#jackass drabble

[jackassbrainrot]

fill you up [knoxville x f!reader]

a/n: day 4 - breeding! I feel like knoxville would be really into breeding for some reason lolz this one is insanely short, sorry about that

warnings: p in v, pwp, dirty talk, light daddy kink

word count: 251

"Oh, sweetheart, you'll look so good knocked up." That wasn't really what you'd expected to hear coming out of your boyfriend's mouth as he pounded into you, but what you would've expected even less was the moan that slipped from your lips at his words. "Yeah, you like that idea, huh? Want me to get you pregnant?" You just nodded, the thought of it making your head spin.

Johnny pushed your legs up, holding them next to your head as he thrust into you, the bed shaking and hitting the wall with the force of his movements. It was almost animalistic, the way he was fucking you, it was nothing like any of the previous times you two had sex. The pregnancy talk had obviously gotten him going so you decided to rile him up a little more.

"Are you gonna fill me up? Gonna breed me, daddy?" That was all it took. That little word made Johnny growl like a hungry animal, his pace picking up, pulling desperate noises out of your mouth with every thrust. "Gonna cum so deep in you. Keep you plugged up until I'm sure you're pregnant. Make you carry my kids."

He was rambling, his movement sloppy yet determined. It didn't take either of you long before you reached your peak, spilling his cum inside you as promised. He pulled out slowly, pushing any spilt cum back into you with his finger, causing you to whine out, overstimulated. "Can't let it go to waste, darlin'."

[asskickedbygirl]

i can just imagine you and dico as like the one couple that are so close with each other they’ve just morphed into the same person. like you guys do everything together, eat off the same plate, sit entwined with each other when you’re watching movies, showering together (not strictly in a sexual way) and even holding his dick while he pees or just sitting on the counter while he does so, rarely ever apart. you’re so comfortable with your relationship it starts to kind of annoy the others, banging on walls when the two of you are fucking in castle bam, exclaims of “that’s disgusting!” when you’re picking at his face and just a show of rolling eyes and exaggerated gags when you just start making out at random moments. sometimes you’d hear people you didn’t know too well asking dico why he’s always around you and why he’s so set on being with you, that he’s young and pretty famous and should fuck as many girls as he can but he’d shut that shit down immediately. he’d say there’s no one else in the world he’d rather be with and for the speaker to politely fuck off. you were even worse drunk, sappy and all over each other. dico even secretly tried to propose to you one night, whispering that he wants to be with you forever but you told him to ask you sober, even without a ring it’s pretty set in stone that you’re gonna be his wife one day. after all you two are basically the same person, in sickness and in health.

[tiannasfanfic]

Jackass

Eddie Munson x Reader (Fluff)

| Eddie & Steddie Masterlist | AO3 Link |

Summary: When the cast of a popular reality tv stunt show is hired to perform in Corroded Coffin’s new video, Eddie Munson finds himself an unwilling participant, as well as a new love interest.

Rating: General Audiences

Author Note: Gender neutral Reader, they/them pronouns, no Y/N. Strangers to lovers, Rockstar!Eddie x Jackass!Reader, early 2000’s setting. I’d like to give a huge shoutout to the Eddie’s Sluts Discord Server, particularly @strangerxperv and @kleenexwoman for their encouragement to turn this very stupid idea of mine into a fic. 🖤💜

CW: Slight Fuckboy!Eddie x Fuckgirl!Reader in the beginning; allusions of hooking up; surprise tazing; mention of a ankle injury (no details).

Word Count: 1,539

WARNING! The following show features stunts performed either by professionals or under the supervision of professionals. Accordingly, MTV and the producers must insist that no one attempt to recreate or re-enact any stunt or activity performed on this show.

One of the songs on Corroded Coffin’s latest album is a fun, upbeat rock song about doing stupid shit when you’re young. All four members contributed stories for it, as well as some of their friends, but while it was extremely fun to write, everyone just assumed it would fly under the radar.

We all know what they say about assuming.

The song quickly blew up upon the album’s release with audiences finding it funny and extremely relatable. The label quickly began promoting it as a single and a music video was ordered to be made.

While the guys had the initial idea of the video, which was to show each one of them taking turns doing the stupid stuff Eddie was singing about, the director took it a step further. The crew of MTV’s hit show Jackass are brought in both to ramp the situations up to ridiculous levels and execute them while Corroded Coffin performs in the background just slightly out of harm’s way.

Gareth, Jeff, and Grant are all hyped since they are big fans of the show, but it isn’t all that exciting for Eddie. He’s never seen it. The whole concept has always sounded stupid as hell to him, which is only reinforced every time someone makes him watch clips from it.

Even though you had consulted on a few technical aspects for the stunt choreography, you hadn’t been needed for the video initially. A frantic phone call from one of your producers changed that thought when they realized you had some of the safety gear they needed. Since this was vital equipment, the shoot had to be put on hold, so you quickly loaded it all up and high tailed it down there. You decided to stick around to help since they were a couple hours behind by the time you arrived.

Since you weren’t at the morning meeting when all the Jackass crew members were formally introduced to everyone on set, Eddie doesn’t recognize you and assumes you are just one of the few extras that recently arrived on set. But, regardless of who you are, he thinks you’re hot, and since performing always makes him horny, he decides you should be given the opportunity to help him relieve it.

But while Eddie doesn’t recognize you, you instantly recognize him as soon as he approaches you. You can hardly believe it when he immediately starts flirting with you. Though, calling it flirting is putting it mildly. Even though he’s being incredibly smooth about it, it’s obvious he has only one thing on his mind right now. You are perfectly okay with this, however. You weren’t about to turn down the opportunity to get railed by the lead singer of a band you really like, and so you return his advances. Once lunch is called, it doesn’t take long before the inevitable invitation slides from Eddie’s lips when you ask what his plans were.

“I usually go back to my trailer to eat,” he says, licking his lips at that last word as he lets his gaze slowly wander down your body again. “Care to keep me company?”

His voice dripped with honey, his tone making the warmth between your legs grow. You smiled, opened your mouth to accept his offer…

And then your friends struck.

It all happened extremely fast, and with all of Eddie’s attention on you, all he knew was, one minute, you were looking at him with the sort of bedroom eyes that had the blood flowing to his cock already, and then then next, your body lurched forward into his arms as you let out a bloodcurdling scream.

You immediately jumped away from the now stunned Eddie and whirled around. That’s when he saw a man running away from you both while laughing his ass off.

“Ryan, you motherfucker!” you roared before taking off after the man. “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you!”

Confused, Eddie watched you running away until some wild, boisterous cheering caught his attention. He looked over to see a small group watching the whole fiasco that consisted of the other members of Corroded Coffin and a few of the guys from Jackass. They had a video camera out and were all roaring with laughter as they recorded you chasing the guy named Ryan around the video set.

“Sorry Eddie!” called Gareth through his laughter.

This drew everyone else’s attention to Eddie. The camera pivoted towards him as one of the guys, a man named Johnny, jogged over to him with a good natured, but cocky grin on his face.

“Yeah, sorry about cockblocking you back there, Eddie,” Johnny said, his voice sounding anything but sorry. “But, man, we owe you a big one for that, we’ve been trying to get them with the Taser Cam for MONTHS.”

The Taser Cam, as it turns out, was your idea initially and you oversaw the planning and execution. It was one of the most popular skits on the show and that’s because you were a sneaky little shit with it. Even though they all knew you could be packing a taser at any given moment, they all had a bad habit of letting their guard down around you.

Even though they’d been gunning for revenge for a while, all attempts to tase you in return had failed miserably. This wasn’t entirely a problem since you all had a healthy level of paranoia and distrust for each other by now, it was just highly annoying for them all. You always managed to work out when they were trying to set you up, even if it was at the last second.

So, when Gareth made an offhand comment to Jeff about Eddie trying to get his dick wet at work again, and drew Johnny’s attention, he saw how engrossed you were in the man, he couldn’t resist. This really was the perfect opportunity, your attention had been entirely on Eddie, and Johnny recognized this as their big chance.

Eddie was so dumbfounded by the whole thing, he wasn’t sure if he should be pissed or impressed.

In the end, he does get you stretched out on the couch of his trailer just like he wanted, only not in the way he expected. It was the closest place to lay you down at so the onsite EMTS could look at you. While you were perfectly fine from the tasing, you had tripped while running after Ryan and now you couldn’t put any weight on one of your feet.

“It doesn’t look like a break,” said one of the paramedics as she finished looking you over. “Probably just a bad sprain, but you should have some x-rays taken to be sure. Need us to take you?”

“Nah,” you said, shaking your head. “Tremaine will strangle me if I take an ambulance for a non-emergency again.”

Eddie blinked a few times in surprise while Johnny and Ryan laughed.

“Yeah, he’s already gonna explode when he hears about this,” Johnny said, taking off his sunglasses to wipe tears from his eyes. “You just got released yesterday.”

“Right?” you sighed as the paramedics let themselves out. “Wonder how much longer this is going to put me down for.”

The whole situation was so ridiculous that it had rendered Eddie speechless, thus he had been uncharacteristically quiet since your tasing. But the current conversation piqued his curiosity.

“Released?” he asked looking over at you.

“Yeah, by my doctor,” you said, nodding. “I’ve been off work for, what?” You looked over at Johnny. “Two months now?”

“Almost, yeah,” he said, nodding, then burst out laughing. “Man, Ehren’s gonna be pissed. This means you and Bam can’t do the boarding segment next week.”

You looked over at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Why would Ehren be pissed?” you asked, confused. “He’s not in that one.”

“No, he’s not,” said Johnny, and then a grin spread across his face that gave Eddie goosebumps. “But I think you being off with another injury is a good reason for all of us to be a little more safety conscious, wouldn’t you all agree?”

You and Ryan burst out laughing.

“Safety First!” the two of you then cried out in unison and Johnny clapped.

As badly as Eddie hated to admit it, you now fascinated him. Granted, he thought you were batshit insane at this point, but that only piqued his interest more. He ended up being thankful for the interruption.

With as thankful as he was for that, it didn’t compare to how thankful he was later when he found out exactly how close he came to getting tazed instead of you. Since they had to be so sneaky and quick about the whole thing, Ryan almost missed. One inch to the left and it would’ve been Eddie who received the jolt of electricity.

A few weeks later when Uncle Wayne found out who his nephew was dating now, he started going back to church.

Unlike Eddie, he actually does watch the show.

[philipjohnclapp]

Great! Anyway I can request a Bam Margera x Female!Reader smutty imagine? Maybe Bam ends up meeting Johnny’s younger sister and they end up in a relationship at some point. While in said relationship maybe another cast member ends up flirting with her at a party to piss of Bam on purpose and it ends up leading to some protective Bam and jealous sex?

Sex Pollution

Jackass Imagine

A/N: To those who said I can’t write, get a load of this! Haha!

Imagine you’re Johnny Knoxville's sister, probably younger sister. You’re southern, with a real heavy drawl, and look almost identical to him. Maybe not, but you can definitely see resemblances. You grew up close, surely not a girly girl, you get your hands dirty with no questions asked. You’ve spent the start of your brother's career watching, like a bird. Never really met any of the guys, you didn’t really care. Steve-O was too wild, and you weren’t a fan of heavy drugs, Pontius was too flirty, and oddly, Preston and Wee-Man had their own duo, Dunn? Well, he seemed nice, but he didn’t have the best hygiene, and that was enough on its own to be a deal breaker. Who else were you missing?? Never mind…

You never really were looking for a relationship, really, or even a casual friendship. But things happen all the time; and when Jackass came to town, and your mother let these guys stay a few nights, your plans flipped upside down. You were left confused, flustered, and you felt like a teenage girl all over again. With some kid crush on a guy with such a cute face. Handsome like a guy should be, but he was pretty. Not pretty enough you’d mistake him for a girl, though. Just pretty enough for you to gawk at, to sneak around with when all the guys and your family are asleep. Getting drinks, and sneaking pecks on the lips. Before you knew it you were in your own secret relationship with a guy by the name; Bam Margera. It rolled off the tip of your tongue; and you liked it that way.

And then you moved on to Hollywood, the land of the stars. It was quick, sudden really. It wasn’t permanent, no, you were staying with your brother by day, and sneaking off into hotels by night. Because this whole Bam thing was getting serious. And then you found out party’s exist, and that opened a world of fun. Especially when you found out one of the guys was throwing a rager; and it may or may not be that oh so annoying guy you met months prior. Fucking Steve-O, but you couldn’t care less as you went hand and hand with your boyfriend. Having the time of your life.

Until you weren’t, well, you still were, with a few drinks down the hatch. The only one who was growing increasingly more disturbed, upset, was Bam. Some random guy, probably as high as anyone else was chatting you up a storm, and starting to get real handsy. He wasn’t completely random as you knew that face from the set, but with the alcohol in your system you just couldn’t tell who it was. You were polite, didn’t really wanna make a scene, so you used the excuse you needed to get another drink, smiled with your southern charm in full spring, and headed straight to the kitchen.

The minute you stepped away from the cast member and Bam was taking your place, you could see from the corner of your eye. He was threatening the guy. And it was almost funny to you. Almost. Because the moment you were in the kitchen, Bam was coming up behind you. Wrapping his arms around you and mumbling into your ear, his voice sounded so harsh for a whisper. Almost as rough as sandpaper,

“Fuck were you doing with that scum?”

He growled, like a feral dog. His embrace tightened as he pressed himself up against you. In the kitchen. You were stunned, letting out a breath of air that you felt like you hung onto almost too long as you stayed still, your brain short circuiting as you tried to come up with an answer. You swore you had one, but it popped like a bubble. Your head was as empty as the sky tonight. And Bam didn’t seem to care as he started talking again. His rough nails clawing your sides as he ran his hands up and down them like a cat scratching his owner's couch.

“It doesn’t matter, you know you’re all mine.”

You did. Well, if you didn’t before you certainly know now. His boner pressing against your asscrack was certainly showing it. And fuck, did you like being his. And Bam was gonna make sure you knew it.

He shoved you against the floating island, brushing all the cans, and needles, and lord knows what else off the counter as you bent over for him. Bam ripped your pants down so fast you could’ve sworn he ruined your jeans. Fuck. You couldn’t even be bothered to care as you arched your back for him. He ripped his own pants off with record speed, and would have broken the world record for that one as he slipped his boxers down completely.

Bam was as hard as a gun, and you couldn’t even be bothered with all the party goers so close. The chances of someone walking in and or seeing this was close to a hundred, fuck it probably was going to happen. You didn’t care, luckily Johnny wasn’t here. He’d skin Bam like a pig.

It seemed that Bam didn’t care either, he didn’t have any decency either as he just shoved himself inside of you, and you moaned instantly. Your walls clenching onto him as you squealed with pleasure. Jerking your hips forward instinctively as he started immediately with rough, quick thrusts. You could’ve gotten whiplash he was being so rough, all you could think was fuck as he dug his nails into your side, his other hand gripping hard into your hair, pulling your head back as he warned you,

“You’re mine…fuck…baby, you’re all mine.”

He grunted, letting out his own quiet moan as he quickened his pace. His thrusts getting all messy and desperate, the smell of sex polluting the kitchen and probably spoiling the alcohol as you both neared your climax. His grip on your hair tightened so much you thought he’d rip your hair out, and then he pushed himself deep inside of you, and you saw white as he came inside of you, and you came onto him, moaning as the pleasure swallowed you like a tornado. Fuck, you’ve never been so glad to be his.

[welcometojackass2022]

Drool (Sub!Brandon Novak x Reader Smut Drabble) [Dumbification]

@chasingwinehouse consider this an appetizer <3

Warnings: Female reader, sub Novak, dumbification, dirty talk and degradation, slight pain play (cock related), finger sucking and oral fixation plus drooling

@asskickedbygirl tagging you in everything as usual

Novak’s sitting on his knees in front of you with his hands behind his back to keep from touching his pathetically hard cock as it lays against his thigh, red and sore and dripping with precum as he stares up at you with those big, dumb, whorish eyes of his. He’s been completely stripped naked; stupid little sluts like Novak don’t need clothing, because it’ll just end up being ripped off of them anyway. He looks so pathetic, so desperate, so dependent on you that you can hardly believe he’s the same man who always claimed to be such a sex god, a ladies man, a promiscuous womanizer who doesn’t catch feelings and doesn’t play hard to get because he can get any girl he wants. And yet, here he is now. Down on his knees for you, totally dumb and slutty for you, utterly obedient only to you as he waits for you give him orders.

