#*hands you a plate of wings with extra sauce* | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

promptedwordsmith · 25 days ago

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When you make their favourite meal

Caleb

The moment Caleb stepped through the door, the rich, savory scent of braised chicken wings filled the air, stopping him in his tracks. His sharp purple eyes flickered with curiosity before settling on you, standing in the kitchen with a proud yet slightly nervous smile. His gaze softened immediately.

“You made this?” he asked, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it from you.

You nodded, wiping your hands on a kitchen towel. “I know you’ve been busy, so I thought… well, you always cook for me. I wanted to return the favor.”

Caleb was quiet for a moment, taking it all in—the warm, homey smell, the sight of you standing there, the effort you’d put in just for him. A slow smile curved his lips, something rare and unguarded.

He stepped forward, slipping an arm around your waist as he pressed a slow kiss to your temple. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. “I hope you made extra, because I’m eating all of it.”

The table was already set, and as soon as you placed the plate in front of him, Caleb wasted no time. He took the first bite, and the instant satisfaction in his expression made you grin. His usual composed demeanor cracked, revealing something far more open, more boyish—genuine delight.

“This is perfect,” he said between bites, barely pausing. “I mean it. The sauce, the seasoning—you got it all right.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “You really like it?”

He glanced up at you, giving you a look that said, Are you seriously asking me that? He reached for another wing, effortlessly devouring it before shaking his head with a smirk.

“Like it?” He gestured to his nearly empty plate. “I love it. Is there more?”

You laughed, already reaching for the extra batch you had set aside. “You’re unbelievable.”

Caleb’s eyes gleamed as he accepted the second helping, his expression unreadable for a moment—until he spoke, his voice quieter this time. “You didn’t have to do this… but you did.” He met your gaze, his usual intensity softened by something else. “I like taking care of you. But it feels nice… being taken care of too.”

You squeezed his hand, and in that simple moment, Caleb understood—this was love, given back in the way he understood best.

Rafayel

The moment Rafayel stepped through the door, his nose twitched, and his eyes widened in delighted surprise. The scent of his favorite meal filled the air, rich and warm, something he hadn’t had in far too long. His usual languid grace disappeared in an instant—he was at your side within seconds, arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace.

"You made this for me?" he asked, voice muffled slightly against your shoulder. He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes bright with something almost childlike. "You really made this?"

You laughed, pressing a hand against his chest to push him toward the table. "Of course I did. Now sit down before it gets cold!"

He obeyed—mostly—but not without making a show of dragging his chair closer, his expression full of mischief as he picked up his fork. He scooped up a bite, inspecting it dramatically, as if he were a food critic about to judge a five-star meal.

The second it touched his tongue, his face twisted.

"Did you… mix the salt and sugar up again?" he asked, setting his fork down with an exaggerated frown.

Your heart dropped. "What?! No, I— I was so careful this time—!"

His lips twitched. A telltale smirk flickered at the edges of his mouth before fully blooming into his usual grin.

You gaped at him, realization dawning, and then slumped back against the counter in relief. "You’re awful!" you groaned, throwing a napkin at him.

Rafayel merely laughed, catching it mid-air, before promptly ignoring it in favor of shoveling another bite into his mouth—then another, and another, eating like he’d been starved for weeks. "It’s perfect," he admitted between bites, his words slightly muffled. "Seriously, I could eat this every day. You should make it again. Like, tomorrow. And the day after."

"You’re insufferable," you muttered, though warmth bloomed in your chest at his obvious delight.

He only grinned wider, reaching over to tug you down onto the chair beside him. "Maybe," he teased, bumping his knee against yours, "but I’m your problem."

You rolled your eyes, but as you watched him happily devour every bite, you couldn’t help but think—if he wanted this every day, you’d be more than happy to make it for him.

Sylus

Sylus doesn’t look up immediately when you enter his office, his focus still locked onto the documents in front of him. He’s been working for hours, lost in his endless calculations and strategies, barely acknowledging anything outside of his own mind. But when you set the tray down in front of him, the scent of the meal catches his attention. His crimson gaze flicks up, sharp as ever, and then his brow raises—not in judgment, but in surprise.

“You made this?” His voice is smooth, laced with intrigue.

You nod, feeling slightly self-conscious under the weight of his gaze. You could have ordered something, could have asked one of his many personal chefs to prepare his favorite meal, but instead, you went out of your way to make it yourself. The effort shows—not just in the careful arrangement of the dish, but in the tiny smear of sauce on your jaw, evidence of your time spent in the kitchen.

Sylus leans forward, resting his forearms on his desk, his eyes locked onto yours. Then, with slow, deliberate movements, he reaches out, taking your face in his hand. His fingers are cool against your warm skin, his grip firm yet careful. You freeze under his touch as his thumb brushes against your jawline, wiping away the stray bit of sauce.

And then, without breaking eye contact, he brings his thumb to his lips and licks it off.

Your breath catches. Heat floods your face, a reaction that only seems to amuse him further. A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, deep and rich with satisfaction.

“How sweet,” he muses, tilting his head slightly, watching the way you squirm under his gaze. “You went through all this trouble for me?”

You swallow, trying to find your voice. “Of course.”

Something flickers in his expression—something unreadable, something softer beneath the usual arrogance. Without another word, he picks up the tray and sets his paperwork aside entirely, pushing it away as if it no longer matters.

He takes his first bite, savoring it, eyes flicking up to you once more. His smirk is subtle, but there’s a rare sincerity behind it.

"It’s good," he murmurs, voice laced with something softer, something real. "You have my full attention now, darling. Tell me—what else do I owe you for such a thoughtful gift?"

Xavier

When you arrive home after a busy day of shopping with Tara, the apartment feels unusually quiet. You make your way through the entryway, setting down your bags, and catch sight of Xavier asleep on the couch, his silver hair spread out messily across the cushion.

It’s rare for him to be so still, especially after such a long day, but he hasn’t stirred even when you entered. He’s usually alert—always on guard, always prepared—but today, he looks like he’s finally let himself rest. His chest rises and falls steadily, the soft sound of his breath filling the room.

You smile softly, your heart tugging at the sight. He’s worked so hard lately, his missions never-ending, always pushing himself past his limits. You’ve been wanting to do something nice for him—something small to show your appreciation for how much he does, for how much he means to you.

You quietly slip into the kitchen, putting your shopping bags aside, and start preparing his favorite meal. The scent of cooked food soon fills the air—the warmth of it feels comforting, almost like the home you’ve built together. The process feels like an act of love, each step taken with care.

When it’s ready, you pause and take a breath before returning to the living room. Xavier is still asleep, his expression serene. You walk over to him, crouching beside the couch and pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek. Then another on his jaw, and one more on his forehead, each kiss soft, careful, trying to wake him without startling him.

His eyelids flutter, and soon, he blinks up at you with groggy blue eyes, trying to make sense of the moment. “Mmm…?” His voice is rough, and he yawns, reaching out with a half-smile that says more than words could.

You lean in and give him one last kiss before pulling away, quick and playful. He reaches for you, his arms still heavy with sleep, but you’re already standing, laughing as you help him up and gently push him to the table.

He sits down with a smile, his eyes still sleepy but grateful. You place the plate in front of him, and when he picks up his fork, he takes the first bite, savoring it as though it’s the most important meal of his life. His gaze lifts to meet yours, and his smile deepens.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice warm, eyes glimmering. “You’re so good to me, you know that?”

You smile back, heart swelling with affection as you sit beside him, happy to see him so content.

Zayne

The day had been longer than usual for Zayne. His normally composed demeanor had been tinged with a faint weariness, the weight of the long hours spent at the hospital starting to show in the slight furrow of his brow. You noticed it—how he seemed a little more quiet than usual, how he sighed a little more heavily when he sat down, how his eyes lingered a moment longer on the clock than on the charts in front of him.

You knew exactly what you had to do.

When you heard that his shift was nearing its end, you slipped into the kitchen, pulling out the ingredients for his favorite meal—a dish you knew would comfort him, a warm, homey meal he rarely had time to enjoy. The scent of simmering broth and spices filled the air as you worked, each movement deliberate, each step taken with the intent of giving him a small moment of respite.

By the time the meal was ready, the sun was just beginning to set, casting a soft orange glow over the city. You packed it carefully in containers, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you imagined his reaction.

You arrived at the hospital just as Zayne’s day was coming to a close. His office door was slightly ajar, and you knocked softly before stepping inside. He looked up in surprise, clearly caught off guard by your presence.

“Hey,” you said, your voice light, but there was warmth in it. “I brought you something.”

He blinked, his stoic expression softening as he stood up to meet you. “You didn’t have to,” he said, his usual calm demeanor laced with genuine surprise.

When you revealed the meal, his lips curved into a small but pleased smile, a chuckle escaping him. “Well, this is a first,” he teased, eyeing the carefully packed containers. “I wasn’t expecting you to bring me dinner at work.”

You laughed, feeling the tension in your chest ease. "I hope it’s as good as you remember," you said, waiting for his verdict.

He opened the containers, his eyes lighting up with the familiar sight of his favorite dish. “You even got it right,” he murmured, impressed. Then, his teasing nature returned as he looked at you with an exaggerated frown. “But no utensils?”

You hissed in realization, scrambling for something to use, but Zayne just chuckled. “It’s fine,” he said, reaching into one of his desk drawers and pulling out a pair of disposable chopsticks. “These will do just fine.”

He dug in, the first bite making him pause for a moment, savoring the taste. “This is... perfect,” he said between bites, his eyes softening as he glanced at you. “Thank you.”

He offered you some of the meal, but you waved it off. “I already ate,” you said with a smile.

As he finished his meal, he stood and leaned down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. “I really appreciate this,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet sincerity. “I’ll see you soon.”

And with that, he was off, rushing once again to tend to a patient, but not before giving you one last glance—his eyes filled with a warmth that stayed long after he had left.

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redbirdandbluebird23 · 4 months ago

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Navigating

Written for the Jason Todd Centric Exchange for @37nightwalker

Masterlist

“I need your help on a case.” Jason announced as he climbed (uninvited) through Dick’s window.

“Hi, Dick. How are you doing, Dick? Are you free this evening for a chat, Dick?” Dick said, not bothering to look up from the pot of boiling water he was stirring. “Hi, Jason. I’m good, thank you, Jason. I might be able to squeeze you in for a short chat, Jason.”

“You know everyone likes to say I’m the dramatic one, but I don’t think they hold a torch to you, Richard .” Jason said, rolling his eyes as he pulled the window shut. He was dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and his non-armoured leather jacket, with no obvious weapons, which suggested whatever he needed help with wasn’t that urgent, so Dick continued to focus on his pasta.

“I still have a video of you doing Shakespeare at school, little wing, so you might want to reconsider that statement.” He looked up just in time to catch Jason’s cheeks go pink, though he immediately tried to cover it with a scowl. To most other people, that scowl probably looked downright dangerous, but all Dick could see was the tiny twelve year old who made the same expression the first time Dick teased him in front of the Titans.

“What are you making?” Jason asked, scowl still in place and his cheeks still dusted pink.

“Pasta, with whatever that sauce is.” Dick gestured to the little jar on the side. Jason grabbed it and looked it over with a critical eye. “Do you want some? I was making extra anyway.”

Jason set the jar back down. “Sure.”

“What’s the case?” Dick asked as he scooped out a piece of spaghetti and bit into it to see how much longer it needed.

“It can probably wait until after food.” Jason said as he leant back against the kitchen counter. He was clearly trying to appear relaxed, but Dick could see the line of tension running through his whole body. He knew from experience that meant the case was a heavy one, most likely involving kids or subs (or even both), so he didn’t push as he drained the pasta and then stirred through the sauce.

Jason thanked him as he handed him one of the bowls before they made their way over to the sofa to eat. Dick turned on some kind of nature programme on the TV and they ate in comfortable silence. They’d been hanging out more frequently over the past few months and it had been almost too easy to fall into a comfortable routine. Dick couldn’t complain, it was nice getting to know the man Jason was now, not the boy they lost.

“So, what’s the case?” Dick asked again, once they’d finished eating and cleared their plates away.

Jason pulled a memory stick out of his pocket and handed it over. Dick grabbed his laptop off the coffee table and plugged it in, aware of the way Jason was fiddling with his hands as he tried to look interested in the TV. He took a deep breath and dived straight into the files, already mentally preparing himself for what could have Jason so on edge. He was right, Jason was so tense because it involved subs and children. The more he read through Jason’s research on this particular band of traffickers, the more he wanted to break someone’s face.

Read on Ao3

#jaydick #dickjay #dick grayson #jason todd #dick grayson/jason todd

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entomolog-t · 1 year ago

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The Shadow We Cast - 3

The boys are back with two more Prompts down! Delight and Linger ! I love writing these boys so much- just the goofiest vibes.

How long before I make it angsty?

- - - -

Previous Chapter: Chapter 2

Next Chapter: Chapter 4

Word count: 2332

CW: Adult language, substances (beer/drinking)

Man, the food was great. Never in my life had I tasted anything like the weird paste Mark had made- and to put it on meat?? Some crazy part of my was compelled to howl with joy. While the glass bucket Mark had given me to use as a cup proved progressively harder to grip with more and more of the sauce covering my hands, I was plenty fine with the extra effort just for another sip of the cool golden drink- Beer went incredible with hawk wings.

Leaning back, I groaned as I stretched out, stomach aching.

I’d more than eaten my fill, but it's not like it was everyday that I had such a mouthwatering feast to myself. My eyes flickered to Mark. Both in my own eager hunger and out of a slight unease, I’d been avoiding watching him eat. There was something both ridiculously impressive and deeply unsettling about watching another being consume many times more than my weight in food. Inarguably cool- but the spectacle left me feeling… less.

My eyes met his own. Though, as soon as my gaze met his, he looked away- quickly focusing on taking another drink. I felt a grin tug at the corners of my mouth. Looks like I caught him staring. I wait until he puts the can to his lips before I speak,

“See something you like, big man?”

