#Sherrys fall into you challenge

[upsidedownwithsteve]

A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [4.3K] 18+

THE TIMELINE

“All I want is nothing more, to hear you knocking at my door. ‘Cause if I could see your face once more, I could die as a happy man I'm sure. When you said your last goodbye, I died a little bit inside. I lay in tears in bed all night, alone without you by my side. But if you loved me, why did you leave me?”

- All I Want by Kodaline

III. LONG ISLAND, NEW YORK: 1922

Opening the side door to the manor was easy when everyone else was occupied in the foyer.

The whole house was still alive despite the early morning hour, the air still smelling of the fireworks that lingered, gunpowder and spilled champagne. There was broken glass in the kitchen, from cocktail saucers or the smashed chandelier in the hallway, Steve wasn’t sure. But it crunched under his leather shoes as he snuck into the dark scullery, empty of the help and the silver platters of food they’d spent the day making.

He could see the silhouette through the frosted glass, impatiently waiting as he fumbled with the brass lock, the vibrations of the trombones and sax from the floor above making the handle buzz in his fist.

Steve barely got a chance to look at you before you had flung yourself at him, arms around his neck and chests colliding. He laughed, a small catch in his throat leaving him breathless for a second, your enthusiasm contagious. You still smelled like work, like cigar smoke and other peoples perfume, expensive cologne and top shelf sherry. It clung to your beaded dress, to your skin and Steve liked these nights, he liked the challenge of making you his again, even when you really weren’t supposed to be.

“They’re still going?” You asked, your words muffled against his chest. You’d get lipstick on his white shirt but neither of you cared. Steve had learnt long ago how to hide it from the maids.

He hummed in confirmation, any words he wanted to say stolen by your lips, your hands climbing up past his neck and into his hair. You tugged at it, ruining the style, hating when he slicked it back for the sake of the parties you were never allowed to attend.

It was a ferocious kiss, the kind that smudged your lipstick onto his mouth, the kind that told him you wanted to claim what you could of him in the short time you were able. Steve groaned, responding in kind, his arms winding around your waist to haul you even closer to him, his lips parting for your tongue.

It never grew old, it never waned - this feeling. Every kiss like the first, every time like nothing he’d ever felt before, never like anyone else. Your touch sent something through his bones, a deep kind of love that felt older and stronger and more powerful than the earth itself. He saw you one day in the city, under the bright lights that lit up Times Square and something told him that you were made for him.

Not a voice, just a feeling, one that his friends scoffed at because you weren’t from any kind of money that his family would accept and your dress didn’t come from Macy’s. But you’d turned and caught his eye, lips painted the prettiest red, eyes all bright like you felt the same when you looked at him. Days had turned to weeks and first dates had turned into nights in his locked bedroom and he still remembered the first time you pressed your ruby lips to the side of his throat and told him you were sure the gods themselves created him for you.

You kissed him now like you were remembering those words, your small hands diving into the already open collar of his white shirt, his black tie slipping from his neckline and you kissed that same spot, two moles that you claimed were somehow yours. They seemed to burn when you touched them, every pass of your lips and tongue making him feel weaker and weaker. And when you bit down a little, teeth grazing, Steve didn’t even notice the rain that had started to fall outside.

He felt feverish with you, greedy and desperate and never able to get enough. The brass band that his mother had hired for the evening started up another song, the China plates in the pantry cabinets rattling from the dancing feet above. He was on borrowed time, he knew that. So he let his tongue lick over your own once, twice, three times more before he pulled away, just enough to get his words out. You were as breathless as he was, too pretty in the dim light with your perfectly done make up, the pearls around your neck that no one knew came from him. Your dress made you glitter and from the faded lipstick around your mouth, Steve knew the majority was stamped on his own lips, his neck, his jaw.

The idea of it made him hold you tighter.

Thunder rumbled, a storm moving in over the lake outside the manor, the small yacht that was docked by the boathouse dipping with the current.

“Let’s go,” he murmured, kissing at the corner of your mouth between words. “Before they need to come for more champagne.”

So you let him pull you out of the kitchen, despite how well you knew the house you were never supposed to be invited into. Steve took your hand and led you like a secret, peering around corners before running past open doors, each room bigger than the last. The manor was all cherry oak floorboards and velvet drapes. There were chaise lounges in every bay window, baby grand pianos under crystal chandeliers and Steve’s father made sure the golden bar carts were always stocked and kept in every room.

The party was still thrumming in the largest lounge, where the hired band stood on the curved stairs and people danced on the tables. The glass doors were opened to the pool, a bright blue rectangle in the otherwise dark night and flecks of gold confetti lay atop the water, never sinking, looking like real life magic.

People spilled from everywhere, women shoeless and men missing their dinner jackets, hand in hand with girls that weren’t their wives and some of the richest of them showed their greed with a scantily clad dancer on each arm.

A door opened to the right, a server who was working well past his paid hours, still in his suit and carrying a large tray of champagne saucers, his expression bored. Steve grabbed you before the man could spot you both, tugging you behind a marble bust of a Grecian goddess, a piece of art that should’ve been in a museum.

The vacant eyes and kind smile of Aphrodite stared back at you both, seemingly amused at your lover's embrace, the one you had to hide.

“We’re not going to make it upstairs,” you whispered. It was too easy for Steve to let your touch linger on his waist, fingers tracing his belt, greedy and searching beneath his crumpled shirt for the feel of his warm skin. He needed you yesterday. He needed you always. “They’ll see us before we reach your room.”

Steve winced, knowing you were right. He could hear his mother from the lounge, singing too loudly, calling for another glass, her laughter making his jaw tense. “Library,” he said, nodding towards the door across the hall. “C’mon.”

You both made a run for it when the hallway seemed clear, the party goers too drunk to make out your faces, to recognise the girl that wasn’t supposed to be here, who certainly wasn’t supposed to be hand in hand with the man that wasn’t meant to be hers.

Steve closed the door with a soft click, turning the brass key in the lock just to make sure. The music was duller from behind the thick oak, the shelves and forest green curtains that draped along the walls. The library smelled like rich wood and old cigar smoke, older books and leather. It was stuffed with wingback armchairs, low lights from behind emerald glass lamp shades and dark, dark wood. A large fireplace took centre stage in the middle of the room, family photos and golden candlesticks along the mantle, the clock huge gilded mirror above it showing you and Steve standing together.

Outside the stained glass window, lightning flashed in the distance, the lake turning white, just for a second.

You didn’t have time to worry about the storm, nor think too hard about its sudden appearance. They’d always scared you, the too loud sounds, the crashes that seemed to vibrate in your bones, the lightning that always appeared way too close. Steve moved to stand behind you, his hand coming to smooth the collar of your dress away from your neck so he could dip his head down to kiss your skin.

His lips were a warm trail over your throat, his nose pressed underneath your jaw and you felt his smile when you tipped your head for him, granting him access. His hands, always so big and wide, spanned the sides of your waist, the beads and crystals that hung from your dress singing a soft song at his touch.

“Missed you,” he breathed, running the tip of his nose underneath your ear. He sucked at your throat, biting softly and you could only watch in awe as you stood in front of the mirror. “I missed you so much, honey.”

You knew why you hadn’t gotten to see him in so long. Eight whole days of being apart, seeing him in the city when he took his car to work, always flanked by business partners or his father. Worse still, you saw him one Saturday morning with his mother, another woman on his arm, a stiff smile on his lips as they entered a tea house. You knew the woman’s name, you just didn’t like to say it. His future wife, although Steve liked to remind you that they weren’t yet even engaged. But his mother was sure of it, the agreement made like a business deal because her father was head of the bank and Steve’s mother liked money.

A loveless marriage, set up for wealth, for survival, for good genes and even better business opportunities. But you saw the way the other woman looked at Steve, blown out curls and peach coloured lips always smiling up at him, ready to give him children and more.

A housewife. Ready made and picture perfect. The very thing that you were not.

“I missed you too,” you whispered back, unable to help it the way your voice cracked because long gone was the idea that you could pretend this wasn’t anything more than a fling.

You ached without the man. The longer you were apart the harder it became, a pain growing between your chest like an open wound that was pulled too tight. And now, as his hands trailed your hips and his lips found your jaw, you could feel it knitting itself closed, a pretty, red string tying the cut closed.

You’d seen the other woman, you knew what was meant to happen. You knew you’d lose him, eventually. That he’d no longer be yours. He’d have a ring on his finger and children with someone else and live in a house even bigger than this one and you’d never, ever be snuck in through a back door again.

It didn’t seem fair. It didn’t seem right. There was nothing in the world that you’d ever felt that was yours. No real money, different jobs for different months, an apartment above a bookstore in Brooklyn that you had to share with three other girls and even the dress you wore was borrowed.

But Steve? Steve Harrington?

It felt like someone created him just for you. Carved from marble, drawn on a canvas and brought to life, a man beyond perfect. Because he had his flaws - just like so many others that you’d dated - but you accepted his with more love than you’d ever felt before. The world seemed to still when you were with him, the entire planet slowing on its axis just so you could savour his touch a little longer.

You lay in his bed, in his arms, wrapped in his expensive cologne and cotton sheets and you knew.

You knew.

You knew that there was no way there was anyone else in this world that you were supposed to be with. His hand fit in yours too well, his lips slotting between your own like they were made from the same thing.

From a time before, when someone or something decided to create the Earth and built you both from the same bone.

Steve spoke into the crook of your neck, his finger spanning wide as his hands travelled over the front of you, feeling every curve, the softness of your stomach, the beads of your pretty dress, the dip of your waist. “You know, sometimes I think it would hurt less to drown in the lake than go without you,” he whispered, eyes closed as if at confession, murmuring his sins and secrets into your skin.

He kissed your throat again, revelling in the way your head fell back to top against his shoulder. Your eyes shut, your lips parted, your body trusting him to hold you up. “That’s awfully melodramatic,” you said airily.

Steve hummed, the ghost of his smile on your jaw. “Isn’t it? But it’s true. I’ve missed you more than I can understand.” He nudged you forward then, took the zipper at your shoulder blades between his fingers and tugged. “I needed you in my bed, in my sheets. They don’t smell like you anymore.”

You bit your lip, refusing to give into the questions that were bitter tasting and stuck in your throat: “has she been in them? Do they smell of her? Does she know about me?”

Because Steve pulled fully at your zipper and you shrugged your shoulders, letting the dress fall to the wooden floorboards, you turned in his arms and saw his eyes. Full of love, sadness, complete adoration and something else that you’d never seen in another man’s before. You were almost naked before him, blush pink undergarments made of silk and lace taught across your skin, silken thigh highs held up by suspenders, all costing an entire paycheck.

Steve wasn’t even looking at them, not yet. His hands went to your face, fingers cupping your jaw so gently that you even thought to yourself, that you might just break. It felt like it. His thumbs smoothed away the worry etched on your skin, frown lines disappearing under his touch and when he breathed out, you breathed in.

Sometimes you wondered if you shared the same heart.

“I love you,” he told you, his forehead pressed to yours.

You nodded, a tear slipping down one cheek and Steve kissed it away. “I love you, too.”

“Desperately,” Steve reminded you, bringing his mouth to yours. His kiss was feverish, pulling away too quickly before descending on you again, lips parted, tongue swiping across your own. “Insanely,” he groaned.

Your back hit a bookshelf as you tugged his shirt out of his trousers, the linen crumpling in your hands, a button hitting the floor when you became too impatient. Your fingertips traced the red lipstick marks on his neck, the ones that had smudged onto his clavicle and it was everything you needed to see and more.

A brand, hardly permanent, but yours nonetheless. If not just for tonight.

“I need you,” you told him, your skin on fire as his hand found your thigh. He pushed you into the spines of the books, cold leather on your skin as he hitched your leg to his hip and rolled his own against you. “Steve.”

“I know,” he murmured and his voice was hoarse, weak sounding. “I know, honey,” Steve assured you.

His belt rattled as it fell apart in your hands, the buckle cool to the touch and before you could push your hand into his underwear, Steve spun you both. You found yourself against one of the armchairs, tweed and plush, Steve kissing you from shoulder to shoulder as he stood behind you and coaxed your hands onto the back of it.

“Hold on,” he told you and you nodded, eyes half opened from the anticipation. You heard his zip, the slick sound of him stroking himself and you keened, impatient. Steve tutted and just as your eyes slipped shut, his fingers were under your chin, his bare chest curving along your back. “Eyes open, sweetheart. Look up. Watch yourself.”

Staring straight ahead, you saw how he’d positioned you both. In front of the fireplace, where the huge mirror hung above. You could see yourself, a scandalous sight, half naked and dripping in expensive lace, one strap of your brassiere falling from a shoulder. Smudged lipstick, darkened eyes and the most handsome man in Long Island draped over your frame.

Steve was pressed against your ass, his cock waiting hot and hard against your lower back as he moulded himself to your body. He was kissing your shoulder, mouth open and his jaw and neck decorated in your lipstick. His hair was already a mess, his white shirt hanging open and his hands wandering up your bare stomach to cup your breasts, finding your nipples through the silk almost too easily.

His eyes, half lidded and heavy with lust, found yours in the reflection of the mirror.

It was sinful.

“Watch what I do to you,” he said.

So you did.

You let the man push a knee between yours, spreading your legs for him so he could work his fingers into your underwear. You shivered as he talked you through it, telling you how wet you were, how good he knew you tasted. How he could spend days and nights and entire weeks between your thighs, how we wished he could have you on his tongue. Two fingers, achingly and annoyingly gentle, rubbed circles to your clit as he spoke, his eyes on your own the entire time and you felt too hot under his stare, his smile that grew when you gasped and whined.

He reared back when he pushed a finger into you, his other hand braced against the small of your back and he urged you to please him in a voice that sounded like sex itself. Steve was choked, his words tight in his throat and they came out in a rasp, pleading as he fucked two thick fingers in and out of your cunt.

“Let me see you,” he begged, his eyes taking down your frame and he groaned, almost too loud, when you dragged the cups of your bra down. Your tits were pushed against the back of the chair, moving with each motion his fingers made inside of you, the slow rock that had begun as Steve rolled his cock against your ass.

“Beautiful,” he told you, and he sounded like he was kneeling at an altar, talking to a god. “You’re so beautiful. You’re mine—”

“Inside me,” you interrupted. You were close to tears, your eyes glassy, everything too much. You felt as if you’d die if you didn’t have him closer. “Steve, I need you— I need you inside me.”

Outside, rain slammed against the large window, the lake nothing but a grey-blue blue behind the streaked glass. The wind howled and if you’d cared to listen, you would’ve heard the faint shrieks and laughs of the party-goers as they fought against the wind, trying to close the patio doors. Thunder cracked above the house, as if disagreeing, as if fighting back.

You didn’t hear any of it over the sound of Steve moaning in your ear as he slipped his cock against your folds, the head nudging once, twice at your clit before he pushed his hips back and slid into you. He fell forward, feeling like a man who’d been broken down and fixed again, his head on your shoulder as he wound his arms around your waist. You were held, truly held against him, feeling full and loved and adored as he whispered every sweet word he knew into your skin.

The two of you stayed like that for minutes, maybe a few longer than you realised, before it became too much. You whined, a needy sound that made Steve’s cock twitch inside of you and then you were being hauled up with him. The two of you standing behind the chair, your back to his chest and as the thunder grew louder and the windows rattled, you both gave in.

Your hands found home in Steve’s hair, reaching up and back to ground him to you, one of his hands moving your knee up to rest on the chair, opening you for him. Your pretty pink underwear was stretched out, allowing room for his cock to slip into you further. It was a dirty grind, you barely pushing your hips back as Steve snapped his into your own, his hand on your neck as he kept you facing forward, your eyes locked on each other.

His kisses became more lips than teeth, biting at your jaw, your earlobe, his fingers only leaving your throat to play with your bouncing tits, pinching at your nipples until you clenched around him. It was raw, dirty, watching each other in the mirror like that, seeing how wet you were with your legs spread open, Steve’s cock shining from you in the low light as it disappeared inside of you over and over and over again.

“Could stay like this,” Steve gasped, fucking you faster now. The sight of your body slack against his had him reeling, your perfume on his skin, your lipstick on his throat. “Could stay like this forever, could hold you forever, want you forever—”

His words were cut short as you came suddenly, clenching around him with a cry, your eyes shut tight in bliss and your head thrown back on his shoulder. You tugged at his hair, pulling him down, silently begging for a kiss that he gave you, a slow, deep push of his mouth to your own and he came with a wrecked noise when you breathed his name against his parted lips.

Steve had barely softened inside of you when he spoke. “Run away with me.”

You weren’t sure you heard him above the harsh breaths leaving both your lips, chest heaving and body’s lax against each other. His lips traced the line of your jaw, his mouth finding the corner of your own, he kissed you, once, twice, three times, his arms pulling you into his embrace and you could smell his cologne, the remnants of cigar smoke, sex and you.

“Run away with me,” he whispered again. “Let’s just go, we can— we can leave. Tonight.”

“Steve—” your voice was already pained and you slipped from his arms, fixing the lace until your skin was covered, watching as Steve tucked himself back into his dress pants. He left his shirt open as you searched the floor for your dress, his lips twisted with the rejection he knew that would come. “You know we can’t—”

“I want to spend forever with you,” he said and you knew he meant it.

Maybe the sky did too, because the rain fell heavier and lightning flashed across the lake, turning the world ultraviolet, just for a second.

“We can’t,” you said sadly, your voice a whisper. The words cracked in your mouth. “You’re not mine to keep.”

Steve watched you drag your dress up your legs, the unshed tears glittering in the corners of your eyes. His breath left him in a heavy gasp, like someone had punched him in the chest.

“But I am,” he told you, his chest heaving, burning. He blinked, eyes stinging, his vision blurring. The sky above the house cracked. “I am yours.”

It hurt to say it but you shook your head and spoke anyway, your eyes fixed on the way your lips had left tattoos on Steve’s skin. You were all over him still, even separated by five feet. And still— “you’re Nancy’s.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You’re Nancy Wheeler’s and she is yours and that’s— that’s how it’s meant to be.”

Steve shook his head, moving forward with his shirt still hanging open, his hair curling across his forehead and his hands caught your own. “No. No, no, no—” he look pained, fingers reaching up to brush across your damp cheek and you should’ve pulled away. But you couldn’t. “No. That’s not— it’s not like that. You know this.”

Steve bent, lips finding the corner of your mouth as you moved out of guilt, his touch chasing you. He made a noise of protest, ducking his head closer until he could steal a kiss and you bent to his will, lips yielding under his own he tasted like you, like sex and like home, like something you felt you’d know your entire life and maybe the one before too.

“Run away with me,” he murmured into the kiss, forehead touching yours. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know that he was crying, his voice wet, cracking like the clouds outside and when lightning struck the dock on the bay, he pulled you closer. “We’ll find somewhere else for us. Another town, another country. Another home, another life.”

You kissed him then, stole the words from his lips and swallowed them, kept them locked somewhere close to your heart and you knew you had to hold onto them. For as long as you could. Forever, if you had to.

“Maybe,” you started, voice hitching, “—maybe we weren’t supposed to have this life.”

Steve groaned, a soft sound of agony, of protest. The storm was passing, the party louder than before. He hated how this felt like a goodbye.

“Maybe, we just need to promise that we’ll find each other in the next one.”

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Part 3 - Oakmoss

Autumn Embers Masterlist

CW: Omegaverse scent-heavy flirting, food related flirting, Brandon (derogatory)

It’s three weeks later that Sergeant Garrick catches you walking out of your building at the end of the day. You’re more distracted than usual - trying to decipher a text from Jack about his upcoming heat - so you’re almost on top of him before you realize. His smile is genuine when you jump back from nearly stepping on his boot.

“Sorry!”

“No harm done,” he assures you. His hand comes forward. “Sergent Kyle Garrick.”

“We’ve met,” you point out, allowing a short, comfortable handshake.

His grin goes a little bit sheepish when he takes his hand back. “Well, I had to introduce myself better than Soap, at least. That’s MacTavish.”

“Ah,” you say. “Well… good to meet you.”

“The team wanted to thank you, for the information,” he continues. “It was very helpful. That Lawrence guy would have had us runnin’ in circles. We also, uh,” he shuffles his feet a bit, and looks away. “We didn’t want to overstep. By offering a gift before clearing it with you.”

Oh, he thinks he’s clever. You arch an eyebrow, “You want me to give your pack permission to give me gifts, Sergent Garrick?”

“I told them you’d catch on too fast,” he laughs.

At least he has the decency not to deny it. Here you had been tying yourself into knots about being too emotional in a meeting, and now a pretty man is asking permission for his pack to court you. Part of you is relieved. The last thing you need is more alphas pissed off at you, prowling around the base looking for a pissing contest.

Another part of you is annoyed.

You carefully regulate your breathing. “Yeah, I’m pretty good at catching these kinds of things by now. But you don’t have to thank me for doing my job.” You sidestep him and start walking toward the car park.

Sergent Garrick falls into step beside you. “I’ve offended you.”

You sigh. Of course he’d be sensitive to the way your scent changes. You practically scent burned him in a closed room. You step to the side of the walkway and turn to face him. “I’m sure you and your pack are wonderful, sergeant, but I’ve had a long day.”

His smile is charming. “Anything we can do to help?”

“Not approaching me with a courting offer at my workplace would be a good start,” you say, blandly. You watch his face muscles twitch through confusion, shock, and a tinge of horror before continuing. “While I’m flattered that you would tell your pack about me, I prefer to keep things professional on base. And I’m sure your team would prefer that as well. Have a nice night.”

“Wait,” He reaches out, but has the good sense not to touch you. “Would it be better, then, to maybe approach you off-base?”

Why do alphas think I’ll find you elsewhere is ever a good thing to imply? “Like how Sergeant MacTavish approached me at the bar?” He doesn’t seem to have anything to say to that. You take a step back, his confusion tickling your nose. “I’m not really interested in being the subject of whatever competitive thing you have going. Have a good night, Sergeant.”

By the time you get back to your car, you’re not mad anymore. Just tired. You climb into the drivers seat and tip your head back with a sigh. Garrick and MacTavish aren’t the first alphas to want to try taming the Wildfire, and they won’t be the last. But it still stings. For once, it’d be nice if someone saw you and thought you were pretty and interesting instead of just a challenge to conquer.

You let yourself have a few more seconds of self-pity before you strap in and start the car. You’ll give Jack a call, make plans for his heat, and leave the sergeants to do their thing.

The next day, when you get to your office, there’s a travel cup of hot coffee from your favorite coffee shop on the edge of your desk, along with a gift card and a note. You don’t really think much of it - coffee from Sherry as a reward for a job well done isn’t unheard of - but the the gift card for 25 pounds is a bit excessive. The unfamiliar handwriting on the note catches your eye.

Please accept this apology for yesterday.

It’s signed by Captain John Price. That’s… interesting. Speaks well to the cohesion of the 141 that Sergeant Garrick would let him know that he made you uncomfortable. Hopefully this means that neither of the sergeants will be dogging your steps. On the other hand, an almost perfect coffee made it to your office somehow. You’re still dealing with a bit of overbearing alpha bullshit. But apology bullshit is better than the alternative, so you settle in for your day.

By lunch, you’ve pushed the note to the back of your mind. When Sherry walks in, you expect a conversation about taking on Jerry’s workload with his upcoming parental leave. You don’t expect her to place a paper bag from the very fancy sandwich shop across town onto your desk. You can smell warm bread and something else in there.

“Special delivery,” she says. Before you can pull the bag close to poke around, she holds out a folded piece of paper. “Ah, ah! I was told to give you this first.”

“What? Sherry, let me… eat.”

Please accept this offer as a formal request to discuss an intention of courtship. Captain Johnathan Price Lieutenant Simon Riley Sergeant Kyle Garrick Sergeant Johnathan MacTavish

Each of the signatures is different. You look from the note to Sherry’s curious face and back down. You’re glad you have so much practice locking down your scent, because your emotions are all over the place. You flash her a quick smile as you refold the note and stick it under the edge of your keyboard.

“Thanks, I’ll take care of it.”

She nods, with a nervous smile of her own. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” you lie, hoping she doesn’t pick up on the spike of your scent as your heart races. “The 141 had a successful mission after that awful meeting with Brandon and that CIA agent.”

“Oh! Well that’s good,” she says with a sharp nod. She knocks twice on the edge of your desk before she turns to leave. “You always do good work. Least those boys could do is buy you lunch.”

Once she’s gone, you wait a few seconds, then get up to quietly close your door. And then you eye the fancy paper bag on your desk like it’s a bomb. You circle back to pick up the note, read it, fold it, open it to read again.

You snap a picture and send it to the group chat. Then snap a picture of the gifts and note from this morning. You re-re-re-read the second note again.

When you phone rings, you pick up without looking. “What do I do?”

Jack wails into your ear. “Bitch, what do you MEAN what do you do?”

“Do I open it?”

“Open what?”

You snap a picture of the stamped bag sitting on the edge of your desk and send it to the chat. “They sent this with-”

Chrissy’s icy voice startles you. “If you don’t show me what’s in that bag right now I will scream.”

“What if opening it is accepting it?” When the phone chirps in your ear, you hiss, “I can’t do a video call, I’m in my office.”