“Aw, baby, your poor little cock must be so sore right now, look how hard and red it is for me.” He looks up at you with that same stupidly wide-eyed look, like he’s hoping you’ll have mercy on him and touch his aching cock, and he eagerly nods. “It hurts so much, mistress, please touch my cock.” You smile, stepping a little closer to him and tangling your fingers in his hair to yank his head back, his eyes widening as he stares up at you with a mix of need and fear, his lips slightly agape like he’s begging you to stick something in his dumb, greedy little mouth for him to suck on. “Touch your cock? Oh, you poor, stupid, needy little slutty. What a dumb thing to say. You know good and well that you haven’t done anything to deserve my touch.” The softest of whines leaves his mouth, and it makes your pussy throb.

God, he sounds so fucking pathetic. His tiny little cock twitches against his thigh, a steady stream of precum leaking from his tip as he stares up at you with a slightly dazed expression. “I’m sorry, ma’am.” You smile again, softening your grip on his hair and petting his head affectionately. “It’s okay, sweetie, I know it must be so hard to think properly with that tiny little brain of yours, your head must be so foggy right now. Maybe you just need something to suck on, that’ll help you focus. You wanna suck on my fingers, slut?” He nods eagerly, and you quickly shove your fingers into his waiting mouth, not even bothering to prepare him. Dumb little sluts don’t need preparation. They just take whatever you give them whenever you tell them to. He closes his eyes in pure bliss as he sucks your fingers, coating them in saliva and moaning softly on the digits with pleasure.

You shake your head in slight disbelief. “God, what a dumb little slut. Not a single thought in that head of yours, is there? You just do whatever I tell you to without question. Look at you, moaning on my fingers like a little whore. I bet you don’t even have a brain, do you? That pathetic little cock tells you what to do.” You move down to your knees so you’re at his level, fingers still in his mouth as he looks at you with those desperate, whorish, empty eyes. His only thoughts are on sucking your fingers and getting his little cock off. Speaking of his little cock, the poor little thing looks like it’s gonna pop, and you can tell he’s just barely bucking his hips in a desperate attempt to get some friction. You take it into your hand, and almost immediately he whines on your fingers, drool spilling from his lips mindlessly as the little cock throbs in your hand. You laugh. “Sweet little baby. You really want me to touch you, don’t you? How’s this for touch?” You hold it firmly by the base with one hand and smack it with the other, a slightly pained yelp leaving his mouth as he accidentally lets your fingers slip from his lips.

“Bad boy, I didn’t tell you to stop. Such a dumb little whore, you get the tiniest bit of touch and you can’t even remember to do what I tell you to.” You stick your fingers back in his mouth, admiring how his face looks with drool smeared all over his lips and chin, his cheeks red with a mix of shame and mindlessness. His cock is rapidly twitching now, so unbearably close, so agonizingly hard, and you feel a pang of pity for him. He’s just your slutty, brainless little servant, completely at your mercy. Can’t even think for himself. “You want to cum, baby? You wanna blow your little load all over yourself like the stupid little whore you are?” He nods desperately, jerking his hips and whining on your fingers, and you yank them from his mouth. “Beg for it then.” Novak stares up at you with that same pathetically stupid gaze, like he’s forgotten how to speak, and he frantically tries to search for the right words. “Please, mistress…let me blow my…blow my pathetic little load. I need it…need it so fucking bad…I’m just your stupid little slut, mistress, I only want to do…what you tell me to.” You smile mercifully. “Good. Cum.”

You slap his cock again, slightly harder than before, and he cums instantly, blowing his load all over his own chest and tummy and inner thighs as drool leaks from his mouth and his eyes nearly roll back in his head, a loud, desperate, stupidly wanton moan leaving his mouth as he reaches one of his hands out to hold yours. Poor baby can’t live without your touch. You affectionately take his hand in yours, holding it supportively as you watch him shoot hot ropes of cum all over himself uncontrollably, and then finally it’s over and he collapses onto his back exhaustedly, eyes half-lidded and breathing heavy and face red and pathetic little cock sore and empty against his leg from being milked dry. You lean over him, rubbing his face soothingly and leaning down to kiss his drool-covered lips. “My baby.” Novak smiles up at you dumbly. He likes the name. You move to clean him up, but he stops you and shakes his head. “Leave it for a little bit, please.” He just wants to lay there for a moment, covered in his own cum, totally at your mercy. Your dumb little whore.

[justkending]

It's just a papercut... (Drabble)

Summary: Mission one-on-one with Bucky? It's been done before. So why is this one different? Why is he acting weird and not letting me storm off in a rage at his cold shoulder? Also, was the one bed necessary?

Pairing: Grumpy Bucky x Avenger Reader (Enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 7000+ (It's a long one...)

A/N: I've been spending a lot of my time on Character ChatGPT AI, and a secret agent conversation made me say, " Yeah, I need to put this into a Bucky fanfic." So here we are🥰 Did it turn a lot more emotional than I planned? Yes. Do I regret it? No. Enjoy, my loves!!

_____

“Jesus! The goal is to survive the mission, and from the likes of it, bullets aren’t even going to be the thing that finishes the job!” I shout over the whipping wind as Bucky maneuvers through cars in the foreign country while outrunning the guards we just escaped from on a motorcycle he stole in front of a shop.

“Shut it!” he shouts back, taking another sharp turn that has me clutching on as if one wrong blow of the wind will have me ending this chase with a case of road rash on my entire body. “I’m losing them.” 

“And likely me with them,” I grumble, and he shoots me a quick look in the rearview mirror, showing that he heard my remark and didn’t care for it. 

I look behind us and see one of the jackasses we were running from has joined us in motorcycle theft, and I curse under my breath as I come up with a plan.

“Goon, five o’clock!” I announce as I dig into my boot for a small handgun I keep hidden. 

Bucky looks around and clocks him. His teeth grit together as he kicks the speed up, weaves through a few cars, and turns down a new street, but the man following seems to be just as skilled in bike chases. 

“Still on you!” I shout and let out an annoyed groan, realizing that at some point in our mission, I’d lost my backup weapon. 

“I see that!” Bucky groans, and as we pass a fruit stand on the street, he knocks it over with his metal hand, causing a traffic stop and the motorcyclist to have to drive over apples and pears, making him to lose his balance some. 

However, it wasn’t effective enough. “I got it,” I sigh as Bucky takes another sharp turn, and I clutch onto him. “Do me a favor and try and stay straight for 5 seconds!” I complain, and he complies, although begrudgingly. 

I point my fist towards the bike, and as the man makes mean eyes at me, I wiggle my fingers at him with a grin before shooting a taser shock out of the widow bite Nat gifted me. 

They shoot across and cause his entire bike to seize at the overload of electricity. He flies off the bike as it stutters and gives Bucky and me a clean escape down an alley. 

A few alleys later and a quiet spot away from the chaos that had just ensued, Bucky and I hop off the bike and hide it behind a dumpster. I catch my breath as I throw my backpack over my shoulder and watch as he covers the bike more with the lid of the trash before grabbing his own pack. 

“We need to lay low for the night,” I note, adjusting my backpack and looking into the dead-end alley. 

He sighed, taking in the area, and I could see the pistons firing in his head. “There’s a hotel not far from here that’ll work. Not shitty, but also not anything fancy.” He immediately starts stalking away, not waiting for me to follow. 

I huff in annoyance as he leaves me, and I fasten my backpack, buckling it across my chest before jogging to catch up with his long strides. 

We don’t say much as we get to the hotel. Both of our minds coming down from the adrenaline and running through the last pieces of the mission.

While in the lobby of the hotel, I get a call and move to take it, seeing it’s Steve checking in, and I leave Bucky to handle the check-in process. 

“Got it. We’ll head to the airport in the morning,” I nod and turn around to see Bucky confirming something with the clerk, and I turn back to the phone. 

When he finishes checking in (fake IDs with real payment thanks to Stark’s ways), he turns and waves his hand toward the elevator in a quick action. 

“Yeah. We’re fine,” I note, feeling a stitch in my side but not wanting to check just how bad the damage is until I’m behind a closed door. “He’s being a dick as per usual,” I chuckle lightly as I start my walk to the elevators. “No, Steve. I don’t need you to call him and reprimand him. You know-... Seriously, Steve. Leave it… I said it as a joke more than anything-” He cuts me off again, ready to always put Bucky in his place with the cold shoulder he seems to love to give to only me. 

When I make it to the elevator, where Bucky is holding the door impatiently for me, I quickly say, “Losing you! Getting in an elevator so I can’t-” There’s a protest on the other end. “What was that? It’s cutting out.” I say in stuttered beats to play it off before hanging up. “Steve says hi,” I say to Bucky as I lock my phone and shove it in my back pocket. 

“Sure,” he says back, and I’m not sure if it’s unconvinced or unbothered… or both. Either way, his face is still stoic.

“You really need to lighten up,” I sigh in a deep breath, annoyed that he never relents his tough guy act around me. 

“Don’t feel like.” 

“Do you ever?” 

The elevator is silent. The only sound is the mechanics of the metal box moving up. It eventually dings, and as I go to step forward, I grimace slightly so as I step wrong, causing pain to go up my side, but I quickly brush it off. 

“What was that?” Bucky says behind me as he steps off the elevator last. 

“What was what?” I ask, looking carefully at the room numbers and acting ignorant. 

“That look. You flinched.” 

“Yeah, no,” I shake my head. “Your eyesight must be getting worse with age.” 

“My eyesight is fine,” he grumbles, pulling my arm back as I pass the room, realizing he never told me the number. “We’re here,” he turns to the door and presses the key card to it. The color changes from red to green, giving us access. 

“I call the shower first,” I shout, shoving him out of the way and unbuckling my backpack as I rush into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me and locking it.

All I hear is an exasperated sigh on the other side and a shuffle of footsteps as he shuts the door, locks up, and moves into the room. 

I let out a sigh of exhaustion and relief to be done for the day and turned the water on to warm up. If there is one thing I’ve learned about going on missions with Bucky, it’s that the man’s superhearing is just an excuse for him to be nosy. He listens to almost EVERYTHING. 

So, with the water running and him hopefully distracted by the hotel views, I undress and focus on the shower. As soon as I took my shirt off, I was shown exactly what I worried was the problem. 

Down my side is a semi-jagged cut going up my rib cage. Close to four inches long, if not less, but angry and red. I hiss and quickly bite my lip so as not to make another sound. It’s not bleeding anymore, which tells me it’s not deep, so with the proper cleaning and care, it’ll be fine in a few days. I use my time in the shower to clean it and wash the rest of the day away with it. 

When I come out, I rummage through my bag for a first aid kit. I usually pack a travel-size one given the job, but I can’t find it in my pack. I change into a pair of clean shorts and a tank top I packed (light and takes up minimal space) before checking in the mirror to make sure my cut wasn’t prominent through the light-colored tank. When I feel comfortable enough that Bucky won’t ask questions, I straighten and fight the soreness that’s taking over my body now that I’m not going 100mph. 

I walk out, and when I see that Bucky is lying back, arms over his eyes on a king-size bed, I immediately take in the fact that it’s the only bed in the room.

“Um,” I start, hands out as I assess the space. “What’s this?” I ask. 

“A bed,” Bucky answers simply and sits up tiredly as he looks at me, leaning back on his forearms. “You ran straight into the bathroom before I could tell you, or you saw for yourself.” 

I cross my arms and flinch again when I graze my cut, but I roll my shoulders as if the full-body soreness was the only issue. 

“Well, did we not have another option or-” 

“What was that?” he cuts me off. 

“What was what?” I look right at him and furrow my eyebrows. 

“You made that face again.” 

I roll my eyes. “I’m sore,” I shrug, scoffing and even I know I’m a horrible actress right now, so I don’t make eye contact. 

“That’s not a sore grimace. That’s something else,” he sits up straight now and tilts his head down, assessing me. 

“Stop that.” My arms tightening around me under his gaze only makes a smirk appear. “Stop. It’s weird.” 

“No, what’s weird is why you’re being so weird,” he remarks with a face. 

“Good one,” I sass, turning and going to his backpack now. 

“Hey, what are you doing?” He stands quickly from the bed and looks at me over my shoulder as I unzip his bag. 

“I think I put something of mine in here. I can’t find it in my bag,” I note, dunking my hand into his things. He steps up, pulling my shoulders to get away. 

“Stop going through my stuff. You’re worse than Sam,” he notes, tugging me away, although gentler than how he is typically. 

“I just need-” I feel the small plastic box I’m looking for and tug it out, quickly holding it behind my back. “Nevermind. I found it.” 

“What are you talking about-” 

“Nothing! Just give me one minute. I need to brush my teeth,” I jab a thumb behind my shoulder as I walk backward to the bathroom, his steps matching mine. “I’ll be out in five minutes,” I note quickly as I turn on my heel and run back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me and locking it again. 

Instead of seeing the door handle budge like I expected, he bangs a fist on the wooden barrier. 

“Y/N, open the damn door! What the hell did you take out of my bag?”

“My toothbrush!” I lie. “I must have gotten our bags mixed up when I packed them. 

“How could you do that? Yours is brown, and mine’s black,” he notes. 

“A very dark brown,” I note, lifting my tank top and sitting on the bathroom counter to get a better look in the mirror of my cut. “Just give me a second-” 

“You’re being weirder than normal,” he groans in frustration on the other side. 

“Yeah, well, get used to it,” I hiss as I put the sanitizer spray on it and bite my knuckle to suppress the pained groan I want to let out. “Jesus,” I mumble under my breath, but the next thing I know, the door is swinging open, and Bucky’s staring at its handle in confusion before back at me. “Hey!” I look at the door and back at him. “They’re going to charge us for that.” 

His eyes immediately go from annoyed and over it to concerned and confused. 

“What the hell is that?” He points at my stomach, where I’m frozen on top of the counter, shirt lifted, showing my entire torso and cut on full display. 

“A paper cut,” I say after a moment of trying to come up with an excuse. Why a paper, out of all things, left my brain, I don’t know. But it did, and here we are. 

His concerned face drops some, and he deadpans from my injury to me before marching to me and turning me at my shoulders to face him and get a better view. 

“When did this happen?”

“Wild guess, but likely when the guards we fought to get out pulled a knife on me and played dirty,” I sigh, realizing I wasn’t talking myself out of this one anytime soon. “But that could be a stretch,” I add.

He again looks up at me from my injury with an incredulous and agitated look. 

“Let me see,” he sighs, bending down to get a better look and looking at the injury from a head-on angle. 

“It’s just a scratch, Barnes. I’ll be good as new after a little disinfectant and ointment. Nothing a bandaid can’t fix,” I brush off, turning on the counter to grab the kit. 

He stops me in my turn by placing a hand on my knee and turning me back around to where my legs hang off the counter. I’m sitting with him in between my legs. 

“They used a serrated knife,” he notes, taking the first aid kit out of my hand and opening it, instantly getting to work as if I wasn’t doing it myself two seconds ago. 

“Um, excuse me, but I can-” 

“I know the things you can do, Y/N. You don’t have to tell me,” he says sternly, grabbing gauze and another bottle of something I didn’t know the contents of and tipping it onto the gauze before bending down again. This time, his eyes found mine as he looked up at me from his now crouched position. “This is going to sting. That sanitizer you were using before is shit. This one actually does the job,” he notes, and I’m a little stunned by the turn of events. “Ready?” 

Never in my life did I think Bucky Barnes would be this gentle and considerate with me, but I’m not going to stop a good thing from happening. 

“I don’t think it can hurt more than the knife itself,” I smirk and nod when he gives me a look. “Yeah, yeah. Do your thing, Doc.” I gesture to him, looking up at the ceiling as I prepare for the sting. 

I don’t feel it instantly, and just as I’m about to ask him what he’s doing, the cool liquid hits my cut, and I hiss, grabbing his wrist in a tight hold out of instinct as I hold him back. “Jesus H. Christ,” I grit through my teeth. “What the hell kind of acid did you just put in-?” 