Mark chokes on his drink- a strangled sound escaping him as his hand shoots up to cover his mouth as he sputters. I can’t help but laugh at the sight of him desperately trying to hold in his drink - his sputtering turning to coughing. The mix of the panicked look on his face and the pitiful sounds are just too much, and I find myself wincing at a sharp pain biting at my sides from the laughter.

Catching his breath, Mark chuckles. He waves a dismissive hand,

“Man, I’m just shocked at how much you ate.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Dude, you’re what? Ten times my size?” I gesture to the pile of bones on his plate, “How do you think I feel?”

Mark rolls his eyes,

“Relatively.” He points to the section of meat I’d claimed for myself, “Like, holy shit dude. It looks like you ate one of your legs worth of meat.”

I shrug.

“You could have eaten more if you hadn’t filled up by drinking so much.”

He chuckles- but his laugh is cut short as he jerks. The flinch is all the warning I get before a massive hand is sent rocketing toward his opposite arm. A thunderous clap breaks through the evening air. I feel the blood drain from my face, and I can’t tell if it's the sound echoing in my ears or if it's my heart thrumming in my chest. I hadn’t even flinched- a thought that I wanted to be able to revel in- to tell myself it was because I wasn’t so easily cowed… but there was no lying to myself.

I didn’t even have time to flinch.

The thought sent a chill through me.

Mark, unaware of my racing heart, sighed.

“Ugh, the mosquitoes are coming out.” He shot me a nervous smile, “You, uh, wanna head inside and have a few more drinks?” Pausing, he adds “And maybe put a shirt on?”

I chuckle, though it feels more forced than moments ago,

“And why would I do that?” As I say the words, sing songy and teasing, I feel the tension inside me ease. I stand, my body feeling sluggish- heavy with the weight of a good meal. Stretching, I meander over to his waiting hand, making sure he knows I’m turning down the suggestion to get dressed rather than the invitation for more beers.

Mark rolls his eyes,

“I mean, you’re wearing enough of the sauce that it might as well count as a shirt.”

I narrow my eyes at him for a moment before looking down.

Eesh. He… Well, he wasn’t wrong.

Stomach to chest, I was covered in splatterings and smears of the dark red sauce. My pants were decorated with various stains, some smaller, like where I’d wiped off my hands, and one particularly large spot of sauce where I’d rested the massive hunk of meat against my legs.

Using my forearm, I haphazardly wiped across my chest, clearing off a decent volume of sauce.

“DUDE!” I jump at his exclamation, frozen in place with my tongue still dragging along the sauce smeared skin of my arm. I furrow my brow. What was his problem now?

“Wash off properly before you get in my hand” He scolds. I mimic his exasperated expression and roll my eyes. He tears off another piece of napkin and hands it to me in response. Taking it, I double back towards my drink-bucket.

“What are you- SAL!” I tip the bucket over my head and feel a wash of cool liquid pour over me- a momentary respite from the overbearing heat of the day. The chill combined with the strange bubbles in the drink are a bit jarring, but in a way that’s invigorating- refreshing even.

Above me, I can hear Mark sputtering- a mix of “Dudes” and “whys” and other half finished questions. I throw up my hands, confused and frustrated. This guy’s impossible! I cleaned off?? What did he want from me??

“Dude! Come on…” The exclamation is chastising in its tone. “Why would you-” Before he can continue I interject,

“But you said-” An exasperated sigh interrupts my very valid point. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he speaks.

“You know what? It's fine.” His tone suggests it's anything but, yet the smile he gives me feels genuine- as if he’s the one being patient and I’m the one being unreasonable. In a slow and careful movement, Mark once again offers me his hand.

There's a slight, but not unnoticed, chill that grips me- a little shot of adrenaline at the sight of his incoming hand. A faint tremor in my legs, and a pounding in my heart accompanying a stray thought at the back of my mind that wants me to hesitate- to back out. The thought reminds me almost of getting into cold water; that anticipation of shock making you move slower, as if your brain is trying to persuade you away from that unwanted discomfort.

I set my jaw.

Well, fuck that.

If I didn’t feel comfortable, I would make myself comfortable. My thoughts are mine to control- not there to control me.

As if his hand were a body of water, I dove in. His hands were soft as I landed, much more so than my own. It wasn’t the first time it had crossed my mind how comfortable it felt- how warm.

I flopped to my back and patted the meat of his thumb, coaxing him to move. I don’t miss the way his fingers curl in, or how his other hand comes up to support the first. I can’t help but roll my eyes. Those subtle gestures leave me a bit conflicted- stuck in a middle ground between finding it endearing and finding it patronising. The care to use a delicate hand with me was… nice, yet the thought that I needed to be handled with a delicate hand was bordering on insulting.

The warmth of his hand and the rhythmic rise and fall with his steps seemed to lull me away from my irritation. Closing my eyes, I let myself relax to the steady sway of his steps. I liked Mark. He was nice. He had good food. He was fun to rile up. I felt my cheeks burning from a goofy smile that wouldn’t seem to falter. This was real. After all these years, I had someone to talk to! Someone to spend time with! There was a giddiness in my chest that just seemed to build- a dizzying surge of wild energy that felt like the room was spinning-

Wait. Was the room spinning??

I felt my stomach lurch, a weird feeling of vertigo prompting me to open my eyes trying to ground myself. The spinning sensation eased to a stop as I sat up. Seemingly right on cue, Mark lowered his hand to the table.

As soon as I dismount from his hand, Mark’s massive frame turns away from me, rushing toward the sink. I frown as he washes his hands. I’d washed off for him, and yet he was acting as if he’d just handled something foul. As he returns to the table he seems to catch my glare.

He raises his hands as if surrendering,

“Dude, you’re sticky.”

I snort.

“I am not.”

I patted my skin. Sure, it was a little tacky to the touch, but that was hardly anything to wash up over. I’d just doused myself off in front of him- what more did he want?

While I had no clue what he wanted from me, I knew what I wanted- and that was another drink.

Eyeing my glass bucket, I meandered over to wear he’d set his drink down. Each step was off- just a little, almost as if it was… Delayed? I took a long blink, trying to orient myself. Was I swaying?

I stumbled, catching myself on Mark’s arm. He flinched under my touch and my scowl returned.

“Ew, dude, don’t touch me. You’re all sticky.”

With a glare, I let my body collapse against his arm limply laying over it. He stiffens under my touch, and I feel the strangest sensation of goosebumps forming on his skin beneath me. I keep my head buried against his arm as my scowl is pulled up into a grin. This guy was really something else. Spiders, first aid, and slightly tacky skin?? I bet his own shadow could get a rise out of him.

I chuckled at my own thought, laughing into his arm as he squirmed beneath me. Mark titled his arm in an attempt to push me back onto my feet, but rather than let him guide me back into a stand, I pulled myself up - stradling the width of his forearm.

“Oh- Dude, come on. Get off.” He whines, twisting his arm, carefully trying to force me to dismount. His kindness is his own downfall, as the slow and gentle movements are easy to correct against- leaning my weight this way and that to compensate. Above me, he groans. Out of the corner of my eye I watch as his free hand reaches up, prompting me to spring up into a stand- feeling oddly dizzy at the sudden movement.

He hesitates- hand hovering at my side - either waiting to catch me or unwilling to touch me. Before he can reconsider I spring into action. In one bound I’m at the crook of his elbow. Without pausing I leap, clearing the small gap between his arm and torso as I throw myself at the fabric of his shirt.

Mark does nothing more than flinch- making a strangled noise as he jerks bolt upright in his seat, hands stiffly to each side of me yet making no move to touch me. I can’t stop laughing, My cheeks burn, my sides ache, yet my arms feel light as I pull myself up the length of his shirt. Mark leans back, craning his neck and tilting his chin away in the most futile attempt to distance himself from me. Stitches form in my sides as I nearly wheeze at the sight.

Gripping the collar of his shirt I heave myself onto his shoulder, letting out a sigh as I try to quell my laughter.

“Is something wrong, Big Guy?” I tease,stifling a giggle while leaning my apparently sticky self onto his neck. The sensation of his warm skin shuddering under my touch is bizarre, “Afraid I’ll-” I pause. His skin is more than just warm, it's hot. I crane my neck, awkwardly trying to look at his face from the odd vantage point.

His face is red- his mouth a thin line and his eyes are anywhere but on me.

Oh.

This was too much, wasn’t it?

I was too much.

I clear my throat, wracking my brain for anything to fill the now very noticeably awkward silence.

“You, um, mind refilling my drink?”

A little puff of air escapes him, and I watch as a smile pulls at the edge of his lips. Slowly, he turns his head towards me, and all at once I’m reminded of just how massive he is. On his shoulder I’m eye level with him- Mark meeting my gaze out of the corner of his eye… and eye roughly the size of my head. I stagger back a half step, careful to mind my footing. Something about seeing an eye so closely was off-putting, the depth of the brown looking too deep- like something I could fall into; the colour like good healthy dirt.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Mind getting off?”

With an exaggerated hop, I let myself drop down the steep slope of his arm, half sliding half falling to his forearm. Mark lets out a yelp at the motion- as if a fall from that height was anything to worry about.

I step down from his arm, my gait still feeling not quite right- each step somewhat unsteady, as if the table swayed beneath my feet. It wasn’t only my gait- my skin felt strange. Almost numb but not really? It was… buzzing? Yet despite all the strangeness, there was a warmth in my chest that seemed to spread over into my mind. A light fuzziness that softens the edge of my thoughts. There was an ease- a comfort- that seemed to coat my mind, like a paradoxically warm blanket of snow.

Maybe a little too warm?

I knit my brow.

I could fix that.

I looked up, craning my neck to meet Marks gaze,

“So, how about another drink?”

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randofics · 11 months ago

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🎶 Lainey Wilson - Things a man oughta know

Gaz x southern reader

The COD boys are meeting you for the first time! Separate stories for each!

Gaz was uncomfortable, to say the least. This extra training with inexperienced privates in the humid carolina air was starting to take its toll, and he just wanted to get this over with so he could fly back home. The rest of the 141 were also here, but they had their own training groups to deal with. He didn't doubt they also wanted to get home as soon as possible.

Thunder rolled, and storm clouds were slowly overtaking the once clear blue sky. He hoped it would rain, so maybe they could cool off. He wouldn't have to hope long as sprinkles light as a fairy hit his uncovered skin.

-------

Several hours later, all he wanted was a drink to unwind, his back already killing him from the rough land nav session. He'd met up with the others in the lounge room, and they all agreed with his plan to go out and enjoy themselves a bit.

He'd swapped his uniform out for a white wifebeater and jeans along with his usual cap, hoping that more exposed skin would help with the heat.

Price asked some other guys walking past where the closest bar was, and surprisingly, it wasn't that far at all, maybe a five minute drive at most.

-------

When they stepped inside the neon lit country bar, a couple of people stopped to glance their way but quickly returned to the more interesting conversations and drinks. It was probably a common thing for soldiers to come down from the base for a drink.

He pulled out a seat along with the others, and a waitress sat a stack of menus on the end of the table. The singular laminated papers had two printed sides, one for beers and other strong drinks with food to go along with it. The other side had cocktails and other fruity or mixed drinks with deserts such as cheesecakes or pies.

The team ordered their drinks and three plates of hot wings in different sauces. TV's mounted around the bar were playing different games, and their waitress was kind enough to ask if they wanted to watch anything in particular. She managed to put on a football (soccer) game from the UK, and in no time, the wings and drinks were gone.

-------

A group of women laughing at one's joke walked inside. They sat at a nearby table and ordered their own drinks.

Price turns his head when he hears their laughter. One woman in nicer dress than the others waves at him with a smile. He smiles back before turning to the team and downing the last of his beer in one go. He gives them a look, getting up and following the woman to the bar.

A few minutes go by, and two more women break off from the group drinks having been finished. One in a cammo cap and another in a pastel yellow dress with lace along the hems single out Gaz and Konig.

-------

The woman in the cammo cap introduces herself as y/n. There's a bit of dried mud on the bill of her cap, and it looks well worn. "What's a fella like you doin' here in the States?"

"Recruit training, miss." She leans with her hand on the table. "You know I haven't met too many foreigners yet. You're my second brit."

"With the base so close by, I would've thought you'd met more than that." She gives him a small chuckle. "You'd think so. Maybe I just don't time it, right?"

"You're in luck! There's a whole table of foreigners right here." He holds out his hand for her to shake. "I'm Gaz it's a pleasure to meet you, y/n."

-------

Your conversation draws on for another hour, and you've become engrossed in each other's stories. A couple of beers have been emptied and sit on the old wood table between you.

You had just been laughing at something, he said, twirling a bottle around in front of you. You look up at him with a content smile. "Hey, do you want to go to my place for a bit? Maybe watch a movie or something?"

He's a bit nervous scratching the back of his head. "Sure, I'd love to!" A brighter smile graces your features as you stand.

The taxi drive to your house is filled with hilarious stories and laughs. The tires hit the gravel driveway and come to a stop before your house. Wind chimes on the porch jingle, and your dog in the backyard starts barking.

You pull your keys as he holds the storm door open for you. Cool air hits you when the door swings open and you switch on the light.

He spots the deer head mounted above your couch along with a couple of framed turkey tails and beards. "You're a hunter, after all. I thought you might be."

"Oh yeah, that's my first buck I ever shot. And those are mine and my dad's turkeys from a few years ago." As you put your things away, he glances around the room. A couple of hunting and fishing magazines lay stacked on the coffee table along with a centerpiece bowl of seashells and driftwood.

The shelf nearby has more magazines and old builders manuals along with some miscellaneous titles. Also, a few collectible plates sit on the shelves not packed with books. Movie posters and family pictures cover the empty spots.

You let out a sigh as you plop down on the couch, turning on the TV. "Well, what are ya waiting for? Come sit!"

"Anything in particular you want to watch?"

"Not really no." After a minute of scrolling through movies, you give up.

"There's something we could do to pass the time." You grin at his meaning, setting the remote down and straddling his lap. "I'd like that."

-------

One hand lands on your thigh, the other cupping your cheek to pull you closer. His lips connect with yours, and you relax against him.

