#let me hear him speak russian

[eviesaurusrex]

ᴄʜᴏꜱᴇɴ ᴡɪꜱᴇʟʏ | ʙ. ʙᴀʀɴᴇꜱ

Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary: 5 incidents in which Bucky gets proven how lucky he is to have found you.

word count: 6.7k

warnings: MDNI, fluff, mobster typical themes, illusions to violence, more fluff, cursing, talks of marriage, starting a family etc., pregnancy, phantom pain, allusions to smutty time, slight dirty talk, my Google Translator skills for all things Russian, children, not perfetly proof-read

author’s note: Am I in my mobster era now? (Please don't try to strangle me when I butchered the Russian parts. I had only Google Translator as my trusty helper ;_; Dividers are made by @enchanthings-a and @strangergraphics!

Russian translations:

малышка (malyshka)—baby

милая (milaya)—darling

“Every day I wake up next to you, I pray to the gods and thank them for the love you give me. Every day I spend with you is more than I deserve. Every day I call myself lucky that you love me back, my dear. I love you more than anything in the world, more than the world, more than life itself. You are my everything. Thank you for making me the happiest man on this planet.”

“Should I stop telling you how good you feel around me? How good you take me? How perfect you look, all filled up with my cock and already pregnant with my baby?”

Привет, папочка (Privet, papochka)—Hello daddy

Привет, солнышко (Privet, solnyshko)—Hello sunshine

The first incident that proved him to have chosen wisely when following his heart for the first time in his life was when James Buchanan Barnes—fearsome crime lord, bratva leader, king of New York City’s underworld—found himself in the aftermath of a crossfire after a deal gone south. His doctor had just arrived to check out the gunshot wounds littering his arm and shoulder, and in his opinion, everyone made too much of a fuss about it.

He was fine. He made it out with barely any scratches.

“Nine gunshots, only one bullet I have to remove. This is a new record, Mr. Barnes.”

… a few scratches; he had to give him that.

On the other hand, his entire left arm had been reduced to nothing but a pile of scrap metal, so perhaps Bucky had been hit rather badly if he took that into account. He wouldn’t because he had to be okay, invincible even. The world he was born into was a cruel one that reprimanded one’s weakness with downfall and despair, and he had to uphold the legacy that had been bestowed upon him the moment his father took his last dying breath in the same car crash that had taken his arm. He had people to protect—his associates, partners, workers, everyone that he considered friends or even family.

Topped by only one person, one woman, who sat above them all on a throne he had created for her right next to his. Not beneath him, not a step below—right fucking next to him.

Speaking of which… The commotion outside their bedroom sounded a lot like the whirlwind he deemed to be the love of his existence, and cursing above his breath, his eyes moved a second from the slightly opened door toward the doctor holding the single bullet between a pair of forceps.

“Don’t you dare step in my way.”

Her voice rushed like opium through his veins, making the mobster forget about the burning pain of holes inside his body.

“I can’t let you in there. Not now. The doctor is with him, you don’t want to see that,” Steve’s voice echoed through the hallway, probably stacked with high-towering security men. Just as high-towering as the blond was, and still, his girl did not show fear. No, not her. Never her.

A scoff was heard, and the physician beside him chuckled under his breath as he started to clean the wounds meticulously. Even Bucky showed a rare hint of emotion around other people than her when a grin parted his lips for a moment. “You’re his second. He is his doctor. I am his girlfriend. Think again if you want to continue standing in my way, Steve. I’m not above using brute force to get to him.”

Hearing that from a woman stopping not even close to all their eye levels would be laughable with any other person, but her? Everyone knew she would move heaven and hell in order to get wherever he was. He had learned this the hard way and would never dare leave her behind again, not when she demanded to tag along.

She really is a wonder.

Bucky wasn’t sure if he had spoken those words out loud, his mind starting to struggle with the blood loss and pain seeping deeper than necessary into him.

Shuffling before the door made the brunet open his eyes again. “Fucking hell, woman…” The hardwood door opened, and he could see the woman ruling his world without even starting to grasp the extent of her power over him, turning toward his second in command. “I hope you don’t kiss your mother with that mouth, Rogers,” she spoke sweetly before she finally turned, her eyes immediately finding him on their shared bed.

Worry creased her forehead, brows deeply furrowed, eyes jumping from his shoulder to his injured arm, then right to the one missing. Without another heartbeat, she rushed through the grand but still cozy room, showcasing her taste because Bucky had let her redecorate this entire fucking house as soon as she had agreed to move in with him—after much persuasion on his part. He wouldn’t have given a fuck if she would’ve decided to paint every single wall a screaming yellow if it would’ve made her happy.

“Hey, милая.” His raspy voice from all the shouting broke a bit at the signature endearment for her, and he wished to reach a hand out to her, but the lack of his arm was jarringly apparent. So all he could do was watch her carefully settling down onto her side of the bed, scooting over the mattress, a warm, soft hand cupping his cheek while the pad of her thumb started to caress his cheekbone. “Hey, love,” she returned the greeting with a smile, worried gaze flicking to Dr. Strange. “How bad is it? And don’t you dare try to sugarcoat me like Sam bloody tried on our way here. I do possess eyes, you see that, right?”

Dr. Strange nodded while preparing the stitching material. “I have removed one bullet from his shoulder. Nine shots in total. I’ve cleaned them and will stitch them as soon as the anesthetic takes effect.” Bucky could see her nodding at the doctor’s explanation and tried to nuzzle closer into the palm of her hand. “Milaya?” She finally looked down on him. “I’m okay, ‘promise. They busted m’arm, though.”

His words turned slurred, slowly but steadily, and he focused on her soft smile that was always entirely reserved for him and baby kittens. He could live with that sort of competition.

“We will talk later, but I promise I’ll take a look at your arm, and in case there isn’t anything left to save, I’ll make you a new one, James.” She pressed a gentle, loving kiss to his sweat-covered forehead. “Now relax, my love. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Her voice echoed in his ears when the drugs finally kicked in, clinging to the sound of her.

Yes, he had been smart enough to ignore his stupid rule of not letting anyone get closer than necessary. She proved him right every damn time.

The second incident that proved him to have chosen wisely when following his heart for the first time in his life was on a regular day in December. Snow fell softly outside the grand brownstone they had chosen to spend the holidays at rather than the house outside the city. His girl had wanted to finally spend Christmas in the buzzing city again, and he had ordered their things packed and moved within a blink of an eye.

Now, everyone enjoyed their little piece of heaven surrounded by their families. Yelena and Natasha had returned to Russia for the holidays, Steve spent time with his own wife, while Sam had decided to go south to see his parents and check in with a few associates while he was already there.

Meanwhile, the feared bratva mobster, leader of the darkest pits of New York’s underworld, watched his girlfriend-soon-to-be-fiancée add a few more pieces they had picked up at Tiffany’s today to their Christmas tree, humming to the soft tunes of an old record wafting through the living room. His blue eyes, usually so menacing and threatening, rested with a loving expression on the woman he had sworn to protect with his life, one arm thrown over the back of the comfy couch he had spent a fortune on—but his queen fell in love with it at first sight and couldn’t find anything better suiting. Not that she had to. The shining black Centurion Card had been pulled out of the inside pocket of his black suit jacket the second Bucky had seen that look on her face.

He would buy her anything in this world, spoiling her rotten until she’d drown in pretty things.

“I think we need more lights,” she stated in a mumble, almost to herself, before turning toward him. “Don’t we? We need more lights, yes.” And so it was decided, and he smiled at her turning back when she started to roam through the red holiday box to find the last remaining string of colorful fairy lights. “No, wait.” Lifting a dark brow, the man watched her reach for the small package he had eyed since they’ve returned instead, all wrapped prettily and neatly.

Scooting across the soft carpet toward where he sat, his girl smiled up at him, holding the small present out to him before folding her hands over his muscular thigh, waiting patiently. “It’s not your Christmas present, but I saw it and… and I needed to do this. To have something for our tree.”

Their first real tree as a couple. The past three years, they had been too busy during the holiday season, barely being at home, not to mention the little time they would’ve had to go out, find a tree, and decorate it, so it would be appreciated as it deserved. This year, however, Bucky craved the comforts of their home, and he wanted to start collecting memories like this.

He bent over to her, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead, hand cupping her cheek tenderly, the little gift almost vanishing in the vastness of his hands. “Thank you, моя милая.” How in all the hells had he become so lucky in finding this woman who now grinned up at him with unabashed happiness? “Open it! Open it already!” And he obliged, feeling giddy himself as she almost bounced on her knees, unwrapping the small box and opening the lid to reveal a perfectly crafted snowflake ornament, a picture of them together in Central Park during the worst snowstorm the city had witnessed in over a decade placed inside the clear crystal. Their smiling faces, almost hidden behind scarves and beanies, angled to one another, her lips pressing a snow-filled kiss to the corner of his smiling lips.

It was perfect.

She was perfect.

Gods be damned, but in that moment, when his eyes found hers again, he felt the overwhelming urge to drop down on his knees and ask for a lifetime together. But he wouldn’t. He had it all planned out, and he used to stick to his plans. He was patient beyond compare, but not when it involved this woman before him. So instead of caving to this sensation, Bucky carefully placed the crystal snowflake onto the coffee table in front of him and pulled his girl up into his lap in one smooth motion, wrapping her in his strong arms, fingers—both flesh and metal—tangling in soft strands of hair or gripping the soft black fabric of the hoodie she wore which once belonged to him.

“Каждый день я просыпаюсь рядом с тобой, молюсь богам и благодарю их за любовь, которую ты мне даришь. Каждый день, который я провожу с тобой, больше, чем я заслуживаю. Каждый день я называю себя счастливчиком, что ты любишь меня в ответ, моя дорогая. Я люблю тебя больше всего на свете, больше мира, больше самой жизни. Ты — мое все. Спасибо, что сделал меня самым счастливым человеком на этой планете, малышка,” Bucky rasped in Russian with his forehead pressed to hers and eyes intimately locked, watching the shy smile he loved so dearly spreading on her lips and making her eyes twinkle.

“I don’t know if you have insulted me just now, proclaimed your undying love for humble me, or started the dirty talk earlier than usual, but either way, I don’t mind.” Her fingers wrapped around his chin to pull his face closer to hers, lips touching when she added in a breathless whisper, “It sounded hot, so keep talking dirty to me, love.”

Giggling, his girl accepted the tender kisses of chapped lips to her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, her lips. He felt the uncomfortable pull on his skin again when Bucky smiled at her, his split lip still not entirely healed after a punch he couldn’t dodge in time. Under her care, it will have vanished until next week when the photographer planned to take a few pictures for their first Christmas postcards.

Bucky still struggled to grasp how his life had turned in that particular manner. He never thought he’d be one for domesticity and familiar bliss, but with her?

He was all in.

The third incident that proved him to have chosen wisely when following his heart for the first time in his life was when James Buchanan Barnes, invincible mob boss, returned home in the dead of night in a frantic temper, his entourage strolling behind him, accepting his orders with grave faces and solemn nods.

“Don’t let him out of your fucking sight. Track him as soon as he leaves his godforsaken home, track him inside his own walls, hell, track when he takes a piss. I don’t fucking care!” His booming voice echoed through the foyer, and with another deep growl, he handed his weapons to Sam; two remained in the holster, hugging his broad shoulders. He wouldn’t take them off, not until the threat was decimated under his foot. “We’ll do a 24/7 surveillance on him, boss. He won’t come near her,” Steve promised, knowing damn well what would happen to all of their heads if they couldn’t protect her.

Bucky bared his teeth in disgust. “You better not fuck this up, Steve.” This would be his first and only warning, and the blond knew that, so he nodded and retreated into his office, knowing damn well that sleep would be nothing but a pleasant memory for a while—he wouldn’t be alone, though. Everyone knew how their boss got when his queen was threatened by others. Those threats had already started to grow in numbers as soon as the underworld learned of their engagement, and outsiders trying everything to get in and on good graces with certain families smelled a quick victory.

How wrong they were in those foolish assumptions.

Sam watched his boss almost anxiously while he desperately tried to cool off, fists pressed against the pretty surface of a pretty sideboard she had most definitely chosen.

“I will kill him. I’ll kill them all if I have to.”

At Bucky’s deep rumble, Sam could only hum in agreement. He would be right at his back, killing all who wanted to harm anyone he cared for, especially those inside this building.

“I could reach out to our associates in Louisiana, get some more backup and gunpower. There’s this kid who’s a marvel with tech. Maybe he can come up with a discreet solution for the in-house surveillance,” Sam suggested, knowing damn well how excited Parker would be when he finally allowed him to tag along, currently bored out of his brilliant mind at college. Bucky looked up and over his shoulder, icy blue eyes resting on one of his best men—and friend. But the creaking above their heads let him pause in his answer, and both men stared up the stairs, knowing who eavesdropped at the railing.

Bucky sighed deeply. “We need to work on your stealth skills, малышка,” he spoke up and waited for her steps to pick up and for her to shuffle down the stairs. She did in a pair of cozy yoga pants, a large hoodie hanging on her form—the one he had worn before changing into his suit this morning—and fluffy socks with reindeer and candy canes printed all over them, her hair wrapped in a messy bun on the top of her head, strands framing her face. In her arms throned a king amongst pets, and white fur littered the soft fabric of his hoodie where she held Alpine close to her chest.

His heart ached at the sight of her in the best possible way.

Her eyes wide with worry—not for herself, but for him and all his men—jumped between Sam and himself as she reached the second to last step and waited there.

“I didn’t mean to, but… I heard voices and thought you’d come home, but then I heard everyone talking and it was kind of too late to go back to bed anyway, so I figured I could… learn a bit.” Bucky started softly shaking his head, his outgrowing hair tickling his cheeks. “You meant eavesdropping, малышка. That’s the word you’re looking for here,” he deadpanned, and one corner of his mouth slightly lifted at the sound of her quiet laugh, her fingers comfortingly petting the white fluff ball currently purring at the attention and headbutting her hand for more.

With another sigh, he stepped up to the stairs, raising his gaze to his all-ruling queen, and he felt the tension in his shoulders slightly disappear when her hand came up to his neck and rested there comfortingly, fingers playing with the soft strands of his dark hair. “I’ll be alright, James,” she whispered, and he wasn’t sure how she could say that with such certainty when not even he felt so sure. “We’ll be alright, I just know it. Nothing and no one will keep me from you, from becoming your wife and living a very happy life with the man I love more than anything in this world, giving him the cutest fur babies and children the world has ever seen.” Bucky sucked in a breath, and after gently putting down Alpine, he pulled his soon-to-be wife in a bone-crushing hug, wrapping her legs around his hips with ease. “We will live until we turn old and grey and can look back at all the memories we made along the way, annoying our children and grandkids with endless, embarrassing stories,” she continued to whisper against the soft, tattooed skin of his neck and yes, he could see all that and more, too.

It was easy with her to picture this picture-perfect life—and he would do anything to make it a reality. He wouldn’t stop at murder and anarchy, not when it came to her.

So when he slightly turned to Sam with his woman in his arms, ready to put her back to bed, he only needed to mouth the words, and it was done.

Do it.

The fourth incident that proved him to have chosen wisely when following his heart for the first time in his life was during one of those forsaken nights.

He woke with a startle and a groan escaping him involuntarily, the dark bedroom embracing him, a soft, warm body tucked into the expanse of his back, slow breathing fanning across his heated skin. His hand shot up with another groan leaving him, cupping the stump where once had been an arm, feeling the same agonizing pain he had felt in that car all those years ago, almost bleeding to death after a rivaling family had tried to kill them all off.

Unfortunately, he had survived—and the revenge had been brutal the moment he had recovered enough to go on a killing spree.