“It’s Banner-strength disinfectant,” he cuts me off, gently dabbing the cut even as I hold his wrist. His touch is soft, but the sting is anything but. “You grabbed my first aid kit. I had him make it since you tend to get hurt easily, and we’re not in the cleanest country.” He’s fully concentrated on my cut. 

“What?” I asked, surprised, grabbing the kit's container and seeing that it indeed was not mine. I brush over the fact he had Bruce make it and packed it specifically for me as I look over at my bag, still slumped against the wall from my rush to take a shower, and realize I must have accidentally unpacked my own. 

“Relax. Tensing doesn’t help,” he adds, bringing his free hand to my thigh and giving a light squeeze to distract me. I hiss again as he pads over an agitated area. His face drops some, and he gives me a look. “Y/N, why didn’t you tell me about this as soon as you knew? This was not far from being infected in a way that could have been a lot worse than just an irritating sting.” 

“When was I supposed to tell you?” I sass, throwing my head back on the mirror as I focus on anything but the pain in my side. “As soon as we got off the bike, we headed here. You didn’t say a word to me, and I was in my own head. Honestly, I didn’t even realize it was there until we were checking in and I was on the phone with Steve. Adrenaline must have kept me from realizing it.” 

He mumbles something under his breath, and I hear the word, reckless in the middle of it. 

“Watch yourself,” I warn, kicking my leg a touch, skimming his rib cage. “There can easily be two injured people in this room.” 

“No need for both of us to get stupid injuries,” he grumbles. 

I scoff and shove his hand away from me, jumping off the counter as he stands and glares at me. 

“Sorry for getting stabbed,” I sneer up at him, stepping into his space. “I’ll make sure to ask the bad guys next time to keep the knives at home. Oh! Or better yet,” I exaggerate. “I’ll tell them my partner said I’m not allowed to get into fights with men triple my size, so if they can just play gentle so I don’t end up with any battle scars, that would be greatly appreciated.” I smile wide and fake before dropping it and brushing by him to the bedroom. 

I catch the tail end of his eyes rolling before I hear him stomping behind me. 

“I need to finish patching you up. If it’s not done properly, you can get sick.” He comes up behind me, but I stop abruptly, and he runs into my back before holding my shoulders to steady himself. I turn to him, not breaking the space. 

“I know how injuries work, Barnes. This isn’t my first time in the field, although I’m sure you believe otherwise,” I scoff in anger. “Just,” I put my hands up, stepping away in frustration and groaning. “I’m going to get some air,” I try and push past him to leave, but his hand wraps around my arm and holds me shoulder to shoulder by his side before I can get my feet past him. 

“No. You’re going to let me finish patching you up. Now…” he stares at me with his Sergeant's eyes. “Sit. Down.” I struggle to fight my stubborn retort, but he sees it brewing and raises an eyebrow in challenge. 

I groan in protest loudly and pull my arm out of my grip before moving to the edge of the bed and sulkingly wait for him to finish his job- that I didn’t ask him to do, by the way!

“Good girl,” he mutters with a smartass smirk, and I take a breath in to yell something at him, but he goes back to the bathroom to grab the kit we left behind. 

“Cyborg headed-ass, caveman, son of a bit-” I mumble, and he comes back in, shooting me a look that says, ‘really?’. “Oh, sorry, did you hear that?” I say with fake regret. 

He rolls his eyes and crouches again by my knees to get a better angle at the cut, and I lean back, my hands flat against the comforter as he works quietly, and I stare up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the warmth of his hands on my stomach when he’s been nothing but cold to me. 

As he’s patting the tape over the piece of gauze he fashioned over my cut, I look at him calculatingly. He notices my gaze on him and awkwardly starts putting his things up, sneaking glances at my stare here and there. 

“What?” he finally asks. “Stop staring at me.” 

Instead of an answer, I just stare harder and raise an eyebrow, tilting my head to the side as I analyze him deeper. 

“Cut it out,” he growls, standing and moving to put the kit on the counter. “You’re creeping me out.” 

I let out a single laugh and shook my head before lowering my tank top and looking out the window. “You’re so fucking confusing,” I state, standing as I straighten my clothes. 

“I’m confusing?” he asked rhetorically. “You’re fucking confusing.” 

“Come up with your own lines,” I throw an exasperated hand out, waving him off. “I’m getting air.” 

I don’t know what provokes him, but he steps in front of me, his towering figure shadowing over me. 

“No,” he says, looking at me sternly. 

“I don’t remember asking,” I sidestep him and move to the door. I manage to open it maybe a foot before it’s slammed in my face, and I feel Bucky’s chest pressed to my back. I look up, and his hand is splayed flat on the door. 

“I said no,” he says lowly. His voice is just over my shoulder, and I hold back the shiver that threatens to take over my body. 

“And I said, fuck off,” I say just as lowly, looking up at him, tilting my head back. “Move.” 

“We need to talk.” 

“And I need to put a good three blocks of this city between us so I don’t add another person to the stabbed today club. I’d rather stay on Steve’s good side.” I jut my arm back to elbow him in the ribs, but he dodges it with a smirk. 

“Real mature,” he sasses, and I can see a touch of playfulness in his features, and that makes me even more furious. 

“You’re one to fucking talk!” I turn and shove him in the chest, and he relents, putting his hands up in the air as I shove repeatedly in vexation. Each shove and each curse I send his way has him taking one slight step back with a grin. “Stop smiling!” I grunt as I push him harder, and he laughs. He fucking laughs!

My eye twitches, and my hits become more forceful. Nothing close to what I’m capable of, but I’m not looking for a full-on brawl. I just want to smack him enough to wipe that stupid smirk off his face. 

“Y/N,” he says calmly in between hits to his rock-solid chest. A chest, I’m sure, will give me bruises if I keep this up. 

“No! You don’t get to talk!” I point at him after shoving him one more time and successfully making him falter a few steps back at the power behind it. “I’m walking out of this room to get some air, and you’re going to stay right fucking there. Right there!” I point to the floor under his feet. “And not keep me from leaving this God damn suffocating room. Got it?” 

I know my eyes are wild, and I know the emotions I’m feeling are written clear as day on my face because his sly smirk falters, and he takes a deep breath in, hands still up in surrender. 

“I’m sorry,” he mutters out as his gaze falls to his feet. 

“What?” I ask, shocked and slightly out of breath from exerting myself. 

“I’m sorry,” he says a touch more clearly as he clears his throat and looks up, hands coming down and eyes avoiding mine. 

I blink a few times and throw my hands up. “I can’t do this.” I let out a breath and turned back to the door. 

“Y/N, please don’t,” he says, and I stop. I surprise myself, but I stop, turning back to him slowly. 

“Why?” There’s a long pause that follows my question, and I wonder whether Bucky even knows why he’s asking this. “Genuinely Bucky... Why are you so insistent on me staying in this room right now?

He runs a nervous hand over his beard and shifts his weight to one foot as he throws one hand up in a single wave. 

“I don’t need you getting hurt again,” he states, still avoiding eye contact. 

My eyebrows narrow in confusion, and I cross my arms, popping my hip to the side as I stare at him. “We’re in a hotel. Not a battlefield.” 

“It’s better we stay in here than wander around. The guys who were after us are likely still hunting us, and it’s best we don’t show our faces in public spaces,” he notes. 

Ok, that’s a logical reason, but something tells me this is a more emotional reason on his end. He’s not sharing everything, though…

“Ok…” I drag out and look at the balcony. “Then I’ll go out there.” 

I walk promptly to the balcony, surprisingly not being stopped by him as I brush past him and jiggle the door handle, finding it stuck. “Fucking hell,” I grumble under my breath as I pull the handle and push it up and down to try and get it to work.  

A hand comes behind me and takes the door handle for me. I stare at it, not turning to acknowledge how Bucky expertly pushes it just right for it to open.

“I had the same issue,” he says, pulling his hand back and nodding his head to the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower.” He steps back, quiet and sinking back into his usual stand-offish behavior, but now with more nerves and awkwardness. 

I give a grunt in acknowledgment and shut the balcony door behind me before sitting in a shitty lawn chair. I don’t turn to see if he’s still standing there watching me, but instead, I focus on the city view in front of me. It’s not a well-off country, so the views aren’t more than rundown buildings and vendors in the street shouting for people to buy their things over their neighbors, but it’s fresh air away from the man that makes my blood boil. 

__________

Fifteen minutes later, I feel a little calmer. Although still annoyed, I’m more confused than anything. Why the hell was he acting so strange, and why do I feel like some kind of serious conversation was going to-

“Y/N?” I hear the door open with a creak and turn to see Bucky with wet hair, a change of clothes, and soft eyes focusing on the door that’s obviously broken. “God, this place has gone down in quality,” he notes, leaving the door cracked as he comes onto the balcony with me. 

“Been here before?” I ask, turning back to the view ahead. 

“Once like 8 years ago,” he nods and moves to stand by the railing, his arms crossed over the edge of it, and his gaze now focused on the same place mine is. “Must have gotten new management.” 

It’s silent for almost five minutes after that. No words, no looks, no sounds. Just silence outside of the city noise. I debate, standing and going back into the room if he’s going to continue to go radio silent and not explain his strange behavior earlier, but just before I stand, he speaks up. 

“I don’t know why,” he says, and a crease forms between my eyebrows. He continues to stare off into the city. I wait a few moments, and he continues. “I don’t know why you stress me out more than the others.” 

Great. So that’s how this is going to go. 

I stand and silently move to go back into the room, but his hand clasps around my wrist. 

“Please, just let me find the words,” he asks, and I can hear the plea in his voice. 

I look back and up at him and his eyes are in the puppy dog form I’ve seen only a select few times. Ones that have never been directed at me but have held no truer emotion than requisition. 

“Ok…” I drag out, moving back to the lawn chair and sitting quietly as he drops my wrist almost hesitantly and leans against the railing, fidgeting with his hands. I’ve never seen him like this, so I give him the space. 

He takes a deep breath through his nose and closes his eyes before just unloading everything. 

“I don’t like seeing you get hurt,” he starts. “I mean, I don’t like seeing any of my friends get hurt. It’s no decent person’s interest to watch friends and family get harmed, but it’s like a nagging in my head. No,” he shakes his head, trying to find the right words. “It’s like having pins and needles surrounding your lungs, and every time you try and take a breath to come down from the terror- the pain of seeing them hurt- the needles poke and stab. Making it nearly impossible to take a deep breath and ground yourself. And that’s only a part of the pain that comes with it.”

I stare up at him. My eyes are likely wide as I take in what he’s saying. He glances at me once before looking back at his hands. 

“I know I’m an asshole to you. I know that,” he says, cringing as if the truth behind it hurts him. “I don’t know why. At least, I say that to make myself not think about it longer than I can probably handle, but I’ve talked to my therapist about it, and she says it's a protective technique my brain finds more plausible than just dealing with the confusing feelings I have towards you.” 

My eyes shift back and forth as if trying to understand the words. 

“Feelings towards me?” I repeat. “Like annoyance?” 

“No,” he sighs, and then he chuckles a soft laugh under his breath. “Well, yes. Sometimes you can be annoying, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find it endearing most of the time.” 

My eyebrows raise at that. Where the hell is all this coming from? 

I shake my head in disbelief and lean back in my chair. “Barnes, you’re giving me a bit of whiplash, and I’m not sure-” 

“I like you.” 

My mouth is still open from where my sentence was going, and I blink once. Then twice. Then, a third time, as I tried to understand if I just heard him right. Because if he meant it as a friend, I’m shocked. But if he meant it otherwise… I’m hallucinating. 

His eyes find mine, and this time, he doesn’t look away. He keeps eye contact, and I can feel him trying to read me. 

“I-Is there more to that sentence?” I ask, my brain trying to make sense of the situation and short-circuiting ultimately. 

“Yes, but from the looks of it, you’re still trying to translate those three words.” 

“Good observation,” I nod, pursing my lips and sinking into my chair.

“I’ve been known to make them,” he smiles a tight-lipped smile. I’m actually grateful for his quip at this moment. 

“Bucky, you have to understand that those words don’t make sense with how you treat me-” 

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he pushes off the railing and steps forward just in front of my chair. “God, I’m so sorry. I don’t even know why it’s taken me this long to apologize for the way I’ve acted this long, but for some reason… When we were fighting today, I saw a man get the jump on you. I was seconds from leaving my own fight and coming straight to you to handle it for you, but you quickly turned the situation around. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen you in that scenario, yet something about it…” He pauses, looking up at the sky, throwing a hand through his hair. “It freaked me out. It freaked me out far more than it has in the past.” 

He looks at me in a sincere way and moves to sit in the busted up, rusted, and metal patio chair that looks like it very well could have been here when he came 8 years ago. It creaks as he turns it in and angles his body toward mine. His elbows rest on his knees, and he looks down at his hands again. And as he talks, I realize he’s breaking it down not just for me but for himself—these emotions and sudden changes. 

“Maybe it’s because I knew if I didn’t get to you, you were on your own. We didn’t have a backup. I couldn’t call Steve or Nat, or Wanda to come in and help where I couldn’t. And then the actualization that if I couldn’t get to you, if no one was there to back you up, there was a chance I’d end up regretting everything all because I can’t seem to come to terms with my feelings.” His eyes find mine again. “And then that cut,” his eyes drag from mine down my torso to where my knife wound lays under my tank top. “It was like a final piece to knock some sense into my head.” 

He looks at me, and I can’t explain it, but I want to hold him when he looks at me like that. 

“Seeing you hurt reminded me… You’re human. You aren’t invincible even if you can take on three men triple your size attacking you at once. It’s a skill I’m glad and impressed that you have, but it doesn’t guarantee someone won’t get the jump on you again, and I’m not sure I can handle that.”

I stay in silence for a moment, taking in the information and processing it all. I must have been quiet for a while because a soft “Y/N?” makes me look up from where I’ve been staring blankly at the balcony. 

“You ok?” he asks gently, carefully. 

I nod and run a hand up and down my arm from a slight breeze blowing with the sun setting in the distance. 

“Trying to…” I started, but I didn’t know what words were meant to follow. “I’m a little shocked,” I say, eventually looking at him. 

“I can’t say I blame you. It’s a 180 from our normal conversations,” he takes a deep breath and smiles softly at him. “Do you need a minute?” 

I shake my head. “No…” Then I scrunch my nose. “Well, maybe.” 

“That’s ok,” he nods, sitting back in his chair, and it weakly groans in protest. He takes in the fact my legs are up to my chest now, and I’ve wrapped my arms around myself. “We should go inside. It’ll get cold soon.” He stands and motions for me to head in first, then offers a hand to help me stand up. 

I look at it before taking it, standing, and walking in with my arms still around my middle. As soon as we’re in, I turn and catch us both off guard by being chest-to-chest with him after he shuts the balcony door. I don’t move, though, and neither does he. 

“Since honesty seems to be the focus of the night,” I look up at him. “I’ve always admired you…” His face softens at that. “But I’d be lying to both of us if I said how you treated me didn’t affect that original feeling.” He nods in understanding and slightly cringes to himself. 

“I wouldn’t hold it against you.” 

“Why did you- Why did you not like me at first?” 

He shrugs a touch, but there’s no uncertainty behind it. “I saw you as young and naive. I saw you as someone who seemed to make almost anyone love you, and all you had to do was exist around them. I think a broken part of me was envious and confused by that trait, and I used it as a reason to be hateful to you instead of taking advantage of the kindness you freely give and allowing myself the gift of that. I didn’t think I deserved that.” He sighs, his hands going into the pockets of his shorts. “I convinced myself that your kindness was nativity when I’ve learned quite quickly that you’re anything but naive.”  

I sigh, nodding my head as I turn and move to sit on the edge of the bed. “You wouldn’t be the first person to misinterpret my kindness. It’s why I tend to fall into becoming a stubborn ass when people don’t appreciate that kindness. Hence why I haven’t been the perfect person in this relationship myself,” I motion between us. “I should have recognized where you could have been coming from and continued to kill you with pleasantries, but you didn’t seem to respond well to it.” 

“It wasn’t your job to recognize that or fix it. It was mine to stop being a stubborn ass myself and talk to you rather than make assumptions,” he shifts on his feet. “I thought I was self-preserving when I was actually self-sabotaging. Something I’m still working on recognizing.” 