As your hands roam his body, he lets out a quiet moan. His tongue presses against your teeth, asking for entry.

He tastes like beer with a hint of buffalo sauce from his meal earlier. To him, you taste like sweet tea and beer. The lingering sugar in your mouth makes him want more.

You pull away to catch your breath when he takes the opportunity to attack your neck. You hum in contentment as his lips dance across your skin. His hands move to the hem of your shirt, slipping beneath to feel your soft skin. His gentle touch down your spine gives you chills as his other hand spreads over your belly.

A groan escapes his throat when you tug his hair, arms around his neck. He sucks on your pulse, leaving behind a blooming red mark. Your own moans make him grin against you.

Reluctantly, he pulls away to look you in the eyes. "Sorry, I can't go any farther than this love. We only just met after all." You smile, nodding in understanding. "That's fine with me so long as you keep touching me darlin'." He grins, shaking his head. "Alright, then let's keep this going."

End

#fanfic #gaz cod #gaz x reader #gaz x y/n #cod mw2 #cod men #x reader #fanfic short series

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atomicwingshouston · 1 month ago

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crispychrissy · 3 years ago

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Extra Spicy

Summary: A decision made by Bucky has some unexpected repercussions, but thankfully his Omega is there to take care of him. Pairing: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader Word Count: 4407 Warnings: Steve is stressed because Bucky is being Bucky, very minor angst, casual mention of throwing up (nothing graphic), fluff, ABO dynamics and the things that come with it, smut, rough-ish sex, knotting, Bucky is full-on Alpha mode, fluff A/N: This story was originally an SPN fic I wrote ages ago of the same name, but I've changed it to the MCU and rewritten about 95% of it to improve on a lot of things the original story was lacking. I'm experiencing a lot of writers block and stress and I stayed up until 5am on a weeknight to write this. I'm dead inside, but hey! I can still write dirty, filthy porn. Yay! It's also my first ABO fic set in the MCU, so double yay! This was beta’d by the lovelies @abbessolute and @idjitmonkey who both thoroughly enjoyed the ride.

Marvel Masterlist

“A smart man learns from his mistakes. A wise man learns from everyone else's.”

The disapproval in Steve’s voice had your eyes sliding from Bucky to meet the gaze of the Captain’s. He only stared at you helplessly, silently begging you to stop what was about to happen. The tension in the air was so thick, you kept having to remind yourself to breathe through your mouth as the plethora of scents in the air continued to assault your sensitive nose. When Steve glanced back at Bucky, you could only watch from the sidelines as the two super soldiers had a silent conversation through minute facial expressions.

“I gotta do this, Steve,” Bucky said, tightening his metal fingers around the hilt of the knife he had fisted in his hand.

“Come on, man. Think about your past, you know you’re gonna regret it,” Steve warned, crossing his arms across his chest and giving Bucky his best “disapproving Cap” face.

Bucky had made up his mind long before Steve interjected—you’ve known him long enough to tell—so when he tilted his head back and let out an odd warrior cry of a shout to psych himself up, you pressed your lips together to try and hide your smile. With enthusiasm rivaling the nights he got lucky, Bucky dug into the plate of extra spicy ghost pepper chicken tenders. He cut one of the two pieces in half before stabbing it with his fork and quickly shoving it into his mouth.

At least he was using utensils this time and wouldn’t need you to help him remove gobs of hot sauce from between the plates in his metal hand like you ended up having to do six months ago. Bucky’s shout of pain when he tried to jerk off in the bathroom that night without properly cleaning his metal hand after eating hot wings wasn’t something you’d soon forget… or soon let him forget.

Steve rolled his eyes before rubbing his forehead, and you glanced at the dozen or so photos scattered across the wall above his head which showed the customers that had completed the restaurant’s Ghost Pepper Challenge. Almost every single photo on the wall had captured challenge winners in varying stages of pain and discomfort, and you wondered if they actually felt like they won anything at all. Their sweat-drenched red faces were worrisome since at least half of them appeared to be seconds from passing out when the photo was taken.

Steve was right, Bucky definitely could have learned from the obviously painful mistakes made by those in the photos, but it appeared stubbornness was the one personality trait that had remained constant ever since the thirties when he was a teenager and boxing above his weight for extra cash on Friday nights. Hydra may have tried to brainwash the stubbornness out of him, but they only succeeded in redirecting it to his mission directives… until another stubborn asshole named Steve Rogers helped him remember by letting Bucky beat his face in.

A soft whimper of concern bubbled in your throat when you caught sight of the trembling in Bucky’s flesh hand as he picked up the second half of the first chicken tender and stuffed it into his mouth. He was absolutely headed for the same result as the people in those pictures, but he was halfway done and wouldn’t throw in the towel now.

Bucky coughed, dry-heaved, and then wheezed, gratefully accepting the napkin you passed him when his nose started to run. “One down,” he gasped, slamming his right fist down on the table soft enough to not break it, “one to… go.”

“Yeah, I can’t watch this. I’m gonna go back to the hotel and look over the files on our target’s known associates that Hill dropped off earlier,” Steve said, pushing his empty plate toward the middle of the table before he stood from his chair and grabbed his jacket. As he slipped his arms through the sleeves, he looked down at you. “Buck’s gonna be messed up for a while, spicy foods never sat well with him when we were growing up, and since the serum doesn’t change your taste buds…” Steve shook his head at Bucky’s splotchy and sweaty face before he shot you a look. “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Punk,” Bucky rasped before placing another piece of chicken in his mouth, which immediately made him start coughing and gasping for breath as he chewed. Despite the fire in his mouth, he still managed to raise a metal middle finger at Steve.

“Bucky,” you admonished in a sigh as you patted him on the back before smiling up at Steve. “I knew that when I bonded with him, Steve. Whether it’s a bad rut or spicy chicken, I’ll always be there.”

Steve exhaled quickly out of his nose in amusement, watching his best friend writhe in pain, and tapped the end of the table with two fingers. “You two are perfect for each other. Good luck.”

“See yah later, Steve,” you laughed, and once the door closed behind him as he disappeared out of the front of the restaurant, you turned to face Bucky. “So, how are you feeling?”

Bucky looked at you as lovingly as he could through watering eyes and a face as red as the first time you talked dirty to him during a heat. He smiled at you through the pain. “Almost…”

There was only one piece of chicken left, the final half of the second tender, and you could see employees and customers alike watching with expressions ranging from amused to horrified as Bucky scooped it up and shoved it into his mouth with a grunt. He chewed fast, swallowing with a soft whimper, before raising his hands above his head in triumph.

“Victory!”

You squeezed his thigh as the restaurant staff started heading toward your table with a camera and flimsy paper certificate, and tried to keep the amusement from your voice. “You are so gonna regret this.”

***

“I regret everything,” Bucky whined from behind the bathroom door. “It burned more coming up than it did going down.”

“Well, yeah, of course it did. Instead of just the ghost pepper sauce, you also have your stomach acid joining the regurgitation party.” You locked your phone and tossed it on the bed next to you before tucking your hands behind your head. “Make sure you brush your teeth, baby.”

“I know, ‘mega,” Bucky cooed, and you heard the toilet flush before the water turned on. You heard him wash his hands before the low buzz of his electric toothbrush filled the air.

According to Steve, Bucky has always been clingy and grumpy when he didn’t feel well, so the Captain had quickly gathered his laptop and mission files the moment you returned with a whiny Bucky in tow, telling you he would be back in a few hours. You didn’t blame him for fleeing, though, since Bucky’s stomach pain was causing his normal musky Alpha scent to have a bitterly sour bite to it due to his distress, and the change in his best friend’s scent made Steve distressed, as well.

After flipping over to lay on your stomach with your head pillowed on your folded arms, you were just getting comfortable when the bathroom door opened and Bucky emerged, rubbing his stomach through the thin t-shirt he was wearing.

“That sucked,” he murmured.

You frowned in sympathy and waved him over to you. “Well, at least you waited to puke until we got back. Apparently if you upchuck while you’re still at the restaurant, it doesn’t count as completing the challenge because you didn’t keep it down.”

Bucky grimaced, shuffling across the hotel room towards you. “I don’t wanna know how many people finished ‘em but ended up being disqualified for puking.” He burped, winced, and shivered. “Ugh, those tenders were no joke.”

There was something making your nose twitch, aside from the bitterness of distress in Bucky’s scent, and you sniffed the air around him delicately a few seconds after he plopped down on the end of the bed. “Y’know, your scent… it’s got this weird spicy undertone now.”

“Yeah?” Bucky looked at you over his shoulder and smiled, taking his time to admire the curve of your ass and how soft you looked nestled in his bed. “Do ya like it?”

A soft hum of thought rumbled from your chest as you inhaled. “It’s… not offensive, but it’s a strange accompaniment to the normal spicy undertone of cinnamon in your scent. It’s almost like… too much spice.” You shrugged and rolled over onto your back, smirking when you found him staring at you hungrily. “My guess is that it’s similar to how eating a lot of garlic makes your sweat smell like garlic because of the intensity of the aroma. It’ll probably go away after you shower.”

“So you’re saying I’m,” Bucky’s lip curled into a wicked smirk, “extra spicy?”

Whatever sarcastic reply you were about to quip back at him was replaced by a squeal when Bucky twisted his body, leapt forward, and pounced on you, pinning you to the bed as he nibbled and kissed along the smooth skin of your neck. Bucky would sometimes get into these intense yet playful moods during and after your missions when he needed to make sure you were safe, and you were more than happy to play along, squirming and giggling as he let his more dominant and wild Alpha side out to play.

“Mmm, Omega,” Bucky rumbled into the skin of your neck before lightly nipping at the scar from your mating bite. “Want you.”

The softness of Bucky’s hair tickled your skin as you ran your fingers through his locks, stopping to scratch his scalp once in a while and enjoying the rumbled purr of complete bliss you received from him in response. “You have me, Buck.”

Bucky smiled against your collarbone before leaning back to trail his hands down to the bottom hem of your shirt. He looked up at you through his lashes as he tugged on your shirt like a playful puppy trying to get your attention, and you smiled as you leaned up to assist him in pulling it up and over your head. Bucky’s shirt and pants as well as your jeans and your bra are quickly added to the pile of discarded clothing on the floor next to the bed, leaving both of you in just your underwear.

In a move that would be impossible for someone without fight and stealth training, Bucky had you pinned down so he was hovering over you, his feet positioned on the inside of your knees to hold your legs open. Based on where his legs were, it seemed to be some kind of modified version of a leg lock, but instead of keeping your legs together to stop someone from kicking out like the normal move does, he was keeping your legs open while still pinning them down so you couldn’t move. The cool of his metal hand made you shiver as he began pawing at your breast, while the other wiggled into your panties to stroke your slick folds.

All of your senses were being overwhelmed by everything Bucky, but when you took a deep breath, you realized the extra spice you’d smelled earlier had shifted from overbearing to more of a sweet kind of heat, complementing the mix of your scents in the air. Bucky’s warm fingertip slid up between the lips of your pussy and gently circled your clit, making you whimper and moan as goosebumps cascaded over your skin. As the sensations caused by his touch grew in intensity, your body went limp under his and your legs fell further open on their own accord, the sight of you spread open drawing a deep animalistic growl of satisfaction from Bucky.

“You’re practically dripping, doll, so slick and warm,” he whispered between affectionate yet possessive kisses to your lips, jaw, and neck. “Gonna knot you, baby. Need ta feel this tight pussy around my cock.”

“Bucky!” you gasped as he increased the pressure against your clit, rubbing and flicking your hard bud with dexterous fingers. The pleasure rocketing through your body made your hands shake, causing you to fumble slightly when you reached up to slide your hands past the elastic of Bucky’s boxer briefs and wrapped your fingers around the hard, thick warmth of his shaft. He hissed at the contact and growled when you gave him a long, slow stroke from the sensitive ridge at the base of his cock all the way up to the leaking tip.

“Fuck, Omega!” Bucky jerked his hips forward, chasing your touch when you pulled your hand away. “Doll, I… need… gotta see… nghhh.”

Sometimes, when Bucky reached the point of pleasure where his eyes were permanently half-lidded and his hands were constantly touching or caressing you, his words didn't flow as eloquently as they usually did. It was almost as if his brain reverted back to a primal Alpha state, where he could only communicate with grunted noises and gestures. Luckily, you and Bucky had been mated for well over a year, so you knew exactly what he wanted.

Shimmying out of your panties took some extra effort on your part since Bucky didn’t seem to want to break contact with your skin long enough to help. Instead, he appeared to be perfectly content to sit back on his haunches to watch you slide the cotton fabric down your legs. Once they were dangling from your foot, you bent your knees and spread your legs, the obscene display exposing your slick-glistening folds to his gaze.

Bucky’s nostrils flared and his eyes fluttered shut as the intoxicating scent of your slick sent fire surging through his veins to pool in his loins. His cock twitched in anticipation and he grunted his approval, pushing down the front of his underwear just enough to expose himself, leaving the rest of the fabric bunched around the top of his thighs. Bucky’s cock was rock hard, long and thick like always, and he gave himself a slow stroke from root to tip, causing you to whimper and him to puff his chest out at your reaction to his cock. The dark red ridge of his knot at the base of his cock was slightly swollen, and the bead of precome at the tip twinkled at you in invitation. As much as you wanted to lean forward and lick it off to savor the taste of him, you relaxed back on the pillow, waiting for Bucky to make the first move so you could follow.

When he didn’t immediately pin you down and slam himself inside you like usual, you tilted your head, raising a questioning brow as his lust-darkened cobalt eyes danced over every inch of your exposed skin. Bucky’s jaw clenched and he narrowed his eyes, and you nodded when it finally hit you.

“Yes, Alpha,” you mewled, waiting until he moved back just far enough to give you room to lift yourself up and turn over. Once you settled, you were on your stomach, ass high in the air, with your hands folded under your head, the slick dripping from your pussy on full display for him. Bucky’s growl of approval made your inner Omega preen and you teasingly wiggled your hips in invitation.

