sydsaint

[sydsaint]

Silent Treatment

Pairing: John Walker x Reader

Genre: Slow Burn, Smut, Emotional Tension, Slight Angst

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unresolved tension, rough sex, wall sex, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex (wrap it up IRL), intense eye contact, praise, aftercare

Word Count: ~2.6k

Summary: John Walker has been unusually quiet. The teasing, the banter — gone. You miss it, and you miss him. One night at the tower, you catch him alone. You want answers. What you get instead is a buildup so thick it nearly breaks you both.

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You weren’t used to silence when it came to John Walker. The man was cocky, sharp-tongued, always ready with a smug little jab that made you roll your eyes — and blush when you were out of sight. He teased, smirked, made your skin buzz.

But lately, he’d gone quiet.

Too quiet.

You’d pass each other in the hall and he wouldn’t say a word. No more lingering stares. No more flirty snark during sparring matches. Just a tight jaw, stiff shoulders, and a complete shutdown. You tried brushing it off. Maybe he was tired. Maybe he was just being an asshole. But it gnawed at you. The way he used to look at you like he wanted to devour you, and now couldn’t even hold your gaze.

So when you saw him alone one night at the tower, leaning over the railing of the training deck with the lights dimmed and his back to you, you didn’t hesitate.

“You ignoring me now, or is that just my special treatment?”

He didn’t turn.

You waited.

Eventually, he said, voice low, “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

You walked up beside him, arms crossed. “Can’t sleep. Wondering why Captain America’s gone mute.”

John exhaled through his nose. “I’m not mute.”

“You are with me.”

He finally looked at you then. Eyes dark, unreadable. But his throat bobbed when he swallowed.

“I just figured…” he started, then shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

You leaned in slightly. “No, no, I’ve had two weeks of you brushing me off. I want to know why.”

He looked at you — really looked — and the heat in his eyes nearly knocked the breath from your chest.

“You always mess with me,” he said, voice strained. “And I thought I could keep doing it back. Keep playing along. But at some point, it stopped being funny.”

You blinked. “What does that mean?”

“It means—” He cut himself off, jaw tight. His voice dropped. “It means when you tease me, I can’t stop thinking about it. And when you laugh, it messes with my head. And when I see you in those goddamn leggings—”

He turned away suddenly, hands gripping the railing. You could see the muscles in his forearms twitching.

“It got too much.”

Your voice was quieter now. “So you decided to pretend I didn’t exist?”

"I decided to protect myself,” he said, eyes narrowing. “Because if I gave in, I wasn’t sure I’d stop.” The air between you turned heavy. Thick. That invisible string stretched taut. You stepped closer — slow. Deliberate.

“And what if I want you to give in?” His head snapped toward you, eyes wild. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

“I’m standing here, aren’t I?”

He didn’t move. Just stared at you like he was barely holding something back. “John,” you said, voice soft, but firm. “Say something.”

He crossed the space in two steps. His hands slammed against the wall behind you, boxing you in — not touching, but so close you felt the heat radiating off him. His chest was rising and falling like he’d just run a mile. His lips were parted. His jaw clenched.

“Tell me to stop,” he growled. “Tell me to walk away.”

You didn’t.

You held his stare, chin tilted slightly up. That’s when it broke.

His mouth crashed into yours, hot and desperate, years of frustration and need and want pouring out in a kiss that felt like fire. Your back hit the wall as his hands finally touched you — rough palms sliding up your sides, under your shirt, gripping your waist like he needed to anchor himself.

You gasped against his mouth, and he groaned, pressing his body against yours fully. You could feel him — hard, twitching, barely restrained.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured against your lips. “You have no idea.”

“Then show me,” you breathed.

He spun you fast, pressing your chest to the wall, his mouth at your ear. “You’re gonna let me take my time with you,” he growled. “Gonna let me have you.”

You whimpered as he pulled your leggings down roughly, fingers sliding between your thighs.

“Already wet,” he said, voice almost broken. “Fuck, baby…”

His fingers slid inside you, slow at first, then faster, curling just right. Your moans bounced off the wall, and he cursed under his breath. "You sound like a fucking dream,” he groaned. “I’m gonna ruin you.” You came on his fingers with a cry, shaking, and he kissed your neck, whispering, “That’s it. Let go for me. You’re so good.”

You heard his zipper next.

“Need to be inside you. Now.”

He didn’t tease. He didn’t wait. He lined up and slid into you in one smooth thrust that made your knees buckle.