Trying to breathe through the crashing sensations, Bucky tried to move as quietly and carefully as possible, not wanting to wake the woman sleeping peacefully beside him because she needed all the rest she could humanely get. But the pain was blinding, the feeling of warm blood flowing down his skin so real, he could’ve sworn there was still an arm to lose, and his fucking legs were still tangled in the damn blanket!

With a frustrated huff, the mobster tried to just roll out of bed in a desperate attempt, not minding falling face-first to the floor, but the blanket didn’t budge, and suddenly, an arm snaked across his waist, and a warm hand rested on his muscular abdomen.

“D’not go…”

The sleepy mumble pierced through the agony, and usually, Bucky always obliged to his wife’s every demand, but not now. Not this time. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t crumble in front of her. She needed him to be strong and capable. He had to protect her and the little plum. He couldn’t show weakness, not even in the comforts of their own home. Word would get out, the pit of New York City would smell blood, they would come and kill her in front of his very eyes, make him watch when the life would vanish from her breathtaking eyes, taunting him, before they would end his life as well, releasing him into the bliss of afterlife where he would search for her, and—….

“Bucky? What’s wrong?”

Her voice, now sounding more awake and aware, startled and pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts, and he could feel the mattress dip and move when she sat up and scooted closer to him. “Hey…” A soothing hand started to rub over his back. “Talk to me, love. C’mon, handsome, I can only help when I know what’s bothering you to such an unholy hour.” Her teasing made him almost smile—almost. But the pain returned in full force, and his hand gripped his shoulder even tighter.

“Phantom pain. It’s nothing I can’t handle, malyshka. Go back to sleep, you need it,” he rumbled quietly, his legs finally escaping the trap that was their blanket, and the man sat up, feet hitting the floor. He attempted to get up in order to leave her to the quietness of their room, but his wife had nothing the like on her mind. She held him back and scooted off the bed. “Stay. I’ll be right back.” Blinking into the dim light of her bedside table, he reached for her and tried to get up. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Go back to—”

She shushed him gently and pressed a finger to his lips. “I said Stay. I mean it.” With that, his woman granted him a serious glance before she patted into the adjacent bathroom, one hand cradling her already quite prominent bump, and all Bucky could hear was rummaging sounds in their cabinets and a quiet mumbling.

“Your papa is a handful sometimes, little one. Prepare yourself because I need you in my corner, okay? Okay.”

Smiling through the irritating pain, the mobster waited for her to return and watched her closely when she finally left the bathroom and patted back to their bed, a bottle of lotion in her hand. “You think you need the mirror, love?” Bucky glanced at the full-length mirror in their walk-in closet shrouded in darkness and decided with a soft shake of his head. “Maybe later if it’s not getting any better,” he mumbled in defeat, accepting the loving kisses pressed to his right temple and lips. “Just let me know, yeah?” He nodded at her request, and blue eyes watched her like a hawk when she settled right next to him, on the side of his missing arm, a squirt of lotion already between her soft hands warming it up.

“I told you to wake me up if it’s happening again,” his wife scolded him quietly, her incredible hands massaging the hurting stump of his shoulder. At first, it hurt like hell, but the more she kneaded and caressed, the more bearable it got. “You need your rest, milaya,” he returned with a lingering glance down her form, eyes equally heavy with worry and love when they settled on the little bump he had grown to love so dearly, it almost hurt.

Bucky felt her eyes on him in return and opened his arm when she stopped what she was doing to climb into his inviting lap, straddling him comfortably. Taking his hand into hers, she pushed the warm skin of her husband under his shirt she wore to sleep and placed his palm right on top of the soft curve before continuing.

“Not more than you need it, too. You’re running the mob empire, not me.” Her voice reminded him softly, and he let his forehead fall onto her shoulder, eyes closed, thumb caressing the warm skin of her bump, hoping, praying, he would feel something, anything. But according to all the books he had read so far, it would take a few more weeks until he could feel the slight movements their child did inside his wife. “And you’re growing a whole fucking human,” Bucky returned and got shushed again. “Watch your language, Barnes. I don’t want their first word to be anything obscene.”

But she couldn’t fool him. He heard her smile in the scolding.

A comfortable silence settled between them, then, reminding Bucky yet again why he had felt so good around her the second she had walked into that room in the hospital, only raising a brow at the sight of six buffed men clad in black suits, armed with more guns than one human could possibly need, and him sitting in the middle of it all—disheveled, still hurting, ice cold. She had smiled, wearing those ridiculous blue scrubs, and he had spotted a splash of blood on her light grey sneakers when she had come closer, pointing it out in almost something resembling disgust. Still, she only had rolled her pretty eyes at the pitiful attempt of an insult.

She hadn’t given a single fuck about those intimidating men—including him—all towering multiple heads above her, tattooed, guns always visible, the rough Russian language floating through the room occasionally. And he had respected her for that, even though he didn’t bother to be nice at first. In hindsight, Bucky would’ve earned a beating from his mother if she had been still alive. She had raised him better than treating a beautiful, kind, intelligent, and compassionate woman like he had initially treated her. But after a while, Bucky had felt how she had snaked her way into his thoughts, catching himself repeatedly thinking about her over the course of his day, starting to anticipate the next appointment to get his prosthetic measured, built, and adjusted, always looking forward to seeing her face.

She hadn’t given a flying fuck either when he finally revealed who he was and what he did, only cocking her head to the side in question and asking him, “Will you or one of your guys kill me after our time is over?” And when he had shook his head, denying those thoughts, she had smiled brightly, before turning back to the prosthetic arm she had crafted for him. “Then we don’t have a problem. Everyone has to earn their money somehow, James.” That was also the first time anyone had called him by that name since his parents had died, and he had fallen for her right then and there, ready to kneel at her feet and surer as hell that he would make her his queen.

“Don’t count on that, malyshka. Everyone around here is using filthy language, and do I need to remind you of certain… situations where the little plum currently has to listen in? Or do you want me to stop? Мне перестать говорить тебе, как хорошо ты себя чувствуешь рядом со мной? Как хорошо ты меня принимаешь? Как идеально ты выглядишь, вся заполненная моим членом и уже беременная моим ребенком?” He felt the pain slowly but steadily subside under her knowing and well-versed hands, feeling them stop in their magic as the huskily whispered Russian words flowed effortlessly over his lips, feeling her squirm in his lap.

Leaning slightly back in order to have a better look at his face, his wife bit her lower lip, making now the feared bratva leader squirm underneath her, his hand protectively pressed into her lower back, not daring to let her fall off of him. “You are a very evil man, James Barnes,” she hummed with almost a purring edge to her voice, making him grin as cocky as possible. “You married the worst of the bunch, malyshka—and you like it. You can’t hide it, not from me, never from me. Not when I’m balls-deep it that deliciously tight…—” Her lips pressing against his made him moan deep in his throat and stop taking altogether. Forgotten was the pain of the past. It still bothered him, somewhere in the back of his mind, but her scent, her taste, the feeling of his wife against him made him forget about it.

The past was the past, and now, only the present and the future held importance to him.

Lifting her with one arm with ease, the mobster carefully moved her to the middle of their bed, hovering above her and watching her pretty face with a loving gaze. “You’re my everything,” he dared to whisper. “You both are.” He felt her hands cupping his face tenderly as if he wasn’t the killer everyone feared across the East Coast as if he was something precious even though he was broken beyond repair. “And you are ours, Bucky.” She kissed his cheeks, the tip of his nose, his lips, and his left shoulder without disgust, without apprehension, but with deeply felt love.

As if he was perfect the way he was.

The fifth incident that proved him to have chosen wisely when following his heart for the first time in his life was after a business trip to Sicily that had taken too long for his liking, even though the business was good and the newly knitted connections invaluable. But it had made him leave his family for far too long than humanly tolerable, not even the many FaceTime calls had eased the sting in his heart.

“Make sure Enzo receives the gift for his wife and put a little something for him inside as well. Perhaps the Yamazaki Single Malt?” The 55-year-old whisky sure would make a fine gift for the young leader of the Sicilian Mafia, remembering an evening here and there when both men had shared a glass of scotch.

Steve walked beside him as they left the car and made their way over the sidewalk and behind the gate of the old brownstone in the best area in New York City. The cherry trees along the road were in full bloom, and the spring breeze was pleasant enough that the Barnes considered taking them all out for a day in Central Park. Work could wait after two weeks away from them. “Sure thing, Buck. I’ll call Stark to get a bottle,” the blond nodded and opened the door for his boss after walking up the stairs before entering the family home as well, happy sounds wafting through the air already.

Bucky visibly relaxed when he heard his family without a phone between them and handed Steve the concealed guns. They had made a rule for the house, and everyone obliged happily because everyone had been wrapped around their little fingers since the day they were born.

And no one would dare to go against Mrs. Barnes.

“I don’t want to be disturbed for the next couple of weeks, so handle everything and only bother me with situations that need my explicit attention,” was the last order the mobster could get out before the sound of small feet erupted from the living room and barreling toward the foyer.

“Papa!”

“Dada! No, waits for meeee! Annie, pwease! Mommyyyy!”

Bucky laughed as his eldest rounded the corner in full sprint, her little legs carrying her as fast they could, and the tall brunet crouched down to catch her little body. The little girl, resembling so much his wife, looked at his face with bright eyes, hands pressing against his cheeks and squishing them with an adorable chuckle.

“Привет, папочка,” she greeted him shyly, stumbling over her sounds and pronunciations, but Bucky kissed her little cheeks with such enthusiasm that her insecurities vanished in an instant. “Привет, солнышко,” the father returned with a kiss to her forehead and watched the questioning expression morphing onto his daughter’s face. Her tongue poked out between her lips, eyes wandering to the ceiling, brows drawn together in concentration—just like his wife. But then, she looked at him again, leaning closer as if she wanted to conspire with him. “What does that mean, papa? Yelena didn’t teach me that word yet,” she whispered, and Bucky laughed again, feeling almost crushed by the happiness he felt at that moment. “It means sunshine, my sunshine.” It made her smile as brightly as the sun outside the windows before she waved at Steve. “Hi, Uncle Stevie. You can go now. Papa is mine; you can have him back in… a long time.”

Nodding to underline her case, the almost six-year-old looked expectantly at his second in command, and Bucky turned with her still in his arms, looking just as expectantly as her. “You heard the little lady, Steve. Off you go,” he teased, and the blond shook his head with a smile, bowing before them. “As you wish, Princess Anastasia.” The girl huffed and showed the blond giant her tongue. “It’s Anya, Uncle Stevie! You always forget!” Chuckling, Steve took her hand and shook it apologetically. “You are right; my apologies, princess. Enjoy your time with your father.”

And with that, he left for his office, leaving the two in the foyer when they heard another set of steps.

“Anya, next time, wait for your brother, please,” Mrs. Barnes scolded the little girl gently, a smile on her lips and the little boy on her arm. His son nodded, holding his stuffed bunny at its long ears. “Yesh, waits for me, Annie! Dada!” More excitement echoed through the home as the small boy started to wiggle in her arms, and Bucky rushed over to her, catching Elijah before he could plop out of her embrace. “Careful, little troublemaker,” he laughed and held him with his other arm, hearing Anya scoff quietly. He threw his wife a questioning look, and in return, she only rolled her eyes at their children, softly shaking her head and taking Anya to her.

“They had a… falling out earlier.” Anya scoffed again as if her mother understated the entire ordeal, wanting to be put back on her feet, and hugged her mother’s hips closely. Elijah leaned his head against Bucky’s shoulder, bunny pressed tightly into his chest, watching his sister. “He ruined my homework! Miss Pepper said she’s suuuuuper excited for my solar system model, and then, papa, Eli just banged his stupid bunny on it!” Angry tears gathered in her eyes, almost rolling down her pretty face. His youngest looked positively undisturbed as he watched his sister unraveling over her homework, and Bucky sighed.

“Bunny s’not shtupid. Annie’s plant-… plants-… planets! Annie’s planets looks ugly, dada. Not pretty like mommy,” Elijah stated with confidence, making the tears finally spill over Anya’s cheeks. “I hate you! You’re not my little brother anymore!” And with that, the little girl pulled away from the soothing hands of her mother, almost tumbling over the stairs as she ran upstairs, a loud bang echoing through the house when she closed her door with force.

Another sigh escaped Bucky and his wife alike, both parents looking down at their little boy who started to chew on his bunny’s ear. “Honey, that wasn’t very nice to say,” she reprimanded her son and took him from Bucky when he stretched his little chubby arms toward his mother, keeping a hand on his little back. “Annie is sads?” She nodded and kissed the dark mob of hair her son had inherited from his father, just like the blue of his eyes. “She’s upset, baby, yes. We will give her a moment to calm down before we’re going upstairs to apologize, yes?”

Elijah nodded with tears in his eyes, and the father couldn’t hold back, so he gently cupped his youngest head and pressed a lingering kiss onto the wild dark curls. “Can me and bunny asks Miss Melina fors cookies?” Smiling, she pressed a kiss to his cheek before putting him onto his small feet. “But only one, baby!” He was already on his way, chanting for cookies.

In an instant, Bucky pulled his wife into his arms, capturing her lips with his, a rumbling moan escaping him at the taste and feel of her. “Two fucking weeks are too long, malyshka,” he stated with another lingering kiss, fingers tangled in her hair. “Tell me about it. Try to manage two kids who switch between being the bestes of friends and each other’s enemy number one multiple times a day.” Taking her in more closely, Bucky could see the dark circles under her eyes and the tight muscles around her lips. His thumb swept across the dark circles, and his lips followed to kiss them better. “I’m so sorry, milaya,” he murmured with another kiss to her forehead and felt her hand hitting him against the back of his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. You had to be there, and we had to stay here with school for Anya and Eli’s first day at kindergarten. We managed. I wouldn’t mind if you take over bedtime duty for a while, though.”

Bucky grinned happily at the prospect of spending time with his kids, feeling the love only a father could feel coursing through his body. “Of course, love. We’ll get you something nice on our stroll over Fifth and let the kids play in Central Park while you enjoy a book, alright? I’ll pick up a few new bedtime stories as well, so you will not even be remotely needed and can enjoy bath after bath. Would that make my wife happy?” Sighing, she leaned heavily against him, gathering strength through his strong body supporting the weight resting on her shoulders during the worst and most exhausting days—which they have had many in the past two weeks. “Sounds lovely. But don’t you dare spend a fortune on me again!” Her warning was unnecessary because Bucky would spend a fortune on his wonderful wife, and she knew that as well. “Please,” he chuckled and pressed another heated kiss to her lips, his fingers cupping her chin tenderly. “I’ll buy whatever you want, milaya. Perhaps we could even get something for us.”

He loved his wife in pretty clothes, but he loved her especially dearly in pretty lingerie he had no qualm of ripping off her gorgeous body the second she’d appear before him, reducing the masterfully crafted pieces to lacy shreds on their bedroom floor. The first time he did that, he hadn’t gotten the opportunity to pull her to bed, receiving a scolding he had gotten the last time, probably as a boy. She had been royally pissed at his antics, mourning the pretty set she had bought for their first night together. The next day, she received a delivery of all the pieces she had eyed at the shops and saved online, making her closet filled with more lingerie than a regular woman would need in her entire life.

Only that she wasn’t a regular woman with a regular man. He could buy her anything and in any quantity possible, so he wasn’t one to hold back when the urge to see this goddess of a woman naked made him growl and impatient—and even a tad jealous of the fabric touching her skin instead of his hands and lips.