“Quit stalling,” Chrissy snaps. “Open the bag.”

You pull it closer, then pause. “Should we wait for Mel?”

“NOW,” Jack bellows.

“I’m also at work,” Mel’s says, steady and unbothered. “So please stop yelling.”

The bag crinkles a bit when you pull it closer, silencing everyone. You’re not sure why you’re holding your breath, but it comes out in a little huff of disappointment when you look inside and the first thing you see is napkins.

“Okay,” you whisper, as you start pulling things out. The first food item you find is a roll. “We have… bread, still warm. A half of a sandwich - ooh! The goat cheese and pear one. A half salad,” you squint through the translucent lid. “It looks like it has berries. Oh, it looks like there’s a soup in here, too, nice. And the utensils. And…”

When you don’t say anything else, Jack prompts you. “And?”

“There’s a, uh,” you cover your eyes as your face flushes. “It’s a cake.”

The silence is deafening. You make yourself peek into the unassuming box, and the four-inch, round cake positively dripping with what smells like orange syrup, spices, and the faintest hint of alcohol. Your face gets even hotter when you connect the dots and realize the cardamom you’re smelling reminds you of Sergeant Garrick.

It’s Mel who breaks the silence, clearing their throat before asking, “Did they get you a custom cake from the Trinity Rose?”

You can’t make yourself say anything, so you take a picture of it for the group chat. Then a couple more at different angles, because the curl of orange and peel on top looks like something out of a movie. You hear when the photos load, each of your friends sucking in a quiet breath. Chrissy must mute her mic, because the background noise drops significantly.

“Someone please say something,” you whisper.

Jack says, “Holy shit.”

“What does it smell like?” Mel asks, cutting to the chase. “Is it good?”

“It smells so good,” you admit. “Like… ridiculously good.”

Chrissy comes back on the line, sounding a little breathless. “They apologized with coffee this morning?”

“Yeah-”

“So this wasn’t part of the apology,” she continues. “Guys, this is. This is a legit courtship thing.”

“The website says they offer courtship packages,” Mel confirms. “It’s pretty cute, a subscription service for lunch. But it doesn’t actually include a cake.”

“There’s gotta be at least a two week wait on something like this.” You say it as soon as you realize it. Embarrassment flashes hot and cold down your entire body and you have to cover your face. “Oh gods, this had to be planned in advance.”

Chrissy hisses, “The bakery at the Trinity Rose is award winning. Of course this was planned in advance.”

“Wait, are they all in a pack?” Jack yelps. “All four of them? And they’re all alphas? There has to be more to the pack than that, right?”

Mel makes a disagreeing sound. “If there were more, they’d have signed. This is a very formal pre-courtship gift. Well. Mostly formal.”

You have to resist chewing on your lip. “Should I eat it?”

“No reason to waste a perfectly nice lunch,” they point out. Jack and Chrissy make agreeing noises. “But I’d probably wait to eat the cake until you get home.”

“So I can think about it?”

“What? No. You’ve already decided to hear them out,” Mel dismisses. “I just wouldn’t eat a sex cake at work.”

That startles a squawking laugh out of you. “It’s not a sex cake!”

“Oh, so they got a custom syrup cake that matches your scent as a platonic gesture?” Chrissy challenges.

“…There’s a little bit of cardamom,” you admit. “That’s Sergeant Garrick’s scent.”

“It’s a sex cake,” Mel confirms over the train whistle noise Chrissy makes before she can mute herself again. “When Garrick shows up to escort you to your car this evening, maybe don’t chew his head off.”

“Oh no,” you groan. Your head thumps against your arm as you throw yourself down onto the desk. “He was trying to ask for permission to court me and I was a complete bitch to him.”

You deserve the laughter of your best friends for that. But eventually, you rally. If you’re actually going to enjoy your lunch, you have to start eating now or you’ll have to eat and work later. You start with the sandwich and mute your mic as you take a huge bite. By unspoken agreement, the conversation shifts to the weekend and Jack’s heat, then Chrissy’s client who insists on in person meetings three days before her heat. Mel lets you all ramble for a good twenty minutes before ushering everyone off the phone since Jack is the only one who doesn’t have deadlines and scheduled clients.

Which leaves you staring at the cake.

Your eyes dart to the still closed door of your office, then back. You’re too full of good food to eat a whole cake, but… a bite couldn’t hurt. And while the gift is definitely a little… suggestive… it’s not actually a sex cake. Just a bit... decadent. Sherry’s husband sends her flowers that match their pack’s scents. That’s basically the same thing.

Right?

Before you can second guess yourself, you scoop a bite into your mouth.

The taste that bursts over your tongue makes you moan out loud. You definitely should have waited until you got home. The cake is so rich, cut by the orange and whiskey in a way that almost demands a second bite. There’s something indescribable teasing the back of your palate, hidden by cardamom and the hint of something - raspberry? - but so distinctly there. When you try to focus on it, you keep coming back to a smokiness that can’t be anything but the alcohol.

Before you know it, you’ve eaten a quarter of the little cake. Your stomach feels warm, and you admit to yourself that it’s probably not a good idea to keep consuming alcohol at work. So you close the little box and lick the fork while you log back into your computer one handed. Your lips are sticky. Even after you use your thumb to help clean them off you’re so aware of them.

You catch yourself pursing and rolling your lips through the rest of your day. You can’t resist taking another bite every now and then. Every time, you remember Mel calling it a sex cake and wonder if Captain Price thought about this when placed the order. You remember the way Lieutenant Riley’s eyes had slid down your body. Had he known he wanted to send you this cake then? Did Sergeant MacTavish imagine you licking your fork when he signed the note? Was Sergeant Garrick thinking about this moment when he saw you yesterday?

When the day ends, you send a picture of the cake with more than a third missing to the group chat as you log out. I fucked up, it’s a sex cake.

Beta Daddy: Told you.

Best Bitch: WHAT DOES IT TASTE LIKE

Barbie: drinks at mel and jax tonite

You: :thumbsup:

You: genuinely no idea how to describe, i’ll try tonight

You’re nervous, closing up shop for the evening. Would Sergeant Garrick be waiting for you again? Or will your hyper-independence come back to bite you? You hope someone will be there to walk you, and the possibility of that not being the case cools you. And then you look back at the box of cake in your hands and flush hot. Maybe it’s better that you don’t run into anyone after an entire afternoon of rubbing your lips and thinking of the 141.

You’re shocked out of your musings just before you can exit the building by Brandon of all people calling your name. With a groan, you’re dropped back to reality. You at least let yourself step outside for some fresh air before he can reach you.

“Sherry said the 141 had a question for you. What was it?” Not even a hello. Typical. Thanks a lot, Sherry.

Luckily, you have a lie prepared. “Just another question about Cloudstone.”

“What question?” He steps closer, trying to use his height to intimidate. “I’m the point of contact, they should be speaking to me directly.”

“Hm. Maybe should’ve reached out to you,” Lieutenant Riley’s voice says from behind your right shoulder. “Got a lo’ of info on alpha enhancements, then?”

Brandon’s shocked, offended scent almost drowns out the Lieutenant’s. Almost. You tilt your head before you realize you’re doing it, and catch that hint of something that you’ve been chasing all afternoon, earthy and intriguing. Your mouth waters. You barely stop yourself from biting your lip and tune back into the conversation.

“I wasn’t able to give them an answer today,” you butt in, before Brandon can get too worked up. “I’ll CC you on the email when I have everything.”

“Fine,” Brandon says, glaring daggers at the Lieutenant.

And then the three of you just… stand there.

Behind you, Lieutenant Riley smells amused. “Dismissed.”

Brandon gapes at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re dismissed. Unless you have more to add on the subject.”

Being caught between clashing alphas is not how you thought today would end. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see people look at Lieutenant Riley, then at Brandon, and then visibly decide to wait to exit the building. When you start to inch away, the lieutenant touches just beneath your left shoulder blade with the tips of his fingers. You freeze with a sharp inhale. Brandon looks between the two of you. Then his face settles into a sneer.

“Think hard about what you say next,” Lieutenant Riley ways with almost no inflection. Brandon’s face freezes and goes a little pale. You remember, suddenly, that the man at your back is also called the Ghost. “Because challenging me won’t go well for you. Walk away under your own power.”

The resonance of his voice combines with the way his scent teases your olfactory nerves and sends a shiver through you. You’re suddenly aware of the warmth that’s been building behind your bellybutton all afternoon. You don’t hear the next thing Brandon says. He’s too focused on his own offense to notice your distraction, thank the gods, but -

One of the fingers at your back taps you gently, once, twice. And then you feel the gentlest scrape of a fingernail against your shirt.

“I have to go,” you squeak, taking a step toward the parking lot. To Brandon, you say “I will make sure I email you first thing in the morning.”

You can see Brandon’s jaw working, but no matter how irritated he is, he’s outmatched and he knows it. After a moment, he answers. “See that you do.”

“’Ll walk you,” Lieutenant Riley intones. “Wanna make sure I understand the answer to the Captain’s question.” He turns his back to Brandon and gestures for you to continue walking.

A part of you wants to see what will happen if Brandon answers the obvious insult. It’s not hard to imagine the crunch of his body hitting the pavement, the way the Ghost might growl down and force him to yield. Another, loud part of you needs to not get this wet standing right outside of your office. So you hustle away and try to cool yourself down.

Of course, the Lieutenant is right beside you. You chance a glance up - he’s so tall! - at his face, covered today by a black surgical mask. His brown eyes catch yours and crinkle at the edges as he smiles, but he doesn’t say anything. Just keeps walking with you until you’re standing next to your car.

“Sorry,” he says, looking across the car park. “Weren’t my intention to cause trouble.”

“No,” you say, fidgeting with the edge of your jacket and looking at your keys in your hand. “It’s not your fault, I, um, I told my coworker that lunch was work-related. I guess she told Brandon.”

He nods. “Tha’s fair. Should I tell the Cap’n that lunch was work-related?”

When you look back up, he’s already gazing back at you. There’s just enough light to see his eyes darken as he tips his head up just a bit. He’s scenting you, his effect on you. You feel your face get hot as you look away from him again.

He gives an amused-sounding huff. “Need time to think about it?”

Do you? “No, I… I would be open to discussing an intention of courtship.”

Lieutenant Riley purrs. It’s deep and gravely, but unmistakable for anything else. The sound startles you into meeting his eyes. This time, he holds your gaze and takes a step forward, then another when you back up until you bump into your car. He doesn’t come any closer, but his eyes say that he wants to.

“Skipper wants to meet somewhere open,” he says. “The Spice Garden has a nice outdoor space, if you’re free Saturday.”

You almost say yes, but catch yourself. “I… have to help my friend through his heat this weekend.”

He nods his head, never breaking eye contact. “Next week, then.”

You do a quick calculation in your head. “I can be free tomorrow evening by… seven, as long as things aren’t too… formal.”

“Won’t be formal,” he assures you. “Cap insisted on a gift and formal invitation, but we don’t stand too much on ceremony. Bit unconventional, far as packs go.”

You nod, too fast. “Okay. I… does tomorrow work?”

“If you wanted us tonight, you could have us,” he answers, eyes crinkling again. He takes a step back, looking at the box in your hand, then back into your eyes. “Tomorrow then. Enjoy the cake.”

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Songs4Caplan Challenge

(I located an older song fic challenge from a deleted blog I had that had this graphic on it. LOL)

Rules:

Tag me in the authors notes & send me a message with yuor fic once it's posted! (along with the hashtag so I know which Masterlist to place the fic when I post it)

Please tag the proper warnings before the fic

Can be ANY CHARACTER YOU'D LIKE!!

More than one person can write for the same prompts

RPFs are allowed

If you’d like to write for more than one song, please make them separate fics

the songs are randomly picked from my playlist, so don't judge lol.

Can be however long you’d like the fic to be, however, please be considerate to the folks using the app and place the 'keep reading' feature on your posts!!

PLEASE tag the fic as #songs4caplan so i can easily find your fics!!!

Addicted to you simple plan

Africa Toto 

All downhill from here new found glory 

All for you sister hazel 

All summer long kid Rock 

Alone together fall out boy

Amnesia 5 seconds of summer

Animals maroon 5

As it was Harry styles 

as the world caves in Sarah cothran

Ashes of Eden breaking Benjamin 

Attention Charlie put 

Bad guy Billie eillish 

Bad things jace Everett

Beautiful mistakes maroon 5

Beautiful soul Jesse McCartney 

Before he cheats carrie underwood 

Before you go Lewis capaldi 

Beggin maneskin 

Better than me hinder

Blue ain’t your color Keith urban 

Burn usher 

Car radio twenty one pilots 

Church fall out boy

Climax usher 

Come & get it Selena Gomez 

Count on me Bruno mars 

Criminal Fiona Apple 

Deja vu Olivia rodrigo 

Delicate Taylor swift 

Diary Tino Coury 

Dirty laundry Carrie underwood 

Dirty thoughts Chloe adams 

Don’t call me up Mabel 

Downtown lady a 

Drivers license Olivia rodrigo 

Easy on Adele 

End of me a day to remember 

Every breath you take the police 

Every morning sugar ray 

Everybody hurts r.e.m. 

Fall for you secondhand serenade

Fallin Alicia keys 

Fast car Tracy Chapman 

Flowers Miley Cyrus 

For the first time the script

Forever young alphaville

Forever and ever amen randy Travis

Fuck it Eamon 

Fuck you bitch wheeler walker jr

Ghost of you Justin beiber

Glimpse of us Joji

God gave me you Blake Shelton 

Hate (I really don’t like you) plain white tees

Havana Camilla cabello 

Heart attack Demi lovato 

Heartbreak anniversary giveon 

Heaven Kane brown 

Hello darlin Conway twitty 

Hold on, we’re going on drake 

How do you sleep Jesse McCartney 

Hurt Johnny cash 

I fall apart post Malone 

I miss you blink 182

I see red everybody loves an outlaw 

I wanna be your slave maneskin 

I’m not the only one Sam smith 

I’m the only one Melissa Ethridge 

I’m yours Alessia Cara 

In my blood Shawn Mendes 

It ain’t me baby me Johnny cash 

Jealous nick Jonas 

Just one yesterday fall out boy 

Just the way you are Bruno mars 

Keep Holding On Avril Lavigne 

Killer queen Queen 

The last of the real ones 

Leave  the door open Bruno mars 

Leavin’ Jesse McCartney 

Let her go passenger

Like I can Sam smith

Lips of an angel hinder

Little do you know Alex & sierra 

Little Talks Mumfords & sons

Mama's broken heart Miranda lambert

Man down Rihanna

Misery Maroon 5

My Boo usher & Alicia keys 

Needed Me Rihanna 

Never gonna be alone Nickelback

New Rules Dua Lipa 

Not Over You Gavin DeGraw

Obsessed Mariah Carey

One Call Away Charlie Puth

One More Night Maroon 5

Our Song Taylor Swift

Picture KidRock & Sherry Crow 

PillowTalk Zayn Malik 

Please Don’t Leave Me Pink

Red Taylor Swift 

Remember the time Michael Jackson

Rolling in the deep Adele 

Say My Name Destiny’s Child

Say So Doja Cat 

She’s Got You Patsy Cline

Shower Becky G

Smokin out the Window Bruno Mars 

Someone You Loved Lewis Capaldi

Stay With Me Sam Smith

Take a Bow Rihanna

Take Me to Church Hozier

Take You Dancing Jason Derulo

There’s Nothing Holdin Me Back Shawn Mendes

Title Meghan Trainor

Too Good at Goodbyes Sam Smith

Too Little Too LAte JoJo

Trip Ella Mae

Trouble P!Nk

True Love P!NK

Unfaithful RIhanna

Unholy Sam smith

Unsteady X Ambassadors

Uptown Girl Billy Joel

Wait For You Elliot Yamin

Walk Me Home P!NK

Walkin After Midnight Patsy Cline

Want U Back Cher Lloyd

What a Man Gotta Do Jonas Brothers

What Ifs Kane Brown

Wolves Selena Gomez

Would You Go With Me? Josh Turner

You Found Me The Fray

You Had Me @ Hello A Day to Remember

You Need to Calm Down, Taylor Swift

[writeblrgarden]

PLANT GROWERS - MEET THE WINNERS - ETLU

Meet Etlu, who got second place in our grow a plant event in november! Etlu goes by she/they, and you can find them at @etlu-yume. She has been writing for about 20 years, primarily fantasy or urban fantasy, and lately has been dipping their toes into slice-of-life.

Tell us something interesting about yourself!

"Interesting" is a tricky thing because it's so subjective! Like some people would say being able to speak/read/write another language is interesting, and others would just expect it, right? I guess in some ways I could be considered a quadruple threat - in addition to writing, I also am an artist, study languages, and played and performed with music groups on local and international stages.

Tell us about the WIP you'd like to talk about today.

Fangs with Benefits (not what I did for NaNo - but that's self indulgent and stays between me and the dust on my hard drive). Fangs with Benefits follows the story of a set of siblings, Sherry and Gael. After the pair are banned from donating blood, they are forced to move to the big smoke in order to chase medical treatment for a family illness. After a chance meeting, the pair discover the secret supernatural underground of their new home. Full of supernatural creatures, Sherry decides that there's a solution to their frustration with red tape at the hospital; Vampires. After all. It would be of mutual benefit to both parties. And so chaos ensues.

Describe your writing process. Do you like to plan everything or are you more spontaneous?

I'm a bit all over the place. I tend to do best when I have a game plan, something to refer back to (more often than not somehow it takes scenic routes between written points; go figure). However sometimes, particularly when later scenes will not leave me alone, I will just go ahead and write them out in a separate document. Once they're out of my head and down on paper, it usually becomes much easier to go back to where I had left off and keep going. That said, it's a work in progress and always changing. What worked last year may not work for me this year, and so on and so forth. I'm just hoping I can try and establish a better year-round writing habit in 2024 <3

What have you found to be the most challenging and/or rewarding about writing?

If you'd asked me this question prior to last November, I would have struggled. Maybe I would've said "a blank page/new chapter" is the most challenging thing (and, really, it still is). But. I think the most rewarding thing about writing comes in two parts; 1.) One is when you're writing for others or an audience. I can't really speak too much on this, since I've been super shy with my work and haven't posted much if any online for general consumption. But to the few people I do share with, seeing their reactions to the story progressing, screaming about characters or events. I know there's been times where those reactions have been the difference between opening up the document and writing a few more words that day, or giving it a miss. 2.) Two is when you're writing for yourself, using your writing to help process things that have happened or that you're struggling with. It may not make things 100% better, it may not change the situation at all. But somehow there's also a weird healing power to it, too.

Below the read more is more of our conversation with Etlu

What inspires you to write?

This is a hard question! I'm actually trying to work this out myself. I started to fall out of love with writing a while ago, and I'm still looking for my way back. I'm sure I'll get there, I just don't know how long it will take, or what form it will take. But I'll get there. <3

Share some advice for other writers.

Hmm. One of the classics is "you can edit a bad page, but you can't edit a blank one", which is very true. But I'm not sure that's the kind of advice I'd want to give other writers - or myself for that matter. Bad days happen - be kind to yourself. If you're working towards a goal, keep believing in yourself. Don't give up. You can achieve amazing things! (Said from 2018's cloud of cough medicine zombie fog and pulling like 30K out of nowhere in the last 2 days of November.) Also it sounds weird but don't start from a fresh document. Even if you're finishing a chapter off, just start the next one. I'm super bad at taking this advice myself, but it's easier to re-read a few lines and make tweaks before moving forwards than it is to sit there face to face with a blank page at the start of a session.

What do consider your writing strength?

I'm probably best at workshopping or bouncing ideas, and then never writing them. Does that count? haha. On a serious note I think perhaps my strengths with writing is my structural pacing. (Not plot pacing. I've already picked up some rushed chapters in the last 3 months)

What has been the nicest compliment you've received or what has been the toughest criticism you've received?

Actually today I had a message from a friend, just a simple spotify link to a song. They followed it up with comments that they had been ruminating about events of the last couple of chapters when it started playing, and it made everything hurt even more. It's been a week since they read it - to hear that my silly little story is something that they're still thinking about this long after reading it, that combined with music it brings out more emotion. It's the little things like that, that remind me what it's all about.

What do you love the most about writing?

I'm still trying to work this out. But it falls somewhere between research, the friendly banter with other writers while everyone procrastinates, and the way that your words and the way you write will be so very different to the next writer, that everyone has their own style.

[claudiajcregg]

i'd love to hear any behind the scenes you have on 'say it's here where our pieces fall in place' bc i read it and loved it and i want to know about it 💜

Welp, I've been thinking about this since you sent it and I feel I won't do it justice! I feel like I could say a lot if I went chapter by chapter, but many tabs of unread fics stare back at me. I'll skim and try to say something, though.

Some commentary on say it's here where our pieces fall in place under the cut! I am sick and rambly. And lbr I can never shut up anyway, but this might be too incoherent even for me. (Original ask post here)

It was sort of an unofficial NaNoWriMo project, in that I set myself a goal to tackle “longer fics” or ideas I wanted to cover but hadn't. From my notes, I had this idea to write a ficlet per year because I always enjoy this kind of story, and I know I'd tried to approach different ones in the past. I started writing in late October/finished in Nov 2021. (The other fic I started was never finished, even if dammit, it hits.) I posted it in January, so it wasn't that bad, considering I'll often take months.

It's maybe important to note that I had only finished writing “The Monster (affectionate)” (aka the 148k-ish word IM AU) in early September and I felt a bit burned out after spending five months writing that (would’ve been less but the struggle was real for the last third of the story. Oddly reminiscing of you-know-what story these days). This arbitrary deadline helped me get back into writing. Granted, I wrote a couple of fics in those five months, but I wanted to try another multichapter.

Anyway. I picked some random, perhaps not obvious choices for the vignettes. It was partly to avoid writing something I might have potentially covered at one point, and also a challenge. Some are also strange (the dream!), but I kinda loved it? (Fun fact: the fic references the Sherry-Netherland, whose exterior is the establishing shot in Internal Displacement. I swear there is some thought put into my writing.) And as the A/N I wrote to myself, I definitely wrote and rewrote bits and pieces of this on my way to and from therapy, haha.

Let me find a fun fact about each of the chapters, if I can think of any.

1998: actually repurposed some campaign fic idea I distinctly remember writing in spring 2018, while I was still in uni. It also has GLOVES. I live for that.

1999: I like the idea of exploring Danny and Abbey's relationship! They presumably have a good one and yet, I don't think we ever see them interact. (And god. Danny's recent, pre-campaign breakup is a recurring theme in my campaign stories too, loool.)

2000: Danny and Josh are an underrated friendship, and I like the references to Rosslyn. There was so much in those months in Midterms that we didn't see, and I like thinking Danny visited his friend.

We also got two back-to-back chapters focused on Danny - I remember trying to make it even, so that the focus was more or less evenly split.

2001: the Manchester fuckup! And it's one of the dream chapters! There were two of them? (We're 3 out of 4 in which I was surprised by the focus, but now I kinda want to re-read it all properly?) I'll say that I can see some vague, unconscious inspo from Freefall by KadeeFalls in this chapter (esp since I was just talking to you about it)... But I'm mostly obsessed with the magical realism (there's another term that my foggy brain cannot think of rn) of dreams, and how it can help us clear our heads.

2002: I remembered this was set after Simon! I know it's probably an odd, controversial choice but they both tried to move on (at least, we know CJ did), and it felt disingenuous not to include it. There are moments when she almost admits to her previous (?) feelings for Danny, but stops.

As with most thus far, there were fluffier and probably better choices for 2002 (Christmas!!), but... My brain wanted it to appear like CJ couldn't really bring herself to think about Danny.

2003: Aw, the specialty store is inspired by a franchise over here that had Goldfish (not many flavors) and I took a dramatic license and added it over there. I also added a small flashback because I love thinking Danny doesn't think they're all that but likes them. (But will tease CJ about it.) Plus, some more resolution to moving on!

2004: Yeah, the formatting is weird. (This is one I'd have to go back and do a blockquote or something.) Danny winning a Pulitzer for the Shareef stuff is a mostly accepted headcanon. CJ seeing his picture on the paper and having feels is just something I love, especially if he mentions someone else. (Look. I'm all for letting him pine, but he deserves to move on and fail too.) Plus Josh teasing her!

2005: The Sherry-Netherland! fwiw, I'm sure I had finally figured out this was the place and decided it would be so cheeky to add it here. I'm so sMaRt. Flowers when she gets promoted! And my spin (in this story) of CJ vaguely shunning him. This is the angst before the fluff.

2006: I remembered this one was a dream at some restaurant! (Again the formatting is not great, but I didn't want to tip my obvious hand.) The same way I think CJ's dream in 2001 was about her wondering how Danny would have reacted, this is about Danny realizing he needs to reach out to her... But with the added family ~tale~. Def inspired by that lyric in "Sad Beautiful Tragic."

2007: I feel like having it at some random dinner with Josh and Donna was an odd choice, but I loved the idea of a double date! The scarf scene is just so! And the chaos siblings energy is great. It was a reprieve from the angst.