Bucky shuffled closer on his knees until he was right behind you, and you shivered when the cool metal of his palm gently traced the curve of your back down to your ass, giving your flesh a firm squeeze before he spread your slick cunt open with two fingers. Despite the warm scent of spice in the air, the hotel room was somewhat chilly, so you whined quietly as it cooled the exposed slick between your legs and made goosebumps appear all over your body.

Fortunately, the cold sensation was quickly replaced by the familiar heat of Bucky’s cock sliding between your folds to gather your slick, and you nearly wept in pleasure when the thick head of his cock pushed forward and slipped inside your entrance. The amount of slick dripping from your hole allowed him to slide all the way in, the stretch only causing you mild discomfort. The wanton moan that spilled from your lips echoed in the hotel room when his hips finally rested flush against your ass, leaving his cock practically throbbing with need when he was buried to the hilt inside you.

“Take me… so damn well, doll,” Bucky murmured through a throaty growl, his brain struggling to form coherent sentences. “So tight… all… for me.” He grunted a choked off noise when the temperature difference between his metal and flesh hand as they gripped your hips made your pussy clench around him in excitement.

Bucky inhaled sharply when the warmth of your sheath disappeared as he guided your hips away until just the tip of his cock was resting inside you. The metal plates in his arm whirred, the only warning you got before his fingers tightened again and he pushed forward, slowly feeding your greedy pussy every inch of his slick shined cock, no doubt savoring the sight of it disappearing inside you.

“Need…” Bucky rumbled out a deep half-growl, half-moan as the movement of his hips leveled off into a steady rhythm. Well, steady until the downright filthy slapping sound of skin meeting skin seemed to drive him wild with lust, making him increase his speed to take you at a nearly unhuman pace. “Mine,” he snarled, his breath coming out in a harsh staccato that matched each thrust of his hips.

“Yours,” you answered, even though it wasn’t a question. Bucky belonged to you just as much as you belonged to him despite the raw, possessive Alpha currently in the driver's seat of his brain. “So good, Alpha, so big!”

Bucky’s fingers twitch and tighten around your hips, and you moan at the mental image of those ten long bruises on your skin, each one reminding you of this moment for days. Finally losing the battle to keep your eyes open through pleasure-heavy eyelids, you stretched your arms out in front of you and fisted your hands in the soft satin sheets to ground yourself as Bucky slammed into you with rough, deliberate movements. When his cock twitched and throbbed inside you, the thick vein along the top of his shaft rubbed deliciously against your sweet spot, making you see stars. All of the muscles in your body tensed for a moment before relaxing entirely when your orgasm slammed into you. The waves of mind-numbing sexual euphoria crashing over you had you screaming Bucky’s name and title as trembled. A low, triumphant rumble vibrated through Bucky’s chest, his skill as your mate evident by your moans of satisfaction, his slick orgasm-soaked balls, and your body’s submission to him. It greatly pleased the Alpha deep inside him that had risen to the surface.

The moans, whimpers, and gasps tumbling from your lips as you tumbled from one climax into another seemed to spur him on, and you let out a shocked “oh!” when Bucky’s metal arm wrapped around your chest and you were jerked upright and held in place, your back pressed firmly to his chest. His pace never faltered, and you could feel his breath coming out in animalistic pants against the back of your neck where his nose was pressed, allowing the hidden fire of your delectably alluring scent to surround him.

“Gon’ come,” Bucky warned through gritted teeth, the punishing rhythm of his hips beginning to falter. He flicked his tongue out and licked the sweat from your skin, moaning at the taste.

“Fuck! Need your knot, baby! Please… James.” Drunk on pleasure, you were mindlessly babbling and the use of his first name caught him off guard. A particularly hard thrust of his hips served as a reprimand and reminder of who was in charge, sending you reeling as you corrected yourself. “Alpha, please! Knot me!”

The light scraping of Bucky’s teeth over the scar that remained from when you had first bonded together sent you sobbing in pleasure and spiraling into another orgasm, one which had you slumping forward to press your face into the mattress. The hoarse shout of a scream that tore from your lips had you bucking your hips against him wildly, trying to draw out every last bit of pleasure possible. Bucky gasped, struck completely still, his knot beginning to swell at the sight of his cock disappearing inside your spasming pussy as you frantically slammed yourself back onto him. With his orgasm swiftly approaching, his enthusiasm matched yours when he firmly grabbed both of your hips and pulled hard, spearing you on his cock and forcing the entire girth of his knot into your pussy with a feral shout, one you echoed with equal fervor.

“Fuuuuuck!” Bucky shakily dragged out the word with a moan as his cock continued to pulse and fill you over and over, the little jerks of his hips heightening his pleasure when his knot tugged at your entrance.

At this point you were nearly delirious with the ecstasy you were feeling, but the warmth of his seed in your belly made your entire being clench, sending another small—but in no way less gratifying—orgasm searing through your pleasure-ravaged body. Bucky nearly doubled over at the unexpected sensation of your pussy squeezing his knot, and he bent down to press himself against your back as he continued to kiss, nibble, and lick your mating scar as if it was as fresh as the day he put it there.

“Wow,” you sighed when you finally floated back down to your body, turning your head to the left so you could speak. “I am one-hundred percent certain I now know why the French call an orgasm ‘la petite mort’. Pretty sure I transcended into another plane of existence with those orgasms.”

Bucky rumbled out a soft chuckle as he nodded against your skin, trying to clear the post-orgasmic haze from his mind so he could regain control of his human limbs; his metal arm was rock solid where it was wrapped around your front to support your hips. “Yeah, that was pretty intense. I don’t think I’ve let myself go like that since the night I claimed you.” Using his flesh hand, he brushed the hair out of your face to make sure you were okay, then gently stroked his thumb along your cheek. “You ready to shift positions?”

Even though you felt like a boneless lethargic sloth, you nodded and smiled when Bucky leaned down to press a kiss to your temple. With the strength of a super soldier honed by practiced ease, Bucky scooped you close to him and moved so he was laying flat on his back before arranging so you ended up splayed out on his chest, your head tucked just below his chin, while you waited for his knot to go down.

When you felt his muscles tense under you, you opened a bleary eye and tilted your head to look up at him. “What?”

“Steve… he said he’d be back in a few hours. It’s been almost two and a half since we got back from the restaurant.” Bucky leaned up and frantically looked around before his eyes zeroed in on the bunched up comforter partially hanging off the bottom corner of the bed, likely pushed there during the course of your lovemaking. “Can you grab that?” he asked you, pointing a metal finger at the comforter. “I don’t think Steve’ll appreciate seeing us all… au naturale when he gets back,” a growl of residual possessiveness rumbled through Bucky’s chest as he tightened his hold on you, “and I definitely don’t want that fathead to see my girl naked. You’re all mine.”

“Well, seeing as how your knot is currently buried inside your mate, I think you can rest assured I’m not going anywhere, Buck,” you teased, flashing him a cheeky smile before nuzzling back into his chest to breathe in his comforting scent. The spicy smell had faded quite a bit, but you could still feel it tickle at your nose if you focused. When Bucky didn’t relax, you sighed. “When you called me ‘Mega’ while you were still in the bathroom, I could tell you were in a playful mood. I already told Steve you were probably gonna jump my bones and to wait until I gave him the all clear to come back.”

Bucky’s hand froze on your lower back where he’d been absentmindedly tracing random shapes on your skin with his fingertips. You were about to ask if he was okay when hysterical, full-body laughter burst from his lips, making your head bounce around on his chest. “Damn, am I that predictable?”

“Only when... you’re horny,” you said through a yawn and smile.

“Naughty girl.” Bucky lightly and playfully swatted your ass, then lifted his head to kiss your forehead before wiggling you a little bit when he saw your eyes flutter closed. “Don’t fall asleep yet, doll. I… uhhh, I came a lot, so we gotta get to the bathroom before my knot goes down or we’ll end up ruining the sheets.” You snorted a laugh at the hilarious picture your mind painted, and you could feel the peaceful smile on Bucky’s lips when he kissed your forehead. “I’m gonna carry you to the bathroom, alright?”

“‘Kay,” you agreed sleepily, wrapping your arms around his neck and locking your ankles behind his back when he sat up and began to shuffle over to the side of the bed.

Bucky’s metal hand curled under your bottom as he stood up, your limbs wrapped securely around him despite your exhausted state. When you hissed and flinched at the cold metal pressed against your skin, he easily switched to supporting you with his flesh hand and made a mental note to contact the Wakandans to inquire about some kind of temperature regulation feature for his arm. “I love you, dollface. Let’s get cleaned up.”

“Love you too, Buck,” you murmured, nuzzling your face into his neck to savor the last vestiges of the extra spice in his scent as he carried you into the bathroom and shut the door behind you.

#bucky x reader #alpha!bucky x omega!reader #abo #abo dynamics #mcu fanfic #marvel fanfic #extra spicy #alpha!bucky #steve rogers #steve is 4 offramps past done #tumblrs probably gonna block this on ios #so hashtag fuck tumblr

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spaceorphan18 · 2 years ago

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5 Times Kurt Talks About Sex and 1 Time He Doesn't (Part Three)

A/N: So, this was inspired the other day by a Nonny who was asking about how Kurt interacts with others on the topic of sex and this little idea popped in my head.

It’s a little mini-series, and I’ll post one part a day, then I’ll get it up on Ao3 after it’s complete.

It’s set in a post-canon-ish world when they’re all living in New York. The whole thing takes place over the course of a day.

****

Conversation Three: Rachel

Kurt’s sitting in the café, slowly sipping a refreshing vanilla café latte with caramel drizzle. The afternoon is turning out to be bright and sunny and has been otherwise exquisite. There’s only one problem… Across the table sits Rachel and Jesse, snuggled closely together, looking lovingly into each other’s eyes and acting as if he isn’t even in the room.

The two of them brush noses together, trading little kisses that only they think are cute, while Kurt leans his head on his hand with a disgusted look on his face. The whole thing is made even more revolting by the fact that Jesse had finished off a giant bag of Flamin' Hot Cheetos and his orange lips are leaving dusty marks all over Rachel’s face.

“You’re extra spicy today,” Rachel coos into his kiss.

“Oh, just extra spicy?” Jesse teases. “Do you like when I get a little hot for you?”

“Mmmm, I love it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Why is this his life? Why did they even bother to invite him to this lunch if they don’t even seem to care that he is there? He wishes Blaine were there with him. Then maybe he could show Rachel just how annoying PDA really can be. Why does Blaine have to work on the weekends?

Kurt takes another long sip of his coffee - there were truly only a few good things in the world.

Rachel and Jesse cup each other’s face - more interested in eating each other than the food on their plates.

With Finn, her youthful obsession had been understandable, and at least Kurt had been distracted enough with his own romance that he had been able to ignore most of it when he needed to.

And then there had been Brody… who even though lived with them for a while, at least had been tolerable. (And oh, god, Brody! Until that moment, he had forgotten there is another dick that he has seen up close. Completely unwillingly, and too often for his comfort, but at least he could text Elliott that his number is one higher… or not, maybe best leaving that conversation dead.)

The point, though, is that Rachel has always had a tendency to be blinded and single minded by her romances. Kurt had hoped once she and Jesse had gotten married that she would have grown out of her habit of being obscene in public.

That doesn’t seem to be the case.

“You know, Rachel, I thought you hated when your significant others ate spicy food,” Kurt shoots out. Thinking of Brody reminds him of something, and a smug grin climbs on his lips.

“What?” Rachel snaps her head towards him, her face contorting into a truly confused look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I seem to remember a time with chicken wings and habanero sauce and a misadventure with Brody…”

Her eyes grew wide as it dawned on her what he’s talking about. “Kurt!” His name is sharp on her tongue. “You swore you’d never say anything.”

Kurt had said enough to intrigue Jesse, however. “Rachel, darling, I thought you promised that there were no secrets between us. I’m sure whatever this story is would only do well to strengthen our bond together.”

Kurt lets out a snicker as he sips more of his latte. “Are you sure you aren’t burning to tell him Rachel?”

She gives him a glare. “It was nothing, Jesse. Just a stupid little thing that happened.”

Jesse looks over to Kurt, an eyebrow arched wanting to know more.

“Her college boyfriend went down on her after wolfing down a dozen or so very hot wings,” Kurt says bluntly. Rachel’s face blushes a deep red as Kurt continues. “How’d the story go - Rachel? It burned so bad that you couldn’t sit down during the subway ride home?”

Rachel looked at him, fuming. “Do you know how embarrassing it is riding the subway without underwear? Just knowing those pervy guys can just tell something is going on under there?”

“You’re the one who gave Brody dessert after his meal,” Kurt snickered.

“I had to have a milk bath after that,” Rachel screeched unexpectedly, pointing at herself indignantly. “And you were the traitor friend who wouldn't help me with the burn cream the doctor suggested.”

“Oh my god, Rachel,” Kurt’s voice grows agitated. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m not going anywhere near your vagina!”

“A true friend would have done it!”

“Well, maybe you should have gotten Santana to rub some of her Yeast-I-Stat on you!”

“Brody and I had already broken up by the time she did that commercial! Or maybe I would have,” Rachel shoots back.

“Wait, what?”

“And I doubt that cream would have even worked! I’ve had yeast infections that have felt better than that!” Her voice carries enough that the two teens sitting a few tables down look at her funny.

“Oh, honey, that must have been such a painful experience,” Jesse says, cupping her cheek. “I, myself, had the misfortune in my youth of trying to masturbate after eating nachos with jalapenos. I thought I had washed my hands thoroughly, but even with the imported French, silken soap, it still burned. Regrettably I couldn’t touch myself for a week afterwards. And I had to lie to my mother - telling her that I had received a critical accident when attempting new choreography with Vocal Adrenaline.”

“Oh, my god…” Kurt mutters.

Jesse then turns to him. “And really, Kurt, Rachel’s vagina is the most beautiful flower whose honey I could suckle for hours if possible. I don’t blame her college boyfriend - or any man or woman - to be so desperate for a taste they’d jump in without proper preparation. If you are ever interested, Kurt, I’m sure Rachel would be willing to let you experiment on her so you, too, could have the nirvana-like experience I had when discovering Rachel for the first time.”

