#happy1khatdraw

[navybrat817]

Beg Me

Pairing: Andy Barber x Female Reader Summary: Distracting Andy from his work is always a fun time. Word Count: Over 1k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, hand job, possessive behavior, dirty talk, Andy Barber (he's a warning!) A/N: For @happygowriting 's Hat Draw Challenge (Prompt: “I’m going to jerk you off until you’re begging me to stop.” with Andy Barber) ). Congrats, lovely!!! ❤️ Not beta read, so any and all mistakes are my own. Moodboard by yours truly. Comments, likes, reblogs and asks are appreciated. ❤️

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If you could have dreamt up the perfect man, he would have been in the form of Andy Barber. Handsome, commanding and passionate, there was no denying him and you never wanted to. While he was usually the dominant of the two of you in bed, you occasionally liked to be the one who drove him crazy. It wasn't to give you a sense of power or control. You were just happy to make the man you loved feel good.

You watched him as he sat at his desk, tapping your fingertip against the doorframe. He promised he wouldn't work when he got home, but there he was. You didn't blame him and you weren't even upset. But now was the perfect time to give him something to get him through the rest of the day. 

You walked over to the desk, your hips swaying enticingly. You continued to watch him intently as he tried to ignore your presence, but you saw him look out of the corner of his eye. He cleared his throat as he looked back at the papers in front of him. Smirking, you snatched them from his hand and put them out of reach. You swore he snarled when you kept the smirk on your face.

"I'm trying to work and you're distracting me."

Your body clenched in reaction to his glare. Being on the receiving end of that look scared most people, but you were the exception. It sent a shiver of excitement through you when he didn't blink and you dared to step closer. 

"I know I am, but I can help you out," you offered. 

Andy raised an eyebrow as his gaze shifted to feigned disinterest. But he couldn't hide how dark his eyes got. "You're going to help me?"

"Yep. I'll get you off and you can go back to it," you said innocently, straddling him as he leaned back in his chair. 

His hand reached up and gently moved along your jaw, the small action immediately spreading more heat between your thighs. You had no idea how he turned you on so quickly with the lightest of touches, but you wanted to have the same effect on him. Before he could pull away, you grasped his hand and brought it to your lips. Your eyes twinkled with something lustful as you sucked a finger into your mouth, moaning around it. 

"You think teasing me is a good idea?" he asked, a slight rasp to his tone as his finger slipped free. 

"Teasing would imply that I have no intention to follow through. And I have every intention of doing so."

Brushing your lips against his, you moved a hand between your bodies to cup him. You felt how hard he was beneath his slacks and you wondered how long he had been worked up. Thankfully, he had you to take care of him. 

"Poor Andy," you said softly as you rubbed him, kissing the corner of his mouth. Feeling his beard tickle your lips made you tremble as you unbuttoned his pants. Maybe later you could convince him to rub his beard against your inner thighs. "How are you supposed to get any work done with your cock so hard?"

You heard the air rush out of his lungs as you pulled the zipper down, feeling his strong thighs tense beneath yours. "Still fucking teasing me," he groaned as your hand grasped the band of his underwear to move it down. "Fuck, honey."

You smiled as you grasped his cock and pulled him free. Holding him in your hand, your fist went tight. You rubbed your thumb across the head as you leaned back and glanced down. The thickness of him never ceased to amaze you. It made your mouth water.

“I told you I'm not going to tease you," you reminded him as you twisted your wrist. "I’m going to jerk you off until you’re begging me to stop.”  

Andy was amazing. Addicting. How could not worship him? You ignored how soaked your panties were as you pumped your hand because this was about him. And after so many nights of him bringing you over the edge multiple times, it was time to return the favor.

"Fuck, honey. Faster," he groaned, his hips rocking as you worked him in even strokes.

"No," you laughed softly. "You have no patience right now, Mr. Barber, and that won't do. Just like my pussy is yours, this is my cock. I'll go as fast or slow as I please."

There was no mistaking the growl this time. He sounded impressed that you took control. "I'm ruining my pussy the second I'm done-"

"The second you're done what? Coming?" you questioned, kissing his cheek as you brushed the head of his cock again. Feeling him leak for you had you lightly grinding your own hips. "I told you. Until you beg me to stop, your cock isn't leaving my hand."