Meeting at LAX was right there! I had written a story or two trying to do it justice, so I'm guessing that's why it's not. And fwiw the airport story I wrote shortly after that is the one being posted ~soon~. (A rewritten, slightly expanded version.)

2008: Pregnancy mood swings! It hurt to make them fight, but it's so fluffy otherwise. From what I remember, it has various references to things that happen in the story (particularly from the first two chapters) but it still manages to close it rather nicely, showing how strong their marriage is. I hope.

Okay. This has gotten way too long and it's probably useless.

I've always said I could have written another 11 chapters using different scenes, because there are just so many, even outside the obvious ones... Though I feel I wouldn't be able to recapture the magic.

I do definitely want to reread this for real. As with many fics, it's one of those I used to reread often before posting it (especially the last quarter/third) and then just ignored after. See some other recent examples, such as memoir fic, Portland fic.

Thank you for asking, Ally! God, I used to be a good writer. What happened?!??!

[open-hearth-rpg]

Open Hearth Video Roundup - March 15, 2024

Welcome to the weekly Open Hearth Gaming video roundup!

These recorded sessions represent only a portion of the games we play every week, and anyone is welcome to join the fun! If you'd like to play in games like these, join our Playabl community and click on the "Calendar" tab to sign up for upcoming games. To browse our entire library of session videos, please visit our YouTube Playlists page.

Discussions, Panels, and Seminars

Talking Hard Moves, Costs & Consequences Lowell Francis A community event talking about GMing and playing hard moves, managing costs, and balancing consequences for PbtA, Forged in the Dark, and other storygames.

Open Hearth Gaming Calendar

#Rich Kid Problem$ (Session 1 of 2) Donogh runs for Madelancholy, Sabine V., and Thomas Manuel Our kids show that they have 'more money than sense' by throwing around their influence, time and money like there’s no tomorrow. Alen, the offspring of powerful black marketeers works with Delilah, the scion of old money to float a new must-experience party boat. Leo, the mid-child of a Novae Rich family does his best to help them out while Zara, the fledgling of a military dynasty aims to sabotage!

#Rich Kid Problem$ (Session 2 of 2) Donogh runs for Madelancholy, Sabine V., and Thomas Manuel Our kids know that, when you hit rock bottom the best thing to do is get out the kanji-hammers and keep digging! Alen attempts to prise away their cousin Vladimir from Zara’s embrace, but this doesn't quite go to plan and there is serious blowback on the way! Leo and Delilah continue to grow closer but there’s a surprising fly in the ointment...

AKA: The Transponder (Session 2 of 2) Donogh runs for Anders and Jonathan With our agent Carter off the grid in Baikonur it falls upon the conspirator JC to push through the deal. But handler James finds him an altogether different prospect. Meanwhile the boss Robert wonders who he can trust (if anyone)...

Pulp Cthulhu: Dark Passage (Session 1) Lowell Francis runs for Horst Wurst, Paul Rivers, Puckett, and Will H We meet our heroes coming off of a job is Los Angeles which cost them dearly. They're called to San Francisco where they must board a cruise liner headed for Shanghai. Their task: locate the person who has taken possession of some stolen occult relics. But things turn nasty quickly with one person murdered and another vanished.

Pulp Cthulhu: Dark Passage (Session 2) Lowell Francis runs for Horst Wurst, Paul Rivers, Puckett, and Will H Further investigations aboard the Coolidge point to an occult murder-- but the truth may be more complicated than they first thought. What's the connection behind the artifact smuggling person they seek and the shape-changing sorcerous killer. And what is this music?

Monster of the Week: The Rockies (Session 7) Blake Ryan runs for Brandon Ungar, David Montgomery, Dom, and Grey Dodgy Deals Delivery

Monster of the Week: The Rockies (Session 8) Blake Ryan runs for Brandon Ungar, David Montgomery, Dom, and Grey Fickle Fey Fortune

Eotenweard: Tarham (Session 1) Alun R. runs for Dom, Dominik, and Pawel S. Cola the Hunter, Izold the Storyteller & Gwylog the Revenant arrive at the village of Tarham to find a settlement recovering from a recent attack. There's a disloyal warrior, a cowardly herder, a loyal outcast and an aging Lord. Then...carrion crows return along with the stench of death, shadows take on a life of their own, and there's 'something' out there in the dark...and bagpipes...

Godbound: Sundered Cycles (Session 30) Lowell Francis runs for Dan Brown, Ethan Harvey, Patrick Knowles, Sherri, and Tyler Lominack The first half of a journey into the mythic plane-- the crossing of the threshold, a journey across the ocean of souls, and a challenge atop a mammoth lotus flower.

Trail of Cthulhu: Fearful Symmetries: Arc Two (Session 4) Lowell Francis runs for Alun R., Paul Rivers, Sherri, and Will H Having made their made into the Bradbury estate-- the circle realizes the threat is both more dire and more immediate than they thought. After wrestling with various plans and consciences, they split up-- with Isabel and Richard trying to find Flora and the grove while Wilford and the Doctor try to see what they can do with Mrs. Bradbury and her impending delivery. Things do not go well. They go messily. Very messily.

Orbital (Session 1 of 3) Donogh runs for Mark and Puckett Discover our orbital, a strange place of crystals, fractal architecture & psychic warnings - the perils it faces: hunted star-crossed lovers from the War, a damaged warship seeking assistance, and something ancient stirring in the depths... Meet the orbital's residents: Cash Only - the Source of exactly what you're looking for, Rye - the Heart of a bar that epitomises the genuine warmth of the station, & Hemlock Pangolin - a Shadow on a secret mission to ensure the Orbital remains neutral ground a stoic hydroponics engineer who minds their own business.

Star Wars Saturday

Fellowship (Session 4) Rich Rogers runs for Greg G., Kae, Steven Watkins, and Tyler Lominack The fellowship dances and fights until they uncover an ancient artifact that will rock an entire world.

Fellowship (Session 5) Rich Rogers runs for Cody Eastlick, Greg G., Kae, and Steven Watkins The fellowship makes a difficult choice about the holocron of stillness and escapes Vuarlock for Dathomir.

Stars in the Dark: Stars in the Dark II (Session 2) Anders runs for Marc Majcher, Mark (they/them), Rich Rogers, and Steven Watkins Strange Smugglers and Gamorrean Grapplers - Our stalwart spies follow their target(s?) and discover that not everything is as it seems. Also: Gamorrean wrestling! Hotwired speeder bikes! A traffic stop!

Stars in the Dark: Stars in the Dark II (Session 3) Anders runs for Marc Majcher, Mark (they/them), Rich Rogers, and Steven Watkins Industrial Automaton Entanglements

Off-Calendar Highlights

The Between: Stars and Suns, Season Two (Session 5) Madelancholy runs for Jack, Sarah W., and Steph "A Tale of Two Parties" - New opening credits! ��� A little bit of chaos ensues when the Explorer and the Undeniable throw separate parties at Hargrave House. A sinister royal personage drops by. Come day, a demonic presence is reported at Kilborn Abbey, Ernest experiences time distortion, Dame Georgie talks to Mr. Figg, and Liat pressures the abbot for some answers.

The Between: Stars and Suns, Season Two (Session 6) Madelancholy runs for Jack, Mike, and Steph "For All Good Intent" - Sir Atticus returns from the Void with the help of a familiar friend, and returns to Hargrave House with Ragg in tow. Dame Georgie comes to an uneasy truce because of his new state, and Liat invites her fellow hunters to tea and oh-so-innocuous conversation.

[themovieblogonline]

Joy Ride Review: A Wild Adventure Filled with Laughter and Camaraderie

In a refreshing addition to Hollywood's lineup, Joy Ride directed by Adele Lim brings forth a mainstream comedy that offers a much-needed dose of laughter and entertainment. With its rib-tickling humor and outrageous escapades, the film takes audiences on an unforgettable journey of bonding, friendship, and self-discovery. While not groundbreaking in its approach, Joy Ride delivers a super fun and enjoyable experience that reminds us of the joyous escapism that comedies can provide. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jyI-AM5VXDo One of the most commendable aspects of Joy Ride is its ability to strike a balance between hilarity and raunchiness. The film's comedic moments hit the mark more often than not, eliciting genuine bursts of laughter from the audience. The script delivers a barrage of witty one-liners and clever situational humor that keep the comedic momentum alive throughout the narrative. It is evident that the filmmakers understand the essence of effective comedy and employ it to great effect. The success of the humor owes much to the stellar performances of the talented cast. Ashley Park and Sherry Cola, in particular, shine as the heart and soul of the film. Their impeccable comedic timing and infectious chemistry infuse every scene with an infectious energy that is hard to resist. Park's portrayal of Audrey brings a delightful mix of vulnerability and wit, while Cola's Lolo delivers a performance that is both endearing and uproarious. Their on-screen camaraderie is a joy to watch and undoubtedly one of the highlights of the film. While Joy Ride excels in generating laughs, it falls slightly short with a handful of jokes that fail to hit their mark. These instances, although infrequent, create moments of comedic lulls that disrupt the overall flow. However, this minor flaw does not overshadow the film's overall comedic success. The vast majority of jokes land perfectly, eliciting genuine amusement and ensuring a thoroughly enjoyable cinematic experience. In terms of originality, Joy Ride does not break new ground within the comedy genre. It adheres to familiar tropes and conventions, which may lead some viewers to feel a sense of predictability. Nevertheless, the film compensates for this lack of innovation through its engaging characters and their uproarious misadventures. The journey embarked upon by Audrey, Lolo, Kat, and Deadeye is a chaotic rollercoaster ride that captivates viewers with its high energy and audacity. Moreover, the film's exploration of themes such as friendship, belonging, and self-acceptance adds depth to the comedic narrative. As the characters navigate the challenges thrown at them, they undergo personal growth and learn the importance of embracing their true selves. This underlying message resonates with audiences, reminding them of the universal truth that knowing and loving oneself is key to finding happiness and fulfillment. Joy Ride may not be the kind of comedy that leaves you rolling on the floor laughing, but it undeniably provides a super fun time at the movies. In a world that often feels heavy and overwhelming, this lighthearted and entertaining escapade offers a much-needed respite. It is a testament to the enduring appeal of comedies and the simple pleasure they bring in lifting our spirits. Joy Ride directed by Adele Lim may not revolutionize the comedy genre, but it succeeds in delivering a hilarious and wild adventure filled with laughter and camaraderie. With its well-executed humor, standout performances, and relatable themes, the film provides an enjoyable cinematic experience that reminds us of the power of laughter and the importance of friendship. In a landscape where comedies have been missed, Joy Ride is a welcomed addition that showcases Hollywood'scommitment to entertaining and uplifting audiences. So buckle up and embark on this uproarious joy ride that guarantees a good time at the movies. Read the full article

[midori-laboratories]

Ashes In The Fall - Chapter 12: We All Fall III

Book 2 of the Calendula Chronicles

Resident evil, Wesker X OC

Story Summary: Marigold Ashford escaped the mansion, only to face new incarceration with a familiar jailor. She may yet have to make a deal with the devil, if she can unearth what this Faustian bargain would cost her.

There is always something left to lose.

Chapter summary: The almost idyllic exploration is interrupted when catastrophe strikes in Raccoon City.

September 23, 1998

“You...won’t...get away that easily.” Birkin rasped. He could taste blood. There was shockingly little pain. If he lasted beyond the next minute or so, that would change, and fast. The gunfire had ripped into him, leaving him a crumpled pile against the wall. Every breath he took had a wet, bubbly quality.

How was he so cold, all of a sudden?

The Umbrella Security Service had moved in on him to take his life’s work away from him. Someone had betrayed him.

Someone...

No one.

No one was getting away with the G-Virus. He had finally told Annette what was happening not half a day earlier. He’d stowed away go-bags for her and Sherry in the car. They had been so close...

They had taken the case of samples, but missed the injector in his hand. Fuck them all, he thought and drove the injector straight into his own heart. It burned. He welcomed the pain like an old friend. His precious G-virus would at least afford him his vengeance.

The world dulled, then grew sharper. William Birkin realized he could suddenly climb to his feet. G raced through his veins, feeding his desire to take those bastards apart.

Annette’s footfalls in the hall. Her eyes landed upon the injector, and the bloodied form of her husband, his eyes now alight with single-minded rage. She cried out in dismay. “William. What have you done?!”

-----

Days had passed since the connection had been made, and life had returned to an oddly comfortable rhythm.

The facility wasn’t furnished as a military installation, and Wesker only maintained his own gear. He had requisitioned tactical gear for a potential female operative and potential weapons. There would be enough to choose from, should she ever need to be tested in the field. Given the breadth of what Marigold’s version of the virus had manifested, that was becoming more and more likely. There were records of her having some firearms experience, at least on a recreational level.

When taking her vitals that day, he had asked her if she were still confident with a blade. It was a challenge more than anything. Marigold had shrugged, snagged a pen from off the table - a nice little thing that had a touch of weight to it - and balanced it atop her hand. With a casual flick, the implement was suddenly embedded an inch deep in the wood door. “Passable,” She had responded. Wesker fought the urge to smirk.

He finished taking her samples, then glanced back at the computer. Pulling a disk from his breast pocket, he loaded it in to check her recollection from the scant recordings Umbrella had recovered. She’d only filled out a few months of data, partially owing to the unfamiliar technology. “It’s a match,” he confirmed after a moment. “And you added information?”

Marigold shrugged again. “Much of it syncs to events, headaches, that sort of thing. Living in the city was reckless, but necessary. That first book was rubbish. I got better at it over time. I can read my own shorthand, at any rate.” She always seemed to curl inward, just a bit, when she was discussing her condition. Not hiding, but…filtering.

“So then ‘Rosencrantz and Guildenstern’ was an event.”

Oh, that one got a reaction. Marigold visibly ground her jaw. “A headache.” She paused. “Technically, also a field test.” She curled a lip in contempt at the memory. “It also said Rasputin on that line, yes? Have a guess at how I learned I could tolerate toxins.”

“Hmm.” He let it go. They had traced an incident where a well-bred junior executive, known for wandering hands, had suffered a progressive breakdown over the course of the last few months of 1969. He had transferred to Paris after the new year. There he remained as if trying to fade into the background. Wesker had met the shade of a man back in the early 1990s, while procuring a sample of the Nemesis parasite for Arklay. The man had had a deathly pallor to him, glancing around constantly like a hunted rat. If she had caught him trying to poison her, the traces of retaliation had certainly lingered.

But there had been two names on that line. ”There was a second one?”

She smiled, a little sad. Regretful. “And he got to be the control variable. It was instructive.” Marigold remained quiet for a moment. Then, “Umbrella’s falling apart, isn’t it.” She didn’t sound surprised at the idea.

He eyed her, considering. “I was wondering when you were going to start asking. Yes. They may not survive much longer. ”

“Alfred told me.” Wesker blinked at her. She made a face. “Oh, obviously I would call. On the telephone.” She made a circling dialing motion, then paused and scowled at her own hand. “I needed to confirm that he was even alive, and I couldn’t risk the amount of energy to try reaching out that distance. I’d already been told about...the others.” She seemed to curl inward. “He didn’t seem to think Umbrella was going to last for long.”

She looked tired. This had been what had been weighing on her earlier, then. He wouldn’t even confirm if they were dead. she finished, silently, looking straight at Wesker.

Interesting. And relevant. “Veronica, then?” His question seemed to electrify Marigold. She narrowed her eyes. “What? No. Alexander published that already. The genetic map for intelligence? Quite literally the only useful research application for a live, unreproducible subject.” She waved a dismissive hand at herself. “Probably much closer to the original core principles for the company.” Marigold was clearly getting wary. She still wasn’t lying, exactly. For so long as she was talking freely, he could take in what she offered and fill in the blanks. “For someone so obsessed with eugenics, Spencer choosing the weapons angle still seems just...baffling.”

Wesker filed away that piece of information for later. The term clearly had a different meaning for her than it did for him. “Alexia was working on splicing the virus. It’s rumoured that everything on t-Veronica went up with her lab. It’s been lost for years.”

“I didn’t see enough of her work to comment. She would name it after herself though.” Wesker stared at her. She snorted. “I can practically hear the gears grinding to a halt between your ears.” A long pause, and she stilled. “Is that why I’m here? My niece’s research?”

“Nothing came out of that lab for years,” Wesker said slowly, after a moment. “Without a virologist, any work on the virus would have stalled.”

“Yes. Strange.” Marigold paused. It was sardonic in tone, but something was bothering her. Not defensive. Like she was putting something together.

Wesker decided to take a different path for now. Her guard was up, but she was slowly working through to the correct destination. This too was a door he couldn’t force her to go through without her cooperation. “William is making the same mistakes Doctor Marcus did, I think. Patterns repeat in Umbrella.”

Marigold’s mouth firmed in a hard line. He’d hit a nerve. He could sense it in the air.

The chance to pick at that nerve slipped away in an instant when Marigold’s eyes went wide. She staggered to her feet with a look of wild panic, then went still. A blankness entered her eyes, seeing some other place.

“Won’t get away that easy,” she whispered in a toneless voice. There was a nasal rasp to the words that raised the hairs on the back of Wesker’s neck.

In Raccoon City, Umbrella operatives were torn apart like toys under William’s rapidly mutating hands. In that little room hidden in the Appalachian Mountains, Marigold Ashford shuddered and pulled herself out of the vision. Sagging back against the table for support, she looked to Wesker, who had bolted to his feet at the sense of incursion.

“They killed him. Your William, I think,” she said, not quite able to meet his eyes. “Now he’s killing everyone. Under the city. It’s started.”

[yourthiccgoddessmidna]

Day 99: I’ll never understand Sherry. Despite her size and strength she’s in total control of herself. I was trying to reach a book when she did several acrobatics and got it without damaging anything. Of course i hugged her but what caught me off guard was her saying. “I’d do anything for my baby sister.” Again that funny feeling arose in my chest…. Must study this feeling

Day 107: While goth is powerful mother still puts us in our places from time to time. We had a competition of stomach growls. It looked like goth was gonna win by shaking the mansion. But mother chuckled and let out a growl that cracked the foundation and even messed up our rooms. “Remember girls, momma knows best.” Mother either has tricks up her sleeve or she’s been holding back either way I still have a lot to learn

Day 124: I thought hot rod was mother’s disciplinarian form, turns out both forms discipline when they need to. Mother’s way is a bit more extreme. She had me trapped in her boobs. Sherry up her butt and goth in her gut. We were in there for two weeks. She absorbed all our stored fat and we were all back to basic size while she got even bigger. She warned us. “Next time don’t challenge other forms, I don’t care if you win if anything…” I could see she wants to protect us. But even after all that she still wanted us to sleep on her ocean of a gut. The gurgles felt like a lullaby. The last thing I heard before falling asleep was “remember momma loves her girls.”

Day 140: I had grew more curious on the other forms that ventured in this realm so I decided to study them. I spoke to this Gerudo form, she was surprisingly approachable. Her skin was rather beautiful and her figure is sight to behold. Sumo seems strong and much fatter, her strength is quite impressive. Although, intelligence isn't her strong suit. As for Berzerker, she seemed adequate. She's very feisty and aims to show off her muscles quite often and I'll admit that they are impressive. This...ninja form known as Yumi is an enigma, her words were like a whisper and her movement was unlike anything I have seen. Her and Sherry has some incredible acrobatic skills. Her tall skinny voluptuous body suited her. Finally, I encountered Varna whom rules this mindscape. I have never sense a power as much as hers though I think her and mother are on the same level. Thankfully, this Varna is kind and wise. I rested on her belly for studies. Unfortunately, they were more muscle than fat so they weren't as comfortable as mothers. Her figure just fascinates me.

Day 170: I managed to take control of Midna's body to spend time sith father, I even helped with to come with more potions for more of us. After that, I decided to roam the palace and many of the servants were giving me lustful looks. I do not know why. Regardless, I had enjoyed my time from taking over the body.

[threeminutesoflife]

Skeletal Remains

Pairings: Venom x (f)Reader x Eddie Summary: Couple’s costumes and funeral home parties Word Count: 7.2k Warnings: 18+, smut, oral sex and face riding with Eddie and Venom, biting, unprotected sex, tendrils included- a lot of tendrils- used on Reader and Eddie, funeral home is a non-scary house party, private and semi-public sex

a/n:  Entry for everyone’s adorable scream queen @sherrybaby14  Sherry’s Fall Into You Challenge. You’re amazing, Sweets- thank you for resparking my enjoyment for writing stories again. Thank you for hosting! Prompt: #44 Skeletons. Happy Halloween Everyone!

@threeminutesoflife masterlist

  Deep concentration, Eddie knew that look on you. Your tongue poking out the side of your mouth, rolling it back in so you could nibble your bottom lip. Your breath fanning across his cheek, down his neck as you tilted your head closer. Fuck, the way you were straddling him on the chair, gently leaning into him. Rocking your hips just slightly enough, knowing you were unconsciously teasing him was getting him hard. 

Locking eyes with him, you winked. Or was it conscious?

Conscious.

Eddie exhaled, determined to push Venom’s voice out of his mind as easily as he expelled the air.

Either way, he didn’t care just as long as you kept rocking into him. Just like that.

Closing his eyes and savoring how your fingers felt skimming along his jawline; ear to chin, chin to ear. Raising his head up, he gave you more access to glide your hand over the column of his neck. Telling him to look at you, look up higher.

But he keeps faltering at your command, his attention going back to your painted lips.

“Eddie, come on. Look up, honey. Almost done.” Tsking softly, you ran your fingers on the top of his cheek and returned to blending the black face paint into the white paint’s edges.

“Babe,” Eddie protested, twitching his nose and puffing out his cheeks, “this paint is gonna start itchin’. And your hands on me like this, your ass wiggling…” 

He squeezed your thighs for emphasis.

“You’ll be fine. Almost done,” you encouraged before playfully running your tongue over your top lip and sucking in your bottom one.

“Okay, fuck. Stop doing that with your mouth.”

“Doing what?” you teased, wide-eyed with a crooked smile.

Venom snarled hungrily in Eddie’s mind, “Conscious.”

“Keep it up little girl and we’re gonna mark and smear this paint all over ya.” 

Grinding down on his lap, punctuating your words with each roll of your hips you goaded him back, “Don’t…threaten me…with a good…time…boys.”

Despite chuckling at his groans, you had to remind yourself of the time crunch in hopes to ignore the spark his words and your movements created in you. 

Shaking your head, you refocused on blending the paint, “Hold still, almost done.”

“Hey, is that new?”

“Is what new- Seriously, Eddie- we’re almost done just hold-”

“That, the ring. Is it new?” He asked, moving his head to follow the movement of your hand.

Clenching your teeth, you asked for patience, “Eddie, seriously. Stop moving, please. And yeah, it’s new. Now please-”

“What’s the color mean,” if Eddie was good at one thing in life, it was distractions. “It’s a mood ring, right?”

“Yep,” the word popped with an annoyed huff, “Mood ring, got it for the costume. And it’s black like the color I’ll wear at your funeral if you don’t stop moving your mouth.”

“So, what’s the color mean?”

“Are you being this annoying on purpose? No wonder the people you interview hate you.”

Eddie drew himself as far back as the chair would allow and looked you over. Perhaps you shouldn’t have delivered that slip of line the way you did, but you could only take so many interruptions.

“That’s gonna cost you, darlin’.”

Sighing out the last of your impatience, you tried to recover, “Sorry, I didn't mean for it to come out like that.”

He only hummed in response but leaned in closer to let you finish working, giving you a temporary truce.

“Thank you, Eddie. Just a few more and we’ll be-”

“-You were almost done ten minutes ago.”

Temporary truce-- over.

You cut him with a deadpanned expression, “'I don’t feel that I need to explain my art to you, Warren.‘”

Eddie huffed at your movie reference, “Yeah well, shit babe, with you practically riding me…” His voice trailed off when moving his hands up higher on your thighs, squeezing them lightly. “Come on, let me taste your lips.”

“Which ones?” you quipped before you could stop yourself.

Eddie’s eyes flashed as a growl rolled out from his chest, his fingers digging deeper into your skin, “Don’t matter both are sweet.”

Despite being secretly thrilled at his tightening hold, you tried refocusing on the task again, “One more minute, almost don-”

“Why can’t Venom just cover my face?”

“Eddie,” you frowned slightly as he ran his hands up to your waist. “We talked about it.”

Hearing movement, you noticed your work light now blocked and you knew a debate was coming without having to look up, “Hi, V.”

“Yes, why can’t I take you instead of Eddie?”

“Guys, we talked about this,” you tried to remind them as Venom’s head sprouted higher from Eddie’s shoulder.

You’ve been painting a skeleton face on Eddie for the past forty-five minutes, in between teasing his cock with hip rolls for a mini, achingly slow, dry humping session. But now, comparing Venom’s face to Eddie’s painted skeleton design, you realized how much of an inspirational role your boyfriend’s symbiote played. Grumbling quietly, you softly rounded out the edges of the white paint around Eddie’s eyes.

“It’s not that I don’t want to go with you, V,” you ran your free hand over Venom’s head, “I know you’d make a great date.” He cooed in agreement, closing his eyes and nuzzled further into your palm. “It’s just when I rsvp'ed for my friend’s party, I agreed we’d do her couple’s movie theme.”