“Right, exactly,” Rachel punctuates, until she realizes what Jesse has said. “Oh, no, wait, Jesse…”

“Did you just offer your wife to me for sex?” Kurt isn’t sure he just comprehended what had happened.

Rachel waves it off. “Of course he didn’t…”

“Rachel, we shouldn’t cut ourselves off from experiences just because they scare us,” Jesse continues. Kurt’s eyes grow wide. What is even happening? “I, for one, am open for anything - especially if Kurt’s undoubted curiosity leads him to explore the vast, physical love we have for each other. I mean, why else would he bring up such a story? Though, he should be warned, I do critique technique and am not shy about it.”

“Oh,” Kurt says, shrugging at Rachel’s mortified face. “So, it was a proposition for a threesome. Noted.”

Rachel lets out a regretful groan.

“Well, that seems like it would hardly be fair,” Jesse continues. “Blaine is also always welcome to our bed.”

Kurt nods, going back to his latte. He should have had lunch with Elliott.

#s.o. writes things #five times #kurt hummel #rachel berry #jesse st. james #kurt hummel fic #omg i love writing bonkers jesse

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cinamun · 11 months ago

Note

I’m just breezing through right quick. I’m going to drop this thought then Imma head out. I can see Mercy turning into a granny version of Bonnie while still keeping Bishop as her Clyde. Like the dark version of Isaiah and Octavia lol. Not saying she becomes a villain per se but more like a gun toting, cigarette in her mouth while frying fish and will toss some hot grease on your ass if you fuck with her type. All while rocking a bomb ass pixie cut. And for all intents and purposes it turns Bishop all the way on. The Blackburn men do love a good ride or die chick. That’s all I’m saying. Now, I’m going back to lab but let me get a plate of them wings on the way out.

*hands you a plate and extra sauce covered in some tin foil*

Enter the Dark Mercy™ era...?

LMFAO but stay tuned tho! You never know how things will go!

#story stuff

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bubblyhoney · 4 years ago

Text

spicy

warnings: kissing, mainly fluff, suggestive language and insinuations (steamy), 1 ass tap, mentioning of a name brand of spectacular hot sauce

tags: dreamwastaken x gn!reader

words: 1047

A/N: had a burrito with cholula for dinner tonight and suddenly had the motivation to write this drabble for dream?? a little out of left field for how long it's been since i have written for this green idiot but i like it hehe.

requests/inbox status: open

“C’mon.”

You slide the plate half an inch closer. He just shakes his head, half of a disgusted look on his face.

“It’s going to hurt me. I don’t want the inside of my mouth to sweat,” he complains with his body tilted away from it. He acts like it’s going to sink its teeth into him and take a meaty bite.

You stare between him and the chicken and cheese burrito. It has a singular stripe of Cholula on it; it’s the sweetest hot sauce you own, not awfully painful but still spicy enough to taste good.

“One bite, and I’ll leave you alone. It’s not that bad, baby.” You scoot it closer. “I’ll make you those cookies you like after. Promise,” you offer, eyebrows wiggling.

“Extra chocolate chips?” He asks, wincing as he picks up the fork. You nod, fond smile growing on your face.

He’s not a massive fan of spice, per say. He only gets barbecue wings when you go out, and even gets his pad Thai without red pepper flakes. The one time you coaxed him into a spicy garlic boneless wing at Buffalo Wild Wings he coughed and sputtered like you spiked them with something radioactive. His lips and nose turned this cute shade of red and you kept teasing and asking about what shade of blush he uses. Sapnap got him convinced that eating the white parts of jalapeños was actually the least spiciest part of the pepper and Dream spent 45 minutes in the bathroom.

So he just glares at the bite of burrito in his fork and sniffs it suspiciously. Sucking in a big breath, he puffs his chest and takes the bite off of the fork with his teeth scraping on the metal. He chews so hard his jaw pops, like he’s afraid to actually taste it. But he swallows, smacking his tongue on the roof of his mouth. He looks around at you, one eyebrow tilted in surprise.

“That wasn’t the worst.”

You clap, wiping an imaginary tear off of your cheek. Grabbing his hand, you bring the back of his palm to your lips for a kiss.

“They grow up so fast,” you simper through a sniff, voice weak. He rips his hand from you with a short laugh, standing to bring your now-empty plate to the sink.

“Shut up.” He hides his smile.

You follow, snorting, and lean up against the fridge to watch him put away the dishes in the dishwasher.

“Who knows. Maybe one day you’ll graduate to buffalo sauce. That day I will drop dead,” you say with finality, grin wide on your lips. He just shakes his head and closes the door of the dishwasher with a snap.

And then he’s nearing you, head tilted, shoulders relaxed and confident. He presses an arm up onto the fridge above your head, leaning down to your level. Your grin melts into a smirk. His lips find your cheek, and his other hand your lower back. Eyes falling closed, you revel in his touch with a hand clenched in the material of his t-shirt. He smells like the cologne he keeps on his desk, all warm and spicy and sharp.

The hand on your back slides down to the belt loops of your jeans and he slides two fingers in them, hooking his hand to you.

“What is all this for?” You ask, too breathy for your liking, and he gives you a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Pulling away just slightly, your lips open to see that look in his eyes. Hm. You know that look. He has that expression on his face right before—

Click.

Sapnap’s entrance to the house saves you from your most definitely steamy interaction with your boyfriend.

“Kitchen!” You call, loosening your fistful of his shirt and standing up straight. He gives you another look but backs off, leaning up against the counter with his arms folded. Like a father awaiting his child to come home past their curfew. Sapnap’s bearded face comes into the light of the kitchen and he sets his keys down onto the island with a loud sound.

“Dude. Dream tried Cholula.” You sound proud.

“No way!” His mouth drops open, looking between you two.

Dream groans, smacking his head on the cupboard behind him.

“And didn’t even pitch a hissy fit! That’s growth.”

God, you’re having so much fun with this.

“Proud of you, bro,” Sapnap adds before slapping his best friend's bicep and leaving for presumably his room. Dream just shakes his head and calls out some sassy remark you're too enthralled in turning to the cupboard to get cookie ingredients to hear.

You’re halfway through pulling out a measuring cup for the flour when he sidles up behind you and presses you flush to the counter edge. You make a noise of acknowledgment but continue on to dump the powder into the plastic mixing bowl. Two long arms drape over you and press flat to the counter as his head drops onto your shoulder.

“Do you want my help?” He mumbles, muffled from the material of your shirt. His mischievous mood seems to have disappeared, you note. Good. Sapnap just got home and he’d probably not love you two christening the kitchen.

“Yes.” You turn your head and press a kiss to his temple. “Go get me the chocolate chips, big boy.”

His pressure from on your back lifts, but not before he lands a firm smack on your butt. You jolt and glare at his back as he reaches up to the shelf where he hides them from Sapnap. (Sap likes to eat them by the handful and Dream plays with him by putting them on top of the cupboards. Meanie.)

“No hot sauce in the cookies, right?” He jokes and plops the bag down right next to you.

“No,” you start, and tear off a corner of the bag. “But I will put a healthy dose of sichuan chilies in.”

He seems to not know what you’re talking about, for his eyebrows furrow and he chews at his lip.

“Are those hot?”

“Nah.”

And you don’t put them in his sacred chocolate chip cookies. But you slip in that little detail for future reference when you get Chinese food. I mean, he’s got to branch out somehow, right?

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :] let me know what you think in the comments!

#dreamwastaken #mcyt imagine #dreamwastaken x gn!reader #dreamwastaken fluff #dreamwastaken fanfic #dreamwastaken oneshot #dreamwastaken drabble #dmsp #mcyt #mcyt x reader #bubblyhoneyfics

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abramsbooks · 2 years ago

Photo

RECIPE: Kate’s Buffalo Tofu Wings (from Fake Meat by Isa Chandra Moscowitz)

Let’s start with the OG of vegan wings. Once again, we take a trip to the golden era of veganism, the 1990s. We were lousy with veggie burgers and scrambled tofu. Packages of vegan cheese didn’t even bother to advertise “IT MELTS,” because we all knew it didn’t. And no one, but no one, even considered that a wing could be vegan. Except Kate’s Joint in Alphabet City. I could write a whole think piece on the place, but let’s just focus on the buffalo wings. Fat rectangles of chewy tofu in an herbed breadcrumb coating, and dripping with buffalo sauce. On the side, a pinch dish of creamy tofu ranch. No table was without a few orders. On your first bite, everything just burst into your mouth in the most obscene way. Now you can create that feeling at home! So scruff up your tables, hire some crust punks to sit outside your window, and enjoy.

Makes 16 wings

1 (14-ounce/400 g) block extra-firm tofu, sliced into 16 rectangles

1 teaspoon salt

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

3 tablespoons cornstarch

1 cup (240 ml) cold unsweetened soy milk

1 tablespoon tamari

2 cups (160 g) panko breadcrumbs

3 tablespoons chopped fresh rosemary

Safflower oil, for frying

FOR THE SAUCE:

¼ cup (55 g) vegan butter, melted (I like Miyoko’s)

¾ cup (180 ml) buffalo hot sauce (like Frank’s Red Hot)

FOR SERVING:

2 cups (200 g) carrot sticks

2 cups (150 g) celery sticks

Rescue Ranch Dressing (see below)

HOT TAKES

I don’t press the tofu for these. I don’t know, Kate’s might have, but I like the moisture when you bite into one, as well as the fact that it cuts down on a lot of prep time.

Kate’s tofu wings were rectangles, so I re-created the shape for mine. You can use any shape you like, but don’t expect any points for authenticity. Here are directions for butchering tofu to end up with the correct shape: sixteen stubby little rectangles. Don’t press the tofu; a drain and a quick little squeeze with some kitchen towels to keep it dry are all you need. Now let’s proceed.

Use a 14-ounce (400 g) rectangular block of tofu; this will work best. Place the tofu on one of its long sides and slice it in half down the middle into two planks, like you’re making an open book. You should have two large rectangles. Now slice both of them in half the short way. You’ll have four rectangles. Take each rectangle and cut it vertically into four pieces.

Press each tofu rectangle with a paper towel to quickly dry it. Place in a single layer on a small baking sheet. Sprinkle with ½ teaspoon salt and drizzle with the olive oil and lemon juice. Toss to coat. Let rest while preparing everything else. You will be using this same tray for the breaded tofu.

Now make the slurry and breading: Scoop the cornstarch into a wide-rimmed bowl, add half the soy milk along with the tamari, and stir well until it’s a thick smooth paste. Mix in the remaining milk. On a large rimmed plate, mix together the panko, rosemary, and remaining ½ teaspoon salt.

Dip a piece of tofu into the the slurry with one hand, letting the excess drip off. Transfer to the panko bowl and use the other hand to sprinkle a handful of breadcrumbs over the tofu to coat it completely. Return it to the tray and bread all the other pieces in the same way. Make sure you use one hand for the wet batter and the other for the dry batter, or you’ll end up with crumb hand.

Preheat a large cast-iron pan over medium-high heat. Pour in a layer of oil, about ¼ inch thick. Fry the tofu in the hot oil until golden on the top and bottom, working in batches if necessary; it will take about 8 minutes total. The sides will get fried in the process, but add a little more oil if needed. Use a thin metal spatula to flip.

While the tofu is frying, make the sauce: Simply mix the melted butter with the buffalo sauce. You can melt the butter in a large ceramic bowl in the microwave then mix in the hot sauce to save on doing dishes.

Lift each wing from the oil and dunk it into the buffalo sauce to coat. Transfer to serving plates and serve immediately with the carrots, celery, and ranch.

RECIPE: Rescue Ranch Dressing

If we replaced all the dairy ranch dressing on earth with vegan ranch dressing, we would reverse the climate crisis and save millions of lives. It’s a fact, look it up. But I’m not here to preach, I’m here to give you a creamy, herby, zesty dressing that you will want on hand at all times. You don’t need any tips on what to do with ranch dressing; you will naturally dip anything and everything in it. Wings, obviously. But being in Nebraska, I’ve seen people take this dressing in some weird directions. Pizza? OK. Nachos? You do you. Except that one person who dipped samosas in it. What were you thinking?

Makes about 1 cup (240 ml)

2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh parsley 2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh dill 2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh chives 1½ teaspoons onion powder ½ teaspoon garlic powder ¼ teaspoon ground black pepper ½ teaspoon salt, plus more if needed 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice ¾ cup (180 ml) vegan mayo

In a small mixing bowl, add the parsley, dill, chives, onion powder, garlic powder, black pepper, and salt. Drizzle in the lemon juice and give it a stir. Let sit for about 5 minutes, soaking up the flavors and wilting the herbs.

Add the mayo and stir well. Depending on the kind of mayo you used, you may need to add a little water to thin it out. Do this by the tablespoon until the consistency seems correct, thick but pourable. Taste again for salt and seasoning. The flavors enhance as it sits, so it’s even better the next day! Seal in an airtight container and refrigerate for up to 5 days.

Bestselling author Isa Chandra Moskowitz shows you how to create your own vegan meats, like deli slices and ground beef, that will satisfy every craving

“I’m an animal lover and that love doesn’t end when I get hungry. Do I miss meat? Not really. But here’s what I do miss: Aromas. Experiences. Methods. Traditions.

“I remember all the tastes and sensations from my omnivore days, even though they were so long ago. My grandmother’s meatballs, burnt on one side. Slurpy seafood pasta at a café along the bay, my teeth scraping against the hard oyster shells. My favorite pizza burger from a diner underneath a Midtown office building, the feel of the vinyl seat as I bounced with excitement at the sight of the melty mozz arriving at the table.

“These are the moments you could say I miss. Maybe you do, too. But we don’t have to.” —from the Introduction

Fake Meat is packed with 125 recipes that will satisfy every kind of meat craving, from a vegan Philly cheesesteak and a basket of wings to a rich, gooey lasagna.

For more information, click here.

