestly, you'd let him do whatever the fuck he wants at this point. Teasingly, you take his free hand and slowly bring it back up to your throat, wanting to feel him choke you again. He catches on to what you're doing, feeling his pants tighten as his fingers wrap around your neck. "What are you doing, tiger baby?"

"I like it," You admit shyly, sitting on your knees on the couch and moving your hips in an attempt to feel some friction on your throbbing pussy.

"You like it?" Ransom whispers, licking his lips as the forgotten joint sits between the fingers on his other hand.

"Yeah," You confirm quietly, bringing your face closer to his and whimpering when you feel his hand tighten around your throat, your entire body lighting up with pleasure. "I like it, daddy."

"Fuck," He groans under his breath, his cock harder than fucking ever.

"I'm so wet," You reveal, moaning when he tightens his grip even more, cutting off your air supply. "I can feel- feel how wet I am without even touching myself, daddy."

Your lips are at his ear and you're letting out small, glorious moans, as though you're getting fucked. Ransom can't control it. Without warning, he cums right into his boxers, letting out a loud grunt as his eyes roll back.

Just then, the door to the room swings open and Ransom lets go of your throat, attempting to calm himself down as he feels his jizz coat his underwear. You grab the joint from him and take a puff when you see Gerrard, knowing he's here to take you home.

Gerrard looks less than happy to see you and his brother sharing a blunt, but he keeps himself calm as he walks over. "Come on, bug; home time."

Blowing out the smoke behind Ransom's head, you slowly get up to your feet, handing him back the joint. "Thanks for teaching me how to smoke, Mr. Ransom," You say sweetly, squeezing his shoulder.

Still recovering from his orgasm, Ransom nods, his dark, awe-struck gaze permanently on you as you take Gerrard's hand and let him lead you to the door.

"Tiger," Ransom suddenly calls out with a whistle, making you turn your head as he shoots you a wink. "Come back next weekend. I'm gonna teach you how to use a bong."

• PART 2 • >>

hi! i no longer use a taglist, but if you follow @kinanabinksupdates and turn on notifications, you'll know when i update! 🥰

[loveaffaire-recs]

against my ruin - series masterlist

This is my modern Harlots inspired AU. Additionally, I’ll be adding a piece of music to each chapter so that you can get a feel for each chapter and the inspiration behind it.

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader / Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Summary | Promised to a man you gave your virginity to is no match for a man who wants to have you in mind, body and soul.

One

Two

Three

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Five

[loveaffaire-recs]

against my ruin - two

Welcome to my modern Harlots inspired AU! This series is based on me watching too much TV and having an idea.

As promised, I’ll be including music with each update so feel free to give this a listen as you read:

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader / Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Language, more world building, oral sex (f receiving), mentions of sex, possessive behavior.

Word Count: 3K

Summary | Promised to a man you gave your virginity to is no match for a man who wants to have you in mind, body and soul.

Bucky can spy Agatha and her thin smile as his car pulls up. It’s a perk that only he enjoys, getting a curbside welcome by Agatha Harkness herself, who otherwise couldn’t be bothered with anyone else. Her mind is always on money and prestige, something she knows that he can provide her with.

Even as the door is opened and she comes into full view, he knows she’s hiding something from him. He knows her better than she knows herself. A woman of high self-worth, still trying to insert herself into the uppercrust of a world she serves. She deals in flesh and gratification, something men like himself enjoy but would never speak of outside of this place.

“Barnes,” Agatha greets with a slight nod.

“Miss Harkness.”

He knows that words matter. He can see it as her body language shifts. Most call her Madame, inferring her age. Miss is youthful, Agatha’s lips forming into a genuine smile. He’s not lost on the power of relationship building, his network of acquaintances longer than his friendships.

“It’s been a little while.” She takes his offered arm, heading into the compound as his security detail hangs back at the mere motion of his head. He isn’t sure how long he’ll be here tonight. It’s been two weeks since he’s seen you and he’s nearly ravenous with needing to see you, to touch you.

“She’s ready,” Agatha informs him, stopping briefly as he’s offered a martini, which he accepts. It’s quiet, most of the girls already negotiating terms with their clients quietly, even if they have their eyes on him. He’ll be propositioned at least four times before he leaves the compound, denying them their offers gently. There’s a certain lifestyle he knows they want to attain, one where they don’t have to smile at a client who they know will short change them, ask for something out of their comfort zone and be put in a position to lose out on money once they call for security to remove them. It’s that line of comfortability that they yearn for, to know what they are getting and to be cherished.

Like you are.

“Mr. Barnes,” a soft voice says behind him. “Long time no see.”

A brunette with a coquette expression on her delicate features holds a glass of champagne in her hand, her red dress hugging her body while she eyes him.

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