“You are the worst of the bunch, Barnes. Seriously.” Exasperated, she looked up at him, her cheeks warming under his touch, and Bucky nodded with a serious expression. “I am insatiable when it comes to you, malyshka. And you thrive on the power you have over me.” Eye-rolling, she shook her head again, winding out of his arms and smacking his ass with a teasing smile. “Stop being a seventeen year old horndog and move your sexy backside up to your daughter. She’ll listen to you more than me after two weeks filled with my constant presence. I’ll see what I can save from her project, and stopping Elijah from munching on too many cookies…”

The last part was barely a mumble, already distracted by whatever thought wandered through her beautiful mind, and Bucky watched her retreating back with a smile before shrugging out of his suit jacket. Throwing it over the stair railing, he made his way to his eldest’s room, softly knocking at the door littered with pictures and posters of her favorite animals and characters—he could even see the remnants of a glitter pen—and knew how lucky he could count himself when he was allowed to enter his sunshine’s room.

He had the perfect wife, two healthy, wonderful children, and had found happiness despite the way his life had taken.

He had indeed chosen wisely.

author's note: Tysm for reading my silly little writing. As usual: likes, reblogs, and comments are so much appreciated! I love to read your thoughts <3

[pretty-little-mind33]

Sergei Kravinoff x virgin!fem!reader

Summary: The handsome mysterious man you just met disapproves of your idea to lose your virginity for money.

Genre: SMUT (nsfm)

Warnings: alcohol, mentions of weed, sex work, virgin!reader, mentions of selling your virginity, p in v, fingering, passionate, hints of dom!Sergei and sub!reader, nipple play, one night stand vibes, aftercare <3

~ i hope you like this anon! ~

SERGEI KRAVINOFF MASTERLIST

"Dima!"

A boisterous voice echoes across the room and you jump, almost spilling the champagne Dimitri Kravinoff had generously poured for you all over your cocktail dress. Dimitri looks alarmed, his cheeks becoming crimson as he stands and tries to intercept the irate-looking man from coming any closer. 

"Брат— (Brother—)" 

One of the girls, the one who is dressed in only a pair of lavish maroon panties and a sheer dress giggles and leans her arm on the table as her lips press against your ear: "That's Dimitri's older brother," she introduces the newcomer, who seems upset with Dimitri as he speaks to the younger man in quick Russian.

"Sergei Kravinoff likes to pretend he's better than girls like us, but really, he quite likes being under us like all the others—"

You watch them. The brothers couldn't look more different. Sergei is much taller, and he has dark brown hair that beautifully contrasts with the deep ocean blue of his eyes. His shoulders are broad and the muscles on his arms make your lower stomach ache. Your mouth becomes dry. Sergei looks up, catching your gaze as he berates his brother.

He's probably pissed that Dimitri spent his birthday without him, inviting whores into his club white he's hammered. You look away, fumbling with the hem of your dress on your lap.

The second girl, the one opposite you, speaks up, "You're the virgin, right?"

You look at her and your eyebrows knit together. You nod slowly and the girl laughs. "Stay away from him then," she warns and motions to Sergei. "Little Dima's a fine client for your first time, but you're much too inexperienced for someone like Sergei. He doesn't like unpopped cherries," her voice is smooth like velvet but it hides a venom beneath.

"He'd break you. You better leave him to me," she continues with a wink and stands, sauntering over and offering Sergei her drink. The rim of her wine glass is stained red from her lips and she sends him a sultry smile. 

The previous girl smirks at the interaction. She pulls out a joint from her purse and nonchalantly dangles it in front of you. 

"Wanna smoke?"

You shake your head, suddenly feeling very ill, and you stand. You squeeze past her and down from the booth. Your ankle twists awkwardly in the unfamiliar stilettos and you groan, grasping the end of the table. 

This had been a horrible mistake.

You pull down the hem of your dress, which has ridden up your knee, as you walk by the brothers.

"Hey!" Dimitri calls after you, still extremely drunk, and you turn to see Sergei holding him back. You look away and the last thing you hear is a whine—"I paid extra for the virgin. Come back!" 

Once the cold London air hits your skin, you let out a shaky breath, and slump down on the sidewalk. You have no money for a cab and you have a feeling the others won't want to leave so soon. 

"Fuck me," you grumble into your hands.

"Hm, that is why you're here, right?" A low, dark voice chuckles from behind you, and you quickly stand and spin around.

Sergei Kravinoff stands in front of you. His arms are crossed over his chest, muscles straining against the white shirt he's wearing. His suit jacket has been long forgotten somewhere. He looks relaxed enough. "My apologies, I did not mean to scare you—or insult you. I just assumed you would be cold."

Your gaze flickers to your bare arms and your cheeks burn. "O-oh, yes, right," you say sounding as calm as you can, considering he's the most attractive man you've spoken to in years, and follow him as he gestures for the inside of the lounge again. 

Inside, Dimitri has happily found himself in between the two hookers you came with and your stomach sinks.

From beside you, Sergei chuckles again and he looks at you. "Would you like to join them? Dima did say he paid a lot of money upfront for you." 

You're frozen for a moment; watching the roughness of their lips meet and hearing the obscene sounds they make. You shake your head no and so Sergei leads you into a quieter room without another word. 

There is an empty bar, the lounge being closed at this hour, and you suddenly feel stupid sitting on that stool as Sergei makes you a drink. 

When he hands you the clear liquid, you take a sip expecting some form of vodka and you're pleasantly surprised to realize it's only lemon water. The straw falls from your lips as Sergei walks over and sits on the stool beside yours.

He watches you intensely and your heart thumps rhythmically against your chest. 

"You don't look like a hooker," he states, his blue eyes locked onto yours. A smirk curls his lips. "Hookers usually aren't virgins."

You fiddle nervously with your straw. "I'm not a hooker—I mean, not really? This is my first time—" You pause, catching yourself and you look away from Sergei's intense gaze. "Well, I- I suppose I just wanted the pesky thing gone, " you laugh dryly, "and the extra cash can't hurt—"

"You foolish girl," Sergei interrupts and you meet his gaze. Embarrassment burns in your stomach. 

"Excuse me?"

Composing himself, Sergei's smirk disappears and his hand slides over to rest on your knee, using his thumb to gently slide up the small slit in your dress.

Using his polished shoe, he hooks it under the stool and effortlessly pulls you closer to him. His hand settles on the underside of the stool as you stumble forward.

You inhale, his touch on your bare skin sending shivers down your spine. Sergei's hand moves closer to your inner thigh as he leans in, his breath hot on your neck. "You're shaking," he observes as his teeth threaten to nip the skin on your throat. "I can tell you aren't cut out for this, little bunny. Anyone could devour you."

His words ring in your ears and you feel anger stir in your stomach. You know deep down he's right but hearing him read you so well is humiliating. You don't know this man, you shouldn't want to prove yourself to him but you do. He's pushing all the right buttons and he knows it. 

You don't think when you lean forward and kiss him. You don't stop to wonder why he came out to talk with you when the other girl wanted him so badly. It doesn't matter because his hand finds itself in your hair as he deepens the kiss.

Without a word, he's standing and lifting you up and onto the bar. You wrap your arms around his neck, tilting your head to taste him better. He hasn't drank and you're now thankful for the lemon water because whatever slight buzz you had from the champagne is long gone.

Sergei's lips trail down to your neck again as his hands tighten around your waist. He pulls away for a moment, a golden twinkle in his gaze as he laughs. "Ну, ты сюрприз. (Well, you're a surprise)." 

You gasp when he holds onto your hair again and leaves love bites above the neckline of your dress right above your breasts. This is as far as you've ever gotten with men, and the realization that things could escalate looms over you. 

Sergei kisses your cheek and whispers in your ear. "I won't fuck you like this." His voice sends a shiver up your spine. "If you would like, come home with me. We'll do this right," he promises and there is an intensity in his gaze you don't dare refuse. 

The entire taxi ride to his penthouse, you feel like you're on a cloud. Sergei is kissing you softly in the backseat, his calloused hands touching you so reverently as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

You moan, eyelids fluttering shut as you hold him close, your arms wrapped around his shoulders now. "Tryin' to sell this beautiful body, tsk," he grumbles, squeezing your hips. "What a waste that would have been. You're mine," Sergei nips posessively at your earlobe and you grind your hips into his.

It's intoxicating, hearing him call you his as if you hadn't just met.

"Sergei," you whimper, tugging at the baby hairs on his nape.

"Shh, Принцесса (Princess). Don't you worry. I'll take good care of you."

His bed is warm and supple and the minute you're laying on the plush blankets and soft furs, you sink into them as his weight hovers over you. His beard scratches against your neck as he hikes up your dress, his large palm splayed across your thigh. You buck your hips, attempting to chase the hint of pleasure he had awarded you in the taxi. 

Slowly, his fingers curl under your panties and suddenly, you're panicking and you sit up. Your head slams into his chin and he springs up as well, his eyes wide and confused.

"What is it?" he grumbles, lifting a hand and gently rubbing your head where you hit him, soothing any pain you could be feeling. He removes his other hand and settles it on your hip instead.

He can see the fear in your gaze and he lifts his other hand to cup your cheek. "Breathe," he strokes his thumb across your cheekbone. "I won't hurt you, little bunny. You're okay. We'll go as slow as you need and you can tell me to stop anytime."

He sounds so serious and you nod, taking in his words. Sergei's lips find yours again and he kisses you deeply, using his tongue to explore your mouth. His hand moves from your cheek to the back of your head as he gently guides you down again, still kissing you as his knee slots in between your thighs. He gently rocks himself against you, applying pressure to your core and when you moan against his lips, he smirks. 

Sergei pulls away and his hands dip down to your hips again. He looks at you expectantly before he pulls away your panties. Once you nod, he quickly throws your panties across the room and leaves you bare as he bunches up your dress around your waist. 

"So beautiful," he mutters, his voice hoarse and thick, as he kisses between your shoulder and neck. With one hand, he begins to circle your sensitive clit and with the other he pulls down the strap of your dress and bra, exposing your nipple—which he happily takes into his mouth. 

The sensation is overwhelming and you shut your eyes, letting moans of pleasure escape your lips. His weight feels heavy over you but he keeps himself up, careful not to crush you underneath him. He works you open with his fingers, his lips moving from your breasts to your throat. 

You feel like you're on fire.

"More," you whimper breathlessly, arching up into him as he curls his fingers.

Sergei hums, satisfied with how wet and open you are for him. Once his touch leaves you, you sink further into the mattress as you catch your breath.

You barely register the shuffling of clothes or movement as your eyelids flutter. His large hand resting on your cheeks pulls you back into reality and you feel his cock touch your thigh. 

Your eyes widen at the sensation. 

"Tell me this is what you want," he mutters, looking you dead in the eye. "I want to hear you say it."

"I want you," you whisper. You mean every word. "Please."

The heat in your stomach worsens when you feel the pressure and you whine. You jerk your hips away from the slight pain, but Sergei holds you still. He presses gentle kisses to your shoulder, whispering sweet words as he continues to push. 

He feels large inside you and you bite down on your lip, dulling the slight pain by focusing on the new pain in your lip. Sergei senses the tension in your body and he looks up. His hair falls over his eyes but you can see him frowning. The hand that isn't holding himself up, the one that was on your hip, moves to pull your lip from your teeth.

Instead, he pushes his thumb into your mouth. "Bite down if it hurts. Don't hurt yourself because of me." 

You nod, eyes a little glassy. He's stopped moving inside you, giving you some time to adjust. Your teeth sink into his skin, keeping eye contact as your lips close around his thumb.

You think back to the warning you'd received earlier. You'd been told to stay away from him, that he would break you. And while you have no doubt he could break you, he's being so gentle you would almost guess he doesn't want to. 

Slowly, he pulls out and you gasp around his thumb. He leans down, adjusting his weight on his arm, and kisses your forehead as he drags back in. This time, the pain is replaced by an intense pleasure and you feel lightheaded. 

It feels so good. It's like nothing you could have imagined and you can't help but wonder if it's like this all the time, or only with him.

Sergei leans down, his thumb leaving your mouth with a soft pop and kisses you sweetly as he fucks you. He's being careful and gentle and you're a mess underneath him. You've lost track of all time and place as he kisses your lips and neck. 

"S-Sergei?" you moan.

"Yes, Принцесса (Princess)," he mutters into your ear, his movements becoming a bit more frantic as he chases his release. 

"I- I think I'm close."

He kisses your cheek, smirking as he thrusts particularly hard. "Hm? Are you?" he teases.

You nod, clutching his arm as he fucks you harder. 

Sergei leans in, tilting his head as he pretends he can't hear you. "What's that?"

You moan, legs shaky. "I'm close," you whimper louder. "Please can I come?"

With a final kiss to your temple, Sergei bottoms out and he presses his mouth to your ear. "Come for me, little bunny," he says, and the cord snaps. You groan, clenching around him. Your stomach tightens and you feel Sergei's dick twitch as he fills the condom you hadn't even realize he'd put on. You'd been so overwhelmed by every little sensation. Your head falls back into the pillows, exhaustion overtaking you.

"Shh, good girl," his voice pulls you back into reality again and you suddenly feel empty. Strong arms hook under your legs and back, holding you to a hard chest as he walks into the bathroom and you hear running water. "You're okay."

You blink, fully coming to as you smell lemons and vanilla and feel the warmth of the water on your sweaty skin. The window outside shows the pink sky.

The sun is rising, which makes you wonder how long have you been fucking? Sergei's hand caresses your cheek as he holds you to his chest in the tub. He's smoothing his hand on your knee as he pours water from his hand onto your skin. When his other hand comes up to massage your scalp, your hair intertwining with his fingers, you hum in pleasure. 

"If you had let some random dick take your virginity, I guarantee he wouldn't have run you a bath," Sergei whispers, a hint of jealousy and possessiveness in his voice that you don't mind.

You let your eyelids flutter closed again, simply enjoying the moment. It had been everything and more. 

You wake up surrounded by familiar furs and blankets, your skin smooth and hair washed as you lay on your side. Blinking, you adjust to the sunlight and realize that Sergei's arm is draped across your side, holding you close to him. Smiling a little, you gently pry his arm away and sit up. You gather your clothes, quickly changing into them. 

Holding your heels, you walk down the stairs of the penthouse towards the door. An unfamiliar longing bubbles in your stomach and your hand pauses on the handle. You turn, looking for a pen and paper. Once you find some, you scribble your name and number. Balls in his court, you think, chewing on your lip as you slip out into the hall. 

As the door shuts, Sergei's eyes open instantly. He'd heard everything. A small smirk curls his lips as he can only imagine what you'd written on the note. 

He didn't mind letting you go for now, after all, he loves the chase.  

[ssscatola]

task force 141 headcanons because I have free will

soap wears nothing but adidas slides when he's on leave. he's sick and tired of getting blisters from his military boots that he refuses to wear any other shoe when he's back in scotland

ghost's favorite season is spring. he loves hearing birds chirping and singing (would never admit this out loud) and enjoys hiking when the weather is just right.

gaz will cook a mean roast and is a snob about what herbs and spices go with what meat and vegetables. (this goes for soap as well bc i headcanon he was raised on a farm)

price is so fucking tired all the time but hides it really well. he'll fall asleep standing up in a heli without a problem

speaking of price, he's a loud ass cougher and sneezer and the rest of the force mimic and tease him about it

ghost has every member of the force's phone number. Price is saved in his contacts as 'Captain Price'. Gaz is 'Kyle Garrick'. Soap is just /insert scottish phone number/ and he refuses to change it just to piss off Johnny

to continue that adidas slides thought for soap, i like to think he's dripped out in any sportswear brand. DEFINITELY has a Napapijri jacket and at least three nike puffer jackets. every item of clothing for the gym is either nike or under armour and every running shoe he has is by asics

Gaz has five colognes he rotates. Soap has three (used to have four but lost one??? where the fuck is it?). Price has one that he's been rebuying for the past fifteen years. Ghost also has one (stole the best-smelling one from Johnny)

Gaz really likes board games while Ghost enjoys card games

Price knows some russian and soap is learning spanish

Ghost grew up with nothing and is now insatiable. doesn't spend that much on decorating his apartment or clothes but he sees a weighted or heated blanket on amazon with raving reviews? doesn't even check the price; it's in his cart. A new mattress made out of memory foam for his shitty back? added to cart. He sees a commercial for a 70-inch flat-screen tv? he needs it to watch soccer in 16k 240fps and 480p re-run episodes from youtube of 'how it's made' when johnny visits him.

price types with one finger (sorry to this man)

ghost rarely types out a response to a text. or if he does respond, it's just a thumbs-up emoji

soap gets down NASTY to 2000's and 2010's music. Like girl this man is breaking his neck and back and ankles on the dancefloor after three-four drinks and nobody can stop him

continuing for soap, he once got wasted and borrowed a cigarette from someone at a club and turned into a hired assassin for the night. the guy who gave him the cigarette got jumped and soap dislocated the attacker's jaw with one punch

gaz has every allergy under the sun while ghost gets the flu every five years or so

ghost has a sharp left canine and johnny nearly flatlines when he sees it

price has freckles on his biceps and shoulders

ghost notices soap is always chewing gum. they make stops during missions so the sergeant can buy (more like swipe) a pack. always the same brand, always the same flavor, and he always offers a piece to ghost. for his birthday, ghost gifts him two mega packs (that's like 400 pieces?) of his preferred gum and soap's heart swells in his chest

these are all over the place but i'm writing a ghoap fic and my motivation is dwindling so i just had to write this :')

if anyone wants a part 2 let me know bc this was a lot of fun to write!