“Oh fuck— John—”

“That’s right,” he hissed. “Say my name.”

He fucked you hard — rough and deep, one hand on your hip, the other gripping your throat just enough to make you gasp and arch back into him.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growled. “Tight, warm, all mine.”

You came again — didn’t even mean to — just clenched around him and cried out, and that was all it took. He slammed into you one last time and groaned your name like a prayer as he spilled inside you.

For a long moment, the only sound was your breathing. Wild. Ragged. Tangled. Eventually, he turned you around, resting his forehead to yours. “I tried staying away,” he whispered. “Tried being smart. I’m not proud of how much I wanted you.”

You looked up at him, still breathless. “Then be proud of this.”

He blinked.

You kissed him again — softer this time. “Because I wanted you too, John. You’re not the only one who's been losing sleep.” He closed his eyes, forehead still against yours. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured. You look his ice-blue eyes and cupped his cheek and kiss him. Not in a rush, slowly and full with emotion. Like you want to proof him he deserves it.

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hey! im back with john. ı may have hated this guy at the tfatws but in the thunderbolts.. that damn movie. he was so cute in that movie with his little beard...

[sydsaint]

⟡Guilty As Sin⟡

(John Walker x Reader)

Summary: You hate how attracted you are to Walker, and you pull away from him because of it. He notices. - ao3 version

Word Count: 3.8k

Notes: Post-Thunderbolts, reader is a New Avenger and is mentioned to have some kind of super abilites (not plot relevant but it's there), porn with some plot, just reader being horny and then getting to fuck this man, car sex!!!! p in v, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks) reader and John both bully each other during sex, John Walker's praise kink (when will it not make an appearance) Bucky and Bob appearance!

a/n: This one goes out to all my homies who hated John in TFATWS and feel conflicted about finding him really hot in Thunderbolts! I guess he's my boy now bc I was literally the second post on the Walker x Reader tag (????tf????) so here I am once again being horny on main with y'all.

Teasing Walker was practically a team bonding activity. Hell, even the man himself had grown used to it, took it as a show of affection from the other New Avengers. You were one of the main perpetrators of it. John had always pissed you off, from the minute you met in the vault. He’d grown on you significantly since then, although you’d never admit that, especially not to him.

You’d also never admit how down bad you were for him.

You weren’t really sure when it had started. He was an attractive guy, from an objective standpoint. They’d picked him to be Captain America for a reason, and one of those was that he looked damn good. Still, beyond the awareness he was handsome you’d never really thought of him in that way.

That is, until that day. You couldn’t find one of your knives, and you were sure Bucky had stolen it, so you’d ventured down to the training room to confront him. You opened the door, ready to start interrogating him when you were met with the sight of him and John, side by side, doing pull ups in the doorway to the equipment room. Bob stood next to them, counting off as they went. 

You’ve known Bucky for a long time. He’s like an older brother figure to you, someone you couldn’t see romantically if you tried. Seeing him shirtless has no effect on you, other than an instinctual ew. You’ve never seen John shirtless before.

And here you are, speechless, gawking at the guy who you once referred to as ‘Captain Crashout’. His biceps flexed with each lift, the muscle sinewy but hard-earned, gleaming with sweat. Broad shoulders, dabbled with old scars and freckles from too long in the sun. Your eyes fell to his abs, not as clean cut as Bob’s, but still very much there, pulled taut as he raised himself over and over. He was clad in a pair of old gym shorts, which had fallen a little lower than they started out, revealing the beginnings of a sharp v-line, and what you thought was just a smattering of blond hair trailing down.

And the sounds. John has always had a tic of snorting during battle. You call it his gorilla call that he makes when shit gets serious. The way he grunted as he pulled himself up, exerted but determined, gave you goosebumps the more you heard it.

Jesus fucking Christ, when did John get so hot?

He’s a supersoldier, of course. You know he’s strong. You interact with him almost everyday. You’ve seen him carry a crate the size of Yelena with ease. Yet somehow you’d never considered him hot before this. Never once have you looked at John Walker and felt this hot and sweaty all of a sudden, something in your stomach twisting with equal parts nerves and arousal.

You think you’re going insane.

After what feels like an eternity, John dropped, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Fine, you win Barnes.”

Bucky dropped as well, a smug look on his face. “Told you.”

“Hey, well you’re shorter than me, you have less to pull up.”

“By what, 3 inches?”