His hips bucked hard enough to rock the chair, his moan low and deep. "You think I won't fuck you with my fingers? Or make you ride my thigh until you gush on these pants?"

"That would be a shame," you sighed, feeling more precum slide across your fingers. "I like these pants… But it would be fun to ruin them the way you ruined me. Just like I want to ruin you."

His head fell back as he could look in your eyes, his hips starting to lose their rhythm. "I was ruined the moment you walked into my life," he breathed.

You whimpered, wanting so badly to take him into your quivering cunt at his words. "Later," you thought because your release didn't matter. But his… "Prove it. Make a mess on my hand. C'mon, hotshot. Do it. Come."

He whined, actually whined, for you as his cock pulsed, shuddering as you watched his release spread between you both. Some of it landed on your hand as you finished stroking him, hot and searing. You wanted to taste every drop as he came down. 

"Fuck…" he panted as his shoulders slumped, catching his breath. 

As you pulled your hand away, you quickly replaced it with the other. 

"What…" he gasped as you brought it to your lips.

"Beg me," you whispered as you began to clean your fingers. "That's an order, Mr. Barber."

[sweetkingdomstarlight-blog]

tears dry on their own

Pairings - Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Words - 548

Warnings - angst and sad thoughts

a/n - This is  my submission to @happygowriting​ Hat Draw Challenge, little confession I didn’t know I was asking for an angst prompt so this was a challenge for me but here we are, the prompt is highlighted. I got the plot bunny after a chat with @navybrat817​ who literally feeds me stories all the time. Not beta’d so be warned.

Bucky woke up in Steve’s bed smiling at the man he could finally call his own after decades of pain and suffering, he could finally say that something was going right. Looking at him he noticed Steve had the same look on his face he usually had when he needed to tell Bucky he was about to do something stupid, “Good morning sleepyhead, we’ve got one last mission. The stones need to go back to where we found them and I’ve got enough particles for both us to do it. What do you say, come with me for old times sake?”

Bucky shook his head, smiling painfully at him, “not this time, I just wanna rest. I never get the chance to just rest and take it easy, plus you’ll be back by the time we’ve even noticed you’ve gone. Take Sam instead?” Steve looked at him nervously as if he didn’t want to say something, “Talk to me. I’m guessing you don’t normally get nervous before a mission?” 

“I’m not coming back Buck, this is my one shot. I can be with Peggy, you can come back and see Sarah. We can just be Steve and Bucky again.” A tear rolls down his cheek as Steve talks, he shakes his head and looks up “I can’t go back, I’m broken Steve. I can’t subject them to me and my nightmares. What if the Winter Soldier is still inside me and I snap. Who’s gonna stop me? You? You’ll be off living your life with Peggy.”

Breaking down in sobs he grabs Steve’s shoulders, “Is what we have not enough for you? Do you love her more than me?” Leaning forward and pressing their lips together, he cries harder when Steve doesn’t kiss him back “Buck, you know I love you. I always will but this is Peggy, I’ve got to go back for her and try. This is my one chance, you would do the same if you were in my position.”

Shaking his head Bucky turns away, whispering under his breath “It was all for nothing, this last week was just you getting what you wanted just so you could go back to her with a clear head? What about all that I’m with you til the end of the line stuff? Did none of that mean a thing to you?”

Steve stood, looking down at his best friend trying to hold back his tears, “It’s Peggy, I shouldn’t have to explain this to you.” Bucky nods, biting his lip and wiping his tears “You giving the shield to Sam?” Nodding his head and putting his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, Steve leans in and kisses him on the forehead “Please come with me, everything will be easier with you there, my best friend.”

“Best friend? That’s all I am to you?” He wipes his tears and shakes his head “Don’t worry about me I don’t expect a happy ending. This is what I deserve after all those years of causing suffering to others.” He walked into the bathroom and stood under the shower, letting the tears fall  hoping he could get it all out now and look happy for his best friend as he left, taking all Bucky’s chances of a happy ever after with him.

[eurynome827]

Port In A Storm

This is my entry for @happygowriting and the 1k Hat Draw Challenge - my dear, with your persistence and talent this is just the first of many milestones for you.

The prompt I drew from the hat was There Was Only One Bed with Frank (Endings Beginnings).