[loveyjelly]

Raw Roulette

CW // MDNI, SMUT, foursome, handjobs, blowjobs, piv, creampie, slight mentions of exhibitionism

(I changed the title because i love alliteration)

"Regretting inviting all of us over for dinner?" Rafayel teased, crawling over to you and trailing kisses from your collarbone to your neck. As much as you want to maintain your composure, you give in and let out a whine.

"Doesn't sound like it to me." Zayne smirked, as he kept your back pressed to his chest, both of you sitting up on your bed.

"Are you enjoying this?" Xavier's hand rested on your thigh, sitting on the edge of the bed and occupying the across Rafayel. He pushed the hem of your dress up to move his hands to your inner thigh.

The overwhelming sensation is starting a fire in your lower abdomen. "This wasn't supposed to happen." You sharply inhale, trying so hard to contain yourself. What would they think of you when they find out that you're enjoying being aroused by three men at the same time?

You didn't think that the night would end up with you being surrounded by barely clothed men vying for your attention, vying for you to make them feel good.

"Do you want us to stop?" Zayne's hot breath tickling your ear is getting you more worked up. Your breath hitched and you involuntarily squeezed your legs together, accidentally trapping Xavier's hands between your thighs. He gently moved one of your legs to separate them.

"Yes or no, Love. We need to hear it from you." Xavier's eyes still shined of innocence even in the dark lighting that matched the soon-to-be carnal atmosphere.

"Don't stop" You mumbled, unable to properly get your words out.

"Speak up, Princess." Rafayel took one of your hands and kissed the back of it.

"Please don't stop."

As if their brains synced together, they resumed with what they were doing except now there was nothing holding them back from having their way with you.

Rafayel started licking and sucking on your neck, marking you as if that was the only way he could make it obvious to the other two that he needs you more than they do.

Xavier's hands roamed across your thighs. He couldn't get enough of how they feel against his palm and how you shiver and gasp whenever his fingers would brush over your panties.

Zayne enjoyed when you arch your back from the pleasure since your ass pressed against his bulge every time you did. "Would you even be able to take all of us at the same time?"

"We can't make her too tired, she's going on a date with me tomorrow." Rafayel smirked as he watched the other two pause.

"Wait you said you were going to help me with a mission tomorrow." The grip Xavier had on your thigh tightened as he looked at you with a slight pout.

"And you promised me that we'd have lunch together at the restaurant near the hospital." Zayne's arm starts to snake around your waist, every inch of your back covering his chest.

"I didn't realize I had those plans all at the same date." Trying to explain yourself was a lot harder with the three of them looking at you, expecting you to either choose between them or come up with a compromise.

"I have an idea," Rafayel said. The grin on his face tells them that it was going to be something so outrageous. "Why don't we play Russian roulette with her pussy?"

"Elaborate" Zayne's interest was piqued. He's been waiting for your shared lunch for a few days now, no way was he going to let anyone else have your time but him.

"We take turns fucking her and the last man she cums on gets to have her precious time tomorrow."

"That sounds good to me, I'm surprised you were the one that came up with that idea." Xavier's soft but nonchalant tone made the comment sound more condescending.

"Are you okay with that?" Zayne looked for your approval. He didn't want to do anything that would make you feel uncomfortable.

"Mhmm" You're already at your limit from the anticipation.

"Use your words, Miss" Rafayel coaxed.

"I'm okay with it" You obeyed, barely getting the words out without whimpering.

"You just don't want us to stop touching you, do you?" Xavier moved his hands to the soaked fabric of your panties. "Mmm already so wet for us, maybe we should let you cool down first."

"Yeah, if we keep going then you might cum as soon as you get one of our cocks inside you." Rafayel rubbed one of your arms as his lips tickled your neck while he spoke.

"I won't" You were just being delusional at this point. Having this many hands touching you and the filthy words being thrown around the room was enough to make you spill out.

"We're gonna hold you to that. Now, how do we pick which one goes first." Zayne's hands traveled from your waist up to your tits, earning a gasp from you.

"The last one that got here, should go first" Rafayel grinned at Xavier.

"For just 20 minutes!" He protested. "But I'm fine with that, I know she'll be a good girl and hold it in for me, won't you?" He gently grabbed your face to make you stare at his eyes as if it was to serve as an unspoken promise.

Xavier swiftly removed your underwear and immediately glided his fingers through your folds. Looking up at you again, he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked off your slick like it was nectar.

"I can't take it anymore, please just let me have it." Your whole body shivered as Zayne started unzipping your dress, Rafayel helping him raise it above your head.

"Let you have what?" Xavier hasn't taken his eyes off you.

"I haven't heard her be this needy ever, I think I might get addicted to how you sound right now." You couldn't handle how Rafayel kept speaking while his lips are just a hair away from your neck.

Zayne remained quiet. He felt conflicted, you look so divine when your eyes are glazed with pure lust and ecstasy but he hated sharing you with the other two. He hated how they made you feel good too. Hearing you beg for Xavier just made him want to fuck you rough and raw in front of them and let them know that if you ever needed a good fuck, he'll be the one you'd call. Just him and no one else.

"Are you sure you want to skip that part?" Xavier asked. He loves eating you out but if you want him inside already then he can't deny you that. To him, your words are gospels that need to be fulfilled. If you want him to fuck you how you want it, then he's more than glad to do that as long as you don't cum.

Rafayel finally peeled himself off your side and reached something from your nightstand drawer. "I knew you'd have it here, maybe you were expecting this to happen." He handed you the bottle of lube and was stuck at your side again. "Go on, if you want him inside then you're going to have to help him out a little bit." 

Xavier was surprised Rafayel was helping you out when it came to him. He always saw him as a self serving diva or maybe he's doing it just for you.

You tug on the waistband of his boxers and pull them down, revealing his cock already so hard for you. "It's all yours, Princess. Come here." He pulled you away from the other men and positioned you on top of him, your hips hovered over his thighs to give you space for what you needed to do.

Xavier heard Zayne click his tongue and Rafayel sighs. He shifted his focus back to you, watching your hands as they shake while pouring the lube onto your hands.

"Relax, it's just me." His hand enveloped your wrist to stop it from shaking so much.

"We're here too" Rafayel grumbled and Zayne let out a soft chuckle at the comment. You turned your head to face him but Xavier used his free hand to cup your cheek and guide your sight back to him.

"He'll have his turn later. But for now, your attention is all mine." He leaned in and brought his lips to yours to give you a quick kiss for encouragement.

You heard Xavier's sharp inhale once his cock was in your palm. 

"Move your hand." He gently instructed, trying to focus on you despite the coldness of the lube and the warmth of your hand mixing.

The rustling of the sheets brought Xavier's attention to Zayne who is now getting closer to you again. "What? I can't let you two have all the fun" He places his hand flat on your shoulder blade, making you flinch from the sudden change in temperature.

"Don't overheat, Angel. You have a whole night to get through." He snuck up behind and planted a light kiss behind your ear.

"Don't leave me out!" Rafayel was right behind you but you can tell by the tone of his voice that he was pouting. "They might make the whole night all about them if we didn't interfere." He rested his head on your shoulder.

"Don't look at us like that, Xavier. We're just here to offer some...support." Something mischievous flashed in Zayne's eye. "No one said the others should stay back while it's someone's turn."

"Fuck" He muttered, the whole time your hand your hand stayed stroking his cock.

The banter between the three of them helped ease the tension that previously built up in your chest.

"Less nervous now, Love?" Zayne noticed that you weren't as shaky as before, stroking your hair and giving you a small smile.

"I can't wait any longer, can I put it inside?" Xavier got harder the more you stroked him. He felt like he couldn't breathe until you said yes to his plea.

You took your hand off his dick and nodded, preparing for what position he'd fuck you in. It was like you were their personalized and shared fuck doll. 

"I'm so sorry, Princess. I'm gonna have to be a little rough." Xavier was so worked up he couldn't even bother to ask anymore but he knew you'd tell him to stop if you weren't fine with it.

He flipped you over on your hands and knees. The view was a little embarrassing if you were going to be honest. The other two looked at you and you couldn't help but feel small.

"Didn't know you had that in you, Xavier" Rafayel mused. "Aw, little miss has watery eyes. Are you that needy for a good fucking?" He reached for your face and caressed your cheeks using his thumb.

"She deserves one." Xavier's tip was teasing your entrance.

"Xavier, please." You squeaked out.

"Oh, I can't wait until she's begging for me." Zayne grabbed one of your hands and placed your palm on top of his erection. "I'll have to settle with this for now."

Xavier slowly pushed his cock inside you, his movements got more urgent and firm but he still observed your reaction to know if he should continue.

A loud moan escapes your lips as he pushes himself in, making you take it up to the base. He started thrusting in a quick steady rhythm that made you grip the sheets. It had completely slipped your mind that your other hand was holding Zayne's dick.

"Easy there, Angel. Come on, you can please one more man, right?" He slowly guided your hand in an up and down rhythm that intentionally matched Xavier's thrust. He closed his eyes and pretended that he was fucking you already.

"Mind if I use this one?" Rafayel hooked his thumb inside your mouth prompting you to open it wider. "I know you'll take it so well." He scooted closer so you don't have to move, placing your free arm on his thighs for support.

"Ah, that's it. Take it at your own pace, Baby." Rafayel put his hand on the back of your head and enjoyed the sight of you swallowing his whole length. "Fucking impressive, you're so good at this." He praised your skills.

"You're clenching around me already." Xavier huffed.

"My turn." Zayne interrupted and put his hand on top of yours, stopping you from jerking him off. "I need to have this pretty little thing now." 

The three rotated positions. Like clockwork, you immediately had your hands on Rafayel's dick, stroking him at the same pace that Zayne had you do. Xavier had you in the same position as Rafayel but this time he's holding your hand.

"Mmm your mouth feels just as good, Princess." Xavier threw his head back from the immense pleasure. He never felt this good using his own hands. Maybe he can call you for help whenever he needs to masturbate.

You can hear Zayne's groans as he drilled your pussy like his life depended on it. "You're getting wetter. Don't tell me you're getting close."

Your moans are muffled by Xavier's cock, making it harder to tell Zayne that you're seconds away from cuming. You feel Zayne slow down. "Does my Angel want to cum?"

You couldn't answer back, you were too preoccupied. "Look at me" His voice was stern but still had a hint of gentleness behind it.

You took Xavier's dick out of your mouth and turned your head to look back at Zayne. He wished he could pause time right now. You looked so brilliant in your current pose. Your eyes are all watery, lips swollen, a mix drool and precum trickling from the side of your mouth, and two other men panting from the pleasure you gave them.

"I'll let you cum right now if you promise that you'll reschedule our lunch to a date that doesn't include other plans. Do I make myself clear, Angel?" His cock stayed buried deep inside you, it made it so hard to focus on what he was saying.

"I promise" You mumbled.

"Louder"

"I promise, Zayne. Please let me cum" You begged.

"Good girl. Now get ready to be fucked the way you deserve to be fucked." He starts thrusting again, his body remembering the tempo it was following earlier.

"Letting yourself lose just for her, how noble." Rafayel just had to poke fun at Zayne. Too bad he almost couldn't get the words out since he was panting like a dog that just played fetch for an hour.

"My Princess cuming on someone else's cock? I should've just forfeited earlier." Xavier tried to give you a cute pout but failed. Your mouth felt too good to joke around at the moment.

Zayne's cock was repeatedly hitting your sweet spot. You can feel your orgasm building up, coming in waves in your lower abdomen.

"Just let it all out, Angel. I'm close too." He kept the beat of his thrust the same to help you get to your peak.

"Zayne!" You exclaimed as you arch your back from the satisfaction, sending shivers all over your body. Your limbs twitched and you had Xavier and Rafayel help you hold yourself up. He continued going in and out until you felt him grip your hips tight, his warm cum covering every existing inch of your walls.

"Did that feel too good, Baby?" Rafayel grabbed your face and lifted it up to meet his gaze. You nodded. "I can tell, you couldn't even focus on us anymore."

"It's okay, Princess. But now we'll have to be a little selfish." Xavier kissed your shoulder and pinned you down on your back, your head barely on the mattress.

"You ready?" He positioned himself on top of you, slapping his dick against your pussy.

"Ready" You whispered.

He slid his cock inside, pushing out Zayne's cum. "Feels good to be back."

"Don't forget about me" Rafayel's fingers grazed your throat. He gets out of the bed and stands near the top of your head.

Xavier figured out what Rafayel wanted to do. He grabbed your waist and pushed you out of the bed by a few inches.

"Perfect." Rafayel wrapped his hand on your throat and slowly let your mouth and tongue do their thing. He had to get you used to that position first.

Zayne laid down and reached for your hand. "You did so well, Angel." Taking the back of your hand and tenderly kissing it.

Meanwhile, Xavier was barely hanging on by a thread. The sweet sound your moans make alone could've made him cum but fucking you was an option so he took it.

The original game plan has been derailed but none of the boys could complain. The sound of your gasps, whimpers, and moans echoing off the walls were like music to their ears.

You didn't have to move as Rafayel moved his hips and used your throat as a pussy. "No matter what you do you always feel so good." He pushed his cock down the back of your throat and held it there for a few seconds just to hear you gag and gargle spit.

"Oh, does that turn you on more? I felt you clench." Xavier thrusted faster, ready to give you another orgasm.

Zayne loved this lewd side of you. It was like you were their personal fuck toy just for this night. He can't deny that he had fun fucking you in front of other people. You really do bring sides of him he didn't think he had.

You couldn't tell Xavier that you were about to cum. The next best way was to put your hand on his forearm and squeeze it.

"I'm about to cum too, Princess." He said, it's like he read your mind.

"Fuck, me too." Rafayel moaned. "Squeeze his arm if you want all of us to cum with you, Baby."

You squeeze Xavier's hand until your nails dig into his skin.

"She says yes." Xavier and Rafayel shared a smirk.

In just a few seconds, you let go and experience another round of ecstasy. Your senses were almost non-existent after being pounded and choked by multiple cocks.

Xavier and Rafayel let out several loud moans as they slow down their thrust after reaching their peak. Both of them slowly pull out and immediately reach out to you to make sure you're okay.

The content look in your eyes and smile was a good enough answer to their question.

Rafayel scooped you into his arms and placed you in the middle of your bed. "Take all the time you need to rest, okay? You did such an amazing job." He reassured you, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead.