“3 inches where it counts.” Walker joked. Shit, now you’re thinking about this dick. Don’t look at his crotch. Do not look at his crotch-

“When’d you get here?” you snapped out of it at the sound of Bob’s voice, turning your attention to the other man. 

“Um, around 20?” you guessed, doing your best to keep your eyes off Walker. You blinked hard as you turned to Bucky. “Did you take my Bowie knife?”

He sighed as he toweled himself off. “Shit, yeah. It’s in my bag, I’ll get it.”

“Asshole.”

He just flipped you off as he walked off to the locker room. Bob trails behind him, announcing his need to pee, leaving you alone with Walker. 

You did your best to avoid eye contact, or any visual of him as he lowered himself onto the nearby bench ,grabbing his water bottle. You knew he has a habit of manspreading, which you often tease him about, but now it’s more annoying in that you’re trying desperately not to ogle him.

“Pretty good, huh?”

“What?” you blinked, looking over at his confused face.

“60 pull ups. Maybe not as good as Barnes,” he threw a jilted look at the locker room door, “but still, impressive, huh?”

“Yeah, I uh, guess so.” you stared at the space above his head, arms crossed, praying Bucky finds his damn bag and brings you your knife soon.

“You okay?” John questioned, standing up to approach you. You instinctually took a step back, causing him to stop. “Did I do something?’

“No! No, I’m fine, you didn’t do anything. Just feeling a little off today, maybe I’m getting sick.”

John nodded, unconvinced. “Uh huh.” He took another sip of his water, drawing your eyes to his strong forearms, solid and firm, leading to his large hands gripping the bottle. Were his hands always that big? It’s ridiculous. You wonder what they would feel like gripping your hips.

“Got it.” Thankfully, Bucky reentered, holding out your knife. You swiftly snatched it, stuttering out a thank you and goodbye before you practically ran out the door. John and Bucky just stood there, confused.

After that, you ran to your room, locked the door and screamed into a pillow like a middle school girl.

You know there’s nothing wrong with liking Walker. Sure, he’s real fucked up, but hell, you are too. You’re both trying to be better, all of you on the team are. Your present torment is self-inflicted, part of it being the sheer embarrassment. You can’t seem to let go of your ego, the little voice in your brain bullying you for wanting a man who carries around a shield shaped like a taco.

You’re being ridiculous. 

You’re held back by a fear of screwing things up with him yourself, and therefore for the entire team. You don’t want to ruin what you all have. You’ve all had hard pasts, never really having a group of people that you could rely on till now. You wouldn’t destroy that because you were so, so very horny for one of your teammates.

So you distance yourself. You try not to look him in the eye, lest you start imagining him with his shirt off again. You feel like an old Victorian man who forced ladies to hide their ankles; looking at any part of John makes you feel like you’re going to lose it then burst into flames. Once you went to ask him something and saw him in just a towel, and immediately turned heel and left. He plagues your mind, beyond just the thought of sex. The thought of him, holding you in his arms, whispering into your ear, smiling down at you. 

You do manage to forget how badly you want to fuck him when all of a sudden he’s hurling himself into danger, in front of a hail of bullets that his stupid shield barely covers.

“What the hell were you thinking?” you lecture him as the two of you climb back into the van. You’d been tasked with securing classified S.H.I.E.L.D files from a criminal organization planning to sell them. You’d managed to get them back, but not without a few scrapes and bruises. Honestly, you’re lucky neither of you died because of John’s recklessness, something you’ve told him multiple times now.

“I was thinking of what was best to keep us both safe.” he grumbles as he slams the driver’s door, turning the key in the ignition. “It was a tactical decision-”

“It was a tactical decision,” you mimic his deep voice. “You could’ve died! You’re lucky-”

“Lucky to be alive, I know, I know. What do you even care?” you turn to him, seeing the anger in his eyes, mixed with something else you can’t place.

“Why do I care? Because you’re my fucking friend, John, and I’d rather not see you filled with lead!” “Well, it doesn’t seem that way lately.” he scoffs, eyes moving back to the road.

“What did you say?”

“I’m saying, you’ve been acting crazy lately.” he slams a hand on the wheel. “One day, we’re friends, the next you act like I’m the dirt on your shoe. I-I don’t understand. What did I ever do to you?” he leans back in his seat, defeated. “You’re acting like you don’t care whether I live or die, so fine, if I die, what’s it to you?”