Warnings: little angsty, bickering, alcohol mention, allusions to sexual activity but nothing happens between Frank and Reader. My blogs are 18+ spaces always, do not repost or translate my work.

You're always getting talked into coming to these things.

The buzz has worn off, your friends are all either passed out or hooking up, and you're stuck in the stranger's house until morning - which is only a few hours away. There's little motivation to get an Uber at this hour. Better to find a place to sleep, and deal with your friends in the morning.

You make your way past the bodies on couches and crammed into chairs, pausing outside rooms until a grunt or a giggle alerts you to the activities going on inside. With a sigh, you push on until you find one last room, door open and empty, inviting bed. You're about to shut the door and get settled when a voice down the hall stops you.

"Hey."

The smoky timbre is instantly recognizable, and you tense up.

Frank.

"Any room at the inn?" He jokes, sidling up to you and peering into the room at the one bed.

"No. No way, Frank."

"Why not, darlin'," he pouts. "You really gonna leave me out in the cold?"

"It's eighty degrees outside at 4 A.M.," you snark, "and you have a car. I'm sleeping here. Alone."

"I can't drive right now," he leans closer, his arm on the doorframe and his face hovering right by yours. The scent of alcohol and cigarettes combined with his cologne snakes into your nose and you shake your head to clear it. Your defenses are crumbling, and he knows it, moving a little closer with a grin.

"Fine," you huff, moving past him into the room and kicking off your shoes.

He chuckles, closing the door behind him and toeing off his boots. "What's got you all wound up? I've never broken your heart," he hesitates, peering over at you, "have I?"

"No, but you've slept with all my friends and I'm very tired of you taking up the bulk of the conversation, and cleaning up your messes," you snap, climbing into the bed and facing the wall.

It's quiet for a moment, and you almost turn around to see what he's doing until you feel the bed dip with his weight, and your muscles involuntary tense again. "Relax," he murmurs, his voice tired with an edge of hurt. "I'm not going to try anything, I just want to sleep."

You try to close your eyes, and focus on sleep, but his presence crowds you. His scent, his warmth, his.... righteous indignation?

"Are you actually annoyed with me?"

"Well, you did just call me out. Insult me."

"I don't believe you. You can't possibly be surprised that I would feel that way about you."

Frank sighs, a heavy, exasperated sound. "I'm not surprised, I'm not aggravated, I'm just tired."

You bite your lip, staring at the wall.

A few moments of uneasy silence - and you just can't let it go.

"I don't think it's insulting to point out that you leave a trail of broken hearts everywhere you go. That's just a fact."

"It is insulting, and it's rude. You don't know me, and you don't know why I do the things I do."

"Do you know why you do the things you do?"

Another heavy sigh. "Most of the time, no."

It's quiet again, and now the weight of your words is pressing on you, too. Carefully, you roll away from the wall, and see his eyes glittering back at you in the early morning light growing in the room. "I'm sorry."

Frank blinks, his eyes sleepy. "Me too."

"For what?"

He blinks again, and shifts so his head is resting on his arms folded behind his head, looking up at the ceiling now. "For a lot of things."

You study him as the light grows in the room. You've never noticed that sadness hovering around his edges, the pull of it at his mouth, the fog of it in his eyes. He's right - you have no idea why he does the things he does, but he's not going to pull you in, not now. You wonder how many people have watched him like this as the sun rose, wondering if they would be the one to make him stay.

Frank's eyes drift closed, sleep finally taking him under. You watch him for a while longer before you move a little closer, resting your head on his chest, sleep eluding you as your thoughts swirled. You can't open your heart to someone like him, it's a foolish notion, but if he needs a port to hide from the storm inside himself, you'll consider it.

[the-wrong-providence]

A Moment in Time

Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 3,041

Warnings: Angst | Mentions of Y/N’s parents | Character death | Brief violence and blood and stuff 

Summary:  “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” -  F. Scott Fitzgerald

Author’s note: Here is my submission for @happygowriting​‘s Hat Draw Challenge 1k follower celebration (congratulations!!!!), it also happens to be my first fic I’ve posted, which is terrifying. I went a bit overboard and got slightly carried away, as seen by the word count. Also it’s not beta’d oops. Very much inspired by the prompt, but it doesn’t actually include it, hope that’s ok!