With a wink, you untangled yourself from Eddie’s lap, “All set.”

“Finally. Freakin’ freedom,” taking a swig of his neglected beer.

“You’re a drama queen, Eddie Brock. And if you smear those painted teeth, I’m knocking out your real ones.”

“Cheers, babe.”

“Get your boots on, jerk.”

“But you are using black and white paint, I am already the ideal example of those colors,” Venom pointed out with his interruption.

Looking over to Eddie for assistance, he only replied by raising a painted brow in your direction and gesturing with the beer in his hand to 'please proceed.’

You eyed Eddie with limited amusement, painted putz.  

“You’re right, Venom. You are ideal,” mischievously grinned at Eddie as you boxed away the makeup. “But unfortunately, you’re too muscular for anyone to believe you’re a skeleton.”

Eddie donated an annoyed scoff at you over the rim of his bottle as Venom mulled your words, “I understand. Eddie is much weaker. He will be best at displaying what little muscle he has.”

Snorting out a laugh, you agreed. “True, V.”

“Still here,” Eddie grumbled and glared.

“We know you are, Venom Jr.”

“He is like a child, isn’t he?”

Gathering the brushes, you were unsuccessful in covering your mirth, “Okay, give me ten minutes to change and we can go. We’ll make it on time if we leave in twenty.”

Passing by Eddie you shot your hand out over his head, pretending to ruffle his hair to annoy him further.

“Babe!” His hands sliced the air in defense and ducked away from you, “Stop!”

Practically skipping into the bedroom, you called out before shutting the door, “Venom, next year we can dress up together as chocolate bars. But you’ll have to go as king size.”

Quickly spinning around to face you, Venom abruptly jerked Eddie back hard against the chair causing him to curse. You cackled in achieving the whiplash reaction you hoped for as Venom’s large eyes narrowed in response, “We do not joke about chocolate.”

Eddie heard you flip on the music as you banged around in the closet, a chain of curses and a whoop of success. Sitting down at the table and finishing off his beer, he remained thoughtful of the freshly applied makeup as he ran his tongue along his real teeth.

Setting the bottle down by the last decoration you put up in the apartment, he grinned about how he found you this morning outside in the apartment hallway, kicking the front door and calling out his name with a pumpkin under each arm.

As he helped you inside, you answered his questions on why two pumpkins were needed and how you managed to carry them. 

'Strength, patience, and squats,’ you stated, rolling the tension out of your arms, 'We’re carving one, the other’s a centerpiece.’

'But more decorations?’

Grabbing the butcher’s blade from the knife stand, you made your way around the table, closing in on Eddie and his concerns about the depleting living space. 'It’s our first Halloween together. I want it to be fun.’

He didn’t pay attention to your stalking motions, his mind too busy replaying your use of the word “our” and how much he liked your pluralization.

When you stepped in front of him, he blinked out of his haze and eyed the large knife in your hand, “No, that’s too big to carve details. You’ll want to use the- OH SHIT!”

Without hesitation or explanation, you quickly jerked the butcher knife above your head and forcefully slammed it into the pumpkin next to him.

'There!’ Hands proudly set on your hips, you examined the knife embedded into the pumpkin’s flesh, 'Gonna add some red wax.' 

Tapping a finger to your chin, you figured out the next moves, 'Run it around the knife. Drip it down like blood. You think those flowers need more water?’ Noticing Eddie’s silence, you pulled your attention away from the autumn arrangement behind the victimized pumpkin, 'You okay, handsome?’  

Blinking rapidly, he smoothed down his shirt and tried to regain composure, 'Nah-yeah. Yeah. All good.’

Pussy.

Should we be worried, V?

She is aggressive. I like it. 

Eddie smiled at the memory and flicked the handle on the butcher knife nestled in the pumpkin. He was thankful for how contagious your carefree happiness was- it helped him look forward to things again. 

When RSVP'ing to the party, you asked if he’d be interested in going as a skeleton but to let you leave your half of the costume as a surprise. He wasn’t sure what your friend’s parties at her family’s funeral home entailed, but you promised that he wouldn’t have to go down in the embalming room unless he wanted a full tour from Sara.

Glancing around the apartment and cataloging the subtle changes, he noticed how you slowly infiltrated their lives. You smuggled in an obscene amount of books, an impressive assortment of vinyl records, a debatable movie collection, and an alarming mass of art supplies. 

Venom and Eddie were still trying to navigate around the half-sketched canvases you’d randomly prop up along the walls and furniture. There was a point where Venom asked Eddie if you were trying to trip them on purpose or if proving their coordination was a mating ritual.

Despite all the different items slowly taking over the apartment, he was grateful for the one you brought in particular. The couch. 

Eddie swore it was the most comfortable piece of furniture for his neck when you’d ride him. Whenever he found himself trudging through an article, he’d look over at the couch and get lost in memories of orgasms past. Always finding himself smiling about the first time they ate you out on it.

That day, when he walked into the room, he saw you stretching and leaning over the back of the couch, ass in the air. Knees and thighs pressed and anchored into the couch’s backrest as you tried reaching for the fallen blanket. Your ass innocently and perfectly presented for them.

Venom knocked around Eddie trying to surface as they heard a couple of your soft whines and grunts, the blanket just out of reach. He recalled the tiny spark of excitement he got when startling you as he leaned into you to offer help. Your back against his chest and your ass rubbing his tented pants; he knew he’d be late to his friend’s poker game. That afternoon was the first time you rode his face and then Venom’s.

Eddie tasted you first and liked to remind Venom of that. He sucked and bit on your skin, his nose trailing along the curve of your neck as he instructed you to remove your leggings and straddle his face. He tried not to laugh at your expression, bewildered by his spontaneous but welcomed command. He laid down on the couch and sweetly encouraged you with generous praise for your body as you stripped down to your underwear. He called you to crawl over his chest and lulled you with sincere endearments.

He hooked his arms around your thighs that shakily encased his face, and quickly ran his tongue along your clothed pussy. The sound of your voice catching in your throat spurred him on when he stared up and locked eyes with you, hastily pushing your panties to the side. Your heartbeat picked up when you looked down and saw him between your thighs. He massaged and squeezed your ass cheeks, encouraging you by pulling you to rock forward and fuck his face. Your clit rubbed against his nose as he murmured compliments and licked you in adoration.

Never to be outdone, Venom quickly took over as you tumbled off the end of your first orgasm from Eddie. Still underneath you, two tendrils rose from Eddie’s chest and circled your waist lifting you in the air as Venom appeared. Running his hands to your waist, Venom held you higher as he moved further down the couch, situating what he could for his large size. He smirked at you as you hoovered slightly over his face. His tendrils ran along your legs and thighs, one slipped under your panties’ elastic band and pulled the material aside. Goosebumps fanned across your skin as another tendril slowly traced its way up your spine and loosely wrapped itself around your neck.

Eyes wide, you tumbled out a raspy whisper, “Venom, what are you-?”

“Making you feel better.”

He pulled an obscene moan from you as he continued to dangle you in the air; his tongue generously sweeping across your cunt and twirling around your clit. You were ready to whine about the slow build-up when Venom tightened the tendril around your throat and swiftly ripped away your panties with his other. The two different sensations made your head spin. He stiffened his tongue to a peak as you floated barely above it and abruptly dropped you down onto him. You gifted him a pornographic moan as he speared your pussy with his tongue, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Gathering your bearings, you rocked yourself hard and fast against Venom’s tongue and face. You lost yourself in the harsh rhythm and quick pace that moments ago you could only imagine, or beg for. His teeth scraped the inside of your thighs. The sting and slight sight of blood only spurred you on. Fuck him if he needed to breathe, you were too consumed in chasing the orgasm that nothing would stop you. You rode Venom’s face without any inhibitions or insecurity. The sense of freedom got you off as well, you convulsed in confidence when the release washed over you.

Looking at the couch now, Eddie smiled as he remembered how they both made you feel. Sometimes when lost in memory, he could faintly feel your fingers run along his scalp and pull his hair tighter as you dipped your mound harder against his mouth. Biting his lip, he recalled how his hands felt grabbing your ass, pulling your rocking body down to him. Still makes him smug when thinking how your uptight cousin slept on the sofa, not knowing how many times you two christened it. And the table we fucked on that she ate- when complaining about dinner. The counters she ran her hands over criticizing the kitchen. On the desk. Under the desk. Shower. Hallway.

“Take a look! Tell me what you think!” Cutting off Eddie and Venom’s sexual montage as you bounded out to them, scampering with excitement and looking sharp in a fitted blazer and short dress.

Pinned on the right breast suit pocket was a button stating Funeral Director. Embroidered on the opposite side, Grieve'em and Leave'em Funeral Home.

Spinning away from Eddie, you shouted, “Look at the back!”

Eddie read the slogan, “We’ll help you move the bodies.”

“I was thinking about using- You Mourn'em, We Adorn'em- but I wasn’t totally sold on it. OH!” Clapping your hands wildly, you cried, “WAIT! Get ready-” twirling around, you stopped abruptly and dramatically stuck out your hip. Tossing the boys a saucy look, you slowly ran your hands down along the lapels of your blazer towards the buttons.

Eddie offered an appreciative whistle, “Liking this very much already.” 

Winking at your boyfriend, you popped loose the last button and screeched, “TA-DA!”   

You couldn’t help it. You were loud and you were happy. You yanked off the coat and threw it across the room without regard for the stack of books it knocked over along the way.

Eddie’s eyes followed the discarded coat, unsure for a moment when you didn’t rush over to care for the fallen novels. 

Is Y/N okay, Eddie?

She’s fine Venom, just excited.

That is not how she normally sounds when she’s excited.

No, that’s not- I mean… she’s…just really happy.

She sounds like a maimed animal.

She’s fine, V.

She knocked over her books, Eddie.

V, she’s fine.

But last week, when you put your beer on them-

Yeah, I remember. 'Books aren’t coasters and we don’t dog-ear in this house.' 

You gave another twirl for Eddie, eager for his reaction.

“Is this why you had so many bandages on your fingers last week?” he asked between laughs.

“Yeah, hot glue gun and sewing needles,” you winced at the memory of your tender fingers, “but worth it, right?”

Eddie admired the view before him, your short dress adorned with several dozens of artificial flowers. A sash draped over your right shoulder to your left hip, “With Deepest Sympathy.”

He shook his head in amusement, “So you’re a funeral director and a sympathy bouquet. Very nice, babe.”

“And here are the extra pieces for your costume,” you secured several bumblebee pins onto Eddie’s shirt and handed him the wire eyeglasses. “You, sir, are no longer a random skeleton.”

Eddie furrowed his brows still unsure of the characters or movie you told him about earlier.

“Okay,” you patted Eddie’s chest. “Let’s be the best Vada and Thomas J. we can be, Eddie. Still can’t believe you never saw it.”

“Not again, at least I saw the other one you mentioned.”

“Yeah, well- there’s less things to carry as Thomas J. You would have been sore and cranky if you had to be on crutches all night.”

“At least Tales From The Crypt isn’t a chick flick version of Old Yeller.”

“Eddie, I still can’t follow your comparison of My Girl to Old Yeller.” Bending over for your shoes on, you felt Eddie’s hands dig into your hips as he stepped up behind you.

Pressing himself against your bottom, he said, “That dress looks amazing on you. We could always stay here- tend to your garden.”

“Shuddup,” you laughed, swatting his hands away. “Stop trying to distract me, it’s time to go. We can water each other later.” Crinkling your nose and shaking your head at your terrible line, “forget I said that.”

Humming in response, Eddie huskily whispered in your ear. “Looking forward to sticking my face between your petals, little flower.” He squeezed your ass for emphasis before grabbing his half helmet and opening the front door to leave.

As your stomach flipped, you wondered how it was possible that horticulture innuendos could turn you on. 

Revving the bike’s engine, Eddie suddenly peeled out of the apartment garage causing you to whip back, only then to smash your tits against his back. Frantically grabbing a tighter hold around him and delivering half-hearted curses, you felt Venom run a tendril over your wrists and loop another around your bottom securely pulling your crotch closer to Eddie’s ass. 

Smirking at your language, Eddie loudly threw words over his shoulder, “Just the beginning, babe.”

You misinterpreted what he said as teasing for a fun night ahead and not what he planned on doing to you instead.

The funeral home was more than crowded when Eddie pulled the bike into the lot. Raising your ass up from the seat, you pointed over his shoulder, “Pull over to the side of the building, to the left where it bumps out. It’ll be open there, nobody really likes to park by the body drop.”

Cutting the engine, Eddie offered you his hand to jump off the bike and removed his helmet and switch glasses.

“Let me fix one part but it held up well around your riding glasses. Just some of the glow-in-the-dark lines by your jaw rubbed down your neck.” Inspecting the condition of Eddie’s skeleton paint, you wiped your hands over his neck and cleaned the lines, “All set.”

“Glow-in-the-dark paint, huh?”

Before you could ask him why that’d be interesting, Eddie changed the subject by tapping your helmet and undoing the strap, “Body drop? Name’s the definition?”

“Yeah, corpse slide. Helps move the bodies quicker. Saves time and energy instead of carrying them down.”

“Let me guess, you went-?”

You smiled wickedly at him and wiggled your eyebrows in response, “Know me so well, lover.”

Now I am concerned.

Taking in Eddie’s quiet state of frowning in confusion, you asked, “What?”

“Nothing, we’re just concerned is all. Especially V.”

Idiot. I was joking, you were not supposed to tell her that.

“Wha-Why? Because of the slide joke?”

Eddie shrugged out his next words, looking off in the distance, “Just seems creepy is all.”

Stop. You’re making us look a pussy.

You said yourself that you were concerned.

Yes, concern. Not a pussy. And it was a joke.

Just go with it.

“Hey, we had a normal childhood. Sara’s family lived above their funeral business. No big deal. ”

“Normal?” Eddie tilted his head at you in disbelief.

“Don’t be a judgy asshole, Eddie.”

Yes, you’re being rude, Eddie.

Eddie only blankly stared at you, masking his enjoyment for how easily he could rile you up.

You are an asshole.

“Don’t be a snob, EB. Sara and I did normal kid crap too, okay? We had sleepovers and built cardboard forts… granted the forts were out of coffin shipping boxes- but that shit was sturdy.”

“Do not tell me you slept in them.” Eddie grinned, enjoying how his jabs were fueling your annoyance for his own amusement.

“The shipping boxes or the coffins, smartass? You’re the reporter, ask better questions,” you moved your jaw back and forth with annoyance and popped your finger in the air to visibly mark a period at the end of those invisible words.

Raising an eyebrow up at your sass, Eddie would remember that comment.

“So, coffins it was,” he determined, crossing his arms across his chest and completely smug with himself for irritating you since you teased his cock the whole time during the face painting.

Taking in his leering grin, you figured out he was toying with you, “You’re obnoxious. Come on. We should go in and say hello.”

Eddie’s laughter boomed across the parking lot, “Jesus, I love Wednesday Addams. Or are you Marilyn from the Munsters?”

Fake gasping, you clutched your flowered chest and spun around at him, “You take that back, Eddie Brock. I could never be a Marilyn Munster, I have never been that nice and kind.”

Sara’s parents expanded the funeral home throughout the years, eventually moving from the top floor to a new home around the block. They converted the floor of old living quarters into additional viewing rooms and a small library. Sara and her new boyfriend decorated the business for tonight’s party in spiderwebs and streamers. There were fog machines set up in several areas allowing smoke to billow across the floors and hallways, even changed the music on the funeral home’s sound system. Some rooms played dance music, while others played Halloween sound effects. The Employees Only doors were taped over messages of “don’t even ask” and “I see dead people.” But a favorite of yours was the simple straightforward, “fuck off.”

Some guests came in traditional costume ideas, there was a good amount of fairy tale princesses. But some others took a page out of Sara’s book.

“What the fuck, bitch? You trying to steal my clients?”

Turning around you saw your petite friend painted as a green goblin sporting a blue top and red suspenders attached to her pants.

“I am so sorry you didn’t have time to get ready for your own party, Sara.”

Through her mock laughter, Sara told her to shove it and demanded a hug from you and Eddie.

Snapping the strap of her suspenders, you asked, “So Miss. Ghoulie, where’s the new boy toy? I wanted to introduce him to Eddie.”

“Just look for the toilet,” Sara instructed nonchalantly, taking a sip of her punch.

Eddie quickly declined, “Nah, we’re good. I’ll wait and meet him when he’s done.”

“No,” Sara delivered a graceful eye roll, “I mean- just look for the toilet, he’s dressed as one.”

“Willingly?”

You both only shrugged in response to Eddie’s question.

“It’s our couple's costume. You know, the Ghoulies’ movie poster? Little green monster coming out of the toilet? You’ll understand it better when he comes up behind me and puts his arms around me,” Sara said, grinning at Eddie’s expression as he tried recalling the movie. “Glad she only had you come as a skeleton now?”

“Yeah, he was eager to show off his big boner,” you cut in before Eddie could answer.

Nudging you, Sara eyed Eddie up and down slowly, “Were you, Eddie? Were you eager to show us your big boner like my friend said?”

“Okay!” Eddie clapped his hands, trying to settle down the laughter, “Let’s see about that food.”

He threw his arm around your shoulder, “Thin ice, babe. No more warnings.”

After a couple of hours of catching up with old neighborhood friends and enjoying dinner, Sara’s cousin Michelle started weaving throughout the different viewing rooms, asking for everyone’s attention. “In about a half-hour, we have two fortune-tellers coming if anyone’s interested. Sign-up sheets will be in the first floor’s lobby.”

Ripping off the bottom of a cupcake, you popped it in your mouth moaning around the sweetness.

“You always eat them like that?” Eddie chuckled at you.

“No, sometimes after tearing the bottom off, I smash it on top of the frosting. Makes a dessert sandwich of sorts,” you admitted, cutting your finger through the icing and sliding it over your lips.

Eddie’s eyes narrowed at the sight of your cheeks hollowing when you looked at him knowingly. 

Leaning by you, his voice lowered, “Give me a taste.”

Quirking your lips at Eddie and slowly weaving your finger through the frosting again, you held it up to Eddie’s lush mouth.

Bending in closer to your finger, he was about to taste the frosting when you pulled your hand away. “If I share, what’s in it for me?”

Eddie grabbed your frosted hand and suddenly yanked your waist closer to him with his other. You stumbled a step and knocked against him.

About to laugh at his manhandling, the giggle locked itself in your chest when you saw his eyes flash silver. You felt a growl vibrate under your palm on Eddie’s chest, making your thighs flex and squeeze together.

“Shit,” you whispered through the sudden rush of arousal.

“Pick a room. Now.”

“Here, I- I’ll get another cupcake,” you tried to break your hip out of his hold unsuccessfully. 

Pulling your frosted finger up to his mouth, he trapped his lips around it. Your mouth fell open as you felt his tongue run along the underside of your finger. Biting down, he smiled at you. Your finger dropped from his mouth, wet and sticky mimicking what was happening between your thighs.

Eddie’s voice dropped impossibly lower as he said your name, “Get a room that locks.”

Trying to swallow down the excitement, you scanned around the room hoping no one noticed the exchange and your growing want to jump Eddie right there. The room was almost empty as more people left to sign up with the fortune-tellers.

Dropping his hands lower, he squeezed your ass, “Remember what I said earlier, no more warnings. We’ve wanted to fuck you senseless all day because of your teasing.”

Biting your lip, you grew wetter with his words and pointed behind you, “Down the hallway, there’s a restroom.”

Eddie smacked your flowered ass, “Show us.”

The bathroom light pulsed twice before coming to life with a steady heartbeat. Eddie leaned against the locked door as you backed away to the opposite wall. His stance looked relaxed, but his eyes were sharp as he tracked your feet shuffling backward. Your excitement grew as you watched him follow your retreat. Your butt hit the wall and you steadied yourself with the sink next to you. He had that hungry yearning in his eyes and you knew this was going to be more than fulfilling. When Eddie got this like this it was always an incredible mix of his and Venom’s personalities and styles coming together.   

Eddie was playful when making love; tender, attentive. He liked to pull giggles and moans from you while getting lost in your eyes and in between your legs. Sex wasn’t simply sex to Eddie, not with you. It was his chance to encompass another, to encompass you. When your legs were spread open for him and he was buried to the hilt inside you, his mind drifted to how much he wanted you, how he chose you. Chemistry or fate, you were his and he never felt closer to you, or more whole, than when he stared into your eyes when filling you up. 

Eddie gave slow toe-curling pulls, while Venom delivered deliriously hard thrusts.

Venom viewed orgasms like trophies to collect when fucking you. He would make sure you both conquered every time, multiple times; there would be no participation ribbons on your shelf. He ached to hear you whimper and whine underneath him like an animal in heat. The more desperate and wanton you became, the more he gave. There were times where it seemed like he would surrender control to you, but it was only a false gesture. Because somewhere in the middle of you hungrily fucking him on top with your head hazy from endorphins and ecstasy, his grip would tighten and his pace would change to his desire- filling you up and flipping you over. 

Eddie was romantic; Venom determined. Eddie liked to take scenic routes in bed, spontaneous detours to orgasmic destinations. Venom streamlined hard and fast with a drive for achievement and a panache for finding new positions.   

“Baby,” Eddie kicked himself off the door, removing his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt, “pull the top of your dress down.”

Your body hummed in anticipation for the delicious combo of rough intimacy that was about to happen. The funeral blazer dropped to the floor and you began pulling the dress straps down. You could hear Eddie’s belt loosening and the jean’s zipper opening. 

When you looked up, Eddie stood bow-legged before you with his jeans opened wide and low on his hips. A tendril from Eddie’s side was wrapped around his cock, slowly stroking his growing length. It twisted itself up and down, hardening his erection with each step Eddie took.   

“Eddie…” Even though you heard your own voice say his name, you couldn’t tell if you were begging him to stop the teasing or pleading with him to continue.

Freeing your arm from the last strap, your mind tried to keep up with what was going on in front of you and how ready you were for this spontaneous fucking.

Watching Venom stroke Eddie, your escaped whisper hung in the air, “Fuck.”

Chuckling, Eddie took a step closer as tendrils shot out coiling around each of your wrists and abruptly pulling you across the tile into Eddie’s chest, “We’re getting there, babe.”

Cupping your face, Eddie crashed his lips into you. Your eyes remained closed as he pulled away from you, taking your hands he placed them on his shoulders instead and moved his hands to your waist, “Up.”

Loyally jumping up on blind command, Venom ran his tendrils out of Eddie’s body catching you midair before you were able to lock your legs around Eddie’s waist as you anticipated. Tendrils snaked around your waist and raised you up higher as you gasped along the wall from the surprise and kicked your legs as Venom pulled down your panties. Two other tendrils climbed past your calves and wrapped themselves around your thighs like vines, spreading your legs far apart.

High in the air and exposed, you felt like you could just about graze your fingertips to the tall ceiling. Your lust was heavy and body weightless as you looked down to see your cunt level to Eddie’s smirking skeleton face. Stepping closer between your legs, he rested his hands along your soft thighs before inhaling and moving his mouth to your core.

With his tongue on a quest to send you over the edge, Eddie started his journey with one long determined lick from your ass to your clit. With a slow, firm reverse- his tongue circled around your sensitive nub and spiraled down between your wet folds. Your thighs tried to close on their own, your head foggy from the rapid build-up of pleasure within you, but Venom’s tendrils kept your thighs open and in place. 

Rocking your hips forward, Eddie’s tongue continued to dip in and descend upon you. You were desperate for more contact, more friction. Eddie shook his thumb against your clit as his tongue raced between your slit, slipping in and devouring you. 

The ends of Venom’s tendrils that were wrapped around your waist lengthened, easily pulling your bra down under your breasts. They curved around your chest and teased your nipples as another tendril danced along the rim of your ass. Unable to take it anymore from the different sensations coursing throughout your body, you closed your eyes, bit your lip, and purred in your release.

Pulling his face away from your sensitive pussy, you saw Eddie’s once intricately painted skeleton face now smeared in different directions. A muddled landscape streaked across his cheeks of various shadows and shades. His mouth and chin glistened from your juices and gleamed even more as his lips rounded up into a heavy sneer. Suddenly, Eddie moved forward and latched onto the inside of your thigh, biting down harder when you squealed louder. The opposing feelings of pain and pleasure had you growling out for him to fuck you.   

Venom’s tendrils that were wrapped around your waist lowered your body down along the wall for Eddie as another tendril continued to hold your thighs apart. Leaning in, Eddie cupped your face and kissed you possessively. 

Feeling Eddie’s cock run along your wet slit, you became confused because his hands were still holding your cheeks. Breaking away from his kiss, you saw Venom’s tendril lining Eddie’s cock up to your entrance. Your eyes darted back to Eddie’s, the tip of his cock slowly entering you and then stopping. You begged for Eddie or Venom to move closer and fill you up, but neither of them moved. Suspended in the air on a sex swing of tendrils, you tried rocking yourself down further onto his cock. Eddie chuckled at your wanton state, and then, without warning rammed into your pussy. His hips pushed into you and rocked your ass back, hitting up against the cold-tiled wall. 