“John,” you sigh, trying to hold it together. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” he sits back up, angrier, more offended than upset. “I’m the one who’s being ridiculous? You’re the one being ridiculous! All this time-” 

He rambles on, leaving your anger at him to simmer in your chest. It mixes with guilt, of being cold to him, not telling him why. He somehow manages to look handsome like this, passionate, full of emotion. Still, you feel your stomach twist knowing you did this, that you hurt him like this. “John, look, I’m-”

“No, I’m not done!” he interrupts. He continues to rant, getting into specifics of your treatment, your apology dying in your throat. What would you even say? I’m sorry I was mean to you, it’s because you’re too fucking attractive and I don’t know how to handle it? 

You forget about all the reasons not to do this. You forget how annoying and brash he can be, all the embarrassing things he does you tease him for. You forget how screwed up you both are, about the team, about everything.

You just lean over the console, grab his face and smash your mouth to his.

He’s quiet, finally, still in shock of what is happening. The second his brain catches up to his body he’s gripping your shoulders, kissing you back with a force. It quickly turns open and messy, tongues desperate for each other as you act on months of frustration and feelings repressed.

You pull back when you run out of air, sliding back into your own seat as he does his. You sit, quiet, thinking about what you’ve done.

“Is that why?” His voice is hoarse from kissing.

You nod. “Yeah. That’s why.”

You’re both quiet again, reeling from your actions. He slowly unbuckles his seatbelt, climbs out of the car. You wonder if you’ve done something wrong, if maybe you misread him.

Then he’s opening your door, and before you can say anything he’s kissing you again, large hands cupping your face in them as he presses his lips to yours, hungry and needy.

He pulls away too quickly, looking at you with a ferocity in his eyes you’ve never seen before. “Do you want this?” he asks, voice low and warning.

“Yes.” you nod. “John I’ve wanted you so bad for-”

You’re both throwing yourselves into each other, not even bothering to finish talking. John’s wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. You yelp as you quickly wrap your legs around him, clinging to him for dear life, still not breaking the kiss.

He kicks the car door shut and presses you up against it, tongue slithering along your bottom lip, asking permission. You give it, sliding your won against him, deepening the kiss. You feel a moan emanate from your throat as you do, feeling like you’re absorbing John into your very being.

He shifts one hand to holding you up as he fiddles with the backseat door, yanking at it unsuccessfully. He finally pulls back, much to your dismay, to pull the damn thing open properly.

“There you go.” you joke.

“Shut up.” he mutters, before pulling you back from the side of the car and gently carrying you into it, laying you on along the backseat.

“Take your clothes off.” he huffs, fiddling with his own as he climbs in, stripping himself of his weapons. You do the same, pulling off piece after piece of tactical gear. 

There’s kevlar everywhere, bulletproof vests thrown haphazardly in the trunk, knives discarded in the front seat. Somehow in a lust-induced craze, the two of you still manage to have some form of organization.

You’ve barely pulled off your shirt before you peer over at Walker, face turned red from exertion, cheat heaving with heavy breaths.

And god, you love looking at his chest. Your eyes meet his, flitting back down in silent communication. Without a word, he nods and you’re on his, straddling him as your hands run along his broad shoulders, teeth nipping at his neck before you kiss the small bites.

He groans, head falling to the crook of your neck as he takes you in, hands gripping your hips like you’ll vanish he doesn’t.

“God, so fucking pretty.” he mumbles, grabbing your chin to pull you back in for anther kiss. One hand trails down towards your arching core, tugging at your waistband. You quickly move to help pull them down, you and John struggling together until finally, the dreaded things are gone. 

He doesn’t bother dealing with your underwear, just pushing your panties aside as he brings a finger to your soaked cunt, you gasping at the sensation of his touch.

“So fuckin’ wet, too, shit.” He trails his digit alon you till he reaches your clit, flicking it, eliciting another sharp gasp from you. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

He brings two fingers to your hole, running them against your folds, coating them in your arousal as you groan. “Fucking hell, John, please.”

“You’re even mean when you’re horny.” he chuckles, you glaring down at him in return as you lower one hand to the bulge in his pants, squeezing it to a sharp inhale from John.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” you palm at his crotch as he tries to form some kind of words. Finally, he gives up, instead pushing his fingers into you, at last granting you the friction you’ve longed for. It’s so much better than those nights you’ve laid along in your bed, picturing him above you as you pleasured yourself on your own fingers. His are thick and calloused, and feel fucking incredible as you pushes in and out of you with ease, eyes never leaving your face.