“It’s a process,” I sigh, knowing the steps well enough myself. I consider the conversation and take a deep breath, relaxing in my spot as I come to my conclusion. “Bucky?” He looks at me, hopeful and attentive. “I forgive you.”

I watch as his body stiffens at the declaration before slowly relaxing.

“I don’t expect you to just be fine with everything I’ve done the last-”

“Many years?” I chuckle, lighting the mood. “Yeah, but why would I want to waste any more time when I get it? I get your reasoning, and I can’t say I blame you.” 

“But you should blame me,” he moves to sit on the comforter next to me, our knees brushing. 

I shrug, turning to face him better. “But I don’t.” He starts to talk, and I cover his mouth with my hand. His icy blue eyes looked down at the motion before back at me. “I swear to God, Barnes. You take two steps forward, and it’s like you feel guilty for making progress and regress.” He flinches slightly at my words, and I feel I struck a nerve. “Sorry, I shouldn’t-” I take my hand back.

“No, you’re right. It’s something I’m still working on. I mean, small things are easy to accept and move on, but this,” he gestures to me. “A part of me doesn’t believe I deserve your forgiveness after the caseload of shit I’ve given you, but-” 

“But it’s my forgiveness to give, so I’ll decide if I want to give it…” I look at him as if waiting for him to connect the dots. He smiles and nods as he looks down at his hands. “You catching on?” 

“I’m catching on,” he looks up at him again. “Thank you.” 

“You're welcome.” 

We look at each other for a little while, and the atmosphere is new. It’s not tense. It’s not awkward. It’s not uncomfortable. It’s like we’ve come to a point we’ve been actively avoiding for years, and it turned out to be a really nice point.  

“So…” he starts, and I decide to break the seriousness of it all. 

“Why is there only one bed, Bucky?” I ask with a smirk, turning and patting the comforter we’re sitting on.

He looks at it with me and smiles with a laugh. “It wasn’t intentional, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“Feels a touch intentional. Not letting me leave the room or demanding I stay close kinda plays into the fact you’d be forced into sharing a bed with me. Another way to secure me close by,” I tease.

“Or…” he drags out, and his hand comes up, pushing a wayward hair behind my ear and casually taking his hand back. “The receptionist told me they didn’t have any two-bedroom rooms available right now because there is a festival in town this weekend, and they’re booked up.” 

“Seems legit, but not sure if I believe you,” I grin a touch bashful and look around at the room as if I’m surveying it and not slightly melting at his touch. 

“Believe me or not,” he shrugs, standing and stretching. “Either way, we’re sharing a bed tonight, sweetheart.” He winks. He fucking winks at me and moves to the other side of the bed, getting his side ready for sleep. 

This new side of him is not one I was ready for, but seeing it makes me think about what I haven’t gotten to experience sooner. So I say that. 

“I knew you were a lady's man back in the day, but I never thought I’d see the flirt you were rumored to be,” I turn in my spot on the bed and look at him from the end of the bed. 

“I don’t flirt with everyone,” he says, throwing the blanket back and adjusting the pillows. 

“Well, yeah, obviously, but-” 

“Just people I’m attracted to,” he says, cutting me off with a telling grin. “And women I’d like to flirt back.” 

My mouth drops, and I let out a laugh. A genuine laugh. 

“Was that a move? Did you just make a move on me?” I smile like a teenager at him, partially in disbelief and partially in interest. 

“Did it work?” he chuckles, sitting on the edge and scooting into the bed but not fully getting in it. 

I shake my head with a smile and laugh again. “Honestly, I have to say yes.” 

His smile widens at my confession, and he leans back on the headboard, two pillows propped behind him. 

“So you’re saying I have a chance if I keep it up?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, cowboy. It’s not going to take just a flashy wink and a flirty comment to get my attention fully. I like to be sought after.” 

“Good to know.” 

“Is it?” I ask incredulously with a smirk as I move to my side of the bed and throw the covers back enough to sneak under them. 

“Can’t give away all my plans,” he shakes his head, and I turn off my bedside lamp. 

“Wouldn’t want you to. I like being surprised,” I lay down and nuzzled into my pillow before turning on my side and looking up at him. “Must say, your surprise tonight was a pretty good start.” 

“You think?” 

“I think,” I nod and debate on my next idea, but I decide what the hell? Who’s it hurting? “Feel free to say no, but if we are sharing the same bed, I tend to be a cuddler unconsciously, so if we-” 

“Yes,” he says simply a large grin he doesn’t seem to care to hide marks his handsome features. “Yes, please.” He nods, moving under the blanket. 

“That answer was a little too fast to believe that this hotel didn’t have other beds.” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” he shimmies under the blanket, and I feel his leg brush mine. 

“Listen, normally I wouldn’t, but I learn I sleep best when I’m with another person, so-” 

“You don’t have to give me a reason, doll. I’m happy to lend the support.” His arms are quickly wrapped around my middle and I’m turned to where my back is pressed against his front and I’m not going to lie… It’s a perfect fit. “Night, Y/N.” 

“Night, Bucky.” I smile putting my hands on his around my middle and laying back into him. 

This was a good start to something possibly more…

Ending A/N: I wouldn't be opposed to doing one more scene for this little drabble, but let me know if that's something you guys would be interested in :)

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @srrymydood​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @xa-dia​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @morganclaire4​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @connie326​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @captain-asguard​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @livstilinski @basicallylool​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @starryeyeseunbyul​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

My Lovelies Forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente​ @kakakatey​ @traceyaudette​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter1​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​​ @alyispunk​​ @billyseye @hallecarey1​​

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@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ @bellamy-barnes​ @katiaw2​ @aikeia​ @stopjustlovethemcu​ @enchantedbarnes

[street-smarts00]

protective!spence x reader where they’re at a bar or something and r gets hit on, and she’s like “oh i’m here with my boyfriend” and the guy’s like “well, i don’t see him” and spencer’s like “turn around” and is just TOWERING over the guy hitting on her like UGHHH do you get my vision??😩

Drabble: Protective Spence

A/N: OMG yes the vision is visioning I love this!!! Sorry I went a little MIA, of course right when I asked for requests I had a busy ass week. But don’t worry ya’ll I have some other requests I can’t wait to get to!

It was finally the weekend which prompted the team to go out for drinks. While everyone else migrated to the makeshift dance floor, you opted to sit at the bar with Spencer.

Your social battery was already at max capacity and while normally you’d like to dance, right now you needed your space. A space you were happy to let Spencer into.

You were finishing your second drink while your boyfriend left to go to the bathroom. Not long after he left, you felt the presence of someone next to you.

“Hey beautiful.”

Turning to your right you saw a man in his late twenties. He invited himself and sat down at the empty seat next to you.

“You havin a good night?” The stranger asked.

“I was until about ten seconds ago,” you replied through a fake smile.

It was evident in his eyes that your answer proved you would be a challenge for him. This only made him more persistent.

“Aw don’t be like that,” he attempted to get on your good side.

“Like what?”

“Like you wanna claw my eyes out,” he said with a smug grin.

He wasn’t wrong. Cocky, arrogant men like him made you want to more than scratch their eyes out.

“Come on, at least let me buy you a new drink first,” he offered, gesturing to your empty glass.

“Listen, I’m sure you’re a blast,” you lied, “but I’m not interested. I have a boyfriend.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked seconds away from chuckling. Almost like he couldn’t believe you pulled that excuse.

“You do?” He asked, not fully convinced.

“Yes.”

He glanced around the bar gesturing at the crowd, “Then where is he?”

He leaned closer to you, his breath reeked of alcohol. “Sexy thing like you all alone at this bar while your boyfriend is somewhere else.”

You looked behind the man and tried not to appear too cheeky at the sight behind him. “Oh he’s here with me,” you answered.

He chuckled, “Really? Cause I don’t see him.”

“You sure about that?”

The man’s face paled at the voice behind him. He turned around to see Spencer staring down at him with a cold gaze, he looked pissed- rightfully so. His arms were folded with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“You’re in my seat.”

The stranger's jaw dropped a bit, at a loss for words.

“Ooh- well,” he scrambled out of the seat.

You could see the gears in his head desperately trying to build back his “cool guy” persona and come up with something witty to say. He had nothing.

The stranger walked backwards away from the bar bumping into someone spilling their drink, earning him a shove. He looked back at you with frustration all over his face before storming off.

Suddenly, comforting hands were placed on your hips. You looked up at Spencer with a smile, “my knight in shining armor.”

He matched your smile but quickly his face filled with concern and compassion.

“You okay? He didn’t do anything right?” He spoke softly.

“I promise I’m okay. Just a grade-a jackass,” you reassured him.

“Good,” his smile returned. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, his voice sounded like honey.

“Only I get to call you sexy,” he murmured softly before placing a kiss on your neck.

[ohbo-ohno]

I REALLY wanna see Johnny get mad! Like white hot angry at reader. Don’t know what/how it happened but Johnny’s gonna make all of reader’s poor holes suffer🥺

Maybe Simon gets surprised and turned on by his pup’s newfound aggressiveness

3.6k pwp soap drabble 4 u (cw for referenced burning building, angry sex, some light mutual degradation/objectification, and voyeurism since ghost watches)

You fume silently, face hot with rage while you and Soap walk side by side behind Ghost down the base hallways. There's a tension at the base of your neck that you just know is going to become a migraine if you don't get some medicine soon, and your bones ache from going too long without sleep.

Soap's somehow even stiffer beside you, the distance between you two small but intentional. Usually he's impossible to pry off of you, always brushing against you and looking for more physical contact, but since you landed he's kept at least half a foot between you two at all times.

Fine by you. You don't want him touching you right now anyway.

The silence is thick as Ghost leads you two to his room, his shoulders loose and relaxed.

He's got no reason to be tense, you suppose. He's not the one who had a massive disagreement on the field, who had to drag his squadmate back from a blazing fire and deal with his bitching instead of his thanks.

Just the memory of it makes you scowl.

Ghost leads the two of you into his room in rare silence, though it's only rare because usually you and Johnny would already be teasing or flirting at this point. But you don't bother now, not with your anger so fresh in your mind.

Ghost is the only one to get settled once Johnny closes the door behind you. You two stand on opposite sides of the doorframe, both too tense to do much but stew in your own righteous anger, and Ghost starts to get dressed down into something more comfortable.

He lets the two of you stay quiet until he's fully changed into a tank top and sweats, no boxers then sits on the bed with an overly loud sigh.

"You two even gonna look at each other?"

Your lip curls as you glance at Johnny from the corner of your eyes. "I have nothing to say to him."

"'S not what I asked."

Your cheek twitches and you bite your tongue, rolling a sharp canine over it. "Honestly, Simon, I don't even want to see him right now."

Johnny scoffs, loud in the otherwise quiet room, and nearly stomps to your side, leaning in front of you to try and force eye contact. "Oh, really? Ye can't even look at me, huh? Had no problem lookin' earlier, when you were draggin' me away from my goddamn mission."

You want to growl, you want to rake your nails down his face and scream about what a fool he is, what a jackass, and you want to make him remember.

Some of your ire must shine through in your expression, and Johnny mirrors it, eyes sparking as he straightens and stands diagonally from you, chest nearly brushing your shoulder.

"Dragging you away from your death, more like," you sneer.

"Wasn't your place," he bites back, moving forward enough that you can feel the heat of him even through all your layers. "You aren't my fuckin' CO and I'm not yours - wasn't any of your business how I chose to execute my orders."

"It is when you chose to do it in the most lethal way possible! Fuck, MacTavish, had you taken half a second and listened to me-"

"Oh, that's all it woulda taken? Just had to shut my pretty lips and listen to you, jump before you even say how high? Newsflash, lass, you don't get to make those decisions."

"And you do?"

"In this case? Yeah, you're fuckin' right I do. Price said drag the man out, alive, and that's what I was doing."

"You ran into a burning building!"

"Under orders from our CO!"

"You know damn well that's not what he meant, Sergeant, cut the shit. The orders were to bring him back alive, not kill yourself in the process!"

"That's the job, Sergeant. You do whatever it takes to fulfill your orders."

You're both panting as he snarls the words, nose to nose and eye to eye, teeth bared in rage that feels almost primal. His close brush with death, the way you'd had to tackle him to keep him from running after the damn target, leaves you raw and unsteady. Had you been any weaker, any less filled by adrenaline and panic and something deeply possessive, you know Soap would've thrown you off and gotten himself killed. You were hardly able to hold him down until the screaming stopped as it was.

You take as deep a breath as you can with your heart racing, and reach up to wrap the collar of Johnny's shirt tight in your fist, dragging him so close that your noses brush, hot breaths shared.

"You don't get to fucking leave me." You shoot a glance over Johnny's shoulder, to where Ghost sits comfortably against the headboard of your shared bed. "Leave us. I won't let you."

It's the last sentence that has him bristling, that ruins your chance of a settled argument.

The only person who lets Soap do anything is Ghost. The two of you listen to your Lieutenant with no questions, no doubt, no hesitations, but the same doesn't go for your fellow Sergeant. Since the 141 had formed, you and Soap have been fighting for dominance over one another, both of you determined to establish your control of the other like Ghost has for both of you.

The insinuation that you would let Soap do anything isn't something he'll let slide.

Hours later, fucked raw and sated, you can admit to yourself that the wording was slightly intentional. But now, with the fresh wound of Soap's close call with death still stinging in your subconscious, you only mean it as a way to push his anger to the level yours has been at for hours now.

"Let me?" He rumbles, muscles relaxing as he steps forward enough to press his chest to yours, head ducked low so all you can see is Johnny. "You don't let me do shit, lass. Couldn't stop me if you tried."

You can't help the way your lips quirk up into a humorless smile, your fist tightening in the fabric of his shirt. "Had a pretty easy time of it earlier, MacTavish. Had you pinned and writhing under me, like a bitch-"

Before you can finish your taunt, you find yourself pinned to the door, a mouth covering yours.

Johnny's teeth are sharp against your lips as he nips at you, leaving behind a sting and a throb. You dig your nails into his shoulders, raking them down his arms and rumbling in dissatisfaction when his clothes keep him from feeling anything.

You bite back as you push at the hem of his shirt, desperate to get your hands on him and make him hurt. You trace your fingers over his abs as you get his bottom lip between your teeth, pulling him down to your height and smirking at his glare.

You don't kiss so much as fight with lips instead of fists, there's no affection or softness between the two of you right now. You're nothing but your anger, but your desperation, and deep down your fear. You cling to Johnny with something verging on desperation, bite and scratch to make him feel even a bit of the pain you had at such a close call with death.

He leans almost his entire weight into yours to keep you pinned against the door, but you only have to shove at his shoulders a few times for him to get the hint and move backwards.

His lips never leave yours as you walk him back to the bed, his hands coming up to grip your thighs as he falls back and keeps you on top of him. You taste the slightest tang of iron as you shift your knees up next to his hips, squeezing his sides between your thighs and his tongue between your teeth.

"You gonna ride me?" He pants when you pull away for a breath of air, your hips working over the tent in his pants. "Think you're in charge, bonnie?"

You bare your teeth at him, grinding your core against the tent in his pants. “I’m not the one on my back, MacTavish.”

His smile is all teeth as he bucks his hips into yours, knocking you off balance so you’re forced to brace your hands on either side of his head. “I don’t need to be on top to keep you on a leash.”

It’s all too easy to hook your fingers in his throat mic - his collar. His pupils blow wide when you tug harshly enough to pull his head off the mattress, his hips following as he moans and grinds you down onto him with a bruising grip on your thighs.

“Down,” you smirk, leaning your weight back and forcing his hips to the bed, grinding your hips. “‘S my turn, Johnny. Gonna use you ‘til you’re wrung dry.”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, then rests on his bottom lip instead of settling behind his teeth. You can’t resist the urge to lean down and lick over his lips, covering them in your own spit and groaning when he pulls you back into a proper kiss.

Despite your hand around his throat and your weight on top of his, you’re both equally in control as you strip the other. You can’t be bothered to wrestle his wrists to the bed, far preferring to let him paw your shirt and pants off while you tear the seams in his indecently tight shirt.