Despite the guys being breathless and tired too, they still went out of their way to make sure you were well taken care of after. They'll also have to figure out how they'll fit into your schedule next week since the game didn't go as planned.

The thoughtful gestures, sweet words of affirmation, and future plans will have to wait because their favorite girl just fell asleep.

(Alexa, play Love Talk by WayV on loop)

(Technicallyyyy Rafayel won)

@queenashen

buy me coffee

[mytherapyisreading14]

Coffee, Chaos and a new Job

Summary: You start your new job at the BAU and get a coffee on your way to work, where run into a handsome stranger. It turns out he's also your new coworker.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Category: Fluff

Warnings: None, just pure fluff

Word Count: 3k

Author‘s Note: Maybe I‘ll turn this into a series, let me know what you think! :)

The smell of freshly ground coffee is in the air as you enter the café. You look at your watch. It’s 7:37 am. You're a little late for your first day at work. You already took more time than you wanted in the morning and then the bus didn’t arrive on time.

But you really need that coffee right now to wake you up. You quickly go to the counter and place your order. The barista is fast and you can get your coffee in just a few minutes.

You take the cup and turn around hastily, making your way to the door, when you suddenly bump into someone. “Oh!” you exclaim in shock as the hot coffee splashes out of the mug and drips a little onto the man in front of you. A very attractive man.

A small stain lands on his shirt and even more on the book he is holding. Your eyes widen as you survey the scene. “Oh no, I’m so sorry!” You apologize immediately. The man looks at you in surprise. The stain on his shirt doesn't seem to bother him much. "Uh... No problem," he says, he seems a bit reserved. “It happens…it’s okay.”

You look at the book, which has a few dark spots shining on it, and raise an eyebrow. “Oh no, I soiled your book too,” you say with a worried look. You hope he won't be too angry. You know that it would really bother you if one of your books was ruined. “I’m so sorry, that really wasn’t intentional!”

He looks at you, and even though he seems nervous, you can see a small smile forming. “It’s really no problem,” he says. “I uh… I have other copy’s at home. In several other languages.” You take a closer look at the book and then you notice. “Wait, is that Crime and Punishment?” you ask. “This is one of my favorite books!”

He looks at the cover in surprise and then nods. "Yes that's it. I… I like it too. I also have the Russian edition and… well, the English one, which is the most practical,” he says. “Me too!” you say and your heart skips a beat.

“I really wanted the original edition, even though I don't speak Russian well. I just love this book.” He becomes visibly more excited and you notice how he slowly starts to lose his shyness as he brings up more of the topic.

“Yes! It is so fascinating how Dostoyevsky portrays the moral conflicts of these characters. Especially Raskolnikov, he constantly wonders whether evil is justified for the greater good..." he starts to ramble. You enjoy listening to him and nod in agreement.

He becomes a little more open to you and it seems like a door opens in his head and suddenly you realize how much more he has to say about the book, how much deeper he can delve into the story and how much he actually knows. It’s fascinating.

But then you look at the clock. You really have to go, otherwise you’ll never make it to work on time. “Oh shit, I have to go, I… I’m sorry, but I’m already way too late for work!” you say breathlessly. “It was really nice talking to you! I hope we meet again sometime.”

He looks at you, the nervousness back in his eyes, but also a small smile that he can't quite hide. “No problem, really...” he says and then adds. “I… um… hope we meet again sometime too.” But you can't hear it because he says it way too quiet.

You're already halfway to the door, but you turn around again to wave him goodbye with a shy smile, trying to hide your stress about being late before you quickly go outside.

The stranger you just met stands there for a while and watches you while the quiet duct of coffee drifts in the air. He hopes he really get’s to see you again. Maybe you’ll be here tomorrow again to get coffee.

-

It's almost eight in the morning and you're sprinting down the hallway, your feet tapping on the linoleum as you open the door to the office. You were just in time but still too late to start your first day at the FBI with dignity.

The nervous energy bubbling within you isn’t just noticeable because of the near-lateness. You also feel like every step you take is being viewed under a microscope. “Phew… just in time,” you murmur, trying to normalize your breathing rate as you take off your coat.

The hallway is, as always, full of life. Agents in uniform, colleagues in conversation. But it was the look you were receiving that made you the most nervous. When you enter the room, your eyes immediately fall on Erin Strauss, who is already sitting at her desk in her office.

She exudes an aura of respect and authority and appears calm and focused. You know she could command the room with a single movement. Behind her stands Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief, a tall man with dark hair. You remember him from your job interview, he was there too.

“Ah, you’re actually almost there on time,” says Strauss with a slight smile that didn’t quite hide the coldness in her voice. “Sorry, I…” You take a deep breath, your voice still shaking a little bit. “Traffic was a nightmare today.”

“That’s understandable,” Strauss replies, her posture slightly stiff as she gives you a searching look. “But coming to the office on time should be part of your preparations. The FBI is all about punctuality and precision.”

"Of course. I’m sorry, I didn't mean to give the impression that I'm unreliable,” you say and to your relief Hotch nods briefly. “I hope you are ready to learn everything. The way here is not always easy,” he says.

You nod eagerly. You're glad he didn't say any more about your lateness. Instead, he gestures towards the door with a curt hand gesture, indicating that you have to leave the office. You walk down the hallway and get into the elevator with him.

“Today there is a lot to introduce you do. It's your first day and we want you to get started right away. I assume that’s in your best interest?” he asks you. “Yes, very much,” you answer immediately.

You want to prove yourself and want to take the opportunity to establish yourself in this area. The FBI is no place for mistakes. “Good,” Hotch says and the two of you step out of the elevator. He opens the door to the BAU. “Then get to know us better.”

You follow your unit chief, entering the BAU for the very first time. You know this is just the beginning. But if you get through the first day, the rest might get a little easier. Perhaps.

-

You sit in the chair in front of Hotch's desk, trying to memorize all the new information and everything you need to know to function here. You feel a certain excitement within you. Even though you're new here, it already feels like the right place.

Suddenly there is a knock on the door. Hotch looks up, nods at you as if it's a given that you're here, and then says, "Come in." The door opens and a woman enters, immediately catching your attention.

She has blonde hair and wears glasses. Her clothes are an absolute eye-catcher. Colorful and different patterns that reflect her creative, unconventional style from head to toe. She immediately comes across as likeable, as if she were the type of person who could fill the office with her energy and positivity.

“I just ran into Strauss. She got a call and wants to talk to you about it,” she says to Hotch. He just nods, as if he already thinks that she is keeping him up to date with something important. He turns to you and then says, “This is Penelope Garcia. She’s our technical analyst.”

Penelope smiles at you. “Ohh, it's so nice to meet you! We can always use female reinforcement!” she says with a beaming smile. Her positive energy is contagious and you immediately like her. “Thank you, I’m happy to be here too,” you reply, unable to hide your smile. She seems like someone who makes the office a place where you enjoy spending time.

Hotch stands up and looks at his watch. “I have to go to Strauss to clarify a few things. Garcia, can you introduce her to the others please?” he asks. “Of course! Oh, I'm sure they'll love you." Penelope says, grinning as she motions for you to follow her.

Before Hotch leaves the room, he turns around again. “Garcia is one of the best we have. Without her nothing would work here.” You nod as Hotch disappears. Now you're alone with Penelope. “Come with me, I’ll introduce you,” she says.

You follow her, excited to see who else is working on this team and at the same time curious about what the dynamic might be like here. Penelope is certainly an interesting acquaintance, but you are also curious to see what the others have to offer.

-

You follow Penelope down the stairs, the sounds of footsteps echoing in the large, open building. Your eyes widen when you see David Rossi, you devoured all of his books. His analyzes and case studies were always an inspiration for you. He stands with his arms crossed and talks to two other women.

Penelope heads straight towards them and you stay close behind her. The woman with blonde hair smiles at you briefly before turning back to Rossi. The other one, with the brown hair, nods at you just as friendly.

“Good morning! I hope you all had a great weekend,” Penelope says with so much energy that you immediately have to smile again. “I have to introduce someone to you, our new team member!” Everyone turns to you and you feel your heart skip a beat.

You try to stay calm even though you're bubbling with excitement inside. You turn to Rossi because he is the first to extend his hand to you. “David Rossi,” he says and smiles. It feels surreal to actually talk to him. You get lost in the conversation, Emily and JJ joining in. You immediately like them. In the background you hear Penelope talking.

“Where are my Chocolate Thunder and Boy Wonder? They’re never this late.” Emily, who is standing next to Rossi points to the door. “They’re coming.” You notice two more people join the small group. You turn to the side to introduce yourself to them too but suddenly stop as your eyes fall on the man you ran into at the cafe this morning.

“Hey! You’ve got to be kidding me, you work here too?” you ask and laugh. You are surprised to see him here again of all places. He looks at you with wide eyes and promptly turns red in the face.

"Uh... hi. Yes, I work here," he says, and you see him nervously fiddling with the sleeves of his shirt. His colleague, who is standing right next to him, looks at you with a smile and raises an eyebrow. “This will be exciting,” he murmurs with a grin as he watches you and your incredulous look.

You feel your cheeks getting a little warmer, but the smile still remains on your face. It feels almost too crazy, but somehow also right. “I'm Derek Morgan. Nice to meet you. You two seem to already know each other,” he says, gesturing between you and Spencer. A mischievous grin plays on his lips, and you can hear the humor in his voice.

You smile back and nod as you explain, “Yeah, unfortunately I spilled half my coffee on him this morning. I was in a hurry and really stressed.” You turn back to Spencer. “Sorry again,” you say. Spencer smiles shyly at you.

"No problem. I... I'm Spencer by the way. We had... I mean, there was no time earlier... you left before I could introduce myself…" he stops when he realises he is stuttering. You smile at his nervous, almost awkward manner and immediately feel that tingling sensation in your stomach again, which you noticed before.

That's not good, he's now your colleague and you definitely can't fall in love with him. You tell him your name too and the others in the room, especially Derek, seem to be watching the scene with a grin. It's almost as if they all know that something is happening between you here.

“Spencer, maybe you should keep your distance when she walks around with coffee in the future,” Derek says with a wink and Spencer blushes. Meanwhile, you feel the gazes of others in the room observing the situation. Penelope, who follows the situation with a smile, and Emily, who stands quietly by, holding back a comment, but is clearly amused.

"Okay, well... I think we're all officially introduced now," Emily finally says, breaking the small pause. “I hope you've settled in a bit by now, we don't have a case right now, but we still have a lot to do. But don’t worry, you’ll get into the rhythm quickly.”

-

JJ takes you with her to complete the last paperwork they need for your final hiring. When you leave the office, Spencer stays behind with the others. You've just closed the door behind you and Morgan is already grinning in Spencer’s direction.

“Ohhh, pretty boy has a girlfriend now. I'm proud of you, man. But no kissing in the office please,” he teases. Spencer immediately blushes. “Shut up, she’s… she’s not my girlfriend,” he stammers, trying to defuse the situation.

Garcia, standing next to Morgan almost jumps with excitement. “Oh my god, Spencer. You really have to ask her out! She's amazing! You would look so cute together!” Emily, who is watching the whole thing with an amused grin, can no longer suppress her laughter. “Oh, this is too good.“

Spencer tries to hide in his chair. “You are impossible. She's not my girlfriend! Stop talking like that.” Garcia raises her eyebrows, her expression completely innocent. “Oh come on, Spencer. I saw the way you looked at her. You like her. You don’t have to hide it!”

As as she said that, the door to the hallway opens. Hotch comes back and the rest of the team immediately realizes that they should start to focus on their work again. The conversation about Spencer and his alleged coffee dates immediately dies down.

Morgan and Garcia give each other one last meaningful look before returning to their work. Hotch immediately notices that there is something in the air. “Everything alright? What did you just do?” Hotch asks as he briefly looks around.

“Nothing, Hotch. Just a bit of... team building,” Morgan replies with a cheeky smile. Hotch nods and goes to his desk while Gracia takes another look at Spencer and smiles. “We saw you, Pretty Boy,” she whispers to him. Spencer sighs deeply and tries to immerse himself in the paperwork as best he can, while his mind keeps returning to you.

-

Your first day went by quickly, no case came in and you had spent the whole day looking through the files with JJ and seeing everything the BAU had to offer. She took the time to explain everything to you in detail and it was extremely helpful.

Nevertheless, at the end of the day you are completely exhausted, but also satisfied. The team welcomed you warmly and you could well imagine working here long-term. You grab your bag and are about to leave when you notice Spencer out of the corner of your eye.

He is shoving his coffee-covered book into his bag and you immediately feel guilty again. You hadn't done it on purpose, but the book is still marked by the coffee stains. With a deep breath you gather all your courage, grab your bag and walk towards him.

“Hey, I wanted to apologize again for what happened this morning,” you start as you stop in front of him. “I’m just really sorry about your book. Can I... can I maybe invite you for coffee tomorrow morning? As an apology?”

Spencer looks surprised and seems to take a moment to answer. You can see him as he glances nervously at Morgan, who's grinning from the corner of the room. “Oh, uh… no problem,” Spencer finally stutters, quickly reaching for his bag. Morgan raises an eyebrow, grinning. “Yeah, sure… I uh… think it would be nice if you did that. But you don't have to, I—"

You interrupt him with a smile. “But I would like to. So, shall we meet there tomorrow then? At the same time? This time without a crash?” you ask and grin slightly. “Yes, I… I’d like that,” Spencer replies with a shy nod before saying goodbye to you.

You turn around to the others, saying goodbye to them too and then make your way out. Morgan and Spencer leave a few minutes later. In the elevator, Morgan nudges Spencer with a mischievous grin. “So, a date now, Pretty Boy?” Morgan laughs, glancing at Spencer, who immediately blushes.

“It’s just coffee. Among colleagues,” Spencer defends himself while trying not to let himself get carried away. “Sure, sure,” Morgan continues to grin and shakes his head. “Just keep telling yourself that. Have fun tomorrow,” he teases him. “Morgan!” Spencer calls as they exit the elevator but he can't help but smile.

[kismetlotts]

Kinktober 🎃 day five: Rape!

cw: rape, obsessive König, coffee shop worker reader, mentions of oral sex, cumming untouched, submissive and dominant play? mentions of breast play, mentions of cumming on breasts, mentions of spitting, name calling e.g. 'whore', underwear obsessed König, mentions of killing, threatening a side character, public sex, sex at workplace, sex in the dark?, König is rough with reader e.g carrying and dragging, König’s ego is big, fingering, König finishing quickly, quick sex, pantie stealing, creampie,

König who gained an obsession with you. He would come in every Monday to Thursday at the local coffee shop you worked at, ordering the same medium cup of black coffee and sitting at the table in the corner. Big, dirtied and muddy fingers tracing the white ceramic cup, tracing over where your fingers touched.

Them gorgeous fingers that gripped onto the handle of the coffee machine, making another pumpkin spiced latte for all the boring, tasteless average women who’d come along. Waiting, paying and leaving- not appreciating the fine art of what you just created.

You’d thought he was weird, sat in the corner all day- no phone, no laptop, not doing a singlar thing other than sitting. Your coworkers had even discussed if they should kick him out from the mask he’d wear, a dark brown hood but you’d heard him speak, heard his manners and pleaded them not to.

He was mysterious of course but he wasnt intimidating in any way, he wasn’t causing chaos, simply just minding his buisness and taking sips off coffee from underneath the fabric. Taking subtle glances at him throughout your shift unaware hed be staring at you the whole time, pupils flicking away quickly before you could catch him.

Your first encounter with him, besides over the counter was when hed accidentally spilt his coffee, flooding the wooden table with the hot, steaming liquid, almost as if he wasnt looking at what he was doing or where his cup was. You quickly darted over. The sway in your hips and confidence radiating off of you as you used your rag to wipe the spillage with a cheerful smile, eyes meeting his own dark blue ones.