“God you’re gorgeous,” he mumbles out, “so fuckin’ tight just on my fingers. Wanted this forever…”

“Please, John, need you too-”

“Gotta cum on my fingers before you can cum on my dick, baby.” you clench around him at the pet name, John smirking at the feeling as he quickly adds a third finger. Your nails dig into his bare shoulders as he moves within you, your head thrown back and eyes shut in pleasure,

“Look at me baby.” you obey, opening your eyes to see John’s flushed countenance, blue eyes dark and wide as you drink you in. “Go on, cum for me.”

He scissors his fingers within you, and with a cry, you do. You thank God you’re parked in the middle of some forest in the middle of nowhere as you moan, riding the wave of ecstasy. John doesn’t stop, keeping his pace till you start to come down, taking deep breaths as you loosen your grip.

“You cut me.” you blink, John nodding to his shoulder. You see the places where your nails have left crescent marks, breaking the skin. 

“Oops.” you shrug, still out of breath from your orgasm. “Something to remember me by?”

John purses his lip. “Only fair I get to leave a little something for you.” he turns his attention to your collarbone, kissing and sucking a bruise into it as he circles his thumb on your clit, making you yearn for more even after one orgasm.

“John, please, for fuck’s sake…” you mumble incoherently. Your brain is wired to tease him and even his fingers inside of you will not change that.

He lifts his head, looking down at the bruise he’s left with pride. “Something to remember me by.”

“You are such a teenager.” you sigh, hand reaching down to undo his belt. 

“You’re the one begging me to fuck you.” he grins. His hands meet you there, tugging the leather off and tossing it away as he yanks his tactical pants down just far enough to free his cock.

You can’t help it, you gape it at. He’s thick, and long, a vein running along the underside where you can clearly see. It curves slightly up against his stomach, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. If you weren’t on top of him, you’d lean down and lick it off.

“Shit, do we need a-”

“You’re good. Can’t get pregnant.” you’re already lifting your hips, trying to position yourself over him.

“See, begging.” he teases as he lines up with cock with your cunt, tip rubbing along your folds. “You ready?” he asks earnestly, looking up at you with genuine concern,

You nod. “Walker, if you don’t hurry up and fuck me I swear-”

With that, he pushes into you, silencing you with a moan as you feel yourself stretch around his cock. He’s not too painfully big, the kind of sharp pinch that makes the feeling just that much more sinful.

He groans, head rolling back as he clutches your waist. You’re sure if you looked down you’d see his knuckles turned white.

“Jesus Christ, this fuckin’ perfect pussy,” he mumvles incoherently as he pushes deeper into you. “SO fuckin tight for me, baby.”

Then finally, he sheathes himself fully, with a downright pornographic moan escaping your throat at the sensation, John gives you a moment to adjust, the two of you sitting in silence, save for your shared panting and occasional groans.

You’ve never felt so full, stuffed to the brim with JOhn’s cock, feeling the head just kiss your cervix within you. You breathe deep as you adjust, feeling every part of him, every ridge, vein, curve of his cock.

“God, John, so big…” you trail off as your brain shuts down, thoughts of anything else besides the man in front of you and his dick inside you fading away into static.

“Taking it so good.” he brushes a fallen piece of hair out of your face, a gentle gesture compared to his usually annoying countenance. “So pretty when you’re full of me.”

You nod sharply, your brain still fuzzy with lust and pleasure. You lift your hips, his cock rubbing against your walls before you slide back down, moaning as you do.

You pick up the pace, riding him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, because it’s all you’ve wanted for fucking weeks and he feels so fucking good. 

John sucks another bruise into you, this one on your neck, groaning out incoherent expletives as you bounce in his lap, moaning loudly with ecstasy.

Still, you’re exhausted from your mission and your previous orgasm, your pace beginning to falter. Your eyes meet John’s, and without a word he wraps his arms around you, rolling the two of you onto the seat, you on your back with him above you.

You rake your nails over his back, leaving even more scratches as you writhe beneath him. That gentle moment from earlier feels long-gone; John is rough with you, each thrust pounds into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass as you wrap your legs around his waist, trying to pull him in deeper, as deep as he can possibly get. His mussed blond hair frames his face as he fucks into you, his expression concentrated and determined. 

“Feels fuckin’ perfect, perfcct fuckin’ girl beensth me, God I’ve wanted you so bad, so perfect and good.”