You only have the patience to get his pants to his knees, unwilling to help him kick them off for full mobility. Instead you grind yourself against his hard length, the soaked gusset of your underwear dragging wonderfully over both his cock and your clit.

You shift your hand on his neck so your palm is resting on his Adam’s apple, giving him just enough pressure to stay flattened to the bed.

He nearly growls when you push, the head of his cock getting caught in your panties and brushing the crease of your thigh. “Fuck, bonnie, get it on with.”

You blink down at him, cocking an unimpressed brow and shifting your hips so he slips between your folds, tucking your underwear to the side with your free hand. “You’re not in charge right now, MacTavish. I’m on top.”

“Only cause I’m lettin’ ya,” he pants, hips twitching as he tries to find your hole, tries to find a hole to sink into.

You lean down just far enough to bite the air in front of his nose, all feral rage and sexual frustration as you let yourself sit on his cock, holding him still beneath you. “You don’t let me do shit, I do whatever the fuck I want to. And right now, I want to ride you ‘til you stop fucking talking.”

You press your lips to his before he can bite back the response you see waiting on his tongue, letting your hips move in the way that feels best for you as you lick over his teeth.

Johnny’s always loved making out. When Ghost keeps him locked up, or he’s just not allowed to fuck you, he’ll happily spend hours with your lips glued together, dry humping each other and swapping spit. You can’t even count the number of times he’s come in his pants while thrusting against your hip or your side, driven over the edge by just a kiss.

You take advantage of that now, keeping one hand on his throat and the other circling the base of his throbbing cock so you can line yourself up above him. He’s far too distracted with your lips and tongue to remember he could tug you down on him at any moment, could flip the two of you with hardly any effort at all.

Despite the complete lack of prep, your body takes Johnny easily, the familiar stretch making you moan as you sink down onto him with one smooth movement. You blink open wet eyes just in time to see Johnny’s eyes nearly roll to the back of his head when your ass rests against him, his cock buried inside of you.

You don’t let yourself rest for long, though most days you love to just feel the weight of either of your boys inside of you. But that current of anger is still pulsing beneath your skin, and all the hot, sweat slick contact between you and Johnny only makes you feel more desperate.

Your pace is merciless, for both him and yourself. Your knees and thighs scream as you slam yourself to the base of Johnny’s cock, making sure you pull off nearly to the tip on every thrust. Without a hand around his throat, you’d have lost your balance on the first thrust.

Johnny’s pulse thunders against your fingers, so fast and so harsh that you swear you can ever see your fingertips twitching against his throat. His breaths are quick and erratic, and you can’t help but subconsciously match his breathing with your faces as close together as they are.

“So fucking good,” you moan, rolling your hips as you lift yourself off of him, dragging the head of his cock along your walls. Your voice cracks when he bucks his hips up, and you’re relieved that he’s already too blissed out to notice, lost in the tight vice of your cunt. 

“Yeah?” Johnny pants, tongue nearly lolling out of his mouth when you pull away fully. “Stuff you just right, yeah, lass?”

You bite your tongue against an agreement, some deep part of you that’s not quite drunk on pleasure yet unwilling to give Johnny that kindness. Instead you shift your weight, so that your hand is more cupping Johnny’s jaw and putting pressure on his head instead of his neck, letting you really push him down and get the proper leverage to fuck yourself on his cock. 

“Perfect fucking-” you shudder against the words, moan when he rubs just over your g-spot and repeating the same motion with your hips again and again. “Perfect fucking toy, so nice to ride.”

The sound Johnny makes is purely animalistic, torn between anger and desperation, something rough and low in his throat. You can feel the rumble of it through your hand and can’t help but moan in return, finally nearing your peak even as your legs continue to burn.

Neither of you speaks as you ride him, your head hanging low so you’re eye-level with his nipples and focused entirely on your own pleasure. The way your muscles scream at you only fills you with more need, more desperation, and the pain pushes you closer and closer to the edge. Your clit grinds just right over the rough patch of Soap’s pubic hair, soaking it in your juices and covering him in slick.

You reach your peak with gasping breaths, nearly going cross-eyed as you use Johnny entirely for your own pleasure, using him as nothing more than something to hold yourself up on and a toy to ride. Your muscles go completely lax as your pleasure overwhelms you, leaving you slumped against his muscular chest as you ride out the orgasm with small rolls of your hips.

Johnny’s still rock hard inside of you as you come down, his grip on your thighs tight enough to bruise. Your hand has slipped from underneath his collar to the mattress next to his face, and you don’t have the energy to push yourself up and away, to deny him like you’d intended.

Your lungs feel too small as you try to take deep gasping breaths, only managing a few before your lungs start hitching. Johnny’s chest rises and falls quickly beneath your head, his heart pounding beneath your ear.

You don’t have time to brace yourself before you’re flipped onto your stomach, face down on the mattress.

One moment you’re floating in post-orgasmic bliss, letting your body clench down on Johnny and milk him, the next moment you’re on your knees with your back forced into a deep arch, that same cock pounding into you like a machine.

Your groan is bone deep when you finally lift your head enough to breathe, eyes rolled heavenward as your body tries its best to adjust to the harsh treatment.

“Show you a fucking toy,” Johnny snarls from over your shoulder, his voice sounding distant beneath the blood rushing through your ears. “Think ye can just treat me like fucking nothing, get yerself off then take a fucking nap? Nah, yer gonna take what ye fucking deserve.”

The thickening of Johnny’s accent has you gushing around him, your sensitive channel clenching down so hard that you’re surprised he can pull out at all. 

Johnny’s hand wraps in your hair when you try to let your head fall forward again, yanking you back with enough strength to leave you yowling at the strain on your neck.

“Don’t fucking hide,” he hisses, landing a sharp slap on the meat of your ass. “Think ye can just shove yer head in the sand? Let me fuckin’ hear you, lass, sing f’r me.”

“Fu-uck you,” you manage to groan, syllables interrupted on every thrust, your voice cracking. “You’re not- fuck, Johnny, don’t have to listen to you.”

You can practically hear the way he gnashes his teeth over your shoulder, can perfectly envision the angry snarl on his face at your lack of submission.

“Ye will. Gonna teach ye a fuckin’ lesson about yer place.”

You try your best to rear up, whipping your head over your shoulder to glare as best you can despite the grip on your hair. “My place? Who the hell  do you think- oh fuck, fuck, Johnny, you can’t- goddamnit-”

“Can’t even get a goddamn word out.” Even from your terrible angle you can see that his smile is mean. “Think ye can be in charge when ye can’t even finish a sentence? Fuckin’ fool.”

You nearly shriek when he shoves your head down to the mattress, clawing fruitlessly at anything in front of you. You only freeze when you feel flesh give way underneath your nails, the hard muscles of a thick thigh under your palm.

You can just barely angle your head enough to glance up and see Simon looking down at you, but you can’t manage to see anything past his general shape with the way Soap is trying to shove you inside the mattress.

Ghost’s hand comes to rest on your head, and when you lean into him he pushes Johnny’s fingers off.

“Watch it, pup,” he rumbles, and Johnny’s hips stutter behind you. “You’re already in trouble. Do you really wanna make it worse?”

Your self-righteous smirk is hidden in the sheets, but you can’t fully muffle your laugh when Johnny’s whines over your shoulder. The sound quickly morphs into a snarl, and he buries his teeth into your shoulder as his hips start to work again, the sound of his balls slapping against your soaked cunt obscene.

Johnny wraps his arms beneath your torso, hooking his hands on your shoulders so he can tug you into every thrust, moving his face up to nose at your throat. You feel covered by him, consumed by him, as he chases his own pleasure.

You don’t quite manage to get off before he empties himself inside you, but there’s a deep satisfaction in your bones that still lets you melt into him.

Johnny’s all heat and power at your back as he goes weak against you, and a small shove to his shoulder from Ghost has both of you resting on your sides, spooning with his cock still buried inside of you.

Your breaths sync with his quickly, matching the inhales and exhales you can feel against your neck and the rise and fall of his chest against your back.

Your eyes flutter shut, relaxing into the bed and Johnny’s arms. You know that you’ll have to Talk later, about what he’d done and how you’d responded. But you know it’ll be an easier conversation after Ghost’s punishment, when all of your consciousness has eased a bit.

“There ya go,” you hear Ghost say, followed by a soft stroke over your head. “Exhausted yourselves, huh? Silly pups.”

You hum and Johnny rumbles behind you, burying his face more fully in your throat. You feel Ghost’s other hand pet over his mohawk, his thumb brushing your cheekbone.

“I guess you can nap.” Ghost sighs, like he’s doing you both a great favor. “You’ll both need all your energy for your punishment, anyway. Breakin’ damn near every rule in the book just cause you got a little worked up. What am I gonna do with the two of you?”

You don’t have the energy to respond, and the best Johnny manages is a small and plaintive whine. Ghost chuckles from above you, and you feel him lay in front of you, his arms wrapping around Johnny’s back and tugging you both to him.

“Yeah, yeah,  I know. Just relax now, you’re alright.”

It’s easy to drift off, even if the heat is near suffocating and the stretch of Johnny’s cock verges on the edge of too much. You’re loose-limbed and sated, and Johnny’s safe beside you. There’s little else you could ever want, ever need, and you can’t be much more than grateful as you fall asleep between your men.

[theurgists]

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ THE INEVITABLE PULL ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: on the night of her twenty-first birthday, ellie find herself in the one place she asked jesse not to bring her. a strip club.

warning(s): 18+ smut, modern!au, stripper!reader, mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption, dudes in clubs being jackasses, jesse being a wingman ( thank you bestie ), dry humping ( a little?? ), fingering ( reader!receiving ),oral ( elle!receiving ), a one night stand, essentially. not proof-read!

a/n: yet another one-shot i'm bringing back. i do have a little 90s ellie drabble in my drafts that I'm working on so definitely let me know if you'd like to see that ;)

You know that feeling you get when you walk into a place you don’t want to be in? A feeling so uncomfortable that it makes you involuntarily bounce back and forth from the heels of your feet to the tips of your toes, eyes darting from left to right trying to observe the situation you were faced with. 

Ellie was unfortunate enough to be experiencing it tonight as the blood in her veins thumped into the base of her eardrums, her hands in the small pockets of the denim jeans she wore as her shoulders hunched with uncertainty. The air smelt like immeasurable amounts of liquor and what Jesse described as ‘fun times’. 

He had coaxed her out of her apartment and off of the confines of her couch on the eve of her twenty-first birthday, a smile on his face as he landed a pat with an open palm on the back of her right shoulder which rattled her, a grimace curling onto the skin of her lips. Playing the scenario back in her mind now, it seemed as if he considered her feelings which didn’t end up being the case. Sometimes, Ellie would find herself filled with slight guilt for even having the thought of her friend being faintly ignorant — but it oozed out of him as he weaved his way through the teeming club. She was barely one for small parties, preferring to linger in the corners away from unseen eyes, processing what was laid before her in the form of passing bodies. 

Finding herself experiencing how it felt to be somewhere more open — more suffocated — made her stomach tie in the tightest of knots. 

Blowing a puff of air out of her throat, Ellie felt annoyance creeping up within her as the bone of her shoulder collided with someone else’s.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going.”

Through the tumultuous beat of hip-hop music, those seven gruff words reached the canal of her ears causing the soles of her shoes to squelch on the scuffed polish of the club floor as she turned around. Deep lines formed between her eyebrows as she scowled, her fingers curling into the palm of her hand, teeth gritting together.

“The fuck?”

Ellie didn’t know whether to consider it a blessing or a curse that no matter the situation, her mouth couldn’t just stay closed even with multiple attempted efforts. It worked out for her in less violent ways fifty percent of the time. Whereas, the other fifty percent caused adrenaline to pump in her veins so quickly that her body would shake slightly, growing numb as if to prepare for whatever damage would arise. 

People tended to underestimate how much damage swirled around her balled fists due to her average stature and the fact that she was a girl. She knew better than to let things progress further, not only for the sake of not wanting to deal with it on her birthday but for the poor patron who’d most likely end up losing if he decided to take the unknown risk of a fistfight. Especially with her. 

“You fuckin’ heard me.” The man towered over her, dark eyes riddled with drunkenness and a bubbling fury as she looked up at him through low eyelids, a smirk appearing at the corners of her mouth. 

Through her peripheral vision, she could see the stares of other club-goers as they observed the altercation with interest, curious to see who would throw the first punch. It would’ve been Ellie. Seriously, she was so close to cocking her fist back just to swing it into his aging face but Jesse had a knack for knowing when his friend got into trouble because he appeared next to her before she could blink, fingers grabbing at the back of the plaid button-down she wore, trying to de-escalate the painstakingly icky tension as those who were unaware continued with their night.

“Woah.” He dragged out in an airy laugh, snaking himself in front of Ellie in case things went south. “No problems here, right?” 

Not trusting herself enough to not utter a single word, Ellie turned and let her feet carry her straight to the bar at the far left corner, jaw tight as she found an empty spot to slide herself into in hopes of getting herself a drink as it had just reached one in the morning. If she had the option to restart the first hour of her birthday somewhere else, she could, but beggars can’t be choosers — and Ellie was far from being a beggar. 

Locking her eyes onto her choice of liquor, she let the music creep back in her ears once more as her eyes clouded over, scanning the crevices of her brain for the pros and cons of having a couple of shots throughout the night, or just getting a glass straight-up. 

Clearing his throat, Jessie weaseled his way next to her before grabbing the bartender’s attention, his pearly white teething glistening under the neon lights that shone through the darkness, eyes shamelessly roaming across her body as she bit her lip flirtatiously. 

Ellie couldn’t roll her eyes, itching to have a drink in her grasp to ease the small jolt of nerves that would pinch her every couple of seconds. 

“Can I get angel’s envy on the rocks?” She asked, avoiding looking at the lady behind the bar as she nodded curtly.

 “Sure thing, honey.” Turning to Jesse, her back arched slightly as a means to pop her chest in his face a little more. The only thing that was stopping her from leaning closer was the countertop between them as she spoke lowly. 

“And for you, baby?” She drawled, voice slow. She already had a couple of drinks, which was evident through her shameless attempt at flirting which the dark-haired man seemed to be into for some reason. 

His lips quirked up, arms crossed over each other as he went to rest them on the bartop, eyes boring right into her soul.

“Same thing.” 

Ellie took the opportunity to observe her surroundings even further. Eyes moved from the people sitting in small round booths and velvet chairs to the stage that sat front and center, one of the main reasons why she had been brought here tonight. A pole stood upright under the bright white lights, metal practically sparkling, blinding her as if to make its presence more known to her than it already was. 

In life, there were a lot of firsts and Ellie had gladly experienced them with pride, diving headfirst. However, this was a completely different ball game that filled her with a small enough amount of discomfort that caused her to scratch at the nape of her neck. 

“Y’know, the least you could do is say thank you for having me deal with your shit.” Jesse chuckled jokingly, fingers jutting outward to slide the glass toward her which she took without a second thought. 

Although Ellie could sense the humor in his voice, the bitterness she felt seemed to overpower her brain before she could correctly process her words. “The least? You could’ve been a little more considerate when you decided on where to take me on my birthday.” 

She leaned closer to him, having to raise her voice to be heard through the music. “A fucking strip club. Really?” 

Raising his glass, he just smiled smugly at her which caused her eyes to roll to the back of her head for the second time that night before he clanked it with hers in a toast. “To being twenty-one.” Tilting the chilled cup toward his mouth, he downed his whiskey in one go before shaking his head to rid of the burning in his throat. Ellie followed right after, letting her eyes screwed shut as heat ran into the pit of her stomach.

“God that was fucking awful.” 

All Ellie got in response was Jesse’s arm over her shoulder as he stood on the tips of his toes, neck craning over heads as if he was looking for something in particular. Before she could ask, his eyes lit up, her body moving forcefully as he dragged her away from the bar and in the direction of a booth that was mostly empty beside three other people occupying a small section of space. Jesse’s friends. 

Truthfully, this night seemed to be getting worse as she watched Jesse slide himself in before moving in his seat, the leather squeaking as it rubbed against his clothes. Ellie licked her lips, tasting a hint of the shea butter chapstick she had applied to them earlier in the night, body growing rigid as one of his friends stared at her with wavering uninterest. 