The sound of skin slapping filled the room, lusty moans and heavy grunts joined the chorus. Eddie continued to kiss your lips, occasionally moving down your jaw and throat, biting and sucking on the crook of your neck. 

Whispering out his name, Eddie detached his teeth from his neck and looked at you without pausing his thrusts. You ran your thumb along the furrows on his forehead, the face paint smeared long ago. Tracing the pad of your thumb down to his chin and along his bottom lip, you slipped your thumb in his mouth and he caught it between his teeth. Eddie’s eyes flashed and you felt Venom’s teeth emerging in Eddie’s mouth. Sharp ends pierced your thumb as Venom and Eddie applied more pressure, your mewls were louder and pussy wetter now. You met each of Eddie’s ravenous thrusts. The sounds you pulled from one another- only feed the other’s desires more, every bounce on his cock was hungry and desperate.

Your sight began to tunnel as you attempted to focus on something, anything. But the euphoria made you blind and all you could do was whimper in heat as tendrils rapidly flicked over your clit and grazed the edges of your asshole. Sporadically, Venom slapped your ass between tracing your rim.

It felt like Eddie was spearing you in half as Venom’s tendrils gripped your thighs even tighter and spread your legs further apart for Eddie to drive himself in deeper. The cold tiles had now warmed long ago under your back. Your body was on fire and if the fake flowers attached to the dress could wilt from the heat, they would.

Seizing the back of your neck in one hand, Eddie grabbed your cheeks with his other hand causing your lips to pucker out as he railed into you. 

Yanking your face forward to his, he ordered you with each thrust, “Cum…Right…NOW.” 

Venom’s voice echoed in your ears as he took over Eddie’s speech, punctuating the command. 

Everything in you exploded at once as your nerves overload- vision blurring, ears ringing, toes curling. Your fingers stiffen, clutching the tops of his shoulders as you hold on and try not to blackout. Your mouth gaped open, frozen in pleasure as your body shook in its release.   

Frozen in time, the world stopped; no vision, no sound. Your heart felt like it paused as you’re in a statuesque state of pleasure. La petite mort.

Then something snapped within you and you’re able to breathe again. Your chest rose, burning. Sensitive nipples brushed against Eddie’s chest, spreading a warm tingling across your skin. The cloudiness in your vision began clearing when you felt Eddie lose his rhythm in your cunt. Regaining control of your body again, you vocalized a salacious moan as your pussy milks Eddie’s cock.

Eddie buried himself to the hilt in you, and yet, your pussy greedily tried pulling him in further, impossibly closer. The fluttering of your walls sent Eddie over the edge, both his hands dropping around to the front of your neck. His fingers splayed out along your throat; pinkies resting along your collar bones, thumbs tilting your chin up. Covering his lips over yours, Eddie groaned possessively into your mouth at his release. His body electrified against yours, his tongue covered yours for dominance.

He left you shuddering, a soft whine escaping you when he slides his length out. Feeling empty, you unconsciously leaned forward to him. Eddie answered your whines, pressing his chest against yours and trailing his nose over you. Plump lips ghosted yours before he pressed his cheek by yours and rested his forehead against your temple. 

Venom’s tendrils carefully trailed away along your spine, slowly receding the ones wrapped around your thighs. One slid away from your waist after helping you balance onto your feet. Eddie’s murmured incoherently as your breathing steadied. Feeling more than hearing the gravelly noises emanating from his chest, you laid your hand over his heart. He ran his thumb gently up and down your vulnerable, marked neck- sighing and whispering into your ear, “Fucking gorgeous.”

“Hol-holy.Shit.”

Chuckling at your words, he looked over your dazed appearance of chaotic ecstasy. Running his fingers along your hairline and trailing them around your ear, he hummed in appreciation of you and thumbed away a bit of drool from the side of your mouth.

Apocalyptic sexdoll.

“Come here, baby girl.” Turning toward the faucet, he dampened the paper towel and slightly angled your chin to clean off his transferred face paint from your cheeks and neck.

But before he could, you took his hand and guided him down between your legs where his cum slowly dripped along your thigh, “Please.”

Eddie chewed his lip and paused, his eyes still roaming over your form. You’ve grown used to the mid-conversation freezes when Eddie and Venom communicate. 

But growing impatient to leave the party and head home, you slowly moved his hand further down by your thighs again, hoping to pull his attention back to you. You faintly felt him wipe your thighs before you gasped loudly and bucked yourself back up against the wall from the sudden shock of sensations.

Winking at you and offering a half-hearted, “Whoops”- Eddie ran his thumb along your over-sensitive clit making you shudder again.

Smacking the back of your hand against his bicep, you playfully pleaded for him to stop, “Cheeky bastard.”

His only response was a laugh and a shrug before tossing the paper towel into the bin.

“Got it all, Eddie?”

His gaze scanned you one more time, eyes darkening with a flash of silver before dropping a kiss to your forehead, “Like I said, fucking gorgeous. Let’s say goodbye to your friends and go home.”

“Want me to wipe yours, too?” you gestured to the now gray-streaked paint along his face. “It’s a mess now.”

He declined your offer with a slight shake of his head, “You and me both, baby girl.” Winking at you, he pulled your dress into place and offered his hand for you to take. “Don’t forget your jacket, babe. Time to go say goodbye.”

Snaking you both through the crowd, Eddie found your friends congregating at a side table. 

Waving with a smile, you called out, “Hey, we’re going to head out now. Thank you again for the invite.”

“Hey! Where’d you run off to– oh shit!” Sara shouted, cackling and tossing her head back.

“Christ, girl!” Michelle barked out a snort.

The rest of the table broke out between howling and coughing into their drinks.

You scanned over the table unsure what caused the eruption of laughter when Sara took mercy on your confusion and gestured to the bottom of your dress. There, haphazardly stained across your thighs, were faint streaks of black and white paint. Faded gray lines and soft glow-in-the-dark markings told a story for everyone to read across your skin. Your cheeks heated up as you viciously squeezed Eddie’s hand, slowly and calculating moving your gaze to pin him. The disheveled remnants of a smeared-face skeleton grinned back at you and it all clicked into place.

“Both a mess, huh?” you ground out half-embarrassed, half-amused.

Smugly leaning to your ear, Eddie clarified, “Told you, we were gonna mark you.”

Shaking your head at yourself for not noticing sooner with how Eddie played this out, you felt a sharp smack across your ass cheek causing you to yelp. Quickly looking behind you at the crowded party, you caught the end of a black tendril snaking back into Eddie.

“Venom…” your voice trailed off a useless threat.

[flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash]

Pursue - Jim Hopper x Reader

Summary: How far can you push Hopper before he loses control?

Characters: Jim Hopper x female reader

Words: 5,310

Warnings: smut, language/dirty talk, light bondage, throat fucking, praise kink, implied age gap, I think that’s it? This is dirty smut so if that’s not your thing, don’t read. 

Author’s Note: This was written for sherrybaby14′s Fall Into You writing challenge. My prompt was to use the line “You want to be my good girl, don’t you?”

Pursue

Grinning with amusement, you twirled the phone cord around your finger and tried to sound innocent, though you both knew it was all an act. The mission was to drive Chief Jim Hopper mad with lust, and so far, your plan was working brilliantly.

 You had been teasing him all day, starting in the morning when he had received a call right as he got to the office. You could practically feel his surprise at your bold words, detailing to him how you were still laying naked in bed and wrapped up in sheets that smelled like him, wishing he was there to satisfy the lust you were currently feeling. He had growled out that you were going to regret teasing him when he got off work, and when you baited him further by saying that maybe you should just pull out your vibrator and pretend it was him, he gave a strangled groan and hung up. You had called about an hour later, and when Flo answered and said Hopper was busy, you asked her to relay the vague message of, “I took care of the situation myself.”

 It was now his lunch break, and you had, of course, taken advantage of the opportunity to call again, knowing that he couldn’t resist his curiosity about what else you’d have to say. You mentioned buying some new lingerie, a black lace teddy that clung to your curves like a second skin.

 “The neckline goes down a bit too low, so that I’m almost popping out. And I had no idea that the back would be a thong, but oh well, too late to return it now,” you said with an exaggerated sigh, listening intently for his response.

 Satisfaction darted through you at the unmistakable sound of increased breathing on the other end; you could clearly envision him in his office chair, leaning forward over his desk with a death grip on the receiver. The thought of him sitting there with a hard-on and trying to imagine what you looked like only served to ramp up your own desire, thighs squeezing together where you lounged on the couch in the aforementioned lingerie.

 “Don’t you want to know why it’s too late to return it?” you pouted, biting your lip to stifle a giggle.

 “Why?” His voice was raspy with desire, making it sound so low and commanding that you shivered.

 Giving a slow grin, you whispered, “Because I’ve been wearing it all morning, so it’s soaked from me thinking about you.”

 Dead silence. He must be holding his breath, body taut and unmoving. You knew because you were doing the same thing. Then, the smallest click...and the following silence lasted only a few seconds before the beep of a disconnected line sounded.

 He hung up?!

 Annoyed at the thought of him ending the conversation right as it was getting good, you redialed the station. Poor Flo was probably getting sick of transferring your calls to Hopper’s office, but she did so anyways. After the dozenth ring, it was obvious he had either left or was purposely ignoring you. Hanging up the phone, you puffed out an irritated breath that the game was over...for now.

 Getting up from the couch, you decided to make a sandwich for lunch. You grabbed your purple house robe and put it on over the black teddy before going to the kitchen to hunt down some lunch meat and bread. You really should go to the store later, seeing as how Hopper’s frequent visits had dwindled the fridge down to practically nothing. You and the Chief had officially started dating about six months ago, but it was only the past month or so that he seemed to spend more nights here than at his cabin.

 Getting the tall, brooding man’s attention hadn’t been an easy feat. It had taken weeks of you finding various excuses to stop by the station for him to finally get the hint. He later admitted that his cop buddies had all but begged him to ask you out, and that he genuinely hadn’t thought you’d be interested, the silly man. Usually you preferred playing a little harder to get, but from the moment you moved into Hawkins and met Chief Jim Hopper, you wanted him. And if you had to act a little too obviously interested to get his attention, then so be it. Otherwise he’d have never gotten a clue, since he’d had some warped idea that you were too young and pretty for him.

 But once you had gone on that first date, the rest was history. It had been hot and heavy from the start, especially after he’d asked what you were doing at Enzo’s with him and not someone younger and more carefree, someone who had their life together. You had smiled, grabbed his hand where it laid on the table, and told him that none of the youthful boys around town made you wet with just one glance, and none of them made you feel both recklessly turned on and completely safe at the same time. But he did.

 He had practically eye-fucked you for the rest of dinner, and you barely made it back to your place in one piece, Hopper unable to keep both hands on the wheel during the drive there. He had fucked you up against the wall right inside the front door, and it would be a miracle if the neighbors hadn’t heard your screams of ecstasy.

The chemistry between the two of you was off the charts, and it was by far the best sex you’d ever had. Just the thought of the things Hopper could do, of the reactions he was able to elicit from your body, had a shiver going down your spine as you cut the sandwich in half and took a bite.

 You had just finished chewing and swallowing when there came the unmistakable sound of tires screeching recklessly into the driveway, followed shortly by the loud slam of a car door. Putting down the sandwich, you walked from the kitchen into the living room. Right as you were starting to feel a bit alarmed, someone came up the front steps and crossed the porch, and your worry instantly turned into excitement. Those heavy, booted steps could only belong to one man...

 Standing there with bated breath, you heard the key you had recently given him turn in the lock, anticipation making your thighs clench. The door swung open and there he was, filling the entrance with his broad shoulders, gaze immediately zeroing in on where you stood in the middle of the living room. He walked inside, the door slamming slightly as he forcibly closed it with his boot. Dressed in his snug Chief’s uniform, your mouth watered at the sight of all that sexually frustrated man focused in your direction. His eyes trailed down over your form, nostrils flaring as he realized that all that stood between him and the lingerie you had teased him about was a thin layer of purple terry cloth.

 He took a step forward, but then halted when you danced backwards two steps. Brows furrowing, he took another step to test the waters, and sure enough, you backed up again. A teasing smile and cocked eyebrow signaled your enjoyment of the game, though Hopper looked far from amused. He suddenly came at you with a growl, but before he could get within arm’s reach, you turned with a squeal and fled.

 Adrenaline, fueled by a mixture of fear and excitement, pumped through your veins as bare feet darted from the living room and across cool kitchen tiles. The roles were suddenly switched from earlier, and the pursuer was now the prey.

 Skidding around the counter island in the kitchen, you grabbed the edge of the surface to help halt your forward movement, breath accelerated as you saw Hopper storm into the room only a second later. He eyed the counter with disdain then looked up and locked eyes with you, the intensity in his stare causing hair to stand up on the back of your neck.

 “You’re only digging yourself a deeper grave, sweetheart,” came the gruff warning.

 “That so?” you taunted back. “Guess you’ll just have to punish me then...if you think you’re quick enough, old man.”

 You saw the flash of anger in his eyes at your jab a split second before he charged around the counter on your right. Almost falling for it, you started to run to the left before realizing at the last second that he had only feinted going one way before abruptly turning around and charging the opposite. His intent was to cut you off before you could make it out of the kitchen, but you ruined the plan by skidding to a stop on the tiles. He was almost within arm’s reach when you flew back the other way, careening around the same side of the counter you had entered from and making a break across the kitchen back towards the living room.

 Heart in your throat, you sprinted through the lower level of the house, the bottom of the robe flapping out behind you like a beacon. There was a dart of euphoric satisfaction that you had thwarted him, as you beelined straight for the staircase with the goal of making it to the bedroom and closing the door. If you could get it locked in time, then it would be beyond entertaining to see what his next move would be. Images of him begging you to open the door and let him in flashed through your mind, making you smirk with sadistic glee. However, you should’ve known he wouldn’t let you get that far. Despite his size, Hopper was swifter and lighter on his feet than most people would suspect. In fact, you’d later look back and wonder if he had purposely let you think you were winning, and had actually been toying with you the entire time before waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in and capture his prey.

 You hadn’t even heard him gaining on you, so it came as a surprise when you only made it halfway up the staircase before strong fingers wrapped around your ankle, causing you to fall to your knees on the carpeted steps with a cry. Refusing to admit defeat, you continued to try and move forward, leg kicking against his grip, but he was unrelenting. You felt him come up the steps behind you, the presence of his large body hovering expectantly, waiting for you to turn over and accept your fate.

 “You should know better than to run from the police, baby,” he drawled in a raspy, lust-ridden voice.

 A shudder of arousal went through you at the words, and you slowly turned over onto your back, his hand still holding your ankle captive. He was looming over you, his broad frame blocking out the rest of the world. Looking up at his face, you saw that his pupils were blown wide with lust. The sight caused a smirk to twitch at the edges of your lips, satisfied to know that you weren’t the only one physically affected by all of this.

 “You think this is funny?” he growled menacingly, leaning down until his face was inches from your own. “Did you enjoy making me chase after you? Perhaps I should show you what happens to bad little girls who play games with the chief.”

 With that, his grip left your ankle as he all but tore into the tie of your robe, flinging it open and off your body. A groan of masculine arousal accompanied his hand diving between your legs, and you gave a soft cry at the feel of his fingers pressing into the soaked crotch of the teddy.

 “You weren’t lying about not being able to return this, baby. Even if the wetness wasn’t enough evidence, they’d be able to smell your cunt on it from a mile away.”

 Gasping at his filthy words, you were so focused on arching up into his fingers for more friction that you barely registered the sound of clinking metal. The realization of what he was doing hit a second too late, as Hopper lifted his hand from your crotch, grabbed both your wrists, and had the handcuffs clicked into place in the span of mere seconds. Even though it was futile, you still pulled at the cuffs, which only served to press the unrelenting metal into your flesh. You gave a huff of frustration that instantly turned into a squeal of surprise when he picked you up off the steps and threw you over his shoulder. Desire swirled in you at how his strength made you feel light as a feather, while the world also swirled as your head was suddenly upside down and staring at an absolutely delectable ass in tight, beige pants.

 Your own ass must’ve also been a distraction, as a warm hand came down with a smack on your left buttock that was bared by the thong of the teddy. He gave a second smack to the other cheek, causing you to groan and clench your fingers into the back of his shirt as he started up the rest of the steps and down the hall towards the bedroom.

 Once inside the room, he tossed you down onto the bed, back bouncing on the mattress from the force. Immediately trying to roll over and away, unwilling to admit defeat, your escape plan was cut short before it even began. His unyielding body came down over your own, thick thighs straddling your waist as he gathered your cuffed wrists in one hand and pinned them to the mattress above your head.

 Leaning down, he took your earlobe between his teeth before whispering, “Ah ah, baby. None of that. I caught you fair and square, and now you’re mine.”

 Shivering at both the feel of his mouth and the words coming out of it, your body squirmed underneath him with anticipation, declaring its surrender without your brain’s permission. Moving down to your neck, he sucked the flesh roughly, bringing blood to the surface so that you’d carry the mark of his possession around for days to come.

 The hand not holding your wrists captive ran down over your side, mapping the curves of your waist and thigh, his calloused fingers causing goosebumps to erupt on your flesh. He continued to skim past the places that wanted his touch the most, tracing fingertips lightly along the sides of your breasts in the black lace and along your lower stomach, before changing direction up and away from the part of you that wept for him. He caressed you slowly until every nerve ending was straining for him to do more, to give your body what it was craving. In response to your panting whimpers, he brought his mouth up to hover mere centimeters from your own, teasing you with his warm breaths.

 “What wrong, baby? I thought you enjoyed playing games?”

 Damn him to hell. You had no clue how he still had any control left, but apparently he was keeping a tight rein on his desire until he paid you back in full for your earlier teasing. You had meant to drive him mad with lust and be in control of the situation, but had apparently underestimated Hopper’s revenge tactics, which left you as the one panting and begging for more.

 Giving a groan of frustration when both large hands lifted from your body, you felt cold and bereft. Frustration turned to excitement at the sight of his fingers undoing the front of his pants, and you subconsciously licked your lips at the sight. Giving a deep chuckle at the motion, Hopper rasped, “Yea, you got the right idea, baby.”

 When the pants were unbuttoned and unzipped, he reached inside and pulled out his thick cock, the tip already weeping with desire. Unable to help the impulse, you lowered your hands towards it like a moth to flame, but they were grabbed roughly before you could even make contact. Shoving them back into the mattress above your head as he once more covered your body with his own, he leaned down and growled, “You want to be my good girl, don’t you?”

 A raspy moan and frantic nod was your response, the teddy becoming even more soaked at his words. A slow, arrogant smirk curled his lips; Hopper knew how much you got off on being praised, and he wasn’t afraid to use that knowledge to his advantage.

 “Then do as I say and keep your hands just like that, sweetheart. If you don’t move them while I fuck your pretty little mouth, then maybe I’ll let you come.”

 Another panting nod was all you could manage at the moment, your gaze fixated on the cock bobbing closer to you as he moved up the bed until he was straddling your shoulders. Grabbing his dick with one large hand, he gave a few slow, rolling strokes before placing the tip against your lips.

 “Open up, baby. Time to show the chief what a good little cock sucker you are.”

 You obeyed instantly, lips parting on a moan as Hopper fed you his cock. He started off slow and easy, barely moving his hips, which automatically motivated you to take control. Moving your head back and forth, you took him in with no added assistance. Grunts of pleasure fell from above as your tongue swirled around his tip and mouth worked his length. Looking upwards, you felt another gush of wetness between your legs at the sight of Hopper staring back down at you, heavy-lidded gaze focused on the sight of his cock disappearing between your lips.

Suddenly, he went from passive recipient to once more being in charge. His hand grabbed the back of your head and pulled forward while thrusting his hips. The movement forced his cock down your throat until his balls hit your chin and dark pubic hair tickled your nose, a strangled, fuck coming from the man above you. Eyes instantly watering as you gave a slight gag, you looked up at Hopper pleadingly, even though you knew the sadistic part of him loved watching you struggle to take him.

 It was all you could do to keep your wrists in place and not try to buck him off, but then his other hand came down and gently cupped your face as he rumbled, “What a good girl. You look so fucking sexy while choking on my dick, baby. I can’t decide if I want to come down your throat or wait until I get in that beautiful pussy.”

 His words caused your throat to instantly relax and loosen in submission, while your pussy clenched tightly with jealousy that it wasn’t the one being currently filled. As if he knew your body’s new dilemma, he reached back and down between your legs, which instantly spread to make room for his hand. Shoving the soaked fabric to the side, he ran a thick finger down your slit, causing your hips to buck and throat to moan around his cock, the vibrations wringing a strangled snarl from his lips. Two fingers easily slid inside your dripping cunt, his thrusts accompanied by the sloppy wet sounds of your arousal gushing around his digits. You felt dizzy, both with desire and the lack of oxygen, as you laid there with his dick down your throat, clenching on his fingers. Both your mouth and pussy provided him with a warm, wet welcome and begged for more, the two of you groaning simultaneously at the sensations.

 Disappointment and oxygen hit your lungs when he suddenly pulled out of your mouth, a long string of saliva hanging precariously between the tip of his cock and your lower lip before it broke and fell. Giving a cough and taking a deep gasp of air, you felt his fingers also leave your body as he reached into the front pocket of his undone pants and pulled out a set of keys. It was obvious by his pulsing, reddened cock that he had been close to coming but decided to wait until he got between your thighs, a decision which made your cunt pulse in eager anticipation.

 Jingling the keys teasingly between his fingers, he said, “You still going to be a good girl if I take these off?”

 Nodding frantically, you arched your body underneath him, panting, “Yes! Please, Jim!”

 Satisfied with your submissive response, he leaned up over your head, and you felt the cuffs fall away as he unlocked them. He set both cuffs and keys on the bedside table before taking a moment to bring your wrists down in front of his face, rubbing them gently while inspecting to make sure there hadn’t been any damage done. The gesture sent a flutter through your chest; even during intense moments such as this, Hopper’s protectiveness still reared its head, reinforcing that you were always safe with him.

 Once satisfied with his inspection, he moved off the bed before turning to fix desire-blazed eyes on you, thighs spread and chest panting as you awaited his next move. Without hesitation, he reached down and shoved the teddy’s straps off your shoulders, roughly peeling it down your body as if he were a kid tearing into a long-awaited present on Christmas morning. The fabric scraped down over your rock-hard nipples, causing a faint shiver, then was pulled off your hips and legs so that the cool air of the room hit your desire-glazed cunt.

 “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

 Smiling at his praise, you arched your back a little and cupped both hands under your breasts, offering yourself up to him.

 The animalistic sound that came from his throat sent chills down your spine, and he wasted no time in tearing off his uniform. You watched greedily as more and more skin was revealed, biting your bottom lip to muffle the moan of arousal when he stood naked and proud. You got a fine view of his muscled ass when he walked across the room to his chest of drawers, yanking the top one open and pulling out a condom. He came back but stopped at the foot of the bed, his sharp gaze searing a path down the length of your curves before lifting and locking onto your own.

 “Be a good girl and get on your hands and knees for the chief, baby,” he commanded in his best cop voice while tearing open the condom and rolling it down his throbbing cock.

 Body begging to be filled, you immediately obeyed, flipping onto all fours on the mattress, ass up and legs widely parted in presentation. Unable to resist a little teasing, you slowly rocked your hips back and forth while looking over your shoulder at him with a knowing grin. A jolt of excitement went through you at the expletive hissed from a clenched jaw, his predatory gaze raking downward, greedily taking in the way you were spread out on the bed and waiting for him. He had frozen for a moment with your movement, but quickly recovered and moved forward onto the bed at record speed, his body radiating heat and hunger as it came up behind your own.

 His rough hands trailed down over your sides while his cock bumped against your inner thighs, causing a shudder to ripple along your flesh. Arching back into him, you let out a whine of impatience, tired of the games and just wanting him to fuck you.

 Knowing you were getting desperate, he leaned down so his front fit to your back with mouth at your nape, as he whispered, “You ready for my cock, sweetheart?”

 His words stole your breath, so that you could only nod frantically before pulling enough oxygen to breath out a shaky, “Yes.”

 Unable to deny both of you any longer, he reached down with one hand to line his dick up at your entrance, and slowly pushed inside. Mewling with pleasure, you tried to widen your thighs even more on the mattress and gripped the bedspread as your walls stretched around his thick length. Fuck, but he was big, and your body never failed to remind you of that. No matter how many times the two of you had sex, that slight burn of possession always made itself known during that first thrust.

 Once he was balls deep, he went still for a few long moments, both of you savoring the feel of him deep inside. Then he planted his left hand down on top of your own on the mattress, the gesture dominant and possessive, yet also reassuring, while his other hand snaked around the front of your waist and dove between your open thighs. The tips of his fingers unerringly found your swollen clit, zeroing in with tight, fast circles in the rhythm needed to make you moan and instinctively push back into him. If there was one thing Hopper had learned over the past months of dating, it was exactly how to touch you in a way guaranteed to make come.

 And if there was one thing you had learned about Hopper, it was that dirty talk affected him just as much as it did you.

 “You can go again later, right?” you tried to sound seductive and saucy, but it came out as more of a breathless whimper.

 “Was that an insult, little girl? You think I can’t keep up with you?” he growled in your ear, fingers speeding up into even faster and tighter circles on your bundle of nerves.