“Wanted you too.” you manage to pat out, looking up into John's eyes. “So handsome, John, you’re so good.”

Oh, he liked that. He moans outright, loudly, his thrusts managing to become even harder. You give a raspy moan in reply. 

“Like when I tell you how good you are?” you pant out as you give him a dastardly smile, to which he just grunts in response, “So fuckin’ good, John, love your cock, let you fuck me forever.”

You’re a little cockdrunk, or a lot, head spinning as you clench around him, John pressing his mouth against yours in a bruising kiss. Maybe to shut you up, maybe because he wanted to, who knows. You just know you can feel the pressure building in your stomach, another orgasm on the verge of breaking loose within you.

“John,” you move a hand to his face, running through his beard, gripping the fine hairs as you seek something, anything to hold onto. “Gonna cum, ‘m close.”

“Go on, baby.” he grunts, thrusts growing faster and more erratic, his cock barely leaving you before slamming back in. “Cum all over my cock.”

You grip his shoulders, crying out his name as you cum again, seeing stars as you feel the white-hot waves of pleasure crashing over you. John follows shortly, sheathing himself deep inside you, where you can feel the heat of him cum painting your walls. 

He gives a few weak thrusts, as if he’s trying to fuck his cum further into you. You just groan, eyes squeezed shut, body still feeling like it’s on fire. 

When you open your eyes, you see him above you, panting as he comes down to Earth. He looks even more handsome like this, all sweaty and messy and smelling of sex. 

“Was that,” he exhales, still trying to catch his breath, “Was that good?”

You just stare up at him, before a laugh manages to escape you. He looks a little sad before you pull him down by the nape of his neck, kissing him again, soft and slow.

“Yes,” you say as you lay your head back against the seat. “That was good, John.”

He smiles, not the usual cocky and self-satisfied look, but a genuine smile, a sense of satisfaction flowing through him. He presses a kiss to your collarbone, atop where he’s left a hickey, then to the other, then a third peck to your lips. You giggle a little, running your hands through his messy hair.

“If I’d known all it took to make you stop being an asshole was fucking you, I woulda done it a lot sooner.”

“Well, technically I was the one fucking you”

You groan, exasperated. “God, the fucking technicalities with you.” you look back up at him, tilting your head as you smile. “Am I gonna have to do this again to make you stop?”

He just shrugs, a mischievous look on his face. “Guess so.” he rolls his hips against yours once more, and you can already feel him getting hard again within you.

“Fuck John…” you’re still barely recovered from the first round.

“Hey, thank the serum.” 

a/n: Shoutout to the Tiktok comment where someone called him Captain Crashout bc i immediately jotted that shit down for later use. And thank all of you who've shown my fics so much love!!! I started this as a hobby to practice my writing and I'm genuinely shocked that people really enjoy these.

It ain't much but it's honest work :)

[sydsaint]

If she came at me like that, I'd give her whatever she wanted too tbh 😩

I love Pearce just calmly accepted Rhea storming in. "Street Fight? Cool. You got it"

[sydsaint]

[sydsaint]

hey if ur a queer wwe fan pls like (and/or rb) this post

gotta stick together

[sydsaint]

I've loved this man since day one 😩

Summary: Bron shares a quiet and intimate morning with reader at the hotel.

It's about 7 AM in a luxury hotel somewhere in Ohio. My phone buzzes on the nightstand, alarm echoing off the taupe walls.

"Mmm." I groan, eyes blinking open slowly.

My bare skin is cool against the silk sheets beneath me. I shift on the sheet, leaning back into the warm and firm body behind me.

"Go back to sleep." A gruff voice whispers in my ear, warm breath against my neck.

"I have meetings all morning." I protest softly. "Not all of us can parade around in a slutty singlet and get paid for it." I yawn again, rubbing my eyes.

"Oh?" Bron's rough morning voice deepens a bit, lips brushing against the shell of my ear. "You think I'm slutty, baby? Only for you, gorgeous." His lips trail down the back of my neck and to my shoulder.

"Doubtful." I quip back. "Manwhore."

Bron shifts against me, propping himself up on his arms so he's hovering above me. He looks down at me on my back below him, his dark eyes full of playfulness and affection.

"That's not very nice of you, baby." He brushes a stray strand of hair out of my face. "I might have to teach you some manners."

"Teach me, huh?" I roll my eyes playfully. "I'm your boss, remember? I teach you things. Not the other way around."