#abramsbooks #abrams books #fake meat #fake meat cookbook #vegan cookbook #vegan #vegan food #vegan cooking #vegan super bowl #vegan superbowl #vegan wings #vegan buffalo wings #buffalo wings #tofu

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truglori · 4 years ago

Text

Game Night...

(Heads I win...Tails you lose)

Synopsis: Game night at Erik’s crib with a twist...

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Plus size OC

Warning: Language, Smutt

A.N- Inspiration was this picture

It was Game Night at Erik’s. He held them every other Saturday night and it was starting to become a ritual for Kaila to attend within the last month. When being surrounded by coworkers ,who became good friends, food, drinks, and music how could anyone turn down a time like this. Along with his beautiful luxurious bachelor’s pad Erik made a pretty good host.

Everything from wings with different flavors, a meat and cheese board, warm soft cinnamon pretzel bites, chicken and beef quesadillas, as well as different chocolates and chilled high class wine ,that Kaila wasn’t used to, had covered his antique walnut wooden dining table. Like she thought, he was a great host who had great taste and wasn’t cheap at all.

Standing in front of the miniature buffet with an empty plate Kaila was indecisive on what to get and how much. Still fresh to the friend group she was conscious on how much she ate in front of people that she wasn’t really comfortable with yet. Out of the six times she’s been here this was only her second time eating with them after getting pressured by her cubicle buddy ,Celina, telling her to make a plate before everything was gone.

Hearing the chatter coming from the livingroom, Kaila decided on a few slices of the quesadillas instead of the wings. She didn’t want to look like a pig knowing that she would try to suck the sauce off of her fingers afterwards. Filling up her red plastic cup with the cool wine she headed back into the huge living area. Spotting her purse and coat she sat in her spot and cuddled up with her belongings.

“See I told you, the food is good.” Celina smiled while sipping on her wine. She brought a hand to her hair stroking the box braids and giggled.

Kaila noticed that she had three cups prior so she knew that she was starting to become loose.

Laughing with her, Kaila shook her head and dug into her finger food. Looking at the small group she wondered how she was able to fit in with them. The group consisted of three women and three guys, Erik including as one of them. Every single person in their clique was extremely attractive and in shape. Her body type did not belong at all. There was always rumors going around the office about them setting up date nights to throw orgy parties. At least that’s what people assumed because they were so tight and never invited anyone else.

But Kaila had to take a chance and ask, since her desk buddy was a part of the famous group. So one day she asked Celina if it was true only to earn one of the most hysterical laughs in her face. She shut it down immediately and informed her the reason behind their closeness was because they all trained and got hired for their jobs at the exact same time and have been inseparable since.

Celina thought it was funny and invited her out so she could see that she wasn’t lying. Kaila refused the first few times but gave in after Celina had another one of their members, Leah, tag team against her insisting that she’d come. Kaila wasn’t an extrovert at all. Her regular day included work, talking on the phone with her baby sister who was away for college, and tv time with her cat, Snuggles.But she wanted to change that so she made Game Night at Erik’s a part of her weekend routines.

“Y’all mufuckas ready to get this bitch started.” Erik walked in finally making his presence known after being upstairs for half an hour. He was changed out of his work attire into something more relaxed. Nike grey sweats, a crisp white tshirt with his gold chains falling over it, and his Nike slides to match. His dreads were out of the braids that he only kept in while he was at work, now they were wild and free.

Kaila took in his frame. She watched as his muscles flexed from the slightest movements. Twisting open his personal bottle of Hennessy, she watched him take a long swig and shaking his head at the taste afterwards. She did a short giggle when she seen him hiss making his gold canines show. When Erik’s eyes turn to her direction she quickly averted her gaze to everyone else praying that she didn’t get caught staring.

This crush that she had for him was starting to be too much. At first she thought it would go away once she would find out that his body and personality didn’t mix but it became worst when she started to hang out with them. Erik was nothing like how she thought of him to be. Before hand she for sure figured him out as a smug and arrogant jerk but he was the total opposite. He was such a gentleman, sweet, and a charmer when it came to the ladies.

The littlest things he did like hold the door for her, or making sure that she wasn’t the last one going into a building whenever they went out for lunch to grab coffee. Kaila was falling for all of it. But after hanging out with them for so long Kaila noticed a few things about him. Yes, Erik was a sweetheart but he had a rough edge to him. When the drinks were in his system Erik liked to talk his shit, and he was nasty with it too. Of course all of the girls in the group would openly let him know that he could fuck if he wanted to. All except Kaila, she would never make a statement as bold as that no matter how much alcohol she had.

“About time nigga. The hell was you doing back there?” One of the guys, Tyler asked sitting in between Leah’s legs on the floor.

“My shit, my business bitch ass nigga.” Erik retorted playfully. He walked in front of his coffee table sitting in his chair. On the table had a display of all types of games. He sorted through them taking his time.

“Erik hurry up and pick a gamee.” Celina whined as she still sipped.

Glancing up he eyed everyone briefly. “The fuck is it, rush Erik night or sumn shit. Y’all niggas know without this y’all wouldn’t have shit else to do so calm the fuck down for I throw all y’all ass out.” He laughed drinking out his bottle.

“Hold up I didn’t say shit. I hope that’s not for everyone.” The thick dark skin girl who’s name was Keisha came in and sat down. Kaila thought she was the prettiest.

“Nah not you Keisha, you know you my boo.” He smirked.

She giggled doing the “period” motion with her hand. Kaila smiled sitting her plate on the floor beside her making a mental reminder to throw it away before she leaves.

Erik cleared his throat picking up a box. “Aight I got one. Do or Drink!” Sitting the other games to the side he placed the box in the middle.

Groanes and curses came from the other people. Kaila faced them amused with their reaction wondering what was wrong with the game he chosed.

“No Erik you always pick this game.” Leah flopped her hands to the side of her.

“Yeah I don’t like this one bae. You be making everybody drink and get drunk while playing this. Can we play something else.” Keisha sighed picking up her glass.

“No y’all only get drunk cause y’all mufuckas don’t know how to drink or hold ya liquor. Besides she ain’t never played this with us yet.” He spoke sorting the cards.

All of the attention went towards Kaila. Trying her best to shrink in her side of the couch she felt her cheeks heat up. Kaila hated when she was put on the spotlight in front of everybody. Bringing her cup to her mouth she sipped some hoping to calm her nerves.

“Kaila you ain’t never played this with us?” Troy asked.

Shaking her head she smiled timidly. “No but I guess I will tonight.”

“Kaila the game is real simple, all you have to do is draw a card, read it aloud so that everyone can hear you and you can either choose to do what it says or drink instead. Don’t worry about all that extra shit. Got it?” Erik asked her shuffling the deck.

“Yeah I got it.” She answered softly.

When he eyed her up and down part of her had to clenched her thighs to keep the wetness she felt down there from damping her panties and the other part wanted to run away from his gaze. The way he looked with his dreads covering his eyes was so enticing and it had her excited. Something she haven’t felt with a man in almost two years.

There was an order on how the rotation went. It was Celina, Keisha, Troy, Tyler, Leah, Erik, and lastly Kaila. She was okay with going last just to see how the game was to be played. It was easy to catch on to after the first few turns. Some of the draws that Kaila picked up were to risky for her so she had to drink for not doing them. Because she didn’t drink hard liquor Erik allowed her to take shots of the wine but for everyone else it was either tequila or some of his Hennessy. She was definitely starting to feel warm from the drinking she’s been doing.

Now it was going on the second round and it was Leah’s go,she had to draw a card. “Okay it says let the group go through your phones photo gallery for 60 seconds. Do this or take two shots?” She threw her card down looking for the shot glass.

Erik jumped up from his seat. “Unh uh hand it over. You passed the last time. Gimme your fuckin phone.” He chuckled walking near her.

Kaila laughed watching Leah try to keep her phone away from him but failed due to his tall and bulky stature taking it clean straight out of her hands. He held the IPhone to her face unlocking it and went to her gallery. Erik’s eyes went from entertained to lustful within seconds. Sucking in his bottom lip he glanced back at Leah.

“Damn girl. Yo shit pretty as fuck.” His low voice crept throughout the room. His eyes traveled down to her covered area.

Kaila, knowing what he was referring to, felt herself get jealous and turned on at the same time. She wanted him to look at her like that and speak to her the same way but she was to shy to say anything.

“Nigga let me see.” Tyler hopped up standing next to him. His mouth dropping when he saw whatever that was on the screen. “Damn Leah.”

Rolling her eyes Leah snatched her phone from their view. “Okay y’all niggas not bout to be fantasizing over my pussy.” She sat back on her end of the couch.

Erik shook his head walking to his chair. Picking up a card he read silently before trying to pick a new one. Celina sat up when she saw him and called him out.

“Uh Erik you never skip cards. What you doing baby boy?” She sat on the edge.

Erik smack his lips. “Nah not that one. Plus it’s my shit I could do whatever I want.” He spoke lowly going to the next card.

Keisha got up walking over to him. “No let me see the card because I ain’t never seen you skip one a day since I met you.” She tried picking it up but Erik snatched it away.

“Chill Keisha, watch out.” He grabbed her wrist lightly.

Keisha laughed. “Boy stop playing with me and let me see.”

Distracted by her going back and forth with him Erik wasn’t aware of Celina sneaking around the other side of him and successfully grabbing the card. She ran behind the couch and read it.

“Let’s see why Stevens was act like a pussy.” She slurred her words. “It’s says motorboat the person to the right of you for 15 seconds, even if they don’t have boobs. Do this or take three shots?”

Everyone looked to the right of him. Sitting at the end of the couch left only one person, Kaila. For the second time that night all eyes was on her. She wished that she could find a hole to crawl in and just die but that wasn’t possible for her. Hearing Celina read the card had her wishing that she would have just left it alone when he skipped the first time. She was embarrassed but she didn’t know if it was because the card dared him to put his face in her titties or that he wanted to skip the turn.

“Celina sit your drunk ass down and just leave the card alone.” Leah grabbed her arm and pulled her down.

“Oops sorry.” She burped putting the card back.

There was silence for a few minutes. For almost the whole night Kaila skipped her turn or declined when someone had to do something to her causing them to lose. She didn’t want to be the party pooper of the hour so she spoke up.

“You can do it if you want.” Her voice coming out lightly. Avoiding the stares from the others her eyes stayed on Erik’s.

His brows lifted up surprised. “Look don’t let Celina’s drunk ass pressure you into something you not down for Kaila.” The way he said her name made her squirm and Erik peeped it himself.

“She wasn’t but if you don’t want to I get it-“ She stopped her sentence when he stood up from his chair.

His body was now in front of hers. Kaila couldn’t help quickly glancing at the print that stuck out through his sweats. The feeling of his hand under her chin tilted it up startled her a bit.

“You wanna do this out here or we can go somewhere private? It’s up to you.”

The room was now quiet as everyone watched the two under the influence and yet still drinking from their cups. Kaila nodded as she stood up signaling that she would rather do it somewhere not in front of them. Stepping to the side she went in front of him and felt his hand on the small of her back.

“Don’t take longer than 15 seconds.” Celina laughed sticking her tongue out when they briefly looked back at her.

Kaila looked around aimlessly as Erik led her down his dark hallway. The only thing that could be seen was the faint wall art from the infrequent lightening outside that came through his windows due to the rainstorm they were going to have tonight. The closer they were to their destination the more the butterflies in Kaila’s stomach start to appear one by one.

“Here we are.” Erik pushed a tall black door opened revealing his master bedroom.

Kaila didn’t stop her eyes from wondering as she looked around. The theme color to his room was black and red. His king sized bed was placed in the middle with a Versace Medusa logo cover resting on top. Laying on the ground next to it was a large black and gold Persian rug. But what caught her attention was the wide mirror that was over his bed.

“You have a nice room Erik.” She sent him a light smile standing in the middle of the floor.

Erik closed his door with the weight of his body. He smirked watching her stand there timidly barely keeping eye contact with him. Erik knew that Kaila had some sort of crush on him but he never said anything about it because he didn’t want to embarrass her. She was always shy around him but was okay with talking to everyone else in the group. Erik couldn’t stand that shit. Watching her round face give her sweet smile to Troy and Tyler always made him jealous. He wanted to be the one to put it on her face but could never get the chance with her always running away from him.

Before she became a part of their group Erik already noticed Kaila around the office. The curve of her wide hips and thickness of her thighs that she would cover up lured him into her. There would be days when she wasn’t wearing her turtleneck and he could finally get a peak at her smooth and chocolate double D’s along with a whiff of her perfume. Erik’s mouth would began to salvitate as he became curious wondering how they would taste. Now he had the chance.

“Thank you. I appreciate that baby.” He chuckled walking to stand in front of her.

Kaila’s eyes averted down at the new pet name. Looking back up, his russet eyes met her chestnut colored ones. His teeth held the full bottom flesh between them. The moment she inhaled for the first time with their closeness Kaila smelled his cologne that sent signals down to her vagina. She could feel the sticky wetness that he was created and he hadn’t even touch her. Her chest rose and fell as her breath hiked up.

“So you ready? It’s only 15 seconds.” The sound of his deep voice had her doing kegals on an imaginary dick.

“Yeah let’s do this.”

The sudden movements of his hands going up to her breast spooked her. Wearing an off the shoulder ribbed dark grey long sleeve tub top Kaila was able to feel his fingertips against her skin. She did a soft moan from the contact hoping that he didn’t hear.

“Big ass fucking titties.” Erik spoke out loud not caring if she heard him or not.

He began to grope them. Bringing his hands to the cuff of them he played with her breast. Lifting them up and down. All of a sudden he was like a kid in a candy store. Kaila could feel her nipples harden on his hands, that frequently rubbed against them. She bit her lip.

Erik smirked watching her get aroused in front of him. He could feel the pebbles turning into rocks from his touch and when he saw her suck on her bottom lip his dick jumped. Wasting no time he lifted her breast up and dove straight in face first. With the combination or her soft titties and her scent Erik’s dick started to get rock hard. He knew then that he now wanted to add titty fucking to the list of nasty shit he wanted to do to her.