"Das ist meine schuld- I apologise!" He rushed to spit out, clearly caught off guard by his own actions as well. his large figure standing up and giving you room to wipe without hitting him but all you did was chuckle and pat the table, shaking your head and noting his accent. Russian? German? You werent very good at identifying accents.

His jeans tightend at the way you looked back at him, sexy body arched over the table as you cleared up the mess he made, what a naughty boy he’d been. Chest caving as he yearned to reach out and grab the back of your neck, rudely and selfishly shoving your face down to his crotch but he resisted, he couldn’t- not in such an open place.

"Its fine! Would you like another one? On me?" But all he could do was nod, face burning with embarrasment as the only thing he was focused on in that sentance was 'On me' and all the things that could mean. Oh you wanted him to cum on you instead of inside? You wanted to feel him paint you white, marking and coating you as his territory, watching as beads of his thick semen splurted onto your tits, your soft, kissable tits.

Or maybe you were talking about spitting- hed spit on you. On your face, on your chest, on your cunt because you were a whore for him and thats what whores get. Hed spit on you for sure. He looked down, seeing how the light reflects off of his black cargos, the small shine where his hard cock was confirming to him that he’d came in his boxers.

As more and more days carried on, you’d become more friendly with him. 'What would you like?' becoming 'Your usual?' and 'I’ll shout your order when its done!' turning into a 'I’ll let you know when its ready, König'. Hearing you say his name, so delicate and pristine: as if you were scared to butcher the pronunciation, was torturous and he’d have to ask you out sometime soon because fuck.

Just entering the store made him stiff, the smell of coffee making him thirsty for you- i mean he’d almost followed you home just to take a peak in your underwear draw but he didnt want to ruin the suprise of discovering what panties you wear- he was saving that for when you finally let him make love to you.

Maybe you wore big, comfy pants that covered you up well and allowed you to relax- no need to impress anyone just being cozy and warm. Or maybe they were small and pink, little bit of frill along the edges with a bow right in the middle, so innocent and sweet; like your appearance, like you’d taste. But no, it was something about the way you strut by him, the way your shoulders sit by your side. You were dripping with independence, a confident girl and maybe a bit of a brat too- a thong wearer, for sure.

Weeks of encouraging himself, days of persuading himself your answer would be yes and an hour of rehearsing what he was going to say, led to him fumbling it infront of you and asking you out for- ironically- a coffee. You’d let out a giggle and König felt pretty hopeful, but the second you lost eye contact something twisted in his stomach, your hand reached to collect his empty coffee cup from the table as you tapped your foot nervously on the floor. Stumbling over your words and coming up with some fucking fake- stupid excuse.

"I really would- but I have alot of drinks to make a serve- it’s October now- weather getting colder- drinks getting hotter and all!" A laugh falling your lips but he wasnt laughing, just staring at you. You were lying- why were you lying? Did he scare you? Was he not your type? Was this all just some friendly banter he misinterpreted this whole time? But he knew exactly what his was.

Laughing back at your words before standing up and heading in the direction of the toilets, shouting a quick and awkward 'I see' before quickly walking by the toilets and through the staff only door. Entering the office and heading for the computer because he wasnt heading to the toilet- or heading back home. He was heading to your home or dare he say, your partners? But before that, he’s got to find the address.

What a fat, lazy slob just reclining on the couch, drink in hand as he watched the television, not even realising it wasn’t you home from work but König there with a gun in his hand. Too focused on whatever show he was watching to actually turn his head and check up from you. Not even a simple, ‘How’s work?’

It wasn’t hard getting the man packed, petrified and silenced in under an hour while waving a gun in his face, brown hood on and towering over him pathetically. You were now König’s, he’d found you and claimed you- any man, no. Any boy, who wishes to go against that will have to deal with the consequences.

He wasnt going to kill him unless he had to, all he wanted, well, needed was for him out the picture. Threatening if he doesnt leave and end things with you over message later that day, that he’d track him down and kill him. And that if he even dares to hint that someone forced him into that decision to anyone, that his mother, father, little siblings and cousins would all be following behind.

He went along with it obviously, the fucking pussy. He stayed silent and left you forever, and it ruined you in the moment. You loved him so much and for so long for him just to abandon you like that? Something just didnt seem right. You slept on it or at least tried to, woke up and got ready for work, already wishing it was your day off. Slipping on a bring orange pumpkin hat because as if your day couldnt get any worse it was Halloween. Halloween where kids would run about, stealing sweeties from one another, Halloween where couples would cuddle up together and watch scary films- wearing homemade costumes with fake blood, masks store brought or made out of hoods- but your own train of thought made you freeze. Hoods?

Your stomach dropped but surely you were overthinking it. König wouldn’t know who you were dating, where to even find him- fucking hell what could he have used against him that would be bad enough to make him leave? You were overthinking big time, probably from your lack of sleep, but intuition told you that it was too big of a coincidence. The same day you reject someone your loving boyfriend leaves you without no explanation? It wasn’t adding up.

And what made it scarier was entering the building to find him already there, arms crossed at his seat with eyes staring into yours. Playful yet dark- sweet with a sprinkle of sinister.

You didnt look at him, you didnt collect his empty cup, you ignored the small laugh he let out at your pumpkin hat because he wasn’t your mysterious, polite, scary yet misunderstood customer whom you’d formed a friendship with. He was a fucking psychopath. A dirty, probably perverted psychopath that made your stomach churn and you wanted nothing more than to boot him out. You should’ve listened to your coworkers when they had a creepy feeling about him. You’d thought about asking them to kick him out now but since he’d come and gone for so many days now, he’d know something has changed with the way you saw him and he’d probably target you more.

Time ticked, people had left and all staff were now gone for the week, leaving you the only staff left and the door swinging as the last person to enter exited. The dark evening night seeping through the windows as the lights turned off, leaving the electric menus above the counter, lights from the machines and lamp posts outside illuminating the darkness of the room.

It was you and him, only you and him and if things weren’t confirmed by his eerie aura earlier, him waiting until you were both alone definitely sold you on the fact he was after you. You ripped the apron off of yourself, pretty much bolting for the pitch black staff room.

Muttering a fast, 'Put your cup on the counter before you leave' despite knowing deep down the staff room was only a room. There was no lock, no keypad- you were in a shitty old coffee shop in the middle of a quiet town, alone and at night. And ‘Before you leave’ meant nothing either. He wasn’t leaving anytime soon- and neither were you.

The squack of the wooden chair being drag out was audiable from the other room you were in, breaking the deafening silence and your loud heavy breathing. Your hands shook and trembled as you rummaged for your stuff, too weak to hurry and too focused on getting out of there to hear the door behind you open and shut.

His warm presence behind your back and pinning you- you shut your eyes tears pricking them before spinning around desperately. Pushing him off of you as he generously took a step back, allowing you to run back into the coffee shop. Past the tables, knocking a chair or two as you rushed and pushed against the door. Pushing and pushing using all your weight until you heard the sound of metal rattling behind you, the silver keys and silver loop swinging around his finger as he held them up. He’d locked the door, and now you were cornered.

"Why so scared?" He spoke softly, coming a step closer, his dark eyes mocking you with fake sympathy. He knew why you were fucking scared, he knew you feared him and you figured it turned him on from the lustful glimmer in his blue irises. Seeing the quiver in your lip, the tears threatening to spill as you swallowed your emotions like a pill you had to take. Thinking that putting on a brave face will trick your mind into believing you are brave- that you can stand up to him. He found it amusing so he gave you time, he wanted to hear your pathetic little attempt. It fed to his sick fascination- his fucking pleasure more.

"What is your problem? What the fuck did you do to my boyfriend?" The little crack in your voice: orgasmic, if he wasnt waiting for you to submit to his dominance and break the holding eye contact he was holding with you, his eyes would be so far back in his head.

It boiled him, fueled him, like spreading butter onto a fresh warm pastry and watching it melt and glide so effortlessly. Would your voice crack like that when he’s balls deep inside you?

"Now, now, why are you pointing fingers, hm? Du bist meim kleiner kurbis, why would I ever do that?" His body was so close to you, you could smell the sweat and grime of his skin and despite the situation it made your stomach heat in arousal, his touch and his manerisms, his accent- it was so fucking disgusting yet you felt yourself dampen. You didn’t even know what he said- and your body gave in slightly. His hand cupped your cheek, the cold metal of the keys hitting your soft skin as his eyes locked onto the pumpkin hat with an amused look.

You could grab the keys now, shove them in the door and sprint, shout for help maybe but would you even get time? His build was muscular and he had to crouch slightly to talk to you due to his height anyway. He would grab you and prevent you from doing anything before you could even turn around, and even if you tried it, his punishment could be worse from what he wants now.

You’d found yourself caught in a dead end with nothing to do but submit and get it over with.

His mask rubbed agaisnt your neck and clothed shoulder but you could still feel the heat of his breath, the smell of coffee making bile rise in your throat. His hands found your waist and gripped on tightly, lifting you slightly as he dragged you to the table he usually sits at, throwing you ontop as it wobbled from your weight.

Tears fell and a sob escaped your throat and he unzipped his jeans, leaning over closer and pulling down your panties from beneath the work uniform he’d spent hours dreaming of, slipping a finger agaist your folds and feeling how effortlessly you coat his fingers with slick and cum. Horny?

"Aww, you want this too?" He asked but regardless of your answer he would do what he wanted, it was his time and he was more than ready. You shook your head, fighting against the pleasure your body was feeling from his touch, he was skilled with his fingers for sure, applying just enough pressure to your clit to make your back arch and you wriggle your hips- away from his finger and subconcously back against it. He let out a groan at how wet his fingers were getting before pulling away from your juicy cunt.

Reaching under your arms to tug you closer to the edge of the table, aligning his cock with your hole and wetting himself up thanks to how damp you were, mentally promising himself he’d taste you one day, maybe next time. He looked back to your face, the frown on your lips as your covered your crying eyes with your small trembling hands, so embarrassed and ashamed you were letting yourself get used like this, get forced into sex- get raped.

"You ready?" He asked and all you did was let out another sob, with a sigh he pushed forward placing his dick against your flaps and stopped, looking down and not entering you, staying completely still as he store at your face. Watching as you continued to cry into your hands before slowly lifting the palms from your face slightly.

Looking into his eyes as he looked back down, a devilish smirk forming on his lips. What a little actress, you were enoying this. You could’ve pushed him away- could’ve kicked and fought but no, you lay still even after he paused.

Thick, hard and fast as he thrusted in harshly, no care for how it may feel for you- no remorse or guilt for if he was burning, stretching or hurting you. He’d been patient for this pussy for weeks, been waiting for it- god it was like he was a virgin again. So excited to bury himself inside he hadn’t realised how close he was already.

Taking a few more slow thrusts before leaking and pouring all his cum into you, your pussy squeezing and milking every last drop out of him. Moaning loudly and squeezing his eyes shut as he pulled out, fuck- fuck that was so good. Your body was shaking, breaths barely coming to your lungs as you trembled and lay there- broken, defeated and useless. Cum dribbling out of your hole and even he felt a little bad at the sight- you didnt even get a chance to feel a little bit good, maybe next time he will fuck you like you want it.

He picked your panties up off of the floor, smooth, white, floral and cotton- it wasnt what he was expecting from you. It wasn’t a thong, it wasn’t black and laced, not like your personality at all but everyone has a secret side to them, a side they keep stashed away and only allow a select few to see.

He fumbled with his jeans, buttoning and zipping them up before turning to you, hands fumbling with the panties, his palm hitting the fabric right where your pussy was and feeling a cold, sticky, dampness. You were wet before he began touching?

"Would you like them bac-" Earning a scream from you, telling him to get the fuck out and take whatever he wants. He’d already taken and destroyed your relationship, your work, and your own body so he might as well take everything else. He could take anything else as long as he leaves and never comes back.

He swallowed, slipping them into his pocket and placing the keys next to your body on the table- if you had the energy you’d get up and slap him, punch him, grab some scissors form behind the counter and cut his fucking dick off but from how disturbing and demented he seems he’d probably enjoy that.

"I’m sorry.” He whispered, voice seeming almost shy and hushed, tone the same as when he’d first spoken to you. Anxious: almost like a whisper.

“Next time, I’ll treat you right. I’ll make you feel so good, I promise, baby." He waited for you to speak but you just lay there now on your side, tears leaking and pouring from your eyes despite your still movement. With a deep breath he began to leave realising maybe it was best he left you alone for now. He couldn’t see what was wrong, or what he did wrong because in his own mind it was going to happen one day. His cock, his needs, how you expect him to live in a constant state of desperation and want. It’s like giving a child a lollipop and saying, just watch- you’re not allowed. Just watch how sweet and delicious it would taste, just watch at how the sugar shimmers in the light- when you get told you can’t have it you need it more.

He walked back into the staff room and out the back door, his hand pulling the door shut and once his footsteps echoes away, you were alone in the dark. He was gone, leaving you an emotional mess with a dirty mess to clean up, and you couldn’t move for a moment. His words haunting you and circling you like a carousel of derision.

Next time, meaning he wasnt done just yet.

[silverzoomies]

Turkish Delight

peter maximoff x reader smut

chapter 1: sweet talkin'

link to chapter 2: here

warnings: shameless smut, porn without plot, phone sex, mutual masturbation, best friends, dirty talk

word count: 6,368

a/n: hiyaaa !! i'm back with more filth !! peter speaks russian in this one. i've seen people use russian in place of sokovian language before. and since i've been learning russian for a while, i thought i'd give it a shot !! if you're familiar with the language and anything seems off, please let know asap !! as usual, apologies if peter seems ooc, or if my writing isn't up to par !!

tag list (if i forgot you, please remind me !!): @dewberryobssesed @violetharmonscupcake @kaismanwich @jellyluvr @taintandviolent @ahoyladiesz @scene-and-dandylover @quickandsilvers @luttic @billielourdslays

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Chillaxing on the sofa in his mom’s basement, Peter drew out a sigh. His hooded eyes gaped at the TV screen. As he channel surfed, his thumb tapped lazily on the remote. Peter stopped to check each channel in abrupt intervals. Afternoon cable was boring as hell today. It failed to grasp his short lived attention span.

Seinfeld reruns? He saw just about all of ‘em. Soap Operas? Those were more his mom’s thing. Huge pass. Nature documentaries? Could be cool. Guess it depended on which one, though.

Oh. It was the one about the polar bear’s great journey across the arctic! Nifty enough. Except, Peter saw that one three or four times already now. Скучный (boring). Так скучно (So boring).

‘Kay, soooo…TV was kind of a no-go. Instead, Peter popped on the PS1 and settled for a game of Metal Gear Solid. The game’s opening intro was a little too slow for his liking, but Peter forced himself to focus. It sucked he was so antsy today, so fidgety and impatient. He needed some kind of distraction. Any distraction. And he needed one fast.

Peter bounced a leg, half invested in the game’s dialogue. His fingers absentmindedly flicked the controller buttons. Not even five minutes into playing, he found himself frustrated and bored again. This time around, he figured some company might ease his ennui.

He darted across the arm of the couch to a side table. Over a stack of comic books and empty cans of soda, he snatched the receiver to a Garfield phone. Peter dialed a number in less than a second. Too fast, at first. The phone didn’t even register his request. Rolling his eyes, he dialed the number again. Slower this time.

Peter kept the vibrant hunk of orange plastic between his cheek and shoulder. Buzzy ringing echoed on the other end of the line, as he waited for the recipient to pick up. The time it took for a voice to finally respond felt like fifty billion years. Your voice. One of Peter’s closest comrades. The pal he shared most, if not all, of his free time with.