Waking up that morning, Y/N knew something bad was going to happen, but a gut feeling wasn’t enough to dismiss her from a mission. It was part of her job description not to complain.

Everything was going fine, a routine operation, in and out with minimal casualties, until Y/N found a wing that hadn’t been in the blueprints of the complex. She pulled up her gun, clearing rooms as she went, before coming across a heavy metal door. It took a lot of effort to open, grunting as she pushed it. The sound it made scraping across the floor made Y/N wince. If anyone was in here, they would know that she was too.

The room was eerily quiet and seemingly empty, but the varying light levels made it difficult to see. She squinted at the far wall, where something was written on the wall. Stepping ever closer, she lowered her weapon. It said something in a language that she didn’t understand. A footstep behind her caught her off guard, as she turned suddenly only to hear a gunshot. Without thinking, she shot back, the bullet lodging itself in her adversary’s skull. Only a moment later, she felt the searing pain in her side.

Y/N looked down to see the hole in her gear. Cursing under her breath, her shaky hands dropped the gun, moving to the wound. She cried out in pain on contact, before all but collapsing to the ground. “Steve!” She called out into the empty room, desperate for him to help. There was a racket in her ear piece, the whole team clamoring to find her location. There wasn’t much she could do but wait for help to arrive. So she lay there on the floor, gasping for air as her lungs filled with blood. Her hand covered the wound, as she tried desperately to remember her medical training.

*

It was another dull seminar. The ‘dangers of the field’ or something like that. Once the medic had gotten over her initial shock at the celebrities in front of her, she got straight into it.  “One of the biggest threats to the victim is shock. The loss of blood will result in decreased blood pressure, which in turn leads to-” Y/N glanced at Steve, who looked back at her. His soft smile was all she needed to distract herself from the boredom she was feeling from this bureaucratically mandated session.

Y/N felt her cheeks burning as she looked back down at the notes she’d been given. On each page was a different scenario, followed by detailed explanations of what to do in each. After a moment, she looked up again. Steve was still smiling at her, and it was very distracting. She cleared her throat and looked back at the presentation on the screen. Luckily, the medic didn’t notice the lack of attention they were paying, and instead continued her talk into the after effects of gunshot trauma. 

At the end of the meeting, Y/N stood, following in the footsteps of the rest of the team. Outside of the room, Steve was waiting, a huge grin on his face when he saw her. “What have I told you about distracting me in seminars?” Y/N smiled as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“All I did was smile,” He chuckled, “Or am I not allowed to smile now?” He raised his eyebrows. Y/N sighed, hitting him playfully on the arm. 

“You know I love your smile. All I’m saying is, when you get shot in the field, don’t expect me to help you.” She sassed back.

Steve pressed a delicate kiss on the top of her head. “Sweetheart, I know for a fact that if I was shot, you’d be the first person to run to my side.” 

*

Footsteps echoed through the halls, as Y/N breathed heavily. “Y/N?” Steve shouted, desperate to find his girl. What he didn’t expect was to see her lying, bleeding out, on the dirty warehouse floor. “Hey, hey,” she heard his voice beside her, and tried to lift her head. The very movement made her chest hurt, so she stayed still. Steve knelt by her side, dropping everything to hold her. “What happened?” He asked, looking at her blood covered hands and the gaping hole in the side of her tactical gear. 

She winced as his hand pressed down on her wound hard, trying to stop any air from entering. “I didn’t see him, Steve, he was right next to me and I didn’t see him.” She sputtered out, every breath a painful reminder of her predicament. “I’m sorry,” She cried out, her eyes watering at the stabbing in her lungs.

Steve bit the inside of his cheek, desperately trying not to cry. “It’s gonna be ok, Y/N, everything is going to be fine.” He insisted, more for his own benefit than hers.

*

“I told you it’d be fine.” Y/N grinned at him. Steve chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as he kissed her temple gently. He took her hand, his thumb lightly caressing her own as they walked through the city.

He looked over at her and sighed contentedly. “Meeting your parents is a big step, sweetheart, I didn’t want to risk embarrassment.” He admitted, watching as Y/N walked with elated steps, clearly thrilled with how the evening had gone. Her face glowed in the light of the streetlamps.