“Who are you again? He slurred, lazily pointing a finger in her direction, swaying in his seat slightly. 

Ellie’s reply was simple and cold. “Ellie.” 

Jesse slapped him on the back, sending his torso to push forward and some of his liquor to fall out of his shot glass and onto the table in front of them. “Seth shut the fuck up.” 

Seth opened his mouth, lips in the shape of an ‘o’ before his face contorted into one of amusement, “Oh” He chuckled.

If Ellie was being honest with herself, she didn’t remember his name either. Jesse’s friends weren’t people she would necessarily surround herself with if she was looking for company. On occasion, she’d stop at Dean’s house ( the name of the only one she bothered to remember, only because he treated her like he would any of his other guy friends ) with him only because she got to smoke for free, and she’d never pass up free weed. 

Moving to sit, Ellie lowered herself before breathing in through her nose, the lighting dimming above her almost instantly as the song that was playing came to a pause before another one followed behind. 

Confusion grew on her features as the sharp clank of heels could be heard from where she was, just a couple of feet away, in the third row of seats right smack in the middle. She didn’t know what to expect. It wasn’t as if she was well-versed in the club universe because she hadn’t been in one before tonight.

She heard Dean hiss behind his teeth before whistling loudly, “Damn.” 

Averting her gaze toward center stage, she could feel her cheeks warm as she stared at you. Your hair fell down your shoulders in loose waves, your bottom lip tugged between your teeth before you smiled warmly, red nails gliding up and down your hips before you swayed them side to side seductively, moving to the rhythm of the music. Hoots and hollers filled the expanse of space, bouncing off the walls and directly into her ears. 

“Fuck, she’s hot.” 

Ellie was thankful for the darkness that enveloped the room as the crimson flush on her cheeks darkened in color even further. She shuffled back into her seat, keeping her gaze locked on your body as you spun around the pole, the string of your black thong hiking up your hip just a little higher, something she swore only she noticed. 

With her gaze boring into your frame, she watched as you swung one leg over the other, spinning on your heels before lifting yourself off the stage using the pole, your grip tightening as your feet moved in place. 

This feeling in between her legs, the ache she got from just seeing you was otherworldly, she felt wrong about it. She didn’t even know you ( as badly as she wanted to now ) to be feeling the way she did. The butterflies in the pit of her stomach fluttered so aggressively that they felt as if they were crawling out her throat as her breath hitched. 

When the money appeared, adorning you as if it was rain falling, she melted into the leather of the booth. Her eyes widened before a cough emitted from her throat, her heart picking up its pace as your eyes darted across the crowd and she swore you were staring at her as you crawled on all fours in front of the stage. 

So, the only natural thing for her to do was stare right back at you, keeping her gaze locked on your low-lidded eyes before letting someone lift the band of your thong to place a wad of cash, their fingers lingering on your bare hip for longer than necessary before you gracefully danced away. 

You were a goddess, clad in her most seductive armor that nobody could lay a finger on. Ellie could tell by the way you carried yourself, head held high and body swinging low as cash surrounded you. As awkward as she felt, she sure hoped she didn’t look the part because your eyes were still on her. 

A small smack to her arm caused her to twist her head in Jesse’s direction, a frown on her face as she tried to stare at him through the darkness. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.” 

His eyebrows raised in amusement, lips pressed together to keep himself from laughing aloud. “It’s okay you know, to stare, that’s why we’re here.” 

Putting the palms of his hands out, he gestured around him as if to prove a point. 

Ellie tutted before she grabbed a loose strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear, grabbing at the new drink that miraculously appeared ( he must’ve grabbed it off of one of the guys ) before gulping the rest of its contents down, lips puckering as her lungs developed a burn that only Hennesey could give her. 

“This is the last time I’m letting you drag me anywhere without telling me first.” She huffed, blowing out a breath that caused her cheeks to ache slightly. She averted her gaze to you again, this time watching as you left the stage, signaling the end of your set as people cheered and whistled. 

“That was something, I’ll tell you that.” She heard Dean say, his hands traveling down to his pants to try and conceal the very noticeable boner that had tented. 

Ellie pulled her lips back in a snarl, teeth out in the open as an uncomfortable expression reached her features, skin near the corners of her eyes creasing as she narrowed them in his direction. Men were fucking gross — and the way he sat there, licking his lips hungrily as if he’s made up his mind to go after you tonight  — only furthered that thought into the front of her mind. 

The leather seat dipped slightly when Jesse took the initiative to scoot himself closer to her, leaning down to yell, “Was I right?”

Ellie glanced at him through low eyes as the scent of weed hit her nose, merely shrugging in response before lifting herself and pulling down the ends of her shirt, the cotton material having ridden up. 

Se suddenly found herself staring at the bar a couple of feet away from her, coincidentally landing her green eyes on the dip of your back, the bands on your thong littered with cash still. You looked fucking amazing. Your hair was now bunched up in your right hand as you fanned your neck with the left one, your crimson-painted lips moving quickly as you spoke to the bartender she felt herself loathing after their earlier interaction. If you could even call it that. 

A high-pitched whistle beside her pulled her out of whatever thoughts consumed the spaces of her mind. It was none other than her friend, moving his head to stare at who she’d been eyeing. Finally, he saw you in the crowd of people squished at the bartop, and then his brown eyes moved toward Ellie’s face. He knew she wasn’t going to approach you willingly, even if the desperation to speak to you was written across her face in big, bold, lettering. So, he decided to be the devil — or the angel — on her shoulder. 

“Go talk to her, make a move.” 

Ellie wanted to laugh. The urge bubbled up in her throat like bile, and she let it go. Giving him the most genuine chuckle she’s given him all night, shaking her head from side to side. “I doubt she’s into girls.” 

For some reason, considering that as an option made her mood dampen slightly. Anyone here could see the confidence that exuded from you, it lingered in your sweet perfume when you’d pass by people and she was pretty sure she was falling victim to it.

Shrugging, Jesse let his lips pull into a frown, urging her further. “You don’t know that.” 

That was true, she thought as she shamelessly stared you down, her sweaty palms at her sides as she tried to inconspicuously wipe them on the denim of her jeans. Relenting, she felt her heart quicken as her feet carried her toward where you were standing under the neon lights of the bar. 

You looked even prettier up close, your unique features burning into the part of her brain where long-term memory was, trying to soak you in before you noticed she was there. 

“Did you enjoy the show?” Ellie was a goner. Your voice was sweet and sultry, low with a hint of fatigue weaved in between them as you kept your eyes down, your nails tapping against the glass in front of you. 

Ellie cleared the blockage in her throat before answering. “Uh yeah, it was nice.” 

Licking your lips, you still kept your head low but she could see you staring at her from the corner of your eyes. “You were staring.” 

So you did notice her looking at you, which meant that you were indeed looking at her as you danced flawlessly on stage. At least she wasn’t going crazy. 

Feeling the heat rise in her cheeks for what was the tenth time, she stuttered, trying to look anywhere, the confidence she once had evaporating as your light laughter reached her ears. “Everyone was staring.” She managed to spit, biting the inside of her cheek. 

“I wasn’t looking at everyone else though…” 

This made her smile, slightly bashful that you had said those words to her. Maybe you were just naturally a flirt, seeking thrills on sweet-talking club-goers only to leave them wanting more once you left. Oddly, she decided to entertain you by twisting her neck in your direction, the tattoo on her arm taking all the attention as your eyes burned into the skin peeking from under her jacket. 

You continued, “You stick out like a sore thumb, but it’s okay. I like seeing new faces.” Sliding your glass in her direction, you watched with curiosity as she picked it up, swirling the contents in the glass, ice cubes clinking against each other before she let the rest of it slide down her throat. 

Ellie wasn’t a big drinker and she was sure she’d feel the consequences of her choice in the morning, but being next to you — talking to you, was worth whatever hangover would greet her in the morning. 

Pushing for a conversation, you asked her a question. “So, did your friends drag you here or something.” 

Unbeknownst to you, that was exactly the case which she confirmed by nodding. A dry laugh came from her mouth, causing her to cringe at just how fake it sounded but you didn’t seem to mind. “Uh, yeah, that’s exactly it.” 

You turned your body toward her fully, lifting at the strap of your lacey bra, your breasts moving upward just an inch but it didn’t go unnoticed by Ellie as her eyes landed on your chest for a fraction of a second before she was looking at your face again. 

‘How’d you know.” 

“You look uncomfortable. This isn’t your thing?” 

With that question in mind, Ellie felt the vibration of the music in the soles of her sneaker-clad feet, so loud that her body hummed along with the music, the smell of weed burning the hairs in her nostrils as giggles bounced into her ears. “Not really, it’s my birthday so my friend brought me.” 

Your eyes lit up, pearly white teeth contrasting against the dark tint of your lipstick. “Happy Birthday to you then,” 

Ellie moved her mouth to reply with a small ‘thank you’ but the bartender appeared in front of the both of you before you asked her for a shot which she gave you quicker than she had taken Ellie’s drink order. She watched as you slid it in her direction like previously, a smirk decorating your lips as she made eye contact with you, putting the rim of the shot glass between her lips and letting it snake down her throat, the sensation of the burn causing a sharp intake of breath. 

Goosebumps littered your exposed skin as you felt a sudden dull ache grow between your legs. The tension was bouncing between you, deflecting off of the invisible barrier that loitered, cracking just a tad before you backed away. “I have to go now, but it was nice talking to you…”

“Ellie.” 

Giving her one last smile, you nodded. “I hope I’ll see you around soon.” 

She waved with a hand, lips pursed as you turned on your heels and disappeared behind a metal door labeled ‘staff only’.

Usually, every girl Ellie’s ever had an interaction with ended up with her itching to move away from the situation she dragged herself into, jaw tight and teeth grinding together. It was different this time, probably because it was you. The fact that she had no clue what your name was, intrigued her beyond the point of no return. She found herself stuck on you despite having a conversation that lasted all but five minutes — which felt like thirty seconds. 

Sighing, she made her way back to Jesse and his extremely drunk friends. Dean and Seth were shoving each other like fucking five-year-olds bickering over something stupid, their faces inches apart that Ellie felt like she was intruding on a private matter. 

Sitting down again, Ellie let herself endure the two hours in silence next to Jesse as the night wasted away, more drinks being spilled, annoyance growing. She didn’t know how long she was glued to that seat when she made her way outside the double doors, breathing in the fresh air that she took for granted, sighing as she ran a hand through her short auburn hair, the rings on her fingers clattering together as she did so.

 At this point, it was just nearly three in the morning. The dim street lights illuminated the empty street, the leaves on tree branches swaying with the wind in the direction it whipped in. An occasional leaf swayed to the ground as she sat on the curb, the skin of her palms peeling from the roughness of the concrete. 

“I’m fucking serious, Willow.” Moving her head in the direction of the voice, her heart skipped a beat as you stood there with your jacket in hand. You have changed into more comfortable clothes. Your thong is now replaced by pink sweatpants, baggy as they hang low on your hips, and a tank top in place of your bra. Glancing down at your shoes, she could see the white Nike socks keeping your feet warm from the cold, a pair of slides on your feet. You were arguing with someone, that much was obvious. 

The girl in front of you towered so high, it was almost threatening but you didn’t falter in your stance. Her eyes narrowed into slits as she spoke with malice. “You don’t think I’m not? You can come here and dance half naked for some fucking cash but can’t text me back.” 

You scoffed, clicking your tongue while taking a small step back. “This is my job, I’m obligated to come here.” You gestured toward the club with a finger, wilding pointing before jabbing the same finger into her chest. “I don’t need to text you. You’re not my girlfriend, remember?” 

Licking her lips, the gears turned in Ellie’s brain as she weighed her options. She could intervene, ask what the problem was, be your knight in shining armor — but she decided against it. Her palms grew sweaty once more as she continued to watch the interaction. 

The girl breathed through her nose, nostrils expanding as she took in a deep breath before balling her fists at her side, something you didn’t seem to notice as you stared into her eyes with what could only be described as hatred. 

“Fine, have it your way then.” She walked away, angrily stepping toward her car a couple of feet away from you, opening the door with such force that it nearly broke off. “Don’t expect me to take you back when you come crawling with those fake tears of yours.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving your jacket closer to your chest as you watched her get in her car, tires squealing loudly as she peeled out of the parking lot, leaving tracks on the pavement.

Turning around, you saw Ellie staring at you but still pressed against the curb as you walked over toward her, embarrassment creeping up on you in the form of warm cheeks and pressure behind your eyes. Tears. 

Rubbing at your nose with the back of your hand, you gave her a tight-lipped smile before bending down to join her. “Did you see everything?”

She could see just how embarrassed you were as you pushed the nails on your finger toward your mouth, biting at them nervously. Nodding, she spoke lowly, “Yeah, was that your ex-girlfriend?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you nodded curtly. “Sadly,” 

Not knowing what else to say, she just sat there in silence, enjoying the quietness of the outside world with you next to her. The silence wasn’t awkward — quite the opposite as she no longer felt nervous or out of place as a couple of minutes passed, glances to each other being shared throughout. 

Ellie was growing tired, eyes riddled with a hint of sleep and the extended feeling of desperation urged her to take herself home. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she pressed the side button as the screen lit up, the clock on her home screen reading 3:15 am before she turned it back off again. With a yawn, she lifted herself off the curb, stretching her limbs as some of them cracked at the sensation of no longer being hunched over uncomfortably. 

Turning to look down at you, she saw that you were already staring up at her with doe eyes, lips etched into what seemed like a permanent frown. “Do you have a ride home?” The words left her mouth before she could process them and she wanted to smack herself right after. 

Nodding, you jerked your head toward the black double doors, “My friend’s a bouncer, he usually walks me home since I don’t live far.” You don’t know why you said the last part, internally face-palming at the fact that you gave her a slight hint as to where you lived. 

She didn’t know if it was appropriate to ask if she could walk you home. Even thinking about asking you sent her heart racing wildly inside the expanse of her chest. But, tonight was full of risks and she liked to consider herself a risk-taker — so she bit.

“I can walk you if you want.” She spoke quickly, rushing to explain her thought process. “I’m just saying because it’s like three in the morning and -”

You laughed loudly, slapping a hand over your mouth after it had left you. “I’m sorry, I'm just laughing because it’s kind of cute when you ramble.” You expressed, nodding as you rose to stand next to her causing her to scratch the back of her neck before tugging her bottom lip between her teeth. “But yes, I’d appreciate it if you did.” She promised that if she were able to turn into some form of mush, she would’ve in that very moment that you said her name. 

The walk was nice, to Ellie at least, as you talked to her about your job and the other girls that worked there. She listened with interest although she wasn’t a big gossiper, asking you questions about certain things to let you know that she was listening to every word you said, hanging onto them.  She saw how your steps slowed after walking around four blocks before coming to a complete stop in front of a lone door, the redness of the metal sticking out like a sore thumb in the middle of the street. 

All she did was stand there with her hands in her jeans pockets as you fiddled with the knob, wedging your key inside before pushing it open.

“This is me.” You sighed, stepping inside the dark hallway, turning to face her as you leaned your cheek against the cool edge of your front door, fluttering your eyelashes. “Do you want to like… come in and have a drink? I know it’s almost four in the morning, but I feel bad for taking up your offer of walking me home since it’s your birthday and all.” 

Ellie knew that if she declined your offer, she’d find herself on her bed, wishing she had taken you up on your offer for another drink. Like she said earlier, tonight was all about risks. She’d greedily take this one. 

The nod she gave you sent shivers up your spine, her body moving inside your house as a means to shield herself from the chill night air. The temperature difference made her realize just how buzzed she was as she stood in the darkness of what she assumed was your living room. 

From behind her, she could hear the little ‘plink’ of the light switch as you flicked it on, light flooding the room. 

“You can place your coat here if you want.” 

She turned, raising her eyebrows to see what you were talking about until she saw you hang your jacket on a hook near the door, a hand behind you to take hers from her. She shrugged it off quickly before handing it to you, watching as you stood on your toes to hang hers on the hook above the first one hammered into the wall. 

Moving past her into the kitchen, she had no choice but to follow as you lit the room once more, the small island catching her attention immediately due to how messy it was. 