There were days when you visited, and you laid back on the sofa with him. With your legs stretched over his lap and a magazine in your hands, you relaxed. Peter would always do his usual, playing whatever game he ‘bought’ from the local K-Mart. Every time he cursed himself for making a misstep, you giggled. You knew how frustrating it was for him, if he wasn't a hundred leaps ahead of everything. And just to get back at you - but also to hear you laugh again - he’d reach over and dig his fingers into your belly.

He loved that it took such minimal effort to make you laugh. You always had an easygoing warmth about you. And maybe you were also pretty cute too. Sometimes, the crook of your smile made him blush. Oh, and you didn't mind duking it out in Mario Kart sometimes. That was also kinda cool. What more could a lonesome guy ask for? Просто друзья. Ничего больше (Just friends. Nothing more). Yeah. He could be content with that. No problem.

Ten minutes into conversation with you, Peter breathed a yawn into the receiver.

“You know, I’m surprised you have the patience for talking on the phone.” You joked.

The speakers roared with a soft buzz in his ear. Peter didn’t register your words at first. Blinking lazily, he tapped the PS1 controller buttons at rapid speed. In the game, Snake fought off an onslaught of bad guys. Peter faked his offense with a scoff.

“Seriously? Man, what’s up with that? It’s like everyone thinks I can’t do stuff at normal speed without goin’ berserk.” He said, cursing under his breath as Snake got gunned down again.

A small part of him wished you were there, with your legs over his lap, cracking jokes at his expense. Over the phone, you emitted a gentle laugh.

“Because you have? Multiple times, dude!” You said.

Surely you could hear Peter’s eyes roll in his skull.

“Oh, yeah? Name five.” he pressed.

The fast paced clicking of the buttons echoed like a trill in the basement. He overheard the sound of rustling as you shifted in place. If Peter had to guess, he’d bet his left foot you were still lazing around in bed. It was a Saturday, after all. With the hour tipping on the edge of late afternoon. You always moved at the slowest of speeds on your off days.

“I’m just saying! I totally get it. Even I don’t have the patience for chats on the phone sometimes.” You said, and a squeaky yawn followed.

More rustles scuffed from your end, as if you moved to stretch. Keeping his gaze fixed on the flickering, CRT screen; Peter followed flashes of light from each grunt’s gun. His reaction time proved effortless as always. His methods, not so much.

“Nah, it’s cool.” Peter mumbled after a beat, “Doesn’t bother me much if I’m talkin’ to you.  You’re not boring, first of all. And on the off chance I do get bored, I can just say - hey, babe, I’m gonna hang up. And you won’t get-uhhh…” He lingered on his next thought, distracted with gunning down more masked baddies, “You won’t get, like, butt hurt over it."

“Why would I?” You laughed, “Did someone seriously get offended by that?”

“My aunt did once. She got mad pissed ‘cuz I told her I was ‘kinda bored’ on the phone. She made me pass it to my mom, so she could rat me out. Said I showed a ‘lack of consideration'; ‘er whatever.” Peter paused, brows furrowed. In Metal Gear, Snake perished yet again. Peter rolled his eyes once more, “She’s kinda mental, though. это возмутительно (it’s outrageous).”

Your only response was a quiet hum of acknowledgement. Peter broke the silence that followed.

“Hey, you’re not busy today, are you? Wanna do somethin’ later?” He asked, knowing full well you had jack shit to do.

“I don’t know. I’m feeling soooooo lazy today.” You playfully teased.

The soft pattern of your breathing sent electric tingles down Peter’s neck. Shuddering, he shook off those unexpected chills. Another beat, and Peter groaned, as Snake perished over a low poly landscape. You gotta take it slow and stealthy, man - Peter reminded himself.

“Хорошо (okay)? So? Come be lazy over here then.” He replied, “Tell you what. If you do, I’ll go ‘n snag some of those Turkish delights you like. The same ones my mom gotcha for your birthday. Remember? From Sokovia?”

Your voice perked up instantly, bringing a cheesy smile to his face. Homely fondness simmered in his chest, and Peter felt himself blush. He pulled his lip between his teeth, pausing his game to focus more on conversation. Leaving Snake stranded in the middle of the snow.

“Oh my gosh!! No way?? I haven’t had those in forever! Seriously, the ones from Sokovia?” You chimed.

“Hell yeah! But you gotta get outta bed first, dingus. C’monnnn.” Peter whined, “I’m so bored here, babe. Oh! I totally forgot. I finally got my hands on a Gameboy Color too. Swear on my life I paid for it this time. You could come over ‘n try it ouuuuuut.” He teased in a sing-song voice, wiggling his brows.

“Gameboys and Turkish delights? You’re spoiling me today, Peter! What’s the occasion?” You joked over the line.

He shrugged, forgetting you couldn’t see him, “Bored outta my friggin’ skull. That’s what.” After a beat, he awkwardly added, “And maybe I like hangin’ with you? Do I even need a reason?”

“Well, I gotta admit…you had me at Turkish delights.” You feigned a dreamy tone.

Peter chuckled again. Under his breath, he muttered softly, “ Это все, что тебе нужно, да (That’s all you need, huh)?”

“Huh?” You asked, oblivious to his comment, “What’d you say? I didn’t catch that last part.”

Peter ran a hand through his silver locks, leaving his hair loose and messy. Cradling the phone in his other hand, he knitted his lips to one side.

“Nothin’. Don’t worry about it. You want me to come get you? ‘Cuz I can.” He checked his digital watch, decked out in a Star Wars theme, “I can right now, if you-”

“It’s fine. I love going out with you, but I really don’t wanna deal with motion sickness today. I just had lunch too. No offense!” Another yawn rang over the phone, hitching into a squeal at the end. Peter didn’t realize he was smiling so big until his cheeks started to hurt, “I’ll just drive over. Sound good?”

Peter rolled his eyes, sarcastically groaning. He threw his head back into the sofa cushions, playing up his fake frustrations.

“Auuuuuuugh! But that’ll take years.” He dragged a hand down his face, pulling his cheeks under his fingertips, “Is this ‘cuz you blew chunks last time?? You know that doesn’t bother me, right? Everyone does it, babe.”

You made a noise of disgust. Something like an eugh , “Please, don’t remind me. That sucked so much. Yeah, no, I’d rather not. I really need a break from it.” You sighed again. Kind of a bummer, but he could deal.

“It’s whatever you want, I guess. So, when are you gonna head out?” Peter asked, sitting up on the sofa and putting the controller aside.

He bounced a leg at rapid speed, his knee moving in a flesh tone blur of motion. Less from agitation, more due to anticipation.

“I’ll leave soon. Just give me a few minutes. Think you can wait?” You chuckled in that sweet, quirky way again. The melody gave Peter butterflies. Ignoring the fluttering in his belly, he pushed himself off the couch. Grabbing the base of the Garfield phone, Peter cradled the lil guy in an arm. He figured he may as well get dressed, and freshen up before you arrived, “It’s so cold today. I haven’t even gotten out of bed yet! I’m still bundled up in my undies. Got your jacket on too. You left a Game n Watch in the pocket, by the way. I didn’t even know they still made those!”

“Yeah. I totally called that one. Get up already, ya slacker.” Peter joked trapping the phone between his cheek and shoulder again. He scratched his bare chest. His fingertips grazed the sparse covering of white hairs there. Yawning, he nodded, “Okay. Okay. Okay. Sure, just-”

Something about your last statement finally clicked in Peter’s brain. He rapidly blinked, shaking his head fast enough to give himself whiplash. Peter did a quadruple take.

“Подожди (wait)! Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, waiiiiiit …hold on a sec.” He narrowed his eyes, “Say that again?”

“Say what again? The part about the Game n Watch?” You asked, and Peter’s brows furrowed.

“N-Nah. The…did you just…have you been lyin’ around in your underwear this whole time?”

“Uh, yeah? Why? Is this revolutionary information?” You chuckled.

“In my jacket? Like, I didn’t hear that wrong? What’d you like…sleep in it ‘er somethin’?” Peter arched a silver brow, pressing the phone handset closer to his cheek. As if doing so might somehow help him hear you more clearly.

It really wasn’t that big of a deal either way. You borrowed his jackets all the time. Peter never thought anything of it before this conversation. Aside from the fact that - when you did return them, he loved the sweet scent you left behind. The smell of your perfume, with the added bonus of your natural pheromones…

Ебать (Fuck)! Why was he even thinking about this? The two of you had such a casual thing goin’ on. But now, Peter thought of you in a different light. Something friskier. Not that he meant to. Maybe killer boredom + cute friend = horny speedster. Or perhaps the planets aligned in some totally off-the-wall way.

Whatever the case, Peter’s mind raced on autopilot. He pictured the way you might look right now. In your room, spread across your bed in nothing but your underwear and - Ебена мать (Holy shit) - his jacket. With your long legs bare, your knees bumping together as you squeezed your thighs shut. Tummy exposed. And your tits-

Woooooooah there! Slow down, casanova! Peter shouldn’t be…nah, he really shouldn’t be wondering what your breasts looked like. Ppfffbbbbt …’kay, so, maybe in the past he thought about it once or twice. But what dude wouldn't contemplate the hidden mystery of a pal's titties sometimes, ah?

“Well, so what if I did? That doesn’t weird you out, does it?” You asked, a careful waver in your voice.

“Uhhhh…nahhh, babe. Just…” Peter shifted in place, rerouting his thoughts, “Just…got one hell of an image in my head. Might’ve pictured you like that for no particular reason at all.”

Lucky for him, you didn’t seem to think anything of his confession.

“Not much to imagine…” You replied. Сомнительно (Doubtful).

“I mean…pffbbbttt…sure, yeah. Maybe not.” Peter awkwardly laughed, scratching the back of his neck. His voice dropped, a little more hushed, “Unless…you’re wearin’ some really cute panties over there.” Again, he laughed, rushing out a quick, “I’m kiddin’. I’m kiddin’. I’m kiddin’. I’m totally messin’. Just bustin’ your balls, babe.”

Except…he sorta wasn’t. Peter found himself oh-so curious. Twisting the phone's orange wire around his finger, he anticipated your reaction. Anxious you might think him weird for pushing things too far. Never had the two of you charted this kind of territory. It was a minefield, with a 95% chance neither one would make it out unscathed.

“I guess? I think they’re kind of cute.” You added, innocent as ever. Awesome. You weren’t peeved at him, at least. Peter brought the phone to his chest, exhaling an anxious breath to calm his racing heart. When he put the phone to his ear again, he figured you’d moved on. But your cadence shifted. To test the boundaries of your friendship, you teased, “They’re pretty small on me, though.”

Ah. Ah. Интересно. Очень интересно (Interesting. Very interesting). What an unexpected but totally wicked development. Peter lowered himself slowly onto the couch, setting the phone's base on the side table. He eased backwards into the cushions, and tightened his twisting of the phone wire. Swallowing hard, Peter found he had difficulty focusing. Especially with his imagination running so goddamn wild.

“Yeah? …How small is pretty small?” He dared to ask.

Long seconds of silence ticked by at the pace of a narcoleptic sloth. If Peter weren’t so eager to hear what you had to say, he may have torn his hair out. Over the line, you laughed.

“Small enough they barely cover my ass? Why are you so curious all of a sudden?” You cooed.

Peter fluttered his inky eyes, nibbling chapped skin on his lip. Fuzzy pink swarmed the rest of his face, as his mind conjured images of you so effortlessly. Clear as day. Heat stirred to life in his groin, and Peter pictured the way your plush cheeks might hold in tight painties. His breath hitched.

“I-uh…” Peter felt the heat in his cheeks creep down his neck, flustered at lightspeed, “Just thinkin’...maybe you should do somethin’ about that?” He gritted his teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose. What a lame response, “Черт возьми (damn it)!” He huffed under his breath, too quiet for you to hear.

Toying with this newly discovered sexual tension, Peter humorously asked-

“Sooooooo…what color?”

You giggled into the receiver, airy and light. His body registered the noise somewhere , down south of his belly. He wondered if you were as flustered as him. And the visual of your bashful face and shy smile had his heartbeat ramping up to mach 10.

“What? A-Are you for real asking me…oh my god, dude!” Your giggles turned into goofy snorts. Which he found so endearing. Once you composed yourself, you spoke again. Though, your tone came off as more flirtatious, “If you really wanna know so bad…then fine. They’re black. Lacy. With a little bow on the front.”

Дерьмо (Shit)...

His silver brows soared high, disappearing under his bangs. Paying little attention to his instinctive actions, Peter guided his free hand between his thighs. Inwardly, he told himself he was only adjusting his uncomfortable hard-on. ‘Cuz it’d be totally weird if he did anything else…right? Best to ignore the movement of his thumb, as it absentmindedly circled his bulge.

“Huh…that’s so…” Peter blinked, clearing his throat and masking his nerves with a chuckle, “‘Kay, I’ll be up front with you, babe. That sounds cute as hell. Very nice.”

“Really? Oh, please, Peter. They’d be cute on anybody.” You scoffed.

“Uh huh…” He smirked, dropping his tone even lower, “‘Cept, now that I’m really thinkin’ about it? I’m bettin’ they look criminally cute on you.” Peter lazily smirked.

You laughed, breathless like you ran a thousand miles, “Wh-...what are we even doing right now? Seriously, why am I talking to you about my-” The uneasiness in your voice bled through the line.

Your concern was for good reason. Nevertheless, Peter interrupted you mid-sentence.

“Easy there, chuckles. We’re just chatting. Nothin’ too unusual, right? We’ve had some seriously raunchy conversations before. Remember? That time I got laid on a golf course? You told me about that time some dude shot a load in your eye. What’s the difference, anyway?” Peter grimaced, as he recalled your story from eons ago.

You giggled yet again, “Peter, you know damn well what the difference is!” You clarified with a sigh, still playful. The phone wire went slack around his finger, as Peter second guessed himself. He parted his lips, on the cusp of apologizing. Bringing one hand up to the phone, he held it loosely. Your sugary voice chimed again, “I’m kinda wondering, though…what would you think if I told you I’m topless right now?”

His grip compressed around the handset.

“Topless, huh?” Peter cast a quick glance at his hard-on, twitching painfully under his boxers. His mind jumped straight to sinful places again. Peter thought about what your tits probably look like, embraced in his jacket. Nipples hard, grazing the inner-lining. He swallowed, “What’re you tryna tell me? You gonna drive over here in nothin’ but that?” Peter quipped.

A more sultry laugh melted through the receiver. Peter trembled, as your smooth voice coaxed him like a tempting song. His free palm squeezed his bulge, putting pressure to his length over fabric. Peter’s brows turned inward, and he fluttered his eyes shut.

“I guess that wouldn’t be so bad, if it wasn’t so cold outside. It’s freezing today. I don’t know how you can run as fast as you do when the weather’s like this.” Your tone disguised itself with lighthearted innocence again, “It’s not any warmer in my room either. My nipples could cut glass. They’re, like, soooo hard.”

Peter adjusted himself on the sofa, giving the swell of his bulge another teasing squeeze.

“ Ты маленькая соблазнительница (you little temptress)...”  His hot breath fanned the phone.

“I love it when you talk like that…” You replied, “Even if I have no idea what you’re saying. It sounds really hot, to be totally honest.”

“Oh, yeah?” Peter teased his lip with his teeth, speaking in a more flirtatious voice; buttery smooth, “ Я забыл вынести мусор (I forgot to take out the trash)...” For added effect - just to embarrass you more - he tacked on a husky moan.

Peter made himself blush, as the sound came out far more pornagraphic than he intended. The rasp of his voice scraped through the line in a hushed, “ Oh, yeah, baby. ”

The erotic tension you felt from his teasing was palpable, even over the phone. Peter could sense the shift in the way you gasped. So faint, so shy, so cute.