She giggled slightly. “You’re crazy to think that they wouldn’t like you, Stevie.” She said, “You’re the most perfect man on the planet, you know that? Besides, it doesn’t matter if they didn’t like you, all that matters is that I love you.”

“I know, but you know me. I’m going to want your parents permission before I ask you to marry me.” Steve said back. Y/N paused, unable to hold back her smile.

“You want to marry me?”

“Sweetheart, that’s all I want.”

*

“I want an extraction team ASAP. Y/N has been shot… on the right side of her ribcage… a punctured lung at least… just get a medic here. Please.” Steve said into his ear piece. As soon as he’d finished his sentence, he removed it and put it down beside him. He didn’t need all the voices in his ear telling him what to do. He could do this. He’d been taught to do this. This was part of his job.

Every whine and whimper Y/N elicited, however, brought him back to the reality in front of him. Here was his girl, his fiancée, dying on the floor in front of him. Maybe he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t watch her hurting. Steve exhaled with a shaky breath. “Sweetheart, you gotta stay with me here.” He murmured, seeing her tears fall down her cheeks.

He desperately tried to remember his training, but her straining breath was all that was rattling around his head. Looking down, he saw his hands shaking, every inch of them covered in the blood that was still pushing its way out of her body.

“Can you move?” He asked, noticing her rapidly cooling skin, in contrast to the warmth she’d usually exude. She shook her head, wincing as she did so. Everything hurt, and Steve was starting to feel the same way.

She gasped for breath desperately. “Steve,” Y/N managed to rasp out, her hand reaching up for his cheek. She lightly caressed the stubble, leaving bloody streaks across his chin. Grabbing her wrist, Steve pressed a kiss to her palm, before pushing her arm back down. Any more of that, and Steve would be crying too.

*

Steve’s arm was dead. They’d been sitting watching a film, when Y/N fell asleep buried in his shoulder. The credits were over 20 minutes ago, but Steve didn’t have the heart to move her. Instead, he sat reading his favorite book, which he’d kept just within reach on his bedside table.

Also at his bedside was a little box. Something that Y/N hadn’t yet spotted. It wasn’t like she didn’t know it was coming, having spoken about it on several occasions. But that box was going to stay there until Steve knew the right way to use it. It couldn’t be any ordinary proposal, not that any proposal was ordinary. But he knew that it had to be different. That it had to be beautiful, just like his girl.

She stirred beside him, her eyes opening slowly. After a deep yawn, she looked up at him. “What time is it?” She asked, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder. Steve smiled softly at her, unable to ignore how wonderfully adorable she was in her sleepy state. 

“It’s a little past one, sweetheart,” He replied, dog-earing the page he’d gotten to. Putting it down, he knocked the small box slightly, but she didn’t notice. 

Instead, she sat up slightly, rubbing her eyes and looking at the screen. “Did the film finish?” she asked.

“I didn’t want to wake you.” He admitted. Y/N yawned again, before laying back down. Steve followed her lead. “FRIDAY? Could you get the lights for us, please?”

*

He watched as she closed her eyes, letting out a sharp exhale as her arms went limp. “No, sweetheart, come on,” His hands left her chest and took hold of her face. “Y/N, come on, wake up,” He said, his blood-stained hands on her cheeks, “Please,” He begged, cradling her against him. 

“Steve!” A voice shouted from across the room. He looked up to see Nat running to his side. She instantly pressed against the wound, pulling Y/N onto her side as Steve caressed her face, moving stray hair from her face. “The med team is nearly here, come on Y/N, just a couple more moments,” she insisted. Nat searched around, in the hopes of finding something, anything, that could help them. But she had no such luck.

He sat there, her head in his lap as he begged her. He begged her to come back to him, to stay with him, to not leave him this way. Natasha sat determined, desperate for her attempts at bringing her back to be worth it. 

Before long, the med team burst through the door. Nat pulled Steve away, her heart aching as he gave in easily. He fell back against the wall, his head in his hands, unaware of the commotion around him. His whole world was crumbling and he was powerless to hold it together.

*

He could do this. He could pull himself together for a few minutes. It’s not like this was a life-changing event.

Except it was.

Steve had been sure he wanted to marry Y/N within the first month of dating. It was something they’d talked about. But here he was, preparing to actually ask her for her hand. He looked at the ring in its box, his heart beating at a million miles an hour, as she got ready to go out for the afternoon. 