 Shaking your head, you gasped, “I just really...w-want…I want to...”

 “Want to what?”

 Almost convulsing at the carnal, deep command in his voice, you panted loudly for a few moments before answering. “I want to finish what I started...suck you off. I want to feel you come in my mouth.” The words were puffed out in a rush at the end, head dropping forward from the overwhelming pleasure of his body over and in yours.

 “Fuck,” was the only verbal response, followed by the hand on top of yours lifting to grip tightly onto your hip. His thrusts increased until you had to clench the bedspread for dear life to keep from being forced face-first into the headboard.

 Even though it was usually him using filthy words to take control, to make you beg and come, the idea of turning the tables caused more wetness to run down your thighs. He might be dominating your body right now, but you had the key to dominating his mind.

 “Do you want that? Me taking your cock in my mouth, deep down my throat.”

 “Sweetheart…” he groaned warningly, his hips stuttering out of rhythm for a moment as he fought off his orgasm. The fingers at your hip dug in painfully as he jackhammered into you, while his other hand kept its punishing rhythm on your clit. Toes curling, you could feel him start to lose his iron-tight control, and fuck if that didn’t amp your own arousal up to new heights.

 “I want it...I want to suck your dick and...swallow every drop of your cum,” you gasped between heaving breaths.

 “Jesus fuck!” he cried, and a dart of triumph went through you as he upped his movements in a way that was pure carnal instinct, his control flying out the window and body taking over. Cock pounding so hard that his balls slapped your clit with each thrust, the wet sounds coming from your bodies was so obscenely erotic that you could only moan in response and hold on. The coil drew tighter until you were unable to speak even if you wanted to, knuckles turning white and every muscle in your body tensed as you hurtled towards the peak.

 With an animalistic groan, Hopper went over the edge, his large body shaking behind yours as the throes of ecstasy hit him. Not wanting to leave you behind, he kept thrusting, trying to drag you down with him. When his hand lifted away for a split second, only to then come down hard in a slap directed perfectly on your throbbing clit, you exploded. Sparks of pleasure radiated through your entire body, making your back arch and cunt pulse as you wordlessly cried out Hopper’s name like a litany.

 It took a while to come down from the high, both your bodies shuddering against one another with aftershocks. Giving a whimper when his now-limp cock left your body, you collapsed onto your side at the same time he also rolled onto the bed. Snuggling up behind you, his body spooned along your own so you could still feel his chest rapidly rising and falling, his breaths loudly puffed out against the back of your neck and causing goosebumps on your sweat-dampened flesh.

 You laid there in silence for a couple minutes, just soaking in the moment and allowing your heart rates to slow down to a more normal rhythm. Rolling over to face Hopper, you ran soothing fingers over his chest and looked up at him, happy to see his usual brooding expression had relaxed and the usual lines of tension he carried in his face and shoulders had eased.

 “So?” you asked expectantly, trying not to grin when his eyebrows raised in question.

 “So, what?” he grumbled, voice already taking on a sleepy quality that let you know he wouldn’t be conscious for much longer.

 “So...was I a good girl? Or do I need to try again?”

 His eyes, which had been drifting shut, shot back open and locked onto yours. He studied you intently, cop face firmly in place. “Ma’am, are you purposely trying to kill me? Because murdering a police officer is a serious offense.”

 Giggling with delight, which made his own lips curl upwards at the edges, you leaned in and whispered against his lips, “Even more serious than running from said police officer?”

 Closing the distance so that his mouth covered your own, he kissed you breathless before pulling back and murmuring, “They’re both serious, and you’ll be punished accordingly once I get feeling back in my legs.”

 Smiling, you traced fingers down along the side of his stubbled cheek and across his strong jaw. “I think it was only fair, considering.”

 “Hmm?” was the rumbled response, his eyes once again closed.

 “I just figured that after all the pursuing I did in the beginning to get your attention, it was about time you were the one who had to chase me.”

 Groaning in exasperation, he wrapped large arms around your waist and pulled you in close, body pressed full-length against his own. “You and the boys at the station are never going to move on and let me live that down, are you?” This was murmured in a low tone that let you know he wouldn’t be conscious for much longer, and you internally preened that he was so worn out.

 Since it was obvious he didn’t plan on returning to work anytime soon, you laid your head on the pillow next to his with a contented sigh. A quick nap couldn’t hurt before you roused him for round two and made good on your dirty words from earlier. You could hardly wait to try and make him lose control again, and maybe you could even sneak those handcuffs back in somehow.

 A soft snore broke the silence, Hopper unable to stay conscious long enough to finish the teasing conversation. However, knowing he was asleep made you bold enough to answer his question in a more honest way, the words a whispered confession of commitment.  

 “If it means more afternoons like this, then no, I won’t move on...ever.”

[atsixesandcevans]

the fire it ignites

Summary: God, Steve hated you. And he tended to not say he hated someone. He was a firm believer that every person has both good and bad within them, so usually he’d say that he strongly disliked a person. 

But you? Oh, he hated you.

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Reader

Word Count: 6.6k (whew)

Warnings: angst, language, some poorly written violence, Steve being kind of an asshole

A/N: This was written for @sherrybaby14​‘s Fall Into You challenge, and my prompt was “I hated you before I even met you,” which I have put in bold. I played around with a few different concepts before settling on this one, and I’ve not really written anything like this before actually really enjoyed writing it, even if i am a teensy bit late posting! 

It’s like 2:30am and I literally just finished this so I apologise for any mistakes.

I’m considering writing a sequel to this, so let me know what you think!

Read on AO3

God, Steve hated you. And he tended to not say he hated someone. He was a firm believer that every person has both good and bad within them, so usually he’d say that he strongly disliked a person. If that dislike went deep enough that he used the word hate… well, then you must be the worst of the worst. He’d hated Nazis, obviously, and Hydra, but he found that despite how much he disliked him, Steve just couldn’t bring himself to say that he hated that jackass Hodge from his time in New Jersey.

But you? Oh, he hated you.

He hated the way you strode through the compound that first day – in black heeled boots, leather jacket, dark sunglasses and deep red lipstick – chewing on bubblegum, hair almost arrogantly flipped over your shoulder… Steve knew you were trouble right from the get-go.

Your reputation had preceded you, meaning that Steve – like most of the other Avengers, most likely – knew exactly who you were the minute you had waltzed through the doors of the conference room, no introduction necessary. He’d hated the way you pulled your sunglasses off, hanging them off the deep neckline of your tshirt, blowing a bubble between your perfectly painted lips, greeting them with a cheerfully nonchalant “sup, fellas?”, taking a seat in the rolling chair at the end of the table. He hated the way you kicked your feet up on the edge of the table, one ankle resting across the other, popping another bubble.

From where he stood at the other end of the table, preparing to begin briefing for the next mission, Steve glanced around the room at the others in an attempt to gauge their reactions to the unexpected intrusion.

Tony, unsurprisingly, had his lips pursed in a badly-suppressed smile, a mischievous glint in his eye that Steve knew could only mean trouble. Nat was smirking, arms crossed, and Wanda was suitably baffled by you, though Steve could see the underlying admiration in her gaze. Perhaps it was your confidence, god knows Wanda had struggled with that for some time.

Clint looked bored, as usual, but the way he straightened just a little in his seat alerted Steve to intrigue he was feeling. Sam wore a smirk, one eyebrow raised, eyes moving steadily over your reclined form. You met his gaze and winked in return, before your eyes slid over to Steve.

He was visibly tense, arms crossed defensively across his toned chest, biceps straining against the frankly sinfully tight gym shirt, brows knitted together in a disapproving frown. You revelled in his obvious discomfort, nodding almost tauntingly at him, satisfied smirk on your lips as you drawled, “captain.”

Tony stood, the single clap of his hands breaking the tense silence that had fallen over the room. “Okay, guys, this is Y/N, the newest member of the team. Y/N, you already know everyone’s names, I presume?”

Your eyes flicked between each face staring back at you, before they landed back on Steve. “You bet I do,” voice smooth as honey, eyes raking over Steve’s body, relishing in the way he seemed to somehow tense even further, the slightest blush turning his cheeks and the tips of his ears pink. You wondered how on earth one man was allowed to be so breathtakingly hot, and incredibly cute at the exact same time.

Steve looked in the direction of Tony, who was actively avoiding his gaze. “Tony.” It took nearly everything in him to keep his voice level and calm, reasoning that there had to be a logical explanation to this, preferably one that didn’t involve Tony keeping things from him – from them – again. “Care to explain?”

Tony sighed, and Steve didn’t miss the look of guilt that passed over his face. No such luck, then.

“I swear, it wasn’t me this time,” he paused, appearing to internally deliberate something in his mind. “Although, I can see why you would think that, not to mention I did keep this information from you, BUT…” he interjected quickly, already anticipating the inevitable lecture from Steve, who had already opened his mouth to start. “It was under Fury’s orders,” he finished with a shrug, his face an expression of ‘what can you do?’

Taking a deep breath, Steve rubbed the bridge of his nose, a headache already manifesting. “Why would Fury want you to keep this from me?”

Tony’s expression morphed into one of forced nonchalance, muttering “something… about… you probably not agreeing with his decision…” he lifted one shoulder in a shrug, scratching at his beard, eyes everywhere except Steve. “Or something.”

Steve heaved an exasperated sigh and looked to the ceiling, muttering “goddammit, Fury.” He returned his gaze to Tony, who was sat back down in his seat, the same look of feigned innocence on his face. “Regardless of whether he kept it from me or not, why would Fury recruit someone else?”

Several others around the table started talking, some agreeing with Steve, others chiming in with their own theories of why you were there. The volume in the room quickly rose, until no singular voice could be discerned from the others.

You just sat there, watching the scene unfold before you, still chewing absent-mindedly with a small, satisfied smile on your face. The sharp snap of your bubblegum brought their attention back to you, voices dropping as you smiled ruefully. “Can I say something?” you didn’t wait for a response, lifting your legs down from the table. You folded your arms and rested your elbows against the edge of the table, continuing, “Fury recruited me because you need me.” Steve narrowed his eyes at the way your smile morphed into one that oozed cockiness. “And I’ve got nothin’ else going on right now, so here I am.”

Steve tried his best to keep his anger under control. He didn’t like your attitude and he certainly didn’t care for how… vulnerable he felt under your gaze, like you could see right into his very soul. It had been a long time since he’d felt this small when a woman looked at him, and he couldn’t say he enjoyed that particular trip down memory lane.

He sighed, heavy and defeated, before moving towards the door, actively not looking at you. “We’ll pick this up again later. I’m going to talk to Fury.” The room was silent as the door swung shut behind him and Tony, who was hurrying after him.

You broke the silence with an eyebrow raised. “So. What now?”

 --- 

Some time later, you found yourself sat amongst the Avengers – minus Steve and Tony, who you presumed were arguing with Fury about your presence – in the common room, feeling more relaxed than you had in a long time.

It was difficult to come by a feeling of calm, especially as a mercenary. You were almost always trailing one person or another, occasionally even two or three at a time. Then there was the actual kill, and while each and every one gave you a thrill, it was often difficult to keep it clean. Bad guys don’t tend to go down without a fight, unfortunately.

Your job really took it out of you, but every now and then some big crime boss would get wind of your identity and you’d have to lay low for a while, moving from shitty apartment to shitty apartment trying to remain hidden.

It was during one of these periods that Fury had found you, cornered you on your way home from the supermarket a few blocks from your apartment in Crown Heights. He’d made you an offer you couldn’t refuse; a steady paycheck, a place to live, guaranteed protection from the laundry list of enemies you had made over the years. The paperwork was finalised, and you took your motorbike and single duffel bag of belongings up to the Avengers Compound, plastering on your hard demeaner, despite the anxiety that threatened to break through the surface.

It helped that you knew – at least recognised – all of the faces sitting around the table in the conference room, made it less daunting to place yourself in front of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes or whatever.

What you hadn’t expected was such a cold reception from the Captain. It’s not like you had expected to be immediately welcomed with open arms, you knew very well what your reputation was like, and even those who didn’t know your alias probably wouldn’t be immediately open to a random person joining the tight-knit team out of the blue. But to be met with such obvious distaste from a man you had thought would at least give you a chance, a man whom you had admired from afar for years… it stung, no matter how much you told yourself it didn’t.

The only saving grace, you supposed, was that the rest of the team had been more welcoming. Nat approached you quickly after Steve left the conference room, having encountered you a few times over the years, understanding the work you did taking out bad guys. She understood the need to use any means necessary to eliminate a target, even if it meant working outside of the law.

She’d nodded her head towards the door, saying “come on, I’ll show you around,” with a closed-lipped smile on her face, putting you at ease with her relaxed posture and easy smile. She gave you a quick tour, stopping at an empty bedroom across from hers in the private quarters section of the compound, finishing with the common area, where the others were seated and talking absently, reading and playing games. Conversation dipped in volume when you entered, but Natasha didn’t pay the change any attention, instead announcing “guys, this is Y/N.” Some muttered yeah we know her name already’s bubbled up, but went ignored by Nat who continued, “also known as Blade.” This seemed to resonate with them, silencing their confusion.

“You’re Blade?” Sam asked, incredulous. “The merc who single-handedly took out an entire crime network with nothing but a handful of throwing knives?”

You slipped back into your façade, arms crossed, a smirk forming on your face. “The one and only.”

That seemed to be the perfect ice breaker, because the others began to chime in with their own questions about you, your missions, your hidden identity, among other things, conversation remaining light. Wanda looked a little uneasy still, but you knew from what Nat had told you about her that she found it difficult to trust people, and was one of the newer members of the team, still trying to find her place among them. You couldn’t exactly blame her for that, so you just tried to not flat-out exclude her from conversation, and hope that at some stage the two of you could become friends.

Even from your limited time with them, you could tell how close everyone was. Jokes and light-hearted insults were thrown around and you wondered if this was the place you’d finally be able to call home.

 ---

Steve made the walk back from Fury’s office to the living quarters, silently massaging the tension between his eyes that had grown exponentially in the last hour or so.

When he arrived at Fury’s office, Tony trailing somewhere behind him, Steve had been greeted by name with a deep voice before Fury had even turned from his chair facing the window. He’d been expecting him, apparently. He’d spent the next forty minutes arguing why it was a bad idea to have an actual criminal on the team, especially without having passed any kind of test and with an attitude as arrogant as yours.

Fury, of course, was having none of it, countering all of his arguments infuriatingly quickly, leaving Steve no space to disagree with him. Which he might have done, in different circumstances, but was definitely not doing in this one. Not when it was you.

He’d felt a tiny pang of guilt at this thought, with he quickly pushed away, reminding himself how dangerous and unpredictable you were, not to mention the extreme cockiness you had exuded.

In the end, Fury had dismissed him with a finality in his voice as he said “she’s on the team, cap, whether you like it or not.”

And so, Steve made his way back towards his room to grab a towel before heading to the gym to work off some of his frustration, stopping at the kitchen to fill his water bottle.

As he approached the common area, however, he was greeted with rich laughter and bright voices, one of which he recognised to be yours. He rounded the corner, spotting his friends – and you – relaxed into the plush red couches that were grouped around the television, with smiles on faces as what sounded like stories of times before were passed around. Steve ignored the voices, making a beeline for the sink, hoping to go unnoticed.

Of course, he wasn’t that lucky.

He was halfway back to the door when he heard his name being called, and he turned reluctantly to Sam, who was animatedly inviting Steve to join them, knowing he had plenty of funny stories from his youth that usually he’d be perfectly willing to share. This time, though, he only muttered something about heading to the gym, eyes meeting yours for the briefest of moments before he turned and left, taut back muscles visibly straining against the material of his tshirt.

Your eyes followed him out, jaw tensing silently for just a second as Nat nudged you with her shoulder. “Sorry about him, I don’t know what’s up with him at the moment.”

You shrugged. “It’s whatever.” Your well-practiced nonchalance shining through once again. “I don’t need his approval, he’s not the one who recruited me.”

Conversation soon returned to as it was, though the topic did eventually shift to more casual things. And yet, you still couldn’t shake the slight ache in your chest at the captain’s disapproval.

 --- 

You found your place in the team surprisingly quickly. The first few weeks were pretty uneventful, mostly consisting of being caught up with the current ongoing missions, as well as training; while you were a seasoned professional with your knives, Nat insisted that it was important to know how to take someone down hand-to-hand, as well as fire a gun, so that you were prepared in the event that you didn’t have access to your knives.

You regularly joined the team in the common room for meals and down time, though occasionally you retreated to your room for some peace and quiet.

You didn’t see much of Steve in those first weeks. He did join you and the others in the common room some nights, though only when he didn’t have an excuse not to, or when the team griped at him about not seeing him recently.

The knowledge that he didn’t want to be there, because you were, was more difficult to deal with than you had anticipated. As much as you insisted you didn’t, you longed for his approval, his own actions having been your original inspiration to want to do good in the world. The life you had built for yourself wasn’t exactly what you had planned, but things happen and sometimes you have to roll with the punches. It just happened that life had punched you square in the face more times than was your fair share.

It wasn’t that Steve was cruel towards you, per se, it was more of the fact that he was just indifferent. He didn’t care enough about you to be mean to you, treating you like his subordinate – which, in all fairness, you were – and nothing more. There was a palpable tension whenever he was in the same room with you, and he never allowed himself to be near you if the others weren’t too. He hadn’t assigned you any missions since you arrived, and whenever he was questioned about it, he’d simply say that you needed more training, or that your skillset wasn’t what was needed this time.

You weren’t the only one who noticed his behaviour. Natasha, being the class-A spy that she was, cottoned on pretty quickly and cornered him in the conference room after a meeting, once everyone else had left.

“What is your problem?” she spoke in a harsh whisper.

Steve sighed, feigning impassivity, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” and busied his hands with clearing up the files on the table, refusing to meet her eyes.

“Cut the crap, Rogers. I’m talking about your problem with Y/N. Why have you been acting so cold towards her, not letting her go on missions?”

Steve knew full well that he couldn’t bullshit her any longer. “I don’t trust her.”

“I know there’s more to it than that. This goes beyond not trusting someone. Now, I’m going to ask you again: what is your problem with her?”

He rolled his eyes, hating her ability to see right through people. “I don’t like her attitude. She’s cocky and blasé and its going to get her and us into trouble.”

Letting out an exasperated sigh. “She’s that way because she has to be. Do you think anyone would take her seriously if she wasn’t? Would you?” Steve remained silent, knowing that she was right, as usual. Her voice softened a little. “All I ask is that you give her a chance. Her attitude aside, has she given you any reason to think she’s not good enough?” They were both silent for a few moments, before Nat patted his arm twice and turned for the door, leaving Steve alone with his conflicting thoughts.

 ---

You weren’t sure exactly what changed, but you were glad for it.

Steve was less hostile, though he was still never alone with you. He actually looked at you when he spoke to the team, and each time he did, your heart beat just a little bit faster. Finally, finally, he allowed you on a mission, just basic recon, but it was a mission nonetheless. When you came back with Nat and Clint, successful, he had sent you on a couple more, and you didn’t even care about it being lacking on the action side of things, you were just happy to be a useful member of the team.

Eventually, you were needed on an actual mission.

There’d been a tip, a possible HYDRA base somewhere near Minsk, and everyone was needed. Take out the bad guys, get information if possible. It was nothing anyone hadn’t done before.

You threw yourself into the preparations, slipping into the tac suit Tony had made for you, adorned with both visible and hidden sheaths for knives, big and small, as well as a tactical belt and gun holster.

Nat had landed the jet far enough away from the base that they wouldn’t be alerted it its presence, before the team approached on foot. You’d all stormed the building, easily taking out the first agents that tried to fight back.

Then everything went sideways.

There were too many of them, that much became apparent pretty quickly. Everyone had been assigned an area of the building to clear, splitting up once you were past the initial defences.

You fought your way towards your designated room, towards the back of the building on a side where recon told you would be fairly quiet. The fighter in you was disappointed that everyone else seemed to get more of the action, but conceded that, as it was your first real mission with the team, you should use this opportunity to see how everyone works together.

As it turned out, there were a lot more men to take down than any of you thought. When it became clear that the team wasn’t going to win this one, Steve gave the order to retreat, shouting over the sound of gunfire and metal clashing.

Where you were, there were only a few left, and you caught a glimpse of a door behind them that you could’ve sworn wasn’t on the blueprints of the building everyone had studied before the mission. You powered through and, with one last burst of energy, delivered one kick and punch after another, the last agent finally falling into a heap on the floor.

Breathing heavily, you approached the door, fully aware that you were disobeying orders. But, surely Steve and the others would appreciate the intel about what was behind that door?

Steve’s voice came through your earpiece, quieter now that he didn’t have to shout, but no less demanding. The sound of fighting had stopped too, he must have gotten back to the jet already.

“Y/N? Where are you, why aren’t you at the jet?”

“There’s a door that wasn’t on the blueprints. I’m going to see what’s behind it.”

“No, I told you, get back to the jet. The mission’s over.”

“It wasn’t on the blueprints, Steve, they must be hiding something. I have to find out what.”

“No.” He was angry now, that’s for sure. “It’s too risky. Get back to the jet.” Every word was measured, laced with authority and barely-contained rage.

You considered your options. Realistically, you knew he was right. There was no way to know what could be behind that door. But, you were already in trouble. Might as well get something to show for it.

“No, Steve, I’m going in.” You heard his exasperated sigh and muttered curse and knew you were in for it once you got back to the compound. You heard footsteps behind you, and you drew your gun, turning towards the sound, only to be faced with a smirking Natasha, though she looked a little disgruntled too. She clearly wanted you to know she was there, you knew full well that she could be completely silent when she wanted to. You relaxed a little, lowering the gun, though not returning it to its holster. “I’m still going in, Nat.”

She gave a side-nod of understanding. “Yeah, I figured. Just hurry up or else Steve’ll kick my ass as well as yours.”

You gave a humourless laugh and approached the door once again, Nat close beside you. It surprised as well as concerned you that the door wasn’t locked. You and Nat shared a look before pushing the door open wider, guns raised.

You’d barely taken three steps into the dark room when suddenly you were both blown backwards a good six feet, heat engulfing you.

You hit the ground hard, landing awkwardly on your wrist in an attempt to break your fall. But your momentum forced your head back, smacking onto the concrete floor, and everything went black.

 ---

The first thing you noticed when you came to was the pain radiating through the back of your skull. A constant, throbbing kind of pain where you just know there’ll be a bump there.

Faint voices, almost hushed, distant. You try to focus on them, who it is, what they’re saying, but your mind is fuzzy with both the undoubted concussion you had, as well as whatever cocktail of pain medication they had pumped through you.

Peeking through your closed eyelids, you battled against the harsh light of what you presumed was the med bay. A quick glance around the room confirmed your assumption, your eyes landing on Natasha, sat in one of those horrible plasticky chairs. She smirked at you when your eyes met, one eyebrow raised.

“Morning, sleepy head.” You groaned in response, her soft voice still somehow too harsh for your head. “How are you feeling?”

“Can’t say it’s the best I’ve ever felt.” A small chuckle slipped from Nat at that. “How long have I been out?”

“Only a couple hours since we got back, so six hours or so including the ride on the jet.”

You nodded a little, at least you hadn’t been out for days. You closed you eyes against the harsh light for a second, then suddenly remembered exactly what had happened, quickly turning to face Natasha, the movement painful but thankfully not unbearably so.

“Are you hurt?” your eyes scanned over her, searching for any sign of injury. There was a white bandage wrapped around her ankle, but other than that she appeared to be okay.

Natasha laughed, genuine and full, shaking her head. “Don’t worry, all I had was a sprained ankle and a couple bruises on my shoulders. Trust me, I’ve been through much worse.”

Despite her reassurances, you felt the beginnings of tears well up in your eyes. “God, Nat, I’m so sorry, if I had just done as Steve told me then I wouldn’t have got you hurt.”

She was shaking her head, eyes soft, whispering, “seriously, Y/N, don’t worry about it. Between you and me, I would have done exactly the same thing in your position.” You eventually relented, relaxing back on the bed a little, eyes growing heavy with fatigue and pain meds. “Though, full disclosure, Steve is none too happy about this whole thing.”

You groaned, sinking further down, instantly dreading the moment you would inevitably be confronted by him. It was as you were running through excuses and reasons for your actions when you slipped into a restless sleep.

 ---

During the two days you were in the med bay – for observation and precaution purposes, according to Bruce – most of the team came to visit at least once, usually to marvel at the sizeable bump on your head, or to catch you up with what was going on around the compound.

Nat was an almost constant, not being able to go on missions anyway, because of her ankle, and you passed the time telling stories about your fellow avengers – funny things they did or had done to them – and playing some games.

Ever loyal, Sam wasn’t totally comfortable with your decision to go against Steve’s orders, but was thoroughly impressed by your injuries.

Even Tony came in, briefly, probably out of obligation, before claiming to be uncomfortable in places like this and swiftly hurried off, no doubt back to the lab to bury himself back into whatever crazy project he was working on.

Most of the rest of the team came in at some point during those two days, though some were definitely courtesy more than anything.

The only one who didn’t come to see you was Steve.