“Mm.” Kaila tried her best hide her moan. She didn’t want him to think she was a prude for moaning at something as little as this. It was all a part of a game for goodness sake, but she couldn’t help it. Reaching up she gripped his dreads holding on to him while he moved his head side to side.

The fifteen seconds was long and over with but he was still down there. What was only supposed to be a quick playful motorboat session turned into love bites and delicate sucks. Erik took his time placing a kiss on to each breast. Tracing his tongue over them and then giving a soft suck. He could hear her trying to suppress her moans, but he was working for them and wanted to hear them clearly.

Reaching behind her he slid his hands around her thick waist and then traveled down to her ass. Gripping her cheeks roughly through her leggings he pulled her body into his pressing her down on his thick and solid member. Still continuing his sucks on her breast he groaned hearing her give in.

“Erikk.” Kaila felt the flutters in her stomach and her toes curl when she felt his package bump her area.

“Hmm?” He was now moving up to her exposed neck never losening his grip on her ass.

“The game.” Her words came out as a whine.

“Fuck it. You can’t tell me you not tryna let me fuck right now. Letting me suck on you and shit. I know you wet as fuck down there.” The confidence he spoke with had her dripping even more.

Kaila brought her hands up to his biceps. She turned her head to give him more space to kiss. Squeals left her mouth every time he would grip her cheeks separating them. Kaila wanted to submit badly but was still undecided as she worried about the others listening to what could happen in this room.

Erik pulled away from her seeing that she was hesitant. That’s when an idea popped into his head. His dick was too hard for him to leave without feeling any type of warmth. Going into his nightstand he found the coin and flipped it before walking back to her.

“Alright I have this coin here that’ll decide on what I can receive from you. Since you’re so worried about that dumb ass game out there. We can play our own.”

Kaila’s knitted with confusion but she was curious.

“What type of game?” Her soft voice asked.

Erik licked his lips as she watched hers move. He tugged on her lower lip with his thumb and index finger before showing her the coin and handing it to her.

“If it flips on head I get some pussy and if it flips on tails I get some head. You down?” Stepping in her space he bent his head kissing on her neck. She was so soft to him and it was hard for him to stop.

Kaila observed the gold naughty coin. She never tried anything like this in her 24 years of living. It was new and exciting and with Erik being the person behind it tempting her, she wanted to give it a chance.

“Okay. You flip?” She handed the coin back rubbing her sweaty palms up and down her black leggings.

Taking the coin he strolled over to his bed. Sitting on the edge of it he patted the space next to it offering her a seat. Kaila worked up the nerve to walk over from the liquid courage that she was feeling from the wine. It was making her feel frisky and horny all in one. She sat next to him and smiled sheepishly.

Erik leaned back and smirked. He wrapped an arm behind her as he got ready to flip the coin. “Heads I win...Tails you lose.” He chuckled as she understood the double meaning.

He tossed it up just a few feet above them and caught it quickly with the same hand.

“Hold your hand out.” He demanded and placed the coin flat on her palm. There was a pause for a few seconds before he lifted his hand. It landed on tails.

“Hope you know how to suck some dick.” He reached his hand behind her smacking her ass.

Kaila got up and stood in front of him. Rolling her eyes at his cockiness she pulled her braids up into a bun wrapping them around to keep them out of the way. She pushed him back causing him to lean on his elbows. Getting on her knees he started to rock his leg side to side. Tugging at his sweats she pulled them down along with his briefs making his semi-hard long and girthy length pop out. From the size alone Kaila got intimidated know that if he knew how to work with it he would make her go crazy.

Erik pulled on the hem of his shirt hiking it up to show his abs. He reached down grabbing the base of his dick whirling it back and forth. “I don’t wanna feel no teeth. You hear me?” His command coming out crystal clear.

Nodding her head Kaila leaned forward giving him a gentle kiss. The thick mushroom tip felt good against her lips. She hasn’t been with a man in almost two years so she wasn’t sure if she still had it. But tonight she would find out knowing that Erik would have no problem letting her know.

Getting her mouth wet she let a long sting of saliva drip on to his length. Sticking out her tongue she ran it against the sides wetting his stick up before taking him into her mouth whole. Erik was a challenge so she wasn’t going to get him down in one fit. She’d have to work her way down. She let him slide in and out of her mouth twirling her head when she would reach his tip. Taking one of her free hands she stroked his shaft while shoving her other hand in her leggings rubbing her clit. The feeling of having a dick grow in her mouth made Kaila’s pussy drip and nipples hard.

Looking up she watched as Erik kept his eyes on her. His jaws tightening from her locked jaw that she had on him. The ‘gawking’ sound coming from her made his balls jump. Erik’s eyes now became low as he reached for her braids unraveling the bun and created a ponytail with his fist.

“That’s how you sucking Daddy dick?” He asked surprise as he now sat up leaning on his free hand watching her perform her work of art.

When she felt him hit the back of her throat she answered him on purpose so that he could feel the vibrations. “Mmhm.”

“Ahh SHIT!” Erik threw his head back feeling how her throat had clenched around him. Kaila surprise the fuck out of him. He never expected a head monster behind that quiet little desktop bookworm facade she had put on, but everyone know that they be the main freaks.

She was sucking his shit sloppy just the way he liked it. Her tight warm jaws had his heads in the clouds. Kaila’s head game was starting to get so good Erik felt like he had to do or say something to throw her off.

“Let Daddy slut this muthafucking throat out....gah damnn.” Standing up he lifted his crisp white shirt up to his mouth tucking it in between his teeth. Grabbing her braids and making a ponytail with one hand he cupped her chin with the other as he fucked her throat.

When the spit began to run down her chin and hit her top it reminded Erik of her big chocolate melons that he wanted to fall asleep on. He had got to feel them now he wanted to see them.

“Pull them big ass fuckin titties out.” He spoke with his shirt still clenched in his teeth making his dimples show.

Kaila heard comply to his orders. She pulled the top down and her strapless bra up and began to play with her nipples for him. Using the spit that dripped on her chest she rubbed it on her pebbles as her mouth became wetter with her arousal. She brought a hand back into her pants and tweaked her nub.

Erik watched her play with herself knowing that head wasn’t the only thing he was trying to get from her for the night. If she could suck dick this good he only imagine what that pussy was feeling like.

“Mouth to fuckin good to not try and fuck. You gon give me sum pussy after?” His hips still stroking in her mouth. Kaila tried to push him out by his thighs but he pushed her hands away. “Move them fuckin hands and answer my question.”

Closing her eyes trying to breathe through her nose she nodded her head. Erik smirked as he pulled out of her mouth. Dick standing up and dripping with her saliva.

“Get yo ass on this bed.” He took off his shirt and stepped out of his sweats and underwear leaving him in his naked glory.

Kaila got on the bed, kicking of her shoes she laid on her back looking at herself in his mirror that was above them before she felt him pulling at her leggings. She squealed from the quick action lifting up to help him get them off. The moment the air touched her thighs she grew self conscious of her appearance. Erik noticed when he opened her thighs climbing between them.

“Instead of being worried bout how thick these thighs are you should be worried about how you gon take this dick.” He leaned up and tapped his heavy meat on her covered clit.

“Ooh.” Out of reaction Kaila moaned and shut her thighs closed.

Erik grabbing them and pushing them back to their previous position. “Unh uh. Open ya fuckin legs. I know you got some good warm wet ass pussy. I can feel the heat coming off that muthafucka and I ain’t pull ya panties to the side yet.”

His dirty talk was making her pussy throb. Kaila wanted to feel that heavy dick split her open even if she cried right after. Erik spoke with big dick energy because he know he had big dick to deliver.

“I want some dick.” Her shy hushed words coming out. Kaila didn’t usually speak like this but Erik brought it out of her.

He smirked and grabbed her the back of her thighs and lifted them up pushing them on her stomach. “Oh you gon get this dick, but I wanna eat this pussy first.”

Without warning he bent his head down between her thighs. Using his teeth he dragged her panties to the side. Kaila jump feeling his breath on her lower lips. She started to brace herself when she felt a long lick go up and down her slick coated slit. Taking his hand he used it to separate her meaty flesh. Her natural juices sticking to the sides

Erik groaned biting his lip. “Mm I know you be making niggas drown in this shit.” He watched her hole open and closed as he spoke to it.

Spitting on her clit he went straight to sucking on it. Erik had to stop her legs from snapping on his head. He used the all the upper strength he had to hold her thick thighs down all the while never letting up on her clit. Keeping his mouth around her he flicked the bud repeatedly. Her juices started to drip out already soaking his beard. The smell of her sex made his dick jump with anticipation. He was ready to feel her in some type of way. Bringing his tongue down he began to tongue fuck her tight hole. She clenched down on him as he slid in and out of her walls. Using his thumb he rubbed her clit adding to her pleasure

“Ohh fuuckk....I’m about to cum babyy.” Kaila covered her mouth to try and lower her whining moans but the way he stuck his tongue in her made it impossible.

“Let that shit out.” Smacking her inner thigh he went back sucking her clit. Erik felt how tight she was on his tongue. He knew he had to open her up a bit to get her ready for his dick. He took two fingers and slowly worked them into her.

Kaila lifted her hips to meet his strokes as she felt herself come undone on his fingers. The suction he was applying on her clit brought tears to her eyes. Her legs shook already giving out. Erik lifted up bringing his fingers to his mouth sucking her essence.

“I’ll have game night every day just to get up in this pussy.” He rubbed his tip against her clit. Using her natural lubricant he made himself slick enough and sat at her tight opening. Erik lifted her thighs back to as far as they were able to go and used the weight of his hips and thrusted inside of her.

“Ahh FUCK!! Gah damn. Wait a minute.” He pulled out instantly and closed his eyes. He chuckled lowly shaking his head. “You got me fucked up if you think I’m not beatin this shit down.” He gripped Kaila’s thighs pulling her to the edge of the bed. He had her at an angle and was standing up.

Kaila squeaked. “Erik wait don’t go too deep-“ She was cut off feeling him sink inside of her. Her arms flailing over as she gripped his sheet. Mouth ajar and formed into a silent ‘o’ as she felt herself getting stretched open to max she’s ever been.

—

Erik wasn’t playing when he said he was going to beat her pussy up. The size or weight of her body didn’t stand a chance to him. He was in beast mode as he drilled her shit in. Kaila’s cry’s and moans fell on deaf ears as he was hitting her spot. No matter how much pushing at his chest she did, it didn’t change the pace or motion he was going in. She had already came on his dick two times but that didn’t mean anything to him.

Kaila whimpered as she brought her hands to his hips to try and stop him. “Daddyyy please l-I can’t.” She brought a hand up to her mouth and bit on her knuckles.

Erik ignored her knowing that she was only speaking because of the sensitivity of her pussy started to probably grow higher the more he stroked her out. The minute he felt her pussy wrapped around his dick Erik got stuck. Her warm and gushy walls clenching him every time he tried to pull out. There was no way she wanted him out of this pussy.

“Move ya fucking hand and take some dick.” He barked as his dreads hung over his eyes and chain swung low. He pulled out tapping on her clit only to slide back in deeper this time.

“Unh..okayy.” She cried frustrated that she couldn’t run

He had her thick frame bended up like a pretzel. Looking between their bodies that was starting to sweat up, Erik watched the way he slid in and out of her. Her coat attached on to his dick. The way he could see her pussy throb around him. But the way she would involuntarily clenched her walls around him when he would pull out only leaving his tip in had her flipping Erik’s crazy switch.

Erik wanted to laugh when he saw the tremble in her lower lip and her tears coming out the corner of her eyes. He was giving her that good dick and he loved watching her get ruined in front of his face. Leaning over her he started to suck her nipples while his stroke never faltered.

Glancing up at the cieling Kaila watched him stroke deep inside of her in the mirror. The rotation of his hips along with his slight curve he had on his dick was sending her to another dimension. He was digging so deep inside of her it had her mind making up scenarios of having a family with him. It was the way he stroked her and fed on her nipples at the same time that had her seeing stars on his wall.

Kaila gripped his dreads. She moaned and whimpered with panted breaths. She couldn’t control the level of her voice. When his strokes were short and fast she’d moan but when he started tapping at her bottom her toes would curl and she’d whimpered and shake underneath him. Kaila didn’t have a clue when she would be able to find another person to hit it the way he did or if there would be another at all.

“Ohh daddy....you so deep in my pussy.” Her sexy moans in his ear had Erik ready to bust. He lifted from her tittes and gave her a nasty kiss. Tongue and all. Kaila moaned and clenched down onto him. Erik’s fingers dug into her skin and sucked on her lip.

“You gon let me nut in this tight ass pussy?” He whispered in her neck.

Kaila shook her head yes willing to agree with anything while he was laying that pipe on her. “Cum in me daddy.”

Erik wanted to hold off but the pussy was hitting too good. He stood back up and stroked until he bottomed out inside her. He’d always get his best nuts when he would go deep. Tucking his lip into his mouth his deep long strokes started to slow feeling his balls tightened. Erik closed his eyes when she gripped his meat and pulling his seed right out of him.

“Fuck!” He groaned and continued to stroke his nut out until he was empty. He pulled out of her with her cream coating his member.

His dick was still hard. Kaila was laying in the same position. Her thighs sore and unable to close from staying open that long. Sitting up she rested on her palms to observe him. Erik’s eyes was glued to her pussy before taking his hand and rubbing her clit.

“I can’t stay out this shit.” He licked his lips.

Kaila shyly smiled as she was about to speak when she heard laughing on the other side of the door.

“Now y’all niggas know them 15 seconds been up.” Celina stated loudly before laughing along with the others.

Her hand covered her mouth as embarrassment clouded her face. She pushed his hand away.

“See Erik I told you.” Kaila whined getting up.

“Wait,where you going?” He asked stepping in front of her.

“I’m going back to the game.”

“We not done here yet. Now come flip this coin to see what you could get. This head...or... this dick.”

_____________________________________

Please excuse any mistakes!