The plan was to take her out to central park, one of their favorite places to be together, and have lunch by the lake. Nothing too extreme, but something that was significantly them.

“Stevie?” He turned to see her standing in the bathroom door. Y/N smiled at him as he exhaled contentedly. Snapping the box shut, he dropped it in his pocket and cleared his throat.

She walked over to him, her hands holding his waist. “Ready to go?” she asked, as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

He grinned at her. “Are you?” He replied, as she rolled her eyes. 

“I don’t think I could be more ready, I’ve even had my nails done for the pictures.” She held up her hands, showing off the neat manicure, before her eyes widened. Her face fell as Steve raised his eyebrows.

“How did you know?” 

“Sorry! I’m sorry! But I’m literally an agent, it’s my job to be perceptive.” She apologized, pouting up at him. She held his cheeks, caressing his cheekbones.

Holding onto her wrists, he smiled softly. “It’s ok, I should’ve known. Could you at least act surprised when I actually ask?” He sighed, his heart fluttering when she giggled.

“Of course I will! I love you Steve,” She grinned back, kissing his lips.

“I love you too, sweetheart. I can’t wait to spend my life with you,”

*

“Steve,” He turned to see Sam walking towards him from the end of the corridor. His expression was nothing short of concern for his best friend. Upon reaching him, Sam embraced him, a wordless form of support. Steve half-heartedly hugged him back, unfeeling and numb from the sheer number of emotions running through his mind. When Sam pulled away, he noticed the red in Steve’s eyes, the dark circles underneath lending to the loss of colour in his usually bright eyes. “I’m here if you need me. We all are.” He said, a hand on his shoulder.

Nodding, Steve looked to the floor, his hands in his suit pockets. He said nothing back, as Sam looked to the side. “The funeral is starting in a few minutes. Everyone is finding their seats.” He said, before leaving Steve in peace. For a few moments, Steve stood silently, trying to convince himself that this wasn’t the end of his story with Y/N, but the sight of her coffin in the chapel made it difficult.

He followed the crowd, finding his seat near the front on the right hand side, beside her parents. The rest of the team sat on the left, glancing over at Steve every now and then. He sat unmoving and unreactive, staring absently at the floor throughout the service. It was only when Y/N’s mother held out her hand that he looked at her. Steve took it, as she gave him a weak smile, squeezing gently. 

“Y/N’s fiancé, Steve Rogers, would like to say a few words.” The speaker stepped down from behind the lectern and nodded to Steve. How was he supposed to give a speech for her? How was he supposed to get up there and tell everyone about his love for her when she wasn’t around to hear? Slowly, he stood and walked up to the lectern. He surveyed the room.

He cleared his throat and opened up his notebook, looking at the first page he’d turned to. In front of him were the vows he’d been working on. He remembered working on them for weeks, before the need for them was ripped away from him. Although maybe this was the time to say them. The words in them needed to be heard.

“You changed me in so many ways, Y/N. Before you I was strict, I was formal, I always stuck to the rules. And then you came along, and showed me this other life I could be leading. You showed me the excitement of risk, and the thrill of spontaneity. Despite some of your horrible, very questionable decisions, you showed me what it was like to live, and having lived for one hundred years, that’s quite an achievement.”

Steve paused as some of the congregation chuckled. He scanned over the next part and inhaled sharply.

“So I promise to stand by your side for as long as we live,” Steve felt his throat closing up. “I promise to hold you throughout every storm we weather.” He could feel the pain in his eyes. “I promise to be your best friend, your teammate, your husband, for ever, because one lifetime together could never be enough.” He finished. A tear fell down his cheek slowly, and he quickly swiped it away with his thumb. The room was silent as Steve looked around at everyone. Everyone looked back at him. “I never got to say that to her.” He murmured, closing the notebook in front of him. He stepped down from the lectern again, moving to sit back in his seat beside Y/N’s mother. 

At the end of the service, Steve stayed, looking at the pictures of his girl. A cough behind him startled him and he turned to see her father. “Thank you Steve.” He said roughly, his voice hoarse from the tears he’d shed. “I’m proud to have you as my son-in-law.” He patted Steve’s shoulder lightly. Steve looked away quickly. “She’d want you to keep on going, you know that? She’d want you to live your life the way she helped you grow, because however much we move on without her, her impact will always be felt. As much as we want to escape what’s happened, we can’t. It’s best we embrace it as we go forward.” He said. 