As if you were reading her thoughts, you spoke with some embarrassment in your voice. “I would’ve cleaned up if I knew I was going to be bringing guests over.” 

She eyed the items around the small area before shaking her head. “No, it’s okay, this allows me to scan for conversation topics.” Was it weird that she said that? Well, you didn’t seem to think so as you laughed heartily from your stomach, hands pulling at the fridge handle, browsing at the limited options of liquor. 

“Uh… do you want a shot of tequila or a glass of Rosè?” She heard your muffled question to which she answered quickly. 

“Tequila.”

“Alright, my kind of girl!” You exclaimed happily, setting the bottle down on the island and grabbing two shot glasses from one of your wooden cabinets. 

Twisting the lid off, you poured the liquor into the small glasses which caused her to stand across from you, drunken eyes watching as you handed her one. She took it before staring into your eyes once again, hungrily this time, as you rubbed your thighs together under her gaze. 

The both of you tilted your head back in unison, downing the shot quickly before you waltzed to where she was standing, eyes never leaving hers as you brought your face closer. 

You didn’t know why you did what you did, and neither did she quite frankly as she stood, stiff and with ragged breaths as you closed the small gap between the two of you. She immediately returned the kiss, her back digging into the edge of the island counter, as you pressed against her, grabbing the shirt she was wearing, tugging it with need. 

With a hand snaked around your back, she moved the other to grab the back of your neck, forcing your teeth to clash against hers as her tongue made its way into the deliciousness of your mouth. You moaned, entwining yours around hers wetly, her warm breath mixing with yours. 

She met you all but four hours ago, and here she was, in your house kissing you as if her life depended on it. 

Her hands moved to your ass, squeezing through the material of your sweatpants as hard as she could when you ground your hips against hers, wanting to dissipate the aching throb between your legs. 

Noticing this, Ellie moved her hand to the front of your sweats, fingers dancing down your naval and onto your folds, opening them slightly to rub at your clit. You whined, pressing your forehead against hers with a hand on the nape of her neck, squeezing slightly. The action caused her to rub at your swelling bud even faster, keeping note of the way your face contorted into one of pleasure, your eyes in the back of your head. 

“You like that, hm?” Seeing you like this, your body pressed against hers leaving little to no space to even breathe made her the wettest she’s ever been. 

You only put your head in the crook of her neck as a response, teeth grazing at the skin below her ear as she shuddered, your slick pooling into her hand when a finger entered you, stretching you oh-so deliciously. 

A sob ripped from your throat, your teeth digging into her neck as you bit to keep yourself from being too loud. Ellie couldn’t help the groan that escaped her when she felt you nipping at the base of her neck, stomach tying into knots at the thought of even just getting to fuck you. 

“Oh, my g-god.” You stuttered, paying extra attention to the finger that was moving in and out of you quickly, grinding yourself onto it lower, with such haste that you just had to scream out. 

“C’mon, baby, I know you can say more than that.” She slurred encouragingly into your ear, the hand on your ass pulling you even further into her as she shoved a second finger in without warning. 

“Feels so fuckin’ good.” You were boarding on tipsy at this point, and not just on alcohol, but the feeling of her fingers as they wormed their way back inside you relentlessly. 

You heard her chuckle, “That’s it, that’s right.” 

Her breathing in your ear, chanting praises, the sensation of white heat building up in your stomach became overwhelming as you clenched around her fingers, releasing all your built-up sexual tension. Or so you thought because when Ellie slowly put her fingers that were previously inside you into her mouth and sucked them dry, you went almost animalistic. 

“Sit on the counter.” You purred, eyelashes fluttering at her, your lids low with arousal and drunkenness. 

Ellie wasn’t one to find herself obeying others, especially in sexual situations,  but for some reason, she found herself doing exactly what you said with a slight tint to her cheeks that wasn’t just from the excessive amount of alcohol she had consumed throughout the night. This hangover was gonna be a bitch.

You loomed over her, arms on either side of her, palms pressed against the counter. “Let me taste you.” 

The pattern of her breathing changed, making her chest rise up and down quickly before she uttered something almost incomprehensible to you. “I’m not the one usually receiving.”

The smile that you gave her was devious as your hands toyed with the button of her jeans, “Please?” You found it pathetic at the way you begged her, but you didn’t care, not one bit as she nodded her head, letting you unclasp the button before you tugged them off along with her black briefs, throwing them somewhere in the kitchen to find later. She felt the cool marble of the countertop against her bottom as she grasped at the edge of the counter with her ringed fingers, looking down at you with so much lust behind her eyes that you could’ve just come for the second time right then and there.

“I’m gonna make you feel good.” You hushed, kissing the inside of her thighs with fervor before swiping your tongue over her cunt, lapping at her juices as they leaked onto your tongue. You sucked harshly at her clit causing her to sob once, hands digging into your hair as she ground her hips into your face further.

 “Mhm,” You moaned into her core, feeling her throb against your mouth, tongue flicking quickly at her clit, her arousal mixed with your spit sending her mind to an entirely different planet as her eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. 

You were staring at her the entire time, your arousal wetting the material of your underwear, making them stick to your folds as you shuffled your hips to move into her more, feeling her shake above you. 

“O - oh my god, fuck.” She whined, lip quivering as her legs shook, an orgasm so intense that she grew numb, letting her spend get sucked onto your tongue before you removed yourself, dabbing at the sides of your mouth with a finger. 

Ellie Williams was completely fucked and love-drunk on you, and she didn’t even fucking know you.

[chocsra]

✧ STORMBRINGER CHUUYA AS YOUR GUY BSF IS .... (pt 2 -> pt 1!)

✧ w/c: 770 ✧ content: drabbles & headcanons of cute things with best friend!stormbringer! chuuya

☆ watching as you do your makeup, his upper lip hinged into an annoyed frown. "did you know, if you hurried up we could get your damn ice cream much quicker?" the teenager rolls his eyes as he stands beside you, extending his wrist to examine the time on his analog wristwatch—expense swimming in his choice of attire. you ignore him as you draw a fine streak of eyeliner into a mirror, chuuya purses his lips in boredom. "its just ice cream." he repeats, before ruffling his russet hair, not paying attention to how your gripping the instrument much tighter. "its just ice cre—" before the boy could finish his sentence, he was soon cut off to eyeliner being thrown straight at his face.

☆ enabling his nosy side, any activity he was doing being completely dismissed as soon as new gossip inhabits the area.

"[y/n], i think i saw your ex-boyfriend today." he whispers, fiddling with his gloves in thought. you, studying in a library, immediately stopped your pencil and paid your undivided attention to the redhead. "what do you mean you saw my ex?" you question, sassily glaring at him as he elegantly sips on some coffee. "y'know, the one that wasn't ready for a relationship." chuuya says, "that was something else, we never dated." you scoff in disbelief, returning to your schoolwork. the redhead cocks a brow in annoyance, "yea yea, whatever. point is, i saw that jackass with another girl, to hell he wasn't ready for a relationship." another girl? you immediately drop your pencil again and drop your jaw, "what?" the boy nods sassily, pulling out his phone to show you a picture of indeed a romantic date of your ex-talking stage and another girl in a makeup store. "holy shit, i think i know her." you clasp a hand over your mouth, cheek smushed against his shoulder to get a closer look. "but why were you in a makeup store alone?"

...

an overcoming silence took over the two of you, "shut up." he quips before turning off his phone and motioning you to continue studying.

☆ watching movies with completely different reactions. sometimes, you'd go to the movie theatre together, watch in the middle of the night on a video call, or in the comfort of one of your homes. he'd curl his upper lip into a leer at some shoujo anime as you would giggle and kick your feet. "oh my god, he's practically harrassing her, he should be arrested." chuuya complains, looking extremely distressed at the current predicament of the show, looking over to you for approval of this treatment. you could only fawn and giggle, "usui takumi!"

☆ chuuya enjoys action movies, but sometimes complains when they're not accurate or over-exaggerated. he fanboys whenever gravity is mentioned and genuinely closes his eyes in a deep sadness whenever a dog's story is told. you have never seen him more upset than when you watched "a dog's way home" together.

☆ being so envious of chuuya's damn eyelashes. they're long and luscious with a natural lift that almost looks like they were curled. his lashes often contrasted with his stormy eye colour and freckle-stained cheeks. you'd find home in the storm by holding eyelash curler, pinching at his lashes as the boy huffs and groans. "it hurts— dammnit!" the redhead pouts, pushing your fingers away, messing up the calcuations of your hand as his eyelid gets pinched. "chuuya!" you (both) scream.

☆ there's something else about doing his makeup against his will, though. the subtle look in his eyes, the kind of look that brews up something in the pit of your stomach. he peers through his lashes and the handle of your brush, the two of you making silent eye contact in your room before quickly turning away.

☆ chuuya getting pissed off whenever you snap a unflattering photo of him. so in return, he shoves his phone in your face at the randomest time to catch a photo even the port mafia wouldn't be able to get out of you. instead, he stares at the picture each time, and even if you're struggling to get the boy to delete it, he just screams: "why can't i take a bad photo?!"

☆ sometimes wondering where you lay on friendship. why do you feel so drawn to chuuya, and why does he feel so close to you? his mind tells him you're his dearest friend, but his heart aches for something more. since the redhead believes a heart is what he lacks, he'll never accept the risk of loving someone, loving you.

✧ chocsra™

[asskickedbygirl]

Moment [Brandon DiCamillo x Gn!Reader Drabble]

Desc: You and Dico trace each others faces.

A/n: I don’t usually write lovey dovey stuff cos i feel like it takes itself too seriously but i was having thoughts i needed to express

Warnings: none just purely self indulgent fluff

⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒ ⭒

“Close your eyes.” You whispered, your face inches away from Dico’s as you lay in bed together, his arms around your waist. He gave you a funny look but did so anyways. You lifted your finger and began gently tracing his features, starting with his cheekbones. You moved on to his his eyelids and lashes before brushing his eyebrows flat.

“What are you doing?” He mumbled, eyes still shut. You hushed him and continued.

“I’m tracing your face.” Brandon smiled dumbly but allowed you to carry on. You dragged your finger along the outline of his lips once he stopped grinning, circling around before he playfully opened his mouth and bit it gently.

“Hey!” You giggled, smacking him lightly on the chest after he released you. You then moved your thumb along his jawline before finally getting to his nose. You took extra care to properly trace the feature with the pad of your finger, feeling the bone beneath his skin. You pressed the centre of it,

“I love your nose.” You muttered, making Bran open his eyes. He gave you that steely look, the one he gets when he goes all serious and hot. You grinned at his change in demeanour and he smiled back, keeping the stern look in his eyes. Then he brought his hand over your face to signal you to shut your eyes.

“My turn.” He whispered before bringing his fingers to carve under your cheekbones. He dragged his thumbs along your jaw as you had to him and traced your lids and lashes as well as brushing back your brows. He used the pad of his thumb to brush across the pillow of your lips and you kissed it as he passed. You could hear his smile though your eyes were unseeing. Using the tip of his index finger, he traced the bridge of your nose before planting a kiss on the tip. He took your face in his hands and kissed your cheeks, then your jaw, then your lids, your brows and finally your lips. He pulled away after the pecks to look you in the eyes.

His steely look was replaced with one of love and adoration. “I love your nose.” He whispered. You blushed like a teenager before pulling him in to kiss you once more. Your lips moved together slowly and softly. You pulled away this time.

“I love you.” The words never felt so natural leaving your lips though you had never uttered them before to anyone in your life with that meaning behind them. Dico’s gaze softened even more than it already had. He kissed you again, a quick peck.

“I love you too.” Your heart swelled and soared and yelled. The rest of the night was spent in each others arms, planting kisses and whispering sweet nothings with utter infatuation. Not wanting to let sleep take you from the moment that lasted forever.

End.

@gnarkillknoxville @steve-osahottie @ckygetsjobs @spoookyberry @jackussy420 @lovexjoe @wearenotdunnyet @izzaaaaaa @jackassvivalabam03 @bunnyC0re @lucy1ntheskyw1thd1am0nds

[joonipertree]

Pro-racer!Jiro x insecure!reader

drabble that started it all

the smut that isn't done yet but will be uploaded at some point

Thank u everyone who asked for a part 2, it motivated me a lot i hope u like this as much as i do!

When you heard the door of your apartment open, your body stiffened. It hadn't been that long since Mikey left, only 5 pm and he said he'd be back by ten so it confused you. But you didn't get up from under your blanket, didn't run out and hug him in greeting. You stayed silent and still, wondering maybe it was your imagination and then morbidly thinking an intruder got in. You wouldn't want an intruder to come in but Mikey just wasn't someone you wanted to see in that moment.

An exasperated sigh left Mikey’s lips but he was stubborn if anything so your body went deeper into the mattress from his body weight. He peppered you with kisses like he always did and your body relaxed under the onslaught of affection. Your head cleared for the first time in the last hour and every second you were in his presence was enough to assure you of his love. But the image of the comments flashed in your head, so easily. People saying that he and the model looked good together, that they would make a pretty couple, that it made sense. And as much as you wanted to deny it, you knew that there was a reason people were saying it. Of course there was, you had eyes. And the question that was begging to get out of you sat on your tongue like a weight. 

And with some difficulty, you unstuck your tongue from the roof of your mouth and spoke with every fiber of your body protesting against it. 

“Why are you dating me?”

The silence that followed was deafening and felt like a burial for your emotions. You didn’t know what you wanted him to say, second guessing your worries and your thoughts. Eating your words would have been easier, shutting up would probably keep the remnants of your relationship together. Of course, your relationship didn’t feel like it was on its last leg but love was blind wasn’t it? People hid secrets easily enough. And the question in your head wasn’t necessarily if he loved you but couldn’t he love someone better?

“Your laugh gets squeaky when you giggle for too long.”

A pause. You still couldn’t look at him. 

“The way you talk about your favourite characters is filled with so much passion and nuance, I know for a fact that that doesn’t just apply to them. You do a cute thing where you break eye contact with me when you stare at me for too long, we’ve been together for four years. You annoy me every day when I don’t pay attention to you and then take your revenge by eating my food.”

Your eyes were blurry from the unshed tears that threatened to break free and all Mikey could do was kiss your cheek as he continued his list. 

“Your hands are very small in mine and you give me extra meat on my plate when you think I’m not looking and you pat babu on his headlights like he’s precious to you. You complain about having to take care of a big baby like me but do it anyway. And you cackle every time you put my hair in pigtails like it's the most evil plan. We spent fifteen minutes the other day doing basic math when tryna bake something and ended up getting flour everywhere. What a silly question for you to ask, honey.” 

You sniffled and let him turn your head so you could see the crinkling of the corner of Mikey’s eyes and the gentle smile he reserved for only you. And as much as you wanted to let it go then and there, your fist still punched his shoulder, albeit with no strength in it. 

“Then why was your face so close to that model, you jackass?” Another fist landed on his chest but he didn’t budge at all, cradling your face that didn’t wanna venture too far away from his hand. “I get that she’s pretty but you can’t just do that to me!! Am I not enough? Do you think it’s fine cuz it's a photoshoot? Cuz no! I don’t like it at all!!! You fucker! You piece of shit!”

Mikey sighed, closing his eyes for a second before saying, “it’s not what it looks like.”

The scripted sounding line made you see red as your foot kicked him almost reflexively in the stomach. He fell back onto the bed, legs and arms spread as he groaned at the impact. You took the chance to get up and begin walking out of the room. 

“I know it looks bad but genuinely! Not what you think it is!” 

The pillow you threw at him shut him up real quick and he was left laying there in a disgruntled ball. The door slammed shut behind you as you stomped your way into the guest bedroom, closing with less intensity as your anger fizzled out as soon as you went inside. You sat down on the bed, the photo burned into your retina and every single comment going through your head like you’re scrolling through your phone at that exact moment. 

After half an hour, the door to the room opened and mentally cursed yourself for forgetting to lock it. This didn’t change the position you were in, a small ball of pity on one corner of the bed. There were two thumps on the side table next to you and after some shuffling, the door opened and closed. You waited five minutes before peeking from your blanket. A glass of water sat on the table along with your phone, precariously placed in your direction. You looked around and saw the room being empty before you chugged the water down. 