(Going to have to edit this later)

Tag-list

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#black panther #erik killmonger #erik smut #erik stevens #erik x plus size reader #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger x reader #truglori #black panther killmonger

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whump-a-la-mode · 4 years ago

Note

Maybe, if you have any extra time, would you consider doing a continuation of the good villain rehab center prompt??? 🥺

🥺 I loved writing that one. Here you go! Just as a heads up, I’m going to start making prompt fills like this a little shorter, just because they’re starting to pile up a little. I wanna make sure I can answer all of them!

Thank you so much for the request!! Continued from here. This one is fluffy but also just a little sad.

CW//Hospital setting, pill mention, nausea mention, low self esteem

Visiting hours were from one to four.

That was the first thing Villain learned about the Supervillain Memorial Villainous Recovery Center, or, as it was far more commonly known, for the sake of brevity, the RC. That visiting hours were from one to four.

They could not help but hear the fact, echoing in their mind, as they glanced to the clock. Half after noon.

Half an hour.

Lunch was served at noon sharp-- they had learned that, too. Villain glanced down at the plate, sitting on the desk before them. It had been picked clean, to the point of nigh-spotlessness, leaving behind only the smeared residue of sauces and spices.

Two days. Three, they supposed, now, since the clock’s hands had already passed well into the afternoon. Three days, spent at the RC.

72 hours. Not counting the time they’d spent without their consciousness intact.

They sighed, placing down their fork-- a real, metal fork-- and listening to its soft clatter against the porcelain dishware.

Visiting hours were from one to four. Meaning that, in half an hour, Hero would be there. They’d grown familiar with, though not particularly fond of, the knock on their door-- the age-old call: “Villain, you have a visitor.”

Lunchtime had quickly become their least favorite time of day.

Things were peaceful before food was served. They woke up when wakefulness stirred them, spurred by no alarm, human or otherwise. The room was... comfortable. Light coaxed its way between the shades of their closed blind, leaving sunspots on the wood-paneled floor.

Though they awoke alone, when they emerged from bed, it was never long before someone came to see them. Doctor, it had been so far. A face they had learned to find kind and welcoming, even if their movements still made them uneasy.

Every day, the doctor would coax a light knocking upon their door, greeting them with a soft call of ‘good morning.’ They would ask how they had slept, how they were doing.

It was always the less practical questions that came before those of a medical nature. ‘Have you been feeling well?’ ‘Is there anything you need?’ ‘Would you like some tea?’

Then came the medical questionnaire-- a short affair of simple ‘yes’s’ and ‘no’s.’ Yes, their head still hurt. No, they weren’t having any trouble breathing. Yes, they were drinking their water. And their pills. Based upon the doctor’s warm, content smile, Villain’s recovery was going well, though they never mentioned the way that the taste of smoke refused to remove itself from the back of their tongue.

And, finally, the apologies.

To Doctor, Villain’s living conditions must have seemed to be torturous, considering the way they spoke of them.

“I’m so sorry you have to stay in here. Your doctors want a clean bill of health before you move to the main wing. It’s flu season, they say. Something like that could land you in the hospital while your lungs are still weak.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you could come visit with the nurses for a while... Oh, you must be so lonely. Are you sure there’s no one you want to call?”

“You aren’t getting bored, are you? The library is just down the street, are there any books you want? There’s a TV in the employee lounge...”

Yet, despite their countless worries, each and every one went unfounded. Villain’s room was a cell, yes. The door was locked. The window was bolted shut. They were a prisoner, and they knew that.

But, inexplicably, they were happy. On the first day, they had gone so far as to wonder if their food had been tampered with. They’d soon found otherwise, however. There was a far less sinister explanation.

They were simply happy. Perhaps not euphoric. Not overjoyed. But... content.

The time they spent in their cell was serene. Staring out over the window, watching the ocean play, the flowers in the botanical garden flash their extravagant petals. On the second day, when their fatigue had receded, they had obliged one of the doctor’s many offers. A book from the library.

Later that day, a chatty intern had brought in five, jabbering about how they didn’t know how fast of a reader Villain was.

So far, they’d only gotten through one, flipping leisurely through its pages. There was something nearly overwhelming about the experience. Letting the words flow to their mind as waves whorled in the ocean outdoors.

Prisoner or not, they were happy. They enjoyed their cell. There was room to roam, room to breathe. They couldn’t remember the last time they had been able to simply pause. To let every part of them relax.

And, during most of the day, they did relax.

Except during visiting hours. One to four.

Villain’s gaze glanced to the clock. 12:45.

Three days they’d been in the RC. Three days Hero would visit. Even if the hour had no struck yet, there was no doubt in their mind that the hero would be there, right on time, smiling and bringing gifts. The first day, it had been cookies. The second, a handful of candies. Today, they’d promised a brownie.

Villain never ate the food. It went right in the trash, every piece of it. It wasn’t an act of spite, not an act of distrust. But an act of nausea. When Hero left after their visits, they had no desire to eat.

Hero was... nice. That was undeniable. They entered with a grin and left with one, even as it fluttered throughout their meeting. Never had they uttered to Villain an insulting word, an aggressive tone. That was exactly the problem.

Why?

Why hadn’t they harmed them?

By name alone, the RC would have made any villain keep far from its walls. A recovery center was certainly a misnomer, a joke at those inside. Those being held captive, broken down and shattered into fiberglass particles of themself.

Because the heroes were evil. They were in the wrong. Regardless of what they said, regardless of what the public thought, it was the villains who were fighting the good fight. Any facility they had control over was certainly a torture chamber, intent on inflicting nothing but suffering on those inside.

Not bringing them tea and library books.

During visiting hours, from one to four, Villain would hardly speak. They allowed Hero to do that for them-- even as they asked them questions, requested their input, nudged them for anecdotes. There were no words that villain could say that would sound right.

So, they listened. Listened to the hero’s stories, how their day had gone, what stupid think their drunk teammates had done last weekend. Yet, they never strayed to topics of villainy. Never to topics of work. When such things would come up, they were brushed over with professional efficiency. ‘Then we fought downtown, but you’ll never guess how Teammate managed to set off the fire alarm.’

Because they didn’t care. Hero didn’t care.

They didn’t care that they were speaking to a villain. One who had caused untold harm, unending, ceaseless, meaningless destruction. Every time they prompted Villain to speak, they struggled to open their mouth. To let a stream of apologies spill forth, greater than the ocean outside their window.

But, not a single word would emerge. Because it wouldn’t be enough.

In the Supervillain Memorial Villainous Recovery Center, Villain was recovering. That was the problem.

They didn’t deserve it.

#villain whumpee #hero caretaker #doctor caretaker #ask #whumpblr #whump community #hero villain whump #fluff

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whatgaviiformes · 3 years ago

Text

Fic: Fixated

A/N: I can’t explain how I am feeling, so I am going to let fic do it instead. This is entirely written without edits, without a read through. Overworked!Scott

Edit: Okay I did a read through. Remaining mistakes are mine

-----

Virgil is the first to notice. Maybe because he’s Virgil, and possibly because he’s the only one who can call Scott his immediate older brother, so there’s something in their closeness in age, having navigated childhood together almost as equals, that sets his Scott-sense apart from that of his younger siblings.

When Scott was thirteen and Virgil was eleven, Scott was in the eighth grade and had to write a research report on the Wright Brothers, the pioneers of modern aviation. And that was all well and good, because Scott was going to start training for his pilot’s license right when he turned sixteen. The report became not just a chronicle of the historical figures’ lives, but also of flight, of the first airplane itself and the prototypes before it, of physics, and aerodynamics. He researched in a way he never had before because it was a subject he was passionate about.

He obsessed.

Like John but different.

John absorbed the search for knowledge into the fiber of his being, his fingertips always itching to take a deeper dive through archives when he heard a word he didn’t know or a concept he couldn’t explain fully. Research was as much a part of John as music was for Virgil, or swimming was for Gordon. It was a companion he could always revisit later, and so like all of them with hobbies that mattered, John knew how to catalog and save for a better time, and turn the itch aside when he needed to. He knew when to stop.

Scott didn’t. Scott defined the turn of phrase “down the rabbit hole.” Alice caught and enraptured by the not yet known or understood.

When he cared, he obsessed.

That project got finished with an A+, but resulted in anxious shaking that didn’t alleviate until a few days after the grades came back. Scott had lost weight, skipped his extra curriculars, and Virgil hadn’t seen him for two whole weeks while he worked. The younger ones likely didn’t remember.

But Virgil did. And he knew the signs. Forgetting to eat, falling asleep at his computer or on his books, waking up earlier than normal to get a head start to whatever imaginary goals he created for himself that day.

So, the day Virgil notices, it’s because Scott missed lunch. Grandma had made hot wings, which was one of his favorites, so the smell of char in the air would’ve been enough to set his stomach rumbling. With Scott absent when he definitely shouldn’t be, Virgil decides to make him a plate, six hot wings with ranch on the side, and some celery.

He finds Scott at their father’s his work desk, his fingers flying over the keyboard, intently scanning the files behind the screen.

“Hey, I brought you lunch.”

No answer.

Virgil steps closer to the desk, sure that once Scott catches him in his periphery, he’d acknowledge his presence. But Scott doesn’t appear to have a periphery when he’s focused like that.

“Scott?” There’s a little room on the desk, so he nudges a few papers to the side and slides the plate down. “Scooter?” He looks tense. He can see knots forming, so he drops a hand on Scott’s shoulder, and –

“FU—”

Scott nearly jumps out of his skin, his hands fly up, catching the side of the plate which clatters, sending ranch and hot sauce all over the floor. Even MAX scurries away with a low beep at the sudden sound, and Virgil flinched in a sudden panic when the dish slipped through his fingers.

“Sorry, sorry! I just meant to help.” Virgil is already kneeling on the floor, trying to pick up what he can with his hands, knowing he needs a wet rag. Maybe a mop.

The little cup that held the ranch slid a ways. Gross.

“Ah. Thanks, Virg,” Scott says. And he means it, Virgil knows that. But he can also see the gears in Scott’s head still working, still thinking about whatever he had been focused on, not quite fully present. “Umm. Do you have this? I’m under a deadline.” He looks at his watch. “Ugh. A rough one. I’d help if I could.”

“No, I got this! Sorry, Scott.” He picks up the dirty hot wings, placing them on a plate for their compost pile. “Is there anything else I can get you instead? These were the last of them.”

But Scott doesn’t answer. He’s already back to his computer.

~*~

Gordon is next.

He may not have the same Scott-sense as Virgil, may not have picked up on it as quickly, but he and Scott both share early morning routines, meeting in the kitchen at 5:00, Scott dressed in a tank and his running shorts, Gordon in his swimsuit, a towel around his shoulders. Coffee is too heavy to start the day, but Scott usually would begin the brew for when they returned (and in case Virgil woke up) while Gordon filled their respective water bottles. Whoever finished first chose the energy boost of choice – sometimes just a snack bar, sometimes a shake. On weekends, it might be oatmeal or toast.

Out by the pool by 5:15. Stretching was important.

Scott began his run. Gordon began his laps. They went about their day. Rinse, repeat.

Occasionally a rescue might come in and affect their sleep cycle just a bit, but Scott and Gordon were both military. If they weren’t rising before the sun, it was too late and they lost half their day already.

So Gordon is next, because Scott doesn’t meet him in the kitchen. He’s not sure he knows how to make smoothies for one – hasn’t in a long time – so he proportions his ingredients for two, fills a second cup for Scott when he wakes, and sticks it in the refrigerator so it will stay cold.

He pushes himself during his exercise. He was long past chasing times, but he still raced himself. Seconds could save a life, and so he exercised for speed, for longevity sometimes. For survival.

It’s a longevity day, so he’s abandons speed for energy conservation, which makes it a long morning.

His muscles are tired and sore when he returns to the kitchen and opens the fridge for a drink to boost his electrolytes. He is not in the mood for coffee today, but sees the pot is half full, so someone is up. But it’s not Scott.

Because the smoothie is still in the fridge, untouched.

He tells himself he needs to check in on Scott once he finishes his research down at the dock today. He’s been tracking a pod of dolphins near Mateo and has been needing to collect the latest data captured by his little research vessel.

He’ll catch him later. Figure out what’s going on.

~*~

Then it’s Alan.

Alan admires Scott, has been practically raised by him since Dad disappeared. Scott is everything Alan wants to be… just the John version of him. Take Scott’s courage and bravery, John’s love of space, you get Alan. Eyes on the horizon, but looking beyond it into stratosphere, exosphere, the space between stars itself.

He’s a hell of a pilot. He knows that. He wouldn’t be the pilot of Thunderbird Three otherwise. But a part of him will always seek the approval of his older siblings. He wants to make Scott proud.

Scott hasn’t had the time for him lately. He’s been working on… oh he doesn’t know. They don’t tell him. Something for Tracy Industries.

His final quarter grades have come out, and he aced all his classes. It had been a hard semester and juggling his courses between rescues had been tough. He’d needed to call on his brothers’ expertise a few times.

He knows Scott has his file somewhere in his email, but he likely hasn’t gotten to it yet because he hasn’t said anything to him. It’s been a few days. So Alan pulls up his grades on his datapad and strolls past the center of the lounge over to Scott.

The first time he says Scott’s name, he doesn’t answer.

Nor the second.

The thirdfourthfifth time, because that’s how he called for him, the name running together like that, Scott irritably gives him a low grumble of “What do you want, Alan?” He doesn’t glance up, and the smile falters from Alan’s face.

“Oh, I, uh—” This was silly. It’s not important, really. Scott will get to it eventually. “My grades came through. When you get a chance.”

He grumbles in response. “I’ll look later,” he says. “I need to…”

But he trails off, back to his computer, and Alan still doesn’t know what project stole his brother away.

~*~

John’s the last.

He’s called to check in. He’s definitely connected, but....

Scott is slumped at his desk, and John’s calls are not working.

“Scott!”

No answer. The figure at the desk doesn’t budge. So John opens a channel to the rest of his brothers, his feet already sending him toward the space elevator as he calls out. “I can’t wake Scott!”

#overworked!Scott #Gavii Scribit #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Alan Tracy #John Tracy #Tracy Family #thunderangst mabe #sorry if this is crap

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