Not that you were surprised by the fact that he didn’t want to see you, but this was a perfect opportunity for him to corner you and confront you about the mission. You were incapacitated, borderline bedbound, in a room with only one door which his wide shoulders would take up the majority of by just standing there.

You tried to ignore the pang of sadness you felt at the fact that he hadn’t stopped by. Regardless of whether or not you disobeyed him, you were still his teammate, surely he cares at least a little for your wellbeing?

You stop that train of thought before it could go any further, before it could even make the suggestion that Steve really didn’t care about you at all, because somehow that would be worse than the knowledge that he hated you.

 ---

As it turns out, you didn’t see Steve for another three days after you left the med bay. You’d been informed by Natasha that he and Sam were away on a smaller mission that only required the two of them, and you were silently grateful that you were given a few days to settle back into routine before your inevitable run-in with Steve.

Although you were allowed to be up and about, and the bump on your head had significantly decreased in size, you were under strict instructions from Bruce to not engage in any strenuous activity. You chuckled quietly at Bruce’s flustered reaction to you making a joke about whether sex counted as ‘strenuous.’

In any case, sine you were barred from even entering the training room, you had taken on some more admin-orientated jobs from Maria and Fury until Bruce gave you the all clear on your injuries. You prayed that day would come soon, the lack of any form of physical activity was making you tense, restless. You were bored, for possibly the first time since arriving on the compound.

 ---

You were in one of the conference rooms, tidying up papers left on the table from a meeting, murmuring the words to a song you’d heard on the radio earlier that day under your breath, when the door opened and shut.

Your back was to the door, so you didn’t see who entered, but you presumed that it was someone coming in for a meeting in the next slot.

“Just a second, sorry, I’ll be out of your way in a moment.” Your voice was bright, cheery, despite the dullness of your days now. When you got no reply from the person behind you, you quickly gathered the remaining pages into your hands and turned around, only to be met by the one face you had hoped not to see.

Steve.

His jaw was hard-set, though you weren’t sure you’d ever seen him with a relaxed face, and his arms were crossed over his chest, grey tshirt straining against his bulging muscles, the bottom half of his tac suit still on his legs. He must have just gotten back.

His presence was startling and imposing and you nearly dropped the papers you were holding.

“S-Steve?” You hated that you stuttered, but he’d caught you so off guard that you apparently couldn’t even use your mouth properly.

“We need to talk.” His voice was deep, and as attractive as it always was, his gaze heavy on your face, never faltering. There was a lingering anger there, though, that rooted your feet to the ground, despite the week that had passed. Plenty of time, you thought, to get his anger in check before he came to find you. That’s what you’d hoped, anyway. But no such luck.

You swallowed thickly, voice still coming out far meeker than you had heard yourself speak in a long time. “About what?”

Steve let out a derisive scoff, rolling his eyes and moving his gaze away from you briefly. “Don’t play dumb with me, Y/N.”

This made an angry fire burn inexplicably in your stomach, your fight-or-flight kicking in, facial expression suddenly switching from timid to furious in seemingly no time at all.

“I fail to see what I did wrong, captain, so please do enlighten me.”

Steve surged forward, then, one hand like a vice on our shoulder pushing you into a nearby wall, and you let out a soft grunt, shoulder blade throbbing from the force of it. He came up close to you, hand never leaving your shoulder, preventing you from escaping. If you weren’t so angry, you might have taken the time to appreciate how good he smelled, how the light smattering of facial hair across his jaw from a few days gone without shaving somehow made him look even more handsome, or just how pretty his eyes were. But, as it was, you were too angry for that. At the very least, too angry to spend more than a few nanoseconds appreciating it.

You met his still-had gaze and scoffed incredulously, “what the fuck, Steve?”

His nostrils flared, pressing you into the wall further, and you swallowed a gasp at the dull pain still radiating through your shoulder. “Don’t you talk to me like that.” His voice was low and quiet and somehow that intimidated you far more than if he had shouted. “I am your captain. You listen to my orders, and you follow them, without question. What was so hard about that to understand? What gave you the right to disobey me on a mission?”

The silence that followed was tense, uncomfortable. You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat. You knew you were wrong to go against him. You knew, and yet you did it anyway, and you still weren’t sure why. But regardless of that, Steve’s anger towards you seemed wholly unnecessary.

This was not the Steve Rogers you had read about, heard stories about. The Steve Rogers who runs into burning buildings and jumps out of planes without a second thought. No, this Steve Rogers was harsh, unforgiving.

And, despite the heroics, you did not like him at all.

“You’ve been cold and dismissive towards me ever since I arrived here.” You hoped he wouldn’t acknowledge your sudden change of subject. “Why? What did I ever do to deserve that treatment?” It took a great deal of focus to make your voice not sound pitiful.

“I don’t like your attitude.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean? You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough about you to know that you are not the kind of person I want to be around.”

Your voice rose, each word enunciated, “you don’t know me.”

“I hate you.” His sudden burst of anger, words like venom, so uncharacteristic, startled you, freezing you in position. “I hated you before I even met you. You’re selfish and arrogant and you don’t deserve to be on this team.”

You involuntarily took in a breath, face going slack and shoulders straightening a little, the anger in your eyes swiftly replaced by a look of hurt so deep that Steve had to take a step back, chest heaving slightly from his anger. His own eyes reflected immediate guilt, clearly not having meant to say that to you. But there it was. And you couldn’t ignore the way your heart shattered before you.

The hurt suddenly reverted back to anger when you saw the soft, remorseful look on Steve’s face. How dare he be upset about this. He wasn’t the one whose heart had just been ripped out and trampled on by the one person he admired most in the world. He had no right to be sad when he was the one who had been practically ignoring your presence for months, who had once inspired you so wholly before tearing that inspiration all to shreds.

Your face hardened, the tears welling in your eyes threatening to surge forward at the new wave of anger that filled your entire body. You took a deep breath before squaring up to him, his wide frame somehow appearing to shrink in on itself a little under your gaze.

He took a breath and sighed, glancing away for a second before meeting your gaze again. “You won’t be going on any missions for a while.” His voice was quieter now, resigned, the anger from earlier gone, but clearly not forgotten. “Not until I know I can trust you.”

Like the flick of a switch, rage roared through you again. “You’re benching me? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“You’ve left me with no choice,” tone firm, resolute. Laced with misplaced authority.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, stepping away from the wall, coming in close to Steve, features hard, jaw tensed. “Fine. Bench me, whatever. But maybe you should take a good look at yourself, Rogers. Do you expect me to believe you got this far in life by always following orders and thinking every decision through before you acted?” His lips parted, a silent intake of breath. You knew you’d hit on something he hadn’t thought of.

Before he could reply, you slipped past him and out the door, barely refraining from sprinting all the way back to your room, finally allowing the tears to fall freely.

 ---

‘Benching’ didn’t last long.

Not even a week in, they discovered an active HYDRA base. A previous intel mission told them it was far bigger, far more dangerous than any the team had encountered before. They would need everyone. And, much to Steve’s annoyance, that included you.

He felt bad for what he said. Of course he did, he never meant to hurt you like that. He’d had several arguments with himself about it in the last few days, and as much as his conscience told him he needed to apologise, the rational, leadership-orientated part of him always brought him back round to the same point; he couldn’t trust you.

And yet, there you were, sat across from him and to the right, on the Quinjet headed for god knows where, deep in conversation with Sam, refusing to even glance in Steve’s direction. For some reason, he hated that you wouldn’t even look at him. He resolved to talk to you properly once the mission was over. He’d apologise, get you back on the team. He’d at least try to make amends. Maybe you would forgive him one day.

 ---

Fighting. You’re fighting and fighting and fighting and it seems never-ending, but you know it must end somewhere. An end to the fighting is pretty much the only thing getting you through at this point.

You’re moving fast, agile, and you’re silently thankful for all the extra training you did with Natasha.

You hold your own, dodging and throwing punches and kicks and the way you move with your knives is like something out of a dance.

Before long, the last agent is taken down, and once the facility has been sweeped, the team regroups, a little battered and bruised and worse for wear, but alive.

Steve’s about to run through the next plan of action when, out of the corner of your eye, you spot movement.

A HYDRA agent rounds the corner, limping, blood pouring from a gash on his forehead, his gun pointed directly at Steve. Time seems to both slow down and speed up as you surge forward, not even giving your brain a chance to think, Steve’s name falling from your lips in a panicked shout.

You shove him out of the way, though his solid stature means you only move him a couple of feet, before pain erupts in your side, the worst you’ve ever felt.

The sound of blood rushing through your ears makes your teammates’ shouts of your name muffled and distant, and you let out a choked gasp as you collapse onto the cold tiled floor, blood running thick and warm over your fingers where they press against your side.

Your vision blurs, though you can just make out Steve’s face leaning above you, eyebrow creased, eyes panicked and wilder than you had ever seen them. You wonder, briefly, why he’s suddenly so worried about you, but that thought is quickly replaced by regret. There were so many things you wish you could have done differently.

Muffled shouts fill your ears, and you’re not entirely sure whether they’re talking to you or not, but you can still see Steve’s face and an inexplicable longing fills your chest. Longing for what, you don’t know, but you find you don’t have the energy to find the answer.

There are hands all over you, though it’s unclear who they belong to. Someone removes your hand from your side, replaced by another, the added pressure making you gasp out in pain. You feel cool air against your abdomen, though it doesn’t seem to last for long. Someone is stroking your hair, their touch gentle, loving, and despite the commotion happening around you, it calms your racing heart.

Your eyes becoming heavier, you manage a hoarse whisper, “I’m sorry, Steve.”

You’re aware of strong arms wrapping around you, lifting with ease. Whispers of you’re gonna be okay and stay with me. The press of something soft and warm on the side of your head.

And then darkness.

[sherrybaby14]

Fall Into You Masterlist

Big thank you to all who participated!!  These are awesome stories!  I will be updating through November 1st, so please continue to post your stories as you finish them! 

Marvel

Crave Your Isolation by @youngmoneymilla​

Sugar Town by @shreddedparchment​

Never Let you Go by @bitsandbobsandstuff (Stucky x reader) 

Daddy’s Halloween Baby by @iwantutobehapppier (Steve x reader) 

I Tackle, We Tussle by @allaboardthereadingrailroad 

Light Fingers by @kentuckybarnes (Bucky x reader) 

Haunted House by @thran-duils (Stony x reader) 

Fractured.Home by @barnesrogersvstheworld (Stucky x reader) 

Skeletal Remains by @threeminutesoflife (Venom x reader x Eddie) 

Camping, but make it sexy by @the-goddamn-queen (Bucky x reader)

Things With Wings by @readinginmymeadow (Bucky x OFC)

The Meeting by @nekoannie-chan   (Steve x reader) 

The Plan by @honeyhan-123 (Stucky x reader) 

Earlier by @dreams-in-blxck (Bucky x reader) 

The Bet by @mdemontespan1667 (Steve x reader)

Under the Harvest Moon by @stevehesaidabadlanguageword (Bucky x reader)

They Only Come out At Night by @fandomfic-galore

Remembrance by @shield-agent78 (Bucky x OFC) 

The Man That Got Away by @memescomicswriting (Bucky x reader)

Runrunrun by @siren-kitten-his (no pairing)

Swept Away by @quant-um-fizzx (Bucky x reader)

Deal with the Devil by @sagechanoafterdark (Steve x reader)   

We All Go a Little Mad Sometimes by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor (Steve x reader) 

The Boss of Brooklyn by @wordywarriorwrites (Bucky x reader)

The Magical Healing Powers of Hot Cocoa by @etherealwaifgoddess (Loki x reader) 

Power Over Me by @shotsbyshae (Loki x reader) 

The Curse by @dtrainwin (Bucky x reader)

Sequels by @jewels2876 (Bucky x reader

Not everyone is as they seem by @atthediscowithoutpanic​ (Bucky x reader)

Beautiful Pain by @thefatalmaiden​  (Tony x reader) 

Let’s Hear is For Captain America  by @trashmenofmarvel​ (Bucky x reader)

Who You Gonna Call by @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes​ (Sam)

In The Web by @tansypoisoning​ (group session)

The Fire It Ignites by @beth-writes-things​

A Nightmare on Elm Street

Good Girl by @lucifers-trash-stash​

SPN

The One Where Sam Winchester Thinks He’s Jessica Rabbit by @lukn4inspo (Sam x reader) 

Evening Escapades by @sweetness47 (Dean x reader) 

You Don’t Own Me by @justagirlinafandomworld​

Stranger Things

Pursue by @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash (Hopper x reader) 

Destroyer

Destroy You by @onefic-at-atime​

Monster

You Are Enough by @littleredblanketschamber

[trashmenofmarvel]

Let’s Hear It For Captain America!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: For Halloween, you thought it would be hilarious to dress up as a salacious version of his best friend. Bucky was not amused.

or

You dress up as Sexy Captain America and Bucky ruins your costume.

(For @sherrybaby14​ Fall Into You Challenge! Thank you, this was so fun!)

Prompt: “The only scary thing here is you.”

Chapter Warnings: Rough sex with a rough Bucky

Word Count: 6.2k

AO3

You trekked carefully down the metal staircase, mindful of your shaky ankles. The knee-high red boots were probably not the best idea, but you didn’t have far to go.

Plus, there was no way in hell you were getting rid of the boots. The look didn’t work without the boots.

Reaching the next landing, you checked over one shoulder to make sure your companion hadn’t fallen behind. One grumpy super soldier, a James Buchanan Barnes, followed you in sullen silence, his blue eyes narrowed into thin slivers of ice.

“Come on,” you needled him plaintively. “It’s one night. One party. It won’t kill you to make nice with the neighbors.”

He made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a sigh. You rolled your eyes and turned away, knowing the lecture you would receive later.

I’m being actively hunted by the U.S. Government, which puts you in direct danger.

The point of hiding is to stay hidden.

HYDRA could still be out there.

Blah, blah, blah.

“We’re spending Halloween in Romania,” you pointed out for probably the tenth time. “I’m not missing this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

Bucky remained silent, probably grateful that you’d given up trying to get him to wear a costume. He hadn’t thought dressing up in a store-bought version of the Winter Soldier had been very funny. You understood his reluctance, but you also wondered if he had left his sense of humor in 1945. Your costume shouldn’t have brought up any negative emotions for him—quite the opposite—but he seemed to hate it even more than the commercialized Winter Soldier getup.

It didn’t matter. Bucky could protest all he wanted; he couldn’t stop you from wearing it.

You only had a couple floors to go and soon you arrived at the actual party. You found it to be a nice little break from the monotonous space of your tiny apartment you shared, but you knew Bucky wouldn’t feel the same.

It was part of the reason you were trying to pull him out of that granite, impregnable shell. You had tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to show him that there were perks to living under a false identity. You got to make up who you were. No one knew about your past and you could start fresh.

Bucky didn’t seem to see it that way, and he remained as sullen as the first time you met him.

The entire building seemed to be alive around you now, everyone’s doors opens as little kids and teenagers ran from apartment to apartment.

Already anticipating that the quick movements would set him on edge, you reached back and took Bucky’s right hand in your left. It was warm and solid underneath the gloves he always wore. As you predicted, his fingers were tense and rigid, but as you kept walking they gradually relaxed and slowly hooked around yours.

It wasn’t unusual for you to give him a light touch; for you to maintain your cover as a married couple, some physical closeness was necessary in public. He never initiated contact, however, leaving the awkwardness of that to you. Just another way the guy didn’t make your life easier.

When you arrived at the party, it was already in full swing. Most of the adults were in costume, though many weren’t, only there to keep track of the younger kids. Tiny Hulks and miniscule Iron Men and even a few small Captain Americas were spotted running around the party. You were simultaneously disappointed and relieved there were no little Winter Soldiers terrorizing the place, but you knew the costumes were definitely out there. Ever since S.H.I.E.L.D.’s files had been released to the public, everyone knew about the tragic story of Captain America’s best friend-slash-turned unwilling enemy. It had captured the public’s imagination, and Bucky insisted he couldn’t understand why people were so enthralled by it.

It made you wonder if he had a romantic bone in his body. Being with him on the run for a year-and-a-half, you had little evidence to the contrary. The only time he showed you any kind of affection was to convince the neighbors you were married, and even then, his affections were stilted and clearly made him uncomfortable.

You sighed and leaned against the wall as you overlooked the party, which by now was spilling over onto the balcony and the stairwell. You had lost track of Bucky a minute ago and half-believed he had run off back to the sanctuary of your apartment.

Left alone, it didn’t take long for the other building tenants to wander over and start chatting, or rather start flirting, with you. You weren’t sure why this was something that happened to you ever since you’d lived in Bucharest. When you’d been single and available, no one would look at you twice.

And now that you were supposedly a married woman, men seemed to flock around you. At first it had been flattering; now you wanted to punch out all their teeth.

You managed to disentangle yourself from not one, but two of them, until Kyle managed to corner you. You sighed, trying to appear not completely put-off as he leaned against the wall and began talking despite your body language telling him very clearly you weren’t interested.

This wasn’t the first time Kyle had started flirting with you, and you doubted it would be the last. Even with the fictitious wedding ring on your finger, and the fact Bucky glared murderously at him whenever he was in sight, Kyle didn’t seem to take the hint.

You tried to do your best to brush him off and scanned the room for signs of Bucky. It shouldn’t have been difficulty with his height and broad shoulders, but he had the uncanny ability to blend into any crowd, even a colorful one at a Halloween party—

A hand was on your bare thigh, sudden and invasive. Without thinking, you punched Kyle in the side of his ribs so fast it almost looked like a playful gesture. He bent over and held his side as he gave a wheezing cough.

“I think he’s had too much to drink,” you said to Evangeline when she looked over at the two of you. She made a sympathetic face and walked over, grabbing one of his arms.

“Come on,” she told him wearily. No doubt she’d had to deal with a drunk-Kyle before. Kyle looked up at you with a shocked expression, but the smile you returned was as sweet as the pumpkin cupcakes next to him on the table.

“Fucker,” you muttered under your breath once he was out of sight. Your smile began to fade only to return, genuine this time, at the sight of Bucky returning with two cups of what looked like fruit punch. His jaw was tense and his eyes were a little too watchful under the brim of his black baseball cap. Even now, in the midst of a family Halloween party, he refused to drop his guard.

In a way, his constant vigilance made you feel safe. Not that you would ever dream of telling him that.

“I thought a tiny Black Widow had chased you off,” you joked as you took the cup he handed you. You surveyed the room and tilted your chin towards a corner where a group of baby Avengers had assembled. “They are scary little things, aren’t they?”

You tipped the cup towards your mouth. Bucky’s lips were suddenly against your ear as he said in a low voice, “The only scary thing here is you.”

You choked and sputtered on the sweet drink. Bucky put a concerned hand on your shoulder as you coughed up the liquid that had gone down the wrong pipe.

“I am not! Scary!” you protested between coughs, your cheeks heating as you glared up at him. You hoped he took your blushing as a reaction to nearly choking, not by the strange thrill that had filled your gut at the sensation of Bucky’s voice right in your ear. “This costume was a stroke of genius and you almost made me spill punch on it.”

“Mmm, shame,” he replied evenly. But you noticed the crinkles at the corner of his eyes and knew he was in the vicinity of a smile. “But that wasn’t what I was referring to. Your form is getting better.”

You wiped at your mouth and tried not to blush at his praise. It was getting to the point in your pining where he could read combat techniques from a drill manual and you would still find it sexy. Sad, really sad, but this was your life. All you had was the fantasy, never the real thing, and it didn’t help that lately he had been doing things like stripping off his shirt before going into the bathroom to shower. Or you’d wake up and he’d be making breakfast while shirtless.

In fact, a lot of your fantasies had started to revolve around him starting off shirtless, exposing his sculpted muscles shamelessly. If you hadn’t known him better, and considering how long you’d been living together you thought you knew him as well as any one person could, you would have thought he was doing it on purpose. Bucky Barnes the strip-tease. God only knew the talking down you would have gotten if he had any idea the gremlin thoughts running through your little head.

Ah, well. At least he wasn’t reprimanding you for punching one of your neighbors.

You reluctantly pulled your eyes away from the object of your longing and looked down at yourself to make sure none of the pink liquid had gotten on your uniform.

The uniform in question had not only been brilliant, it had also been a move of desperation. Nearly all of the costumes at the store had been sold out, expect for one Sexy Captain America that was just your size.

It wasn’t so much a Cap “uniform” as it was a red, white, and blue showgirl dress with a white star emblazoned on the chest. Your favorite part was the ridiculous felt helmet, complete with a pair of little wings on the side of your head.

You thought it would be hilarious to dress up as a salacious version of his best friend.

Bucky had not been amused.

You downed the rest of your punch, disappointed it wasn’t spiked, and sighed through your nostrils. “I think I’ve had enough fun. You?”

He made a noise of affirmation, and you expected him to make a fast bee-line toward the door. Instead, he placed a hand at the small of your back and guided you out in a gesture that was perfectly normal for couples but felt especially intimate tonight. Knowing the fingers were metal underneath the glove did nothing to quell the sudden heat curling in your lower belly.

You were really glad to be leaving now. At least back in the apartment you could distract yourself with a cold shower.

The sound of the party receded behind you, and sighed in audible relief once you were back in the safe quietness of your living space. It was a small studio, barely big enough for one person let alone two, but you made it work. At first, because you had to, but now you genuinely liked living with the quiet, albeit sometimes surly, super soldier.

It was too bad with all of his sharp-eyed observation he continually failed to notice you as more than just a co-habitant.

You pulled off the cheap cloth helmet and shook out your hair. Bucky was watching you out of the corner of his eye, no doubt silently judging you yet again for your choice in clothing. You looked down at your uniform one last time, reluctant to put it away. Who knew if you would be here next Halloween, and the realization filled you with surprising sadness.

And then you noticed it. The glaring pink stain on one arm of the white star.

“Oh, come on.” Not worried about Bucky’s judgement now, you rushed into the kitchenette and pulled off one of the washcloths hanging on the oven door, wetting it under the faucet. “If it doesn’t come out, you’re buying me a new one,” you muttered as you rubbed at the stubborn stain. It wasn’t coming out. You scrubbed harder, grumbling under your breath.

Bucky didn’t answer, but you were too busy fussing over the fabric to care. You made an annoyed noise when the water dripped down the front of your uniform and onto the floor. You leaned over the edge of the sink so you wouldn’t make such a mess.

Something warm and solid bumped against you.

“What—“

It pinned you against the counter. Your surprise was quickly replaced with shock when Bucky’s hands reached around you to grip the edge of the sink.

He was bodily pressed against your entire back. Your heart raced in your chest as your mind shuddered to a halt.

“You wanted to wear the damned thing,” he rumbled into your ear. “Not my fault you can’t keep it clean.”

“Uh…”

You couldn’t form any words. Not with the way his hips were pressed against you and his hard chest on your back. You couldn’t react when he took the cloth from you and began to slowly and deliberately clean the star right between your breasts.

“Um…” you repeated, completely gobsmacked.

“Yes?” he asked, so casually, as if what he was doing was completely normal. As if his breath wasn’t hot on your neck. As if his hands weren’t practically on your breasts. As if the erection you definitely felt straining against his jeans wasn’t pressed into your ass.

What the hell had gotten into him? You felt like a deer trapped in the headlights. Or one frozen in fear as a predator prepared to lunge and sink his teeth into her neck.

“This is…” Your voice trailed off, sounding semi-breathless to your own ears.

“…what you get when you strut around, teasing me with your bare thighs and glimpses of those black panties?”

Heat flushed through you like an electric jolt down a wire.

“I wasn’t strutting,” you snapped in a voice too high for your normal vocal range. “And I wasn’t… teasing you, either.”

“No?” he murmured against your ear. You felt the bare fingertips of his right hand trace up the outside of your thigh, making you jump. “Then I guess you’re not wearing black panties, either.”

Before you could stop him, he slid his hand up your poofy skirt, hooked a finger in the side of your underwear, and pulled on them far enough so he could see that they were, indeed, black.

Then he released them and the elastic snapped against your hip, making you give an indignant, “Hey!”

Bucky spun you around and pressed your back against the counter as he stared down at you, eyes dark and heated.

“What?” he prodded in a tone edged like a blade. “If I noticed, you can bet those men you were talking to did too. And to think.” He lowered his face closer to yours, his bright blue eyes drifting down to your lips. “You’re supposed to be a married woman.”

His hands were on your arms now, one warm and calloused while the other cool and unyielding. You tried to ignore the contradictory sensation and regain your wits to try and figure out what the fuck was going on with him. Was Bucky actually pissed or was he just messing with you? You didn’t know, but either one was very unlike him.

Besides, you were the one who would tease and flirt with him, all harmless in an attempt to get him to crack. His stoic façade had never shattered once, so his abrupt turnaround was a complete mystery to you.

“Well, I’m not a married woman,” you responded with a defiant lift of your chin. If he thought you were falling for his bluff, he was going to be disappointed. “So mind your business what I do with other men.”

Without warning, he thrust his thigh between your legs, forcing them apart. You gave a startled noise as he pressed his entire body against yours so the top of his thigh met your clit through your panties.