Bron grins, head dipping down. His lips brush my neck and collarbone. "Pretty sure that I could teach you a few things, baby." He takes my earlobe between his teeth, giving it a gentle tug. "You just gotta let me."

"Bron." I groan. "Come on, babe. I have meetings." I push at his shoulders to free myself from underneath him.

"Kiss first, dollface." Bron insists.

I roll my eyes, a small groan of annoyance leaving my lips. With a sigh, I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down. My lips meet his in a gentle and warm kiss.

"There." I pull back after a moment. "Satisfied? Can I go now?"

Bron chuckles, his warm hand caressing the side of my face affectionately. "Satisfied? With you, baby? Never." He grins. "I'll never get enough of you."

"Ugh." I groan. "Why are you so damn sweet?"

"You love me." Bron grins, face hovering over mine once again.

I roll my eyes again, rubbing my hands up and down the plane of muscles that is his back.

"Yeah." I smile. "I love you."

"Love you too, gorgeous." Bron smiles back, leaning down for one more kiss before he rolls off of me.

I stretch now that I have room again. With a yawn, I sit up and check my phone. It's around 730 now. I have to meet Pearce in the arena to go over the show at 9.

Bron settles onto his back next to me, wearing nothing but his boxers. He props an arm behind his head with a sigh, closing his eyes to relax.

"You shouldn't get to go back to sleep." I complain, dropping back onto the bed.

I settle against him, laying my head on his chest with a sigh.

Bron wraps his arms around me, his fingers dancing over my bare back. "Stay here." He suggests. "Pearce ain't gonna care if you miss one meeting."

"He will." I groan. "You know how he is."

"Yeah..." Bron sighs, an idea popping into his head.

I close my eyes for a second to enjoy the way his chest rises and falls against my head. So, I don't notice Bron picking up my phone and dialing a number until I hear the line.

"Pearce?" Bron speaks into my phone, clasping a hand over my mouth with his free hand before I can protest. "Yeah. I'm calling in for Y/N. She's not feeling well this morning. Oh, yeah. Puking up a storm. Hangover, yeah. So, she won't be in until tonight." He lies through his teeth on the phone.

Bron takes his hand away from my mouth once he's hung up the phone.

"What did you do!" I move to straddle his torso, grabbing at my phone.

"Helping." Bron replies with a cheeky grin. "Now you're all mine for the morning." He grabs ahold of my hips, turning me over onto my back again.

I gasp, settling onto my back. "God. You're horrible." I whine, putting my arm over my eyes. "I can't believe you did that."

"You get to spend your morning with me now, though." Bron grins. "And I'm gonna make it worth your wild, babydoll."

He presses his lips against my neck, trailing wet and warm kisses down my body. His lips make a path down my body, tongue darting out to swipe down the valley between my breasts. I gasp at the sensation, making him smirk against my skin. His tongue flicks down my abdomen, dipping into my bellybutton for a brief second.

"Bron!" I gasp, body shuddering under him.

"Yeah, gorgeous?" Bron sets his chin on my stomach, grinning up at me.

I narrow my eyes, looking down at him. "I hate you." I grumble.

"Nah." Bron hums, peppering my stomach in kisses again. "You love me, dollface. Can't get enough of me." He mumbles against my skin.

I sigh, knowing that's true. I do love and adore the man currently between my legs. I grab his chin, pulling him back up so he's level with me.

"Yeah, I love you. Dickhead." I admit before kissing him.

[sydsaint]

will be thinking about this for a very long time

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#being a wlw in a nutshell AEW DYNAMITE | 05.07.25

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fraxiom debuting on smackdown the same week that ive been crawling hands and knees through their ao3 tag reading everything i can find . gay people WIN

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FRAXIOM MAIN ROSTER DEBUT ENTRANCE 😭❤️❤️

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fraxiom is here we cheer

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Fraxiom here to make you forget gravity exists.

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Mr. Sabin, my beloved ♥️

Summary: Reader, who is Chris' wife, stresses over his upcoming ladder match.

Your heart pounds against your ribcage as you stand backstage in the locker room area. 'Ladder matches. It's *always* ladder matches.' You think to yourself.

A few feet away, Chris is lacing up his boots with that carefree smile on his face that you adore so much. Your husband is absolutely oblivious to your silent plight.

"YN, baby. You seen my jacket?" Chris looks up from his boots once they're laced up. "Babe?" He asks again when you don't answer.

Chris looks up to find you mumbling to yourself in the corner. Concerned, he walks over, cupping your face in his warm hands. "Dollface? Where you at right now?" He asks you.