Steve looked back up at him.

*

Y/N took the book from him with a smile. “I’m surprised you’d not already read it. Weren’t you alive when it first came out?” She said with a giggle. A giggle that made his legs weak. He blushed slightly, before looking at the copy of The Great Gatsby he’d borrowed. Having made a big point of it being one of her favorite books, Steve felt the need to read it. Maybe it was one way that he could get close to her.

“Never got the chance, I guess.” He admitted. “Thank you for letting me borrow it.” Steve asked as she shrugged.

She grinned at him. “Did you enjoy it?” She asked, clutching the book against her chest.

“I did. Not sure on the ending though.”

Y/N gasped, feigning offence at his comment. “But it’s so beautifully bittersweet! Imagine being so disillusioned about a reality that can’t be. So desperate to escape a past that the future takes you back to. Yes it’s sad but it’s so… real.” She insisted, smiling to herself at the thought of her favorite story.

That was the moment Steve realized that he loved her. To see her talk so passionately about her book was all he needed to notice that this crush wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. So instead of putting it off any longer, he went for it.

“Would you like to go for dinner with me some time?”

[steveng-rogers]

Gymcandy fic

Title: A favor 

Pairings: GymCandy Mike Weiss x Lance Tucker 

Summary: Mike wanted to gain something else from Lance after. Will Lance give it to him? 

Word Count: 1,327

Warning: Explicit 18+. Use of alcohol and drugs. Badly written mythological relatable shit. Bad words. A small daddy kink. Cum play. angst. Degradation kink, rough sex. Choking. (If theres anything else that I should add let me know)

A/N: This was a challenge to write, but this is also for @happygowriting’s The Hat Draw Challenge. The prompt given to me will be italicized and in bold. Happy 1k sweetheart <3

Mike won a lot of cases. Cases that he won are worth the fight. That’s every single one of them. The price is not just money, but a good reputation too. He’s a great lawyer and he knows it. He takes a lot of pride in it because there’s barely anything in his life that he can take pride in. Which is fine, too many things can distract him. 

Then walk in Lance Tucker. He has never seen someone so into themselves to the point of thinking they’re deity. To Mike, that suits Lance. He was a bright streak of red and blue in his grey life. 

So that was his goal, to earn the deity’s favor and hopefully keep him in his life. Lance is Zeus and Mike, well that would something he can determine for himself at the end. 

The case that was with Lance was a thing of absolute disaster. Like a huge, unbearable headache in Lance’s head and all Mike wants to do is be the wedge that can get the headache out. He was hopeful that something can come out of that headache. 

And somewhat, something did happen between them. 

It was the night after they won the case. He was at Lance’s house, overlooking the city. The party was rowdy and elegant at the same time. Athletes, agents, coaches, Lance’s personal pr team, and of course the god of gymnastic himself. 

Lance celebrated like they were all in mount Olympus like they’ve won a major battle and in actuality they did. There is booze, drugs, men, and women and gold, everything gold. There’s even a bathtub in the middle of the living room filled with ice and fuck ton of champagne bottles. 

Mike has never seen anything like it. Party so over the top, but also not tacky. It was so Lance. 

The night ends with him on top of Lance. He gained that favor like he’s been promising himself from the start. 

Lance was hard and beautiful. God did a great job carving Lance. 

Mike licks his lips as he watches Lance lined the coke down his happy trail, cutting the tatted ribbon up with the white powder. 

Mike snorts those snows up like it was his last breath. He hooks his fingers on the Lance’s red Klein and pulls them down, revealing the actual gold he’d been wanting. 

The way it bounces up proudly, the clear precum trickled down from the slit to mix with the remaining coke on Lance’s skin. By the fucking gods, those are things men go to battle for. 

Mike lick those up, hungrily. He even gets his mouth wrapped around the crown of Lance’s cock. “Fuck, Mike.” Lance moaned for the first time and it was perfect. His name at the end sounds like sirens calling him out to meet his doom in the sweetest ways imaginable. 

He handles Lance as if he owns him and by the end of the night, he would, or would he?