You gave a startled moan and immediately bit your lip, but it was too late. He’d heard it too. He raised his eyebrows in a mock question, a very faint smirk on his lips.

You sputtered and tried to recover your dignity.

“Bucky, what the fuck. What are you—“

“Shhh,” he hushed you as he rubbed his thigh against you. You gave a small whimper, and pressed your legs together harder. It made the pressure even more intense, which was precisely what you didn’t want.

He pulled his leg away from your pelvis and you sighed in relief. The sigh turned into a small cry when he reached forward and shoved his right hand down your panties, his fingers sliding between your folds.

“Hmm, yeah. Just as I thought,” he practically purred. His metal hand was at the back of your neck, curling his fingers into your hair.

“Soaked.”

Before you could protest, he spun you around again back to your original position, this time with his hand down your panties. He lightly gripped you around the neck with his metal hand, an unspoken warning to hold still. You were too overwhelmed to move, his warm fingers against your clit rendering you basically helpless.

You dug your fingertips into his arm but didn’t shove him away. If anything you were using him as an anchor as your knees began to wobble.

“Bucky,” you tried one more time. Pleading for something you couldn’t identify.

He hushed you again, sounding more like himself for a moment. Your grumpy, quiet, gentle Bucky.

“I’ve got you.”

His lips were on the side of your neck, and you were too far gone to care what he did to you.

You moaned and tilted your head to the side, lulling your head against his shoulder as he began to fuck you with his fingers. All the tension and unrequited attraction came to a head, and it wasn’t long before the pressure between your thighs began to build.

“Bucky,” you whined again, more urgently this time.

“You wanna play at being Captain America? Super soldiers have more control than that.” He lightly nipped at your earlobe and dropped his voice. “We also have an inhuman amount of stamina.”

You couldn’t even begin to process that statement before he was speaking in your ear again, low and rough.

“You’re so close, I can feel it.”

You never thought you would hear that voice talk dirty to you, and it was going to ruin you for every other man in existence, without a doubt.

“Do you want to come on my fingers?”

You could hear the teasing smirk in his voice, but you didn’t care. Whatever front you had tried to put up had vanished into thin air, probably around the time he had put his hand down your underwear.

“Yes,” you croaked, needy to your own ears. “God, yes.”

“Ask me nicely,” he drawled. It was cruel, the way he weaponized his voice against you, and he must have known exactly what he was doing. You felt him prod the shell of your ear with his tongue and you whined pathetically.

“Please, Bucky. God, please, I need you.”

His fingers paused for a moment. You thought you were in trouble. You hadn’t meant to expose yourself like that.

But then Bucky slid his hand down and prodded at your entrance before pushing inside with two fingers, his thumb on your clit as he curled his fingers against the sensitive flesh inside.

You cried out a curse, bending your head back. Bucky released your neck and pushed down the top of the dress, exposing your breasts. He took one nipple in his metal fingers and delicately rubbed it between them. It sent a jolt down your spine and through your gut, causing you to clench around his fingers as the dam finally broke and you voiced a wordless cry.

He held you through your release, his arm around your waist practically the only thing holding you up.

“My turn.”

You didn’t have the wits or the time to contemplate that ominous statement. Bucky released you, grabbed the back of your neck in his metal fingers, and bent you forward over the edge of the sink.

“Buck—aah!”

Your protest turned into an indignant squawk when he tore off what was left of your ruined panties, and he didn’t stop there, rucking up the skirt around your hips as he caressed his calloused hand over your skin. He explored down the curve of your ass, and without warning, slipped two fingers into your soaking folds.

You squirmed and bit off a moan, but his metal hand on your nape kept you in place.

“Now,” he said, far too casually for someone holding you down and slowly finger-fucking you against the sink, “do you want it like this, bent over because you can’t wait another second for someone to fuck you? Or…”

He added a third finger and you hit your knee against the counter as your body jolted. You clenched your jaw to keep from crying out; the walls were thin, and you really didn’t want your neighbors to hear what they should have heard long before now if you’d actually been spouses.

You felt a warm weight across your back as he leaned over you.

“…do you want me to put you on the counter and fuck you right there? Make it so you can never make another meal again without thinking of me between your legs?”

“Oh, God,” you stuttered out, unable to pull forth a full sentence.

“Choose.” He slid his fingers out of you, tortuously slow, his breath hot on your cheek. “Or I’ll choose for you.”

“Bucky,” you whined breathlessly. It wasn’t fair, you could barely function, barely think, and he was demanding the impossible.

“Counter? Or sink?”

You moaned pitifully, shivering as your thighs tightened and your walls lightly pulsed around his fingers. If he kept this up, you were going to come again, and he must have sensed that because he pulled out almost immediately. You gave a pathetic noise at the sudden emptiness.

“Looks like it’s dealer’s choice.”

He released the back of your neck and grabbed your hip, metal fingers gripping your flesh as you felt the head of his cock slip between your folds and push against your entrance. You were shivering by this point, perfectly still otherwise, and you didn’t realize you were holding your breath until he said, “Breathe.”

You exhaled shakily, your hands gripping the edge of the sink in a desperate grip.

As you breathed out, Bucky began to push. You shut your eyes tight and he said, “Relax,” and loosened his hold on your hip. He rubbed the flesh he had been gripping a moment ago, and you relaxed automatically.

“That’s my girl,” he said soothingly, the edge of humor back on his voice. “You just need a gentle touch to get all soft and pliable. A few seconds with me and you’ve got no more hard edges. That’s what those boys out there don’t understand. They’re all fumbling hands and no skill.”

If his sinful tone hadn’t made you melt, the feel of him pushing his cock inside you sure as hell would have. He was slow and careful, but with how slick you were it wasn’t too difficult for him to fill you the rest of the way. Still, the stretch was a lot to get used to, and you bent your head forward and groaned at the sweet burn of it.

When his hips were flush against you and his cock was firmly embedded inside, you shuddered hard and gave a muffled whimper.

He cursed under his breath, his grip on your hips tightening again. “You really don’t know how to relax, do you? You say I’m a tight-ass, but it’s nothing compared to your actual tight-ass.”

You tried to laugh, because honestly what else could you do in this insane situation, but it came out as a choking groan. He wasn’t kidding; either you were really tight or he was just too much. You could feel every inch of him straining at your walls, and you were almost afraid to move.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said, the touch of his hands on your hips a light stroke as if you were his pet. “Use your words. Tell me what you want.”

As if he didn’t already fucking well know. Bastard knew exactly how to get under your skin even as he was balls deep in you.

“Asshole,” you hissed between clench teeth.

“I was planning on working up to that,” he said with a laugh just on the edge of his words. “But I mean, if you want to I’m more than willing—“

“Bucky!”

This time he did laugh, and the jostle of his hips was enough to send a tremor through your walls.

It was little wonder you finally snapped, spouting your words like fire.

“Goddammit, Bucky, just fucking fuck me already before I die here impaled on your dick like some kind of human shish kebab—“

He pulled his hips back until his cock was halfway out of you, and slammed forward.

The cry that left your mouth was both nonsensical and far too loud. You bit down on your hand just as he did it again, pulling even further out this time before thrusting back into you. The sound of flesh impacting flesh was obscene in the small space of the apartment, but you wouldn’t have made him stop no matter if the entire building heard.

Bucky took your hand from your mouth, tsked at the teeth marks imprinted in your flesh, and pulled your arm behind your back. Bucky did the same with the other hand, effectively pinning both of your wrists with his flesh hand as he continued to grip your hip with the metal one.

“None of that,” he said in a low, almost soothing tone. “Let them hear how much you’re enjoying it. In fact, I prefer it.”

You groaned in protest, or maybe in overwhelming need, it was really hard to tell with the friction building inside you.

He continued to roll his hips but picked up the pace, and the uncomfortable tension of your arms behind your back forced your spine to arch and your hips to angle upward, allowing him to reach deeper. The ache in your shoulders was completely muted by the growing electric pressure in your core.

You choked out his name, a plea to keep going, to never stop, and he rammed into you harder but with shorter strokes. The constant motion against the sensitive spot inside you kept building and building until tears leaked from under your lids and you thought you might combust.

He murmured encouragement; he had to have known you were close from the way you were squeezing around his cock. Without warning, you crested over the ridge, sparks exploding before your eyes as your body went taut. You cried out his name, breathy but unmistakable. Bucky released your wrists and you gripped the sink, hanging your head forward as you tried to catch your breath.

He pulled out suddenly and you would have fallen if he hadn’t grabbed you around the waist and turned you around, lifting you up onto the counter. You stared at him, nearly eyelevel now, dazed and shivering from the aftershocks.

You had never seen an expression like this on his face before, the ring of blue bright and intense as the black of his pupils expanded. There was color high on his cheeks and a thin sheet of sweat on his forehead, and his lips were pink and recently bitten.

You wanted nothing more than to taste those lips, but before you could even try, he leaned forward and pressed against you, using his hand at the base of his cock to aim, dragging the head against your entrance. The shaft was glistening with your slick, and you could see now why you had been so stretched before.

“Come on, Cap. You gonna stare all day or are you gonna give me my orders?” His lips curling into a wicked grin. “You’re the commanding officer here.”

You forced yourself to meet his eyes, seeing the silent laughter there.

“Huh?” You sounded exactly as dazed as you felt.

“Captains are officers, sergeants are enlistment. So, what are my orders, sir?” As he spoke, he continued to tease and prod at you. It was unfair how much control he had over himself when you had shaken apart twice now.

Super soldier stamina, indeed.

“I… I want you to…” You didn’t know why you felt so shy all of a sudden; Bucky was literally dragging his cock across your pussy while baiting you to order him to fuck you. Maybe it was the way his blue eyes shot straight through you, but you felt overheated and frozen simultaneously.

“Don’t be shy now, sweetheart,” he teased, slipping back into that heated New York accent had had heard hints of before. In this situation, it should have been illegal. “Everyone heard you squealin’ just a moment ago.”

“Bucky!” you scolded him even though you were in literally the last position to have any dignity intact. “That’s not… we shouldn’t have… we shouldn’t be…”

His face was already close, but he moved in even closer, his mouth tantalizingly near as he breathed against your lips.

“Little too late for that, but we can stop if you really—,” he ran the head of his cock right across your clit, slow and firm, “—want to. Just give the order.”

You shut your eyes, both to cut yourself off from his piercing gaze and to give yourself time to think, and also to fully enjoy the tingling heat that fluttered throughout your core. You wanted to hurl at him every curse you knew, both in English and Romanian, but that’s not at all what you ended up doing, because honestly, whose fault was it that you were in this predicament? All because you insisted on teasing him with that stupid sexy Captain America costume.

Well, you know what they say. If you can’t beat ‘em…

You opened your eyes and fixed him with a hard stare. He raised his eyebrows in curiosity, but when you tilted your chin back and parted your thighs further, his eyes widened.

“Then stop teasing and take care of your superior officer, soldier.”

With a quick but obscene movement of his tongue swiping across his bottom lip, he grabbed your leg in his metal hand and hoisted it around his waist while at the same time pressing himself against your entrance. You moaned sharply and would have grabbed onto his shoulders for support as he pushed inside you but he immediately pushed you back flat against the countertop.

The only warning you got was Bucky positioning your other leg around his hip. He shoved his hips against you before you were entirely ready, and a shudder ran through you as heat and electricity shot up your spine. Bucky pulled out halfway and did it again, not as forcefully but still enough to arch your spine and force you to fight to breathe properly.

Bucky kept a merciless pace, your walls tightening against the ruthless friction, and your fingers curled around the edge of the counter to keep from behind fucked right off the countertop. The sound his cock plunging in and out of you was lewd and filled the small apartment, and the fact you were both almost completely clothed made it even more indecent.

Both of his hands were on your hips now, though not with the same pressure. His metal hand held you firmly but with reservation, while the fingertips of his right dug into your skin, trembling in a way that betrayed his veneer of control. It felt as if he was holding back, and with her super soldier strength he most likely was, taking care not to hurt you. God, he could break you like a dry twig if he lost control, and that fact made you want him that much more.

You tried to be quiet, pressing your lips together so hard they stung, but your efforts crumbled as you felt a pulsing in your core. You gasped Bucky’s name over and over, not sure what you were asking, nonsensical and soon squirming as you felt the steep peak approaching.

He must have been close because he didn’t speak, only made the occasional breathy moan or muffled grunt, but he reached down and press his thumb to your clit without warning. You whimpered sharply and arched your back, an electrical current tightening every muscle of your body as you hung on the edge of the proverbial knife.

When you tipped to the other side, your orgasm slammed into you so hard you couldn’t breathe, a harsh whine in the back of your throat as your walls throbbed around him and brightly-colored sparks exploded behind your closed eyelids.

He cursed and his rhythm went off, but he fucked you through your climax and continued to rub you until you were so sensitive you started squirming and would have batted his hand away if you hadn’t been clinging onto the counter for dear life.

Bucky pulled out suddenly and removed his hand from your clit but held on tightly to your hip with his metal digits. You could even feel them tighten as he cursed again, his voice hoarse and out of breath, and a moment later you felt something warm hit your chest.

It took you a few seconds to be cognizant enough to open your eyes let alone lift your head, but you did, and looked down to find… ribbons of cum covering the white star on your chest.

Your costume might have survived the punch stain, but Bucky had made sure it was beyond saving now.

You weren’t sure whether to laugh or yell at him, and you ended up doing neither, your body trembling and covered in sweat as it recovered from the third orgasm wrenched from it. You hadn’t been so thoroughly fucked in your life, and lying on the kitchen counter, covered in Bucky’s cum, was the last way you would have expected Halloween to end.

Bucky seemed very pleased with himself as he smirked down at you, but you felt very pleased with yourself from the way he couldn’t seem to catch his breath and the ruffled state of his hair, the flush on his cheeks, and the overall look of his flustered appearance.

He leaned forward and for a moment you thought he was going to kiss you. His mouth hovered over yours, lips slightly parted with a wicked look in those blue depths. You held your breath as he traced his metal fingers down the curve of your bare though.

“That’s for torturing me for the past eighteen months,” he mumbled against your lips. He pulled away, tucked himself back into his jeans, and left you there, blinking and breathing hard on the counter top, struck dumb.

You’d been doing what for how long?

“I… did not!” you squeaked in protested as you pulled yourself down onto unsteady feet. Your body felt like it was made out of jelly and cooked noodles, and your skin was oversensitive and raw. It was no wonder, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had multiple orgasms forced out of you so… vigorously.

Still, that didn’t absolve him of his wrong statement, and you were going to correct him on it.

“You’re the one who’s been tormenting me for the entirety of our—“

You turned toward the living room and shut your mouth with a small pop. Bucky had pulled his shirt up over his head and was in the process of stripping off his boots. He pulled his jeans over his incredible ass and muscular thighs, and continued along this fashion until he was completely naked.

All you could do was stare, and holy shit there was so much to stare at. He turned his head to look at you and quirked up his lips into something far too devious for the grumpy potato you had always believed him to be. After tonight, you had some serious reassessing to do.

“Gonna take a shower.” He raised an eyebrow. “You coming or not?”

Even now without a stitch of clothing, his heated gaze made you feel as if you were the one exposed.

“Captain.”

He blinked owlishly as you unzipped the back of your costume and let the red, white, and blue dress fall to the floor. “I’m still your captain, Sergeant, and you will refer to me as such.”

He managed to pull his face into a serious line even with the laughter in his eyes, and he snapped you a crisp salute.

[the-goddamn-queen]

Camping, but make it sexy.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, dirty talk, semi-public, just really the filthiest thing I’ve ever written

Word Count: 1721

A/N: For @sherrybaby14‘s Fall Into You Challenge! My prompt was camping trip.

It was mostly your fault, honestly. The minute you’d made sure everyone was situated after the final battle, you’d practically dragged Bucky into your bedroom with no intention of letting him go until you were well and truly done with him.

You spent five years without him, what were you supposed to do?

The tables had turned rather quickly on you, though, and five days later you found yourself still naked and in bed having only managed to slip out for a couple baths that Bucky insisted on taking with you.

Turns out he missed you too.

Your relief finally comes in the form of F.R.I.D.A.Y. announcing that “Mr. Stark has organized a camping trip that is required for all Avengers personnel.”

Bucky groans into your hair and wraps his arms around you tighter. “Fuck that.” His metal hand starts gliding down your stomach. “We’re not going anywhere.” He finally reaches his destination and you gasp, grasping futilely at his wrist.

“Buck, please, I don’t want to get in trouble.”

He yanks his hand away and flips you, so you’re pinned underneath him by your wrists and hips. “The only trouble you’ll get into is if you try and leave this bed,” he groans into your ear. You whine and buck instinctively. Sure, you were tired, but fuck if that man didn’t do things to you.

 You practically throw yourself out of the van the moment Steve shifts into park. Closing your eyes, you reach your hands out to touch every bit of air you can. Fresh air. Finally.

Bucky seems to take your outstretched arms as an invitation and wraps his own around your middle, hauling you into the air and making you squeal.

“Bucky!” you gasp as he sets you to your feet again. “Get off of me and help me pitch our tent.”

“But, baby, I already pitched a tent.” Your eyes widen a bit at what he’s insinuating, and you smack his arm, wincing when you realize it’s the metal one.

“Watch your mouth. There are children here.”

He smirks and twists an arm around your waist again. “I can think of way better things to do with my mouth.”

You snake away from his arm and snatch up the bag for your tent. “I’m gonna find us a spot,” you say sticking your tongue out, “join me when you’re less of a perv.”

“C’mon, doll!” he calls after you, “don’t tease me with that tongue!”

 It’s dark by the time everyone gets their tents settled. The Starks holed themselves up pretty quickly for the sake of Morgan’s bedtime (despite her very weak protest that she was not, in fact, tired). Everyone else dragged up whatever they could find to sit around the fire; logs, blankets, bucket chairs. Bucky had claimed the bench of a picnic table for the two of you. He’d seemingly calmed down from when you’d first arrived.

You’re snuggled up into his side with his arm wrapped securely around your waist listening to him and Sam bicker over who pulled the cooler rescue op while Nat and Wanda giggle over a shared thermos of something you know Natasha made too strong. You barely notice Bucky’s hand move until its almost enveloped your breast. You try to play it off, laughing at Sam’s jab and slowly reaching to remove Bucky’s hand. Just before you reach it, he swipes his thumb down the center, and you have to bite back a gasp when he grazes your nipple. You hope it’s dark enough that no one can see.

Bucky smirks down at you as pull at his wrist to no avail. He just holds you a little tighter and starts making tight circles with his thumb. You bite your lip to hold back the whine that’s bubbling up in your throat. You’re grateful that the conversation’s drifted, and no one seems to be paying attention to you anymore.

Without letting go of you, Bucky reaches behind him to grab a blanket off the table and drape it around your shoulders. You notice it just barely covers where he’s holding you, just like the one on your legs barely covers your lap…

Oh, shit.

He’s faster than you, locking your thigh to his before you can move them from where they’re folded underneath you. You turn your face to bury it in his shoulder, knowing damn well you won’t be able to hold much back if he decides to touch you there. You feel him smirk against the side of your head. He won, and you both know it.

“Sleepyhead over here and I are gonna call it a night,” Bucky announces to the rest of group. You breathe a sigh of relief that he’s accepted your surrender and manage your own quick goodnight as he drags you away from the fire.

 When you return to your tent, you half expect Bucky to throw you down on the air mattress. Instead, he calmly ducks in after you and settles himself among the blankets, leaving you to crouch awkwardly with your hands on the hem of your shirt.

“You comin’ to bed, sweetheart?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say still thumbing the fabric, “we’re not gonna…”

Bucky smirks. The asshole is toying with you. “Not gonna what, sweetheart?” The bastard knows exactly what he’s doing. Getting you all hot and bothered as revenge for dragging him away from your bedroom.

You shake your head. “Never mind,” you manage with a small smile. You can at least pretend he didn’t win your frustration.

You crawl into the makeshift bed and curl into him, his warm, strong body a balm against the slight October chill. A sigh escapes you as one of his hands finds its way under the edge of your shirt to pull you closer. You revel in the skin to skin contact and let it start to lull you under.

Sleep starts to take you, so you barely register Bucky’s fingers skimming the edge of your pants. You’re drifting off as he just begins to slide his hand into the waistband. You think you’re dreaming when he cups the space between your thighs.

You’re eyes snap open and you gasp as he runs his middle finger along your center and presses it firmly against your clit.

“Bucky,” you breathe into his ear.

“Shhh,” he begins rubbing tight circles, “quiet, sweetheart. There’s children here, remember?”

You groan and bury your face in his shoulder, trying to drown out the noises you can’t stop. “Bucky, please, I’m so close. Make me cum.”

He chuckles lowly and slows his fingers. You whine and buck towards his hand. “Now, why should I do that, darlin’?” He moves his finger down, barely pressing it inside you. “Teasing me all day, pushing me away.” He sinks in another centimeter, toying with you. “I think you should convince me.”

You’re desperate now, trying to push yourself down on his finger, but he won’t let you. “Anything, Bucky, please, I’m sorry, I need you, I need–” You’re babbling now. Breathless whispers in his ear. God, if he would just go a little deeper–

He pulls his finger away from you suddenly and shoves it into your mouth. You whimper but close your lips around it, anyway, sucking it down gratefully. “Too much noise, baby,” he muses, “I think there’s better things to do with that mouth of yours.”

You hum in agreement, moving less than gracefully on the unstable air mattress to straddle him, pulling desperately at his pants to pull his cock out. Rock hard and leaking. You hadn’t touched him all day, and it shows.

Bucky lounges back with his arms behind his head, taking in the glazed look in your eyes. You glance up thinking he looks a little too please with the state he’s put you in. You decide not to waste any time.

You sink your head down as far as you can, pressing your tongue up against him and sucking. Hard.

His hands fly immediately to your hair gripping hard as he grounds out a ‘fuck, baby.’ You smile inwardly. Two can play at this game.

You set a fast pace, setting your hands on his thighs for leverage. Truly and completely sucking his soul out through his dick.

He loses himself for a moment letting his hips thrust up into your mouth once, twice, before yanking you off of him and hauling you up to suck the taste of himself off your tongue. “Good girl, baby, good girl,” he mumbles into your mouth as he rolls you over. “Let me give you what you want, sweetheart, remind me.”

He narrowly avoids shredding your pants as he yanks them off you. You do the same for your shirt before tugging at his wanting to feel his skin against yours. “I want you, Bucky, I need you,” you’re babbling again, “I need your cock. I need to come all over you.”

He presses up against, his lips finding yours again, and grasps your thighs to wrap around his hips. “What else, darlin’, one more thing, I need to hear you say it.”

“I love you, Bucky.”

It’s finally enough. He plunges into you, clasping his hand over your mouth to muffle your scream. You claw at his back looking for leverage to thrust back, but all you can do is lay back and take it.

He fucking surrounds you. His whole hulking frame absolutely drowning you as he pounds his hips against yours. It’s so much. It’s almost too much, and you find yourself screaming against his hand again as your pussy clamps down around him over and over again.

“That’s it, honey, that’s what you need, huh?” You nod as best you can, but he doesn’t let up. “Do it again, baby, I need to feel you do it again.” He moves his hand from your mouth, and you moan. “God, I wish I could listen to you but you gotta stay quiet. Bite me,” he orders. And you do. He moves that hand down to where you’re joined and rubs hard, unforgiving circles on your nub.

You squeal into his shoulder and hold him tighter.

“Cum.”

You do. Hard and shaking against him until he stills, filling you gently compared to how he fucked you.

“I love you too.”

[wordywarriorwrites]

The Boss of Brooklyn Masterlist

Title: The Boss of Brooklyn A03 Story Link Author: @wordywarriorwrites​ Summary: When it comes to being The Boss, James Buchanan “JB” Barnes rules with an iron fist. For him, there’s no room for sentiment, and certainly no time for distraction, even if it is in the form of an old flame. Steve Rogers had bowed out of the life a long time ago, but a twist of fate brings him right back into the fold, and face-to-face with a man he once loved. When a game of cat and mouse turns into a matter of life and death, both will be forced to decide whether they’ll be loyal to the business, or faithful to each other.  A/N: Bucky Barnes Mob Boss AU. Stucky. For: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan Star’s Multi-Fandom Follower Celebration with the prompt, “Why did you do it?” & @sherrybaby14 Sherry’s Fall Into You Challenge with the prompt, “Show me. Prove that you can handle me.” Warnings: Language, violence, drug use, alcohol, smoking, explicit sexual content, illegal activities. *Re-blogs are welcome. Plagiarism isn’t. * 

Prologue: Convergent Chapter 1: New Blood, Old Flame Chapter 2: Nothing Personal Chapter 3: Sleight Chapter 4: Erstwhile Chapter 5: Game Chapter 6: Set Chapter 7: Match Chapter 8: The Fall Chapter 9: On the Run Chapter 10: Behind Enemy Lines Chapter 11: Strange Bedfellows  Chapter 12: Sabotage Chapter 13: Settled Scores Chapter 14: Vortex Chapter 15: Imperfect Union Chapter 16: Exsanguinate  Chapter 17: Deliverance  Chapter 18: On Va Voir Chapter 19: On the Line Chapter 20: Evermore Epilogue: The Bosses