Your phone pinged with a notification from Mikey’s instagram. He posted something while the two of you were in an active fight? That bitch-

You picked up your phone, stared at your lockscreen of Mikey and you with your cheeks pressed together and opened his page despite yourself. It was a video with the caption ‘thanks for sending this @luvrboisanzu’. The video played on its own, a few seconds before the camera had captured the photo that had caused this whole ordeal. The model was seen hovering behind him, leaning down with her hand stretching out towards his face. There was no hesitance in Mikey’s hand shooting up and grabbing her wrist, glaring at her before glaring at the director telling him to ‘let her’.

“It’s just for the camera! People will love it!” The old man persisted before Mikey stood up from his seat. 

“I’m taken and I’m bored. We must have enough by now, right?” Mikey’s hands were tucked into the pockets of his dress pants, eyes sharp and steady. 

“Oh come on, a few more won’t hurt right? Think of your fans---” The director pushed on and the air around Mikey changed immediately. It grew more stifling, his eyes narrowing at the man. 

Silence, no one knew what to say before Ken-chin brought over Mikey's jacket. Mikey began leaving, ignoring the stammering staff members that were asking him to stay. 

“Oof,” a sound came from behind the camera and you instantly recognized it as Haruchiyo, “dude bro really shouldn't have pushed it.” 

And the video ended.

You stared at the screen for a second, noticing the little red circle on his profile. You clicked it without thinking, the video that played took a second for you to process. 

Sanzu had posted it on his story and tagged @bikerboi_manjiro, Mikey had shared it on his story. The main focus was Mikey, his hair up in a ponytail while he played patty cake with someone that you instantly realised was you off camera. The memory was clear in your head, from a few months ago when you were on the sidelines watching haru fuck around with Mikey under the guise of a makeover. His nails were painted metallic silver, his nose was grazed with blush and he had graphic liner adorning his eyes. 

The main problem with filming was his lack of attention span and inability to sit still. So he'd often just move around or eat the snacks or bound over to you for your affection. In this instance, the two of you were bored and ended up just stuck in a long game of patty cake. 

Mikey, in the video, watched your hands fumble and grinned brightly before grabbing your hands in his. You remembered how flustered you had gotten from his stare, you two had been together for a long time but his gaze still felt too much to you at times. Mikey broke down laughing seeing you all blushy, eyes squeezing shut and leaning closer towards you. 

The story left your screen and you were left with a swirl of emotions which you could only describe as embarrassed, awed and grateful. As well as just a tiny bit pissed that he thinks that he could post himself being cute and you'd walk out the door back into his arms?? He was right, of course. But it still pissed you off.

So you dragged your ass out of the guest room and instantly noticed his napping form on the living room couch. Mikey's head was against the couch cushion, eyes closed and hair spread out like a halo. 

And without much warning, you plopped yourself on his lap. His eyes instantly shot open, instantly focused on you as you made yourself comfortable on your seat. Mikey's arms went around your waist, soothing your back with his large hand as you laid your head on your shoulder.

“Sorry for kicking you….and punching you….and doubting you.” You whispered.

Mikey snorted, “couldn't have asked for a better kick. And it's fine, I would've kicked myself too if I could. Sorry it came to this.” 

“I shouldn't have thought you would do anything with another person….you never gave me a reason to believe that.” You squeezed him against you as much as you could, letting him soak in your warmth.

“You're always so hard on yourself, you know that? Always think the worst of yourself. Which is very annoying when I look at you and I see the best person I could possibly be with. I really don't think you understand how lucky I am to be dating you.” Mikey whispered, placing soft kisses along your neck and shoulder, letting you melt into him.

“I'm just me.” You whined, too focused on his lips on your skin than your words.

“And you are something that is so rare and precious that it's a miracle I found you. You think I can walk down the street or go into a photo shoot and find someone like you? I could spend lifetimes searching and not get close, yet here you are…in my lap.” Manjiro's kisses had turned into light nibbling , hand curling so that the back of his nails could graze your spine, causing you to shiver.

“You're a very silly little baby aren't you, honey? Having these silly thoughts. You don't need to stress your pretty head about it, no not at all.” Mikey spoke gently, voice soft and buttery. And you just whined into his shoulder, letting his words fog up your brain and close your eyes.

Mikey's long fingers made their way into your hair, scratching your scalp enough for your nerves to come alive and cause shivers run down your back. His nails reached the nape of your neck and a little whimper forced its way out of your throat. 

“Mh-hm.” Mikey hummed, rocking from side to side. Your head was stuck in a dream-like state, body melted against his own with barely any thoughts left. 

“Jiro.” You whined, feeling overwhelmed. Your boyfriend only chuckled, playing with the hem of your shorts, asking for permission. And oh, you wanted him so badly.

[philipjohnclapp]

Heyy idk of ur requests are open

If they are, could you please do some head canons with Steve-o with a 2000s popstar reader like, kind of like Britney Spears because I fucking love her btw looooove ur writing 💗💗💗

Steve-O Dating a Popstar Reader Headcanons

A/N: I hope this is okay, I’ve mastered Steve-O to a T, Y/N? Not so much. This might work; if y’all want more feel free to request. implied female reader.

- You’re his bimbo girlfriend even if you aren’t a bimbo.

- That’s his name for you.

- He thinks your smoking hot.

- Wonders how he ended up with you.

- His friends think you’re an escort, at least at first they did.

- Now they think you’re his sugar baby.

- Listens to all your music and is very supportive; even though he’s a rocking roll man.

- Fucked around once and turned the amplifier up so loud, and got so close his ears bled.

- Was listening to your music at the time, he said your music was and I quote “so good that his ears bled.”

- Literally almost went deaf.

- He goes with you everywhere pretty much, you call him your “trophy boyfriend.”

- Definitely do all the “rockstar” like shit and get wasted.

- You constantly tell him you aren’t a rockstar.

- One time he asked you if you were friends with Tommy Lee.

- He got jealous?

- And then he threw up and passed out.

- Y’all cuddle every night.

- Especially after sex.

- Let’s you sometimes do makeup on him, he proceeded to bat his lashes and then he was kissing all the guys to mess with him.

- Somehow he contracted crabs or something from it and you made him sleep in a different room for like a month.

- He was sad.

- ALWAYS I mean ALWAYS does some sort of trick on stage before you preform.

- Hangs out in the mosh pit a LOT.

- Sometimes as a gag when you bring him on stage he acts like a fan girl and goes nuts.

- Kisses you with tongue in front of everyone.

- Especially on stage just because.

- Tried to learn the guitar so he could preform with you and he failed.

- That also made him reaally sad.

[welcometojackass2022]

this is probably the first time I’ve ever actively wanted to continue writing for something I wasn’t even interested in anymore. Usually when the hyperfixation goes so does the will to write for it but there’s so many good ideas people sent that are in my drafts and I’m itching to finish them

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Buttons

The request from @toomanytookas: I have such fond memories of my grandmother teaching me how to sew on her old Singer. Obviously a WILDLY different context for a million different reasons, but I love the idea of of Pin showing Joel how to sew or just explaining the general mechanics of using the machine. Maybe some physical guidance/touching a la the pottery scene in Ghost?

If you'd prefer to play with other characters, it would be sweet to see her teach Ellie now that she's working at the shop and I imagine she'd be curious about it!

Seams sleepover micro drabble request | 900 words | warnings: rated M for dirty thoughts and slightly dirty talk, outrageous flirting, topless Joel Miller | can be read independently of the series but is part of the Seams universe

‘Nice tits, Miller!’

Joel chokes on his corn chowder as Tommy’s voice rings loud and obnoxious in the half-empty cafeteria, a mischievous glint in his eyes when he makes himself comfortable opposite him, tray hitting the table with a clatter.

‘Seriously though, put them away before Maria sees you. This is a family place, y’know.’

Joel rolls his eyes. ‘Shut up, jackass.’

Tommy studies the familiar green plaid shirt on his brother that is sitting open to the sternum. ‘Buttons fell off, huh?’

‘Aren’t you a regular Sherlock Holmes.’

‘Pin gettin’ a bit rough with ya?’

Joel splutters, raising his fork in what he hopes is a menacing reproach. ‘Hey!’

‘Just jokin’, big bro. And no judgement if she is.’

He scoffs. ‘This is gettin’ real weird, Tommy -’

‘Why don’t you ask her to sew ’em back for you?’

‘She ain’t my seamstress.’

‘She’s a seamstress. And your girlfriend.’

Joel snorts. ‘You ask Maria to do all your chores for you?’

Tommy shrugs and replies around a mouthful of mashed potato. ‘Ask Pin to teach you then. What's that they say about fishermen and fishin’?’

He has a point, Joel has to concede. That’s how he ends up at your studio that afternoon, leaning against the doorframe as he watches you on the sewing machine. He likes the steady, mechanical staccato of the needle, the whirring wheel and the metallic squeak of the pedal as your hands and feet all move in almost nonchalant choreography.

He knows that under that ease lies years of experience, and there’s an understatedness about your movements that makes him stop and stare every time you're at the antique sewing machine. 

He waits patiently for a lull, not wanting to disrupt your rhythm. When you pause to inspect the stitching you’ve been working on, Joel knocks on the doorframe. 

His lips twitch when you startle, eyes wide as your head whips around at him, and it brings him right back to the day you meet, just a few feet from where he stands now.

But then you break into a wide smile. ‘What are you doing sneaking up on me, Joel Miller?’

He closes the distance with three steps, bending down to drop a kiss on your lips. ‘Just wanted to say hello - and to ask for a favour.’

You stare up at him, admiring the way a stray lock curls over his eyes. ‘What is it?’

Joel tugs on the front of his shirt. ‘Was wonderin’ if you can teach me how to sew my buttons back on.’

You eye his neckline, which is suspiciously low. ‘I thought you were just trying something new,’ you quip.

Arching an eyebrow, he asks, ‘Is it workin’ for you, sweetheart?’

Hooking your finger into the open V of the shirt, you grin. ‘I’m not complaining, but it doesn’t hurt to fix it. Take it off.’

Joel huffs, joking, ‘Buy me dinner first, at least?’

You watch his fingers push the little buttons out of the holes, baring broad chest and freckles with every downward inch. You hum when he gets to the bottom of the shirt and it hangs open, nothing but bare skin under it. ‘No undervest?’

‘Feel like showin’ off today,’ he winks and disrobes with a smooth roll of his shoulders.

You can’t help it, your breath catches - at the strong shoulders, the soft belly, the way he has one hand on his hip - and by the self-satisfied curl of his lips, you know he knows.

Clearing your throat, you stand and take his shirt from his grasp, the warmth of the fabric comforting in your hands. ‘Come sit over here.’

‘We’re not using the machine?’

‘Not for sewing buttons,’ you reply, opening a little box to find matching ones for his shirt.

‘Okay, step one,’ you seat yourself next to him and hand him the supplies. ‘Thread the needle.’

The thread looks more like a blade of the most delicate hair in between his thumb and index finger, and the needle comically small. But his hands are remarkably steady, and he surprises you by nimbly pushing the thread through the eye on his second try.

‘Pull the thread through and keep going,’ you instruct, snipping it off with scissors when you’re satisfied with the length. ‘Now, we need to knot the end. Loop the thread around your finger a couple of times, pinch it with your thumb and pull the end through.’

He does so with aplomb, and you remark, more to yourself than anything. ‘Your fingers are really dexterous for their size.’

Joel wriggles his eyebrows suggestively, the corners of his eyes crinkling. ‘You should know that first hand, hmm?’

A comment like that would’ve had you ducking your head a few months ago. But now, you narrow your eyes at him in playful admonishment. ‘So full of yourself, Joel Miller.’

Dragging your chair towards him, he leans in and murmurs against your ear. ‘Ain’t you the one who was full of me last night -’

Heat rushes to your cheek as he noses the sensitive skin behind your ear. ‘Joel, I thought you wanted to fix your shirt -’

Pushing the needle into a pin cushion, he shrugs and pulls you into his lap with a smirk, his skin hot under your touch.

‘Luckily, I don’t really need a shirt for what I want to do right now, sweetheart.’

More notes: Thank you for this adorable prompt @toomanytookas! I hope you don't mind that I tweaked it a little bit. I love that you have such beautiful memories with your grandma. Mine used to sew and do cross-stitch, I miss her so much 🥹

[caustinen]

clegan drabble — chance encounter, first meeting, modern au

By the third time the guy makes his way over to the bar, Gale has to really work on not throwing his Coke bottle to the liquor shelf and start breaking stuff.

”Seriously man, are you sure we don’t-” ”No, we have not met before,” he responds as politely as he can through his teeth, “and no, I do not need company. And no, I will not go home with you. Excuse me.”

The guy’s drunken gaze falls to his lips as he talks, making Gale suspect he has not heard a single word he has said all night despite repeating himself over and over. The glassy eyes eventually turn back to his, and the man licks his lips as his expression morphs into a what he surely thinks is a seductive smirk.

”Come on, baby. Humor me a bit. Let my buy you a drink.” Gale exhales in frustration. The ick he gets from this man is ridiculous. ”I told you already, I don’t need a drink, I’d really just like to-”

He stops abruptly when the man takes a tight hold of his bicep. ”Hey, could you-” ”This hard-to-get act is getting old now, gorgeous.” ”I’m not-” The grip gets tighter, another hand reaches for his thigh, and Gale is about to get violent despite not wanting to get in trouble at their frequent spot when-

”Hi Buck, there you are! I’m real sorry I left you here all by yourself for so long, the queue to the toilet was insane.” A pleasant, carefree voice comes up from behind him. He turns to find a gorgeous smile on a gorgeous face he doesn’t recognize. The man’s smile is tense on a futher look, though, and his eyes are questioning as he lays a careful hand on Gale’s shoulder, clearly ready to pull back immediately if he gets any indication that the action is unwanted.

Gale exhales quietly again before covering the hand now on his shoulder with his own, immediately catching on. ”It’s okay.” It’s easy to slide away from the icky man’s grasp now, his surprise making him loosen his hold on Gale. Gale tries to avoid looking at him and accidentally leans closer towards the other man, his aura calming despite towering over Gale’s propotions in every direction. The man doesn’t seem to mind, still smiling from under his curls. ”Ready to go home, doll?”

Gale nods immediately. The drunk dude has been looking between them for a bit before his eyes land on the taller man. ”I’m real sorry mate, I didn’t realize he was-” The man’s face changes immediately when he looks away from Gale to the other guy, the youthful happiness turning into coldness that makes him look mature and strick. ”Yeah, whatever. Go home, sober up and learn some fucking manners, you fucking jackass.” With that, he’s gently leading Gale to the door.

He doesn’t let go until they are out of the other guy’s view, but he does drop his hand immediately as the door closes behind them. It’s probably the chill of the autumn evening and not the departure of the solid body against him that’s making Gale feel cold suddenly but it’s still unpleasent. ”Sorry,” the man says almost frantically, ”I didn’t mean to intrude but you were looking pretty miserable before he even showed up and when he got his hands on you-” The man sighs and shakes his head. ”Didn’t look like you were happy with it, somehow, so I just wanted to check on you. No clue where the fake boyfriend thing came from though, I’m so sorry if I-”

”Don’t be,” Gale says firmly, and the man immediately relaxes again, ”I don’t know why I froze like that, it was nice someone else de-escalated it like that. My friend went to argue with his boyfriend on the phone like 30 minutes ago and never showed up again so I was pretty pissed anyway.” The man nods, and the warmth Gale feels under his intense gaze shouldn’t feel this exciting, surely.

”Well then…” The guy lifts his arm and scratches the back of his neck, ”I don’t wanna take more of you’re time, I hope you’re oka-” Gale doesn’t think, in an unusual manner to him, when he interrupts him. ”I, eh, actually… I’d love to thank you somehow? Maybe buy you some late night dinner?” The man’s face lights up again, and Gale feels silly in a way he doesn’t often do.

”I’d love that. I’ll go tell my friends I’m leaving and meet you up here after?” ”Sounds good.” They stare at each other for a beat despite the words, and Gale swears he’s not blushing when he sticks his hand out jerkily. ”Gale Cleven.” The man smirks, his eyes turning to lines as it overcomes his face. ”John Egan,” he introduces himself as he reaches to shake his hand, ”but you can call me Bucky.”