"Hmm?" You blink, coming back to reality. "Chris? What are you doing?"

"What am *I* doing?" Chris chuckles, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. "You're the one kvee here mumbling like a crazy person, doll."

You lean unconsciously into his touch, enveloped by the musky scent of the cologne you bought him for Valentines Day. "I was mumbling?" You inquire.

"Yeah." Chris nods. "Like a weirdo. An adorable, weirdo. But, still a weirdo nonetheless." He teases. "What's got you all in your head?"

"It's nothing." You gruff, pulling away from his touch. "I'm fine, Chris. You just focus on getting ready for your match."

Chris sighs. This isn't the first time you've avoided talking about your feelings with him. And it certainly won't be the last. But, damn, does the man love and adore you to no end.

"Hey." Chris snatches your wrist, gently pulling you into his chest. "Is this about the ladder match?" He asks you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I....maybe...." You bite the inside of your cheek in shame. "...am I not allowed to be worried about my husband?"

Chris scoffs, a smile breaking in the corners of his mouth. "Course you are, dollface." He assures you. "But, hey, look at me." He grabs your chin, tilting it up so you're looking in those baby blues you love so much. "I'm gonna be fine, YN. Okay?"

"It's a ladder matches, Chris." You sigh heavily. "And I know how you get around stuff you can jump off of."

"Guilty." Chris chuckles with a charming smile.

You huff, a pout on your face at his lack of concern. "It's not funny, Chris!" You pout.

"Right. Sorry." Chris coughs, turning serious. "C'mere doll." He pulls you closer, one hand moving to the back of your head. "It's all gonna work out fine. I promise." He holds you against him for comfort. "And if it doesn't? You can kick my ass later, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." You nod with a sigh, burying your face in his shoulder. "Just...be safe. Please. Be safe."

Chris nods, pulling away so he can look at you properly. "Always am, pumpkin." He kisses your forehead.

"You'd better not die." You manage a small smile to give him.

"And leave a gorgeous broad like you for Shelly to steal?" Chris grins. "Nah. You're stuck with me for life, baby."

That gets a small laugh from you. You shake your head, handing him his ring jacket. You help him put his jacket on, ruffling his hair for good luck.

"Love you, baby." You kiss his cheek. "Good luck and knock 'em dead."

"Always do, baby!" Chris winks before heading off to meet up with Alex before their match.

You stay backstage for the match, unable to bring yourself to watch the carnage that's undoubtedly about to unfold.

About 40 minutes later, you see the medical staff making a mad dash for the ring. Your heart sinks, a million thoughts in your head. As if on autopilot, you find yourself running toward the ring with them.

"Chris? Chris!" You call out in a panicked state as you near the gorilla.

"YN?" Chris's voice cuts through the chaotic noise of the crowd and babbling medical staff.

You see him break through the staff and rush towards you, looking relatively unharmed. "YN, baby. What are you doing out here?" He greets you with a hug, pulling you into his sweaty chest.

"I saw the medical staff all rushing the stage." You explain, squeezing him tightly. "God. I was so scared, Chris."

"Awe, I'm alright, dollface." Chris hums, rubbing your back. "See? Look. All good?" He pulls back so you can see his face.

You study his face intently. He's sweaty, with a tossled mess of hair and flushed cheeks. But, he's okay.

"Yeah. You're okay." You confirm, resting your forehead against his.

"Better now that you're here." Chris smiles.

You crack a smile as well, pulling back and shaking your head. "You're a moron." You muse. "Come on. You need a shower." You grab his hand.

"Yes, ma'am." Chris grins, squeezing your hand. "You gotta help, though." He winks as the two of you walk off.

[sydsaint]

After like a 6-8 month hiatus, I am BACK to writing fics!!! Yay me. Expect the first one to be posted here soon.

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The tan leather jacket ❤️😮‍💨

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NOTICE: As more and more fanfic writers are using generative AI for their works (you uncreative dweebs), I hereby swear on everything I hold dear that I have not and will NEVER use generative AI in ANY of my written work. Everything I post will be organically and creatively my own.

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Mania weekend was HELL for me personally bro.

- Fraxium lost to fuckass Hank n Tank

-LA Knight dropped his title to Fatu

-Bron lost his title to FUCKING DOM MYSTERIO

-El Grande Americano storyline didn't end

-CM Punk lost his mania match

I am in wrestling purgatory bro.