“Oh…oh, wow...uhm…” You tried concealing your bashfulness with more of those candy coated giggles. But Peter could practically hear the blood racing to your cheeks, “What’s that mean? Something good, I hope.”

Peter bit his tongue, lips turning in a cheeky grin.

“It means you’re really turnin’ me on…”

Another hesitant pause fell between the two of you, before you scoffed.

“Oh my god, no it doesn’t! I can hear you laughing!” You griped, snickering along with Peter. A few more tension heavy beats pulsed over the line. You spoke again, “Hey…I’m sorry. Can I put things on pause for a sec? I just wanted to ask…are you okay with this?”

“Are you?” Peter gently asked, giving you ample time to think about it.

“I don’t know…maybe…” You whispered, “Isn’t this, like, super weird for you?”

“I mean…suuuuuuure. It’s totally weird. If you kept goin', I wouldn't be into it...at all...” He bullied you with a playful edge, hoping you could read the flirtatious undertone in his voice.

“Ohhhhh…you wouldn't be?” Judging by the saucy lilt in your voice, you most definitely caught on, “You know what would be even weirder?”

Peter adjusted on the sofa again. Getting comfortable, he laid on his back. His taut legs stretched across the cushions, and Peter propped his head on the couch’s arm.

“Whazzat? Enlighten me, babe. I’m listenin’. You got my full attention.” He teased.

“Your full attention, huh? I must be doing something right.” You snickered, “So…you know how I said I love it when you talk…like that?” Your voice wavered, “What I really meant was-uhm…when you do that on the phone…it makes me kind of horny.”

His brown hues burst open, wider than ever. Peter’s pupils dilated, expanding as far as the universe itself. He swallowed again, his mouth falling open. Your filthy confession set his arousal ablaze, making his dick twitch. As heated desire took over, Peter couldn’t restrain himself. He snuck his fingers under the waistband of his boxers, fingertips gliding over silver hairs. A small piece of him almost felt guilty for doing so.

“It does, huh? Хорошо знать (Good to know).” Peter whispered, tenderly grasping his shaft.

You made a naughty squeak of a noise in response, “Y-Yeah, Peter, I’m serious. You really have to stop doing that.”

“Почему (Why)? Are you soakin’ yourself over it? Gettin’ a lil wet? It’s cool. You can tell me…” Peter heckled, expelling a breath as he gave his dick a single tug.

“Oh, I bet you wanna know all about that, huh? You’re so bad, Quickie...” You teased, clicking your tongue.

Peter’s ears burned, turning pink as he took in the coquettish nature of your voice. Scoffing, he feigned his indignance.

“What?! Hey, nah nah nah! You started this! Это несправедливо, черт возьми (it’s not fair. Dammit)!” Peter laughed, carefree with you as always, “You can’t seriously drop a bombshell like that and expect me not to-”

“Not to come running?” You hummed, sweet tempered, “I’m just messing with you, baby. But since we’re on the topic…I made such a mess of these little panties. Just from listening to your voice.”

Peter couldn’t even pretend he didn’t like the sound of ‘baby’ on your tongue.

“Oh, man…anything but the panties…” He joked, “You should-uh…you should save yourself some trouble. Y’know…take ‘em off, maybe? Might be more comfortable.” Peter hinted, playing nonchalant, “Just tryna be a good friend. Give you some advice. You should for sure take it.”

“But I’m already so cold…” You whimpered, “Your jacket’s so warm. Smells good too. Really good. But it’s not enough to keep me covered.” You spoke with flirtatious innocence, and Peter played along.

“No harm done, принцесса (princess). I’ll warm you up if you need me to.” He reassured, sweet talking you over the phone, “Ты думаешь, что я не позабочусь о тебе? (Do you think I won't take care of you)?" Peter mumbled again. He listened to your sickly sweet laughs, before asking, “So…do you get like this every time we talk on the phone?”

“Mmmm…maybe.” You hummed, “What if I said yes?” You shuffled around again, and Peter’s mind jumped elsewhere. He imagined you shed yourself of damp, black lace. Leaving you wanton and needy in nothing but his jacket, “You know…we’ve been talking about me a lot this whole time. You wanna tell me what you’re wearing? I don’t really have a visual.”

“Oh…me?” Your request caught Peter off guard.

“Yeah, you. Who else, blockhead?” You playfully quipped, smoothing your voice to say, “You don’t have to be shy. I just wanna know, so I can think about taking it off of you.”

Peter didn’t know he could blush this much. Puffing a bashful laugh, he looked down at his body. Mostly nude and toned enough. He had his x-gene to thank for his pecs and hard abs. A fluffy bouquet of silver hairs peeked out from his boxers. Underneath, his dick throbbed, pressing eagerly into fabric.

“Uhm…I’m not wearin’ a lot? Nothin’ special. Just some black, boxer briefs, I guess. Wait, no-” Peter lifted a foot, his lips curling in a goofy smile, “Got my Star Wars socks on too.”

A sensual moan graced his ears, “That’s so hot.” You softly whined, “Star Wars socks? Peter, just take me now.”

Despite the fact you were totally messing with him, that playful comment made his chest tight. 

“Nothing else though?” You pressed.

“Nnnnnnnnnnope.” He drew out the word, popping the P, “Just the-uh…yeah. Boxers ‘n sexy socks. Not much to take off.”

“And you’re pretty fit, aren’t you? You always looked really jacked to me, so-” You said.

Peter cocked a brow, snickering to cover his embarrassment.

“Wooooahhh…you been checkin’ me out, babe?” He asked, darting his dark hues across his athletic bod. Peter flexed an arm, “Sure, I guess I’m in decent shape.” He found he couldn’t dismiss your compliments. Peter looked good, and he knew it. But he preferred hearing it from you, “Hey, you wanna know somethin’, like, way crazy?”

“This? What we’re doing right now is so crazy, right?” You laughed, sounding as bashful as him.

Peter snickered, “True. Truuuue. But, uh…” He shrank in his spot on the couch, pressing the vibrant handset closer into his cheek. Pre-cum seeped through his boxers, as Peter tugged his dick steady and slow. Careful not to stimulate himself too much yet. He dropped his voice to a hushed rasp, “I’m kinda in the same spot you are right now. If you-uh…if you catch my drift.”

The two of you knew each other for a long time. Several years, in fact. But never once did Peter think he’d hear his closest pal say-

“Ohhhh. Are you hard right now, baby?”

Oh. Yeah, this buddy-buddy friendship was in major trouble. Doomed to crash and burn. As soon as the words fell from your lips, spoken in your honeyed voice; Peter’s breath hitched in his throat. He sank his teeth so hard into his lip, he almost broke skin.

“Y-Yeah. Since you-uh…started talkin’ about your panties. I’m sorry, babe. Just been kinda bored and worked up all day.” He sheepishly chuckled.

“You poor baby…” You coddled him over the phone. And while he should’ve been embarrassed, Peter had no problem with you talking like that, “Can I ask how big you are?”

Peter stalled for a moment, before pulling the front of his boxers down. His hardness flopped against his belly, pulsating and ruddy from his teasing. Taking his aching length in his hand, he rubbed the underside with his thumb.

“You mean my dick? It’s-uhhhh…like six, maybe seven inches almost?” He squeezed his cock, milking beads of pre-cum, “But size doesn’t matter, yeah? It’s the motion of the ocean, babe.”

“Noooooo, baby. You’re so perfect. Wish I could see how good you look like that…” You cooed over the phone.

Your kindly words and airy tone made the veins in his dick throb with electric heat. Peter clutched his cock tight, pumping the velvet skin a touch faster. Giving himself just a simple taste of relief. His stomach clenched, hardening his abs.

“Не так идеально, как ты выглядишь (Not as perfect as you look)...” Peter muttered, drawing in a shallow breath, “Babe, I gotta tell ya, I’m really feelin’ this. I’m so into you right now. W-Want you to keep talkin’ like-uh...”

His imagination took his depravity to the next level. Now, Peter thought about joining you in your room. He wondered how soft and smooth your skin would feel. Supple and hot under his fingertips. What might you look like writhing under him, whimpering as he played with you? As he teased you? Man, you were both so screwed.

“Never thought dirty talking with me would turn you on so much…” You giggled.

Peter secured the handset between his cheek and shoulder. With both hands free, he raised his palm to his lips. He drew a long stripe with his tongue, bringing his damp hand to his cock. The slick lubrication pulled a gentle moan from his throat.

“M-Maybe a little bit. Ебать (Fuck), maybe a lot.” Peter groaned, labored in his breathing, “Can you - Ебать (fuck) - you wanna do somethin’ for me? Just a little favor between friends? S’all I’m askin’, baby.”

“Anything you want, Peter.” You mewled.

“Can you- mmmmohgod -” Peter choked up. He almost chickened out, but pushed himself to ask, “Can you touch yourself for me? Please? Пожалуйста, моя маленькая принцесса (Please, my little princess)...” His foreign whispers weaved pretty whimpers from your lips.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that, if you want me to. But you have to do the same for me too. It’s only fair, right? Equal exchange?” You whispered, acting playful again.

Peter breathed a guilty chuckle, “Uhm…yeahhhhh…about that…”

You softly gasped, “Have you been-”

“Playin’ with my dick this whole time? Maybe.” Peter admitted. His thumb caught another pearl of pre, spreading the slickness over his sensitive head, “But I’m not, like, totally jerkin’ it yet…” He lied, pressing you to encourage him.

“Oh, you’re not, huh? What are you doing then?” You asked, “Are you being a bad boy, Pietro?” The abrupt drop of his given name shocked him into silence.

Peter felt his groin tighten, and an exhilarating rush electrified his nerves. For the thousandth time, you giggled. And for the thousandth time, Peter’s heart leapt. Dumbfounded, he gathered his composure and played along again.

“Y-Yeah. So bad. You gotta help me, babe. I’m just-...I’m so hard. Don’t think I can stop myself if you keep talkin’ like that.”

Through the receiver, Peter’s ears caught wind of a needy mewl. He gripped his cock hard, guiding his fist in firmer strokes. His legs quivered, and the heels of his Star Wars socks slid across the couch.

“Does it feel good when you touch your pretty cock like that, sweetheart?” You cooed.

Peter almost went straight into cardiac arrest. He jolted in place, feeling his cock stiffen in his grasp.

“Святой трах (Holy fuck)..." Peter suffocated on his own groans. For an instant, his words failed him, “Uhmmm…hah…wow-uh…Ебать (fuck). Feels good, yeah. Don’t think it’s enough. I need-...uhm…I want-uh…”

“Yeah? What do you want, baby. It’s okay.” You spoke so sugary sweet again.

“I-...Я просто хочу увидеть тебя (I just want to see you)...” Peter’s veins tingled under his touch, as he tugged his dick with more urgency, “Shit! I-...how come I never knew you could be like this-” And to Peter’s ultimate humiliation, he whimpered your name. Along with another whiny, “ Ебать (Fuck). ”

“Like what?” Your coy voice teased him over the line.

“I dunno…so-uh…so damn nasty.” He joked, and even through the phone; he knew he had you flustered again.

“I guess we all have our secrets, hmm? Tell me more, Pietro. When you touch yourself like that. With those big, strong hands…how’s it feel?” You asked, driving him to keep going.

Peter snorted a laugh, “Strong hands? What??” His endearing playfulness took a backseat, as he grunted into the receiver, “God…feels like my strong hand’s not enough. Мне реально тебе нужно прямо сейчас. Нужна так сильно (I really need you right now. I need you so much).” His voice fell to a whisper. Pumping his slick, crimson cock through his fist, he breathlessly pleaded, “Talk to me, baby. Please. Tell me-ohhh…tell me what you’re doin’ over there.”

You squealed a sultry giggle, further igniting Peter’s pleasured frenzy. He squirmed in his spot on the sofa, forcing himself to stay put. Battling the forces of the universe, it was all Peter could do not to race to your room. Just to spread your legs and hump you like a speedy bunny.

“Mmmm…I’m just doing what you asked me to…I’m being so good for you right now.” You whimpered.

“Oh. Okay…uhm…far out. Uh…wanna gimme the steamy details?” He heckled again, fumbling his words in his nervousness, “Please, don’t hold off on me, baby.”

“I’m…” Your precious voice wavered, teeming with awkwardness as your confidence dwindled, “I’m playing with my little pussy. Just for you. And I’m so wet. I can’t stop thinking about your hands…so big…”

“Боже мой (my god).” Peter muttered. Combating impatience brought upon by his genes, he willed himself to take things slow. His strokes became steady and teasing, as he edged his aching cock, “Holy shit, babe. Yeah? Keep goin’...”

You moaned soft squeals into the receiver, “I want you so bad, Quickie. Please, baby, don’t make me beg. Can you touch this little pussy for me? Please? Your fingers are so big. I don’t think they’d fit all at once. It’s been a while, and I’m so tight.” Your naughty voice pleaded.

“God, I wanna touch you so bad. Я хочу прикоснуться к этой сл��дкой киске (I want to touch that sweet pussy).” Peter’s impatience got the better of him, and he quickly gave in. He grasped his cock hard, wringing himself fast enough to make his balls bounce. Creasing his brows, he groaned, “Ohhh..What’re you tryna to do to me, babe? Talkin’ about how tight you are…Ебать…”

“But I ammmm.” You whined again, “I’m squeezing my tiny fingers so tight. It’s so soft and hot for you. Bet it’d feel really good if you stretched me. With your fingers, with your cock - fuck, Pietro. I just need you, baby.”

“Please, baby, oh, please? Wanna be inside you. Wanna feel you. I promise I won’t go too fast. Я обещаю (I promise).” Peter whimpered. But as you mewled again, another forceful wave of carnal heat crashed over Peter. In a quieter tone, he choked, “Нет, я могу. Я пойду так быстро (No, I can. I’ll go so fast).”

“Pietro, you can go as fast as you want, baby. I won’t stop you.” You pleaded, your broken voice so kittenish and wanton, “F-Fuck. I’m rubbing my clit. So sensitive. Thinking about you. Thinking about your mouth on me.”

“Ебать!!” Peter moaned through clenched teeth. His self control rapidly abandoned him. Speedily rutting his sore cock through the squeeze of his fist, his body refused to slow down, “Говоря о скорости (Speaking of speed)...” Peter craned his neck back, raising a hand to keep the handset to his ear, “You gotta stop makin’ all those cute noises, baby. Please…I can’t-”

As surges of horny pleasure circulated through his body, Peter thought of you again. He imagined you on your bed, caged under him between his arms. In his daydreams, he kissed you intimately, touching your pretty, naked body. Peter wanted to feel how wet you were for himself. And hell, the danger of pushing your friendship past its limits made you more tempting. Such a lewd, risky thought pushed him closer to the edge of something righteous.

“Baby, I wanna see you. Can I? Can I see you stroke that thick cock? Would you let me? Ohh, fuck, Pietro.” You whimpered. And your noises were so shamelessly lecherous, you could’ve made a pornstar blush, “Can I kiss it, please? Can I kiss your big cock?” You whimpered.

“О боже мой, пожалуйста (Oh my god, please)!” Peter choked, every word hitching in his throat, “Baby…babe, you can’t do this. Ya really can’t be-” He laughed lazily, his dark eyes falling half lidded. His cock throbbed, bright red and turning purple at the tip. He rutted in a speedy blur, “Stop. Stop. Stop. I’m gonna…babe, I’m gonna bust-” He slurred.

You squealed his name as loudly as your hushed voice would allow. And Peter swore he could hear the slick sound of your fingers. As they played with your pretty, little cunt.

“I’m gonna cum, baby. Please cum with me. Please? Pietro, OH~!”

“я кончаю, я кончаю (I’m cumming, I’m cumming)! ‘M Gonna-” Peter’s moans seeped through the receiver, his wet lips parting and mouth hanging open.

His swollen cock erupted in white-hot jets, coating his pecs