Lance is in all fours, his back arched so beautifully that Mike found his calloused hand follows its curve. Once he reached his ass, Mike gave him a nice hard spank. 

“Mike..” Lance whimpered, but his ass rocked back as if he wants him to give him more. 

Oh, and he did. 

His lubed-up fingers found their way inside Lance, making the man a moaning mess. Lance didn’t hold back, especially when it comes to pleasure. Mike loves that. 

He curls up his fingers as he opened him up some more. “How does that feel? Your favorite lawyer is about to have his dick up this spoiled ass.”

Lance pulls his head up and turns his head to side-eye Mike. “Bold of you to think you’re my favorite of anything,” Lance said with a smug smile painted across his bitten, red lips. 

Mike groaned, deep in his throat. “I’m gonna wipe that fucking grin off your face Tucker and you’re gonna lay there and take it like a champ.” With that, he shoved Lance’s head to the pillows earning a muffled laugh from Lance. 

Lance likes it really rough and Mike is checking all of the boxes for him. 

He felt the warm tip of Mike’s cock, lubed and ready with a condom. Mike didn’t warn him but the fucking stretch did. It made Lance feels every piece of him, stretching his ass in all of the right ways. 

“Shit.. holy shit Mike.” Mike grinned and slaps Lance’s ass as he bottoms out, the man cursed into the pillow. His hands balled into a fist, his cock throbs at how easily Mike handles his ass.

Before Lance barked another order at Mike, the man on top moves his hips down and goes in deeper. His hips bucks and Lance moaned obscenely, Mike already shoots for his prostrate and he got it. 

“You’re an easy slut, Tucker.” He pulls out a little, hands tucking on Lance’s hips, bending his ass up. “Your fucking gold worth nothing if you’re this easy to please. Fuck your ass does feel good, might make you sit on my lap and work for your orgasm.”

Mike starts to move his hips, it’s long and hard strokes. Lance gave out a choked-out moan as Mike keeps fucking him into the mattress. The satin sheet rubs nicely against Lance’s cock and he starts to meet Mike’s trust to earn more friction. 

“I don’t think so Lancey.” Mike bends Lance’s back, face pressed on the pillow his cock hanging heavily between him. “Mike, fuck let me cum, so fuckin hard. I can’t.” 

“Oh, yes you can babyboy. You’re gonna take a hard fucking from me and you’re gonna cum when I say so.” Lance’s body is on fire, those words sending him elsewhere. Makes his head swims with arousal and his cock leaks with more precum. “Y-yes daddy.” Lance uttered those words and Mike’s insides did an exciting jump. 

“Can’t hear you brat. Say it louder.” Mike gave Lance’s hips a bruising grip to encourage the man. “Yes daddy, my god fuck!”

Mike is close to coming and his hips never once stop moving, fucking Lance like his very own toy. He pulls Lance so now his back pressed against Mike’s chest. He wraps his hand around Lance’s throat and squeezes. 

“F..Fuck Mike-ah daddy.” Lance can’t even find the words to show how turn on he is by Mike choking him. “Say you love me baby, say it and I’ll let you cum.” 

“Fuck Mike, yes yes please I love you. Please let me cum.” Mike’s hand that was on Lance’s cock starts to move up and down. Lance’s body tensed up and then he came so hard, the ribbons of white cum made it all to the sheet and some on his chest. 

Mike moaned throatily in Lance’s ear as he shoved his dick deep inside him as he came hard at the sight that was in front of him. Lance all wrecked and sated, that was all because of him. 

After cleaning up all the mess, Mike sits on the bed as he runs his hand on Lance’s cheek. “Was this an elaborate plan to get me to sleep with you?” Lance scoffed softly. “Shut up Mike, you enjoyed it.” Mike grinned, the gods already favored him it seems. 

“So we used each other?” Mike wasn’t sure why he asked that question, was he fishing for reassurance that this was more than a celebratory hook-up? Maybe. “We used each other and that’s okay.” Lance’s tone was emotionless, the weariness of the night got to him. “Will I.. ever see you again?” Mike was reaching now, so fucking high into the mountain. “I have your number and you have mine, I’ll call you. Goodnight Mike.” 

Maybe Mike imagined it, but he hears a slightly softer tone when Lance said goodnight. When he got home, he fell asleep sober not wanting to forget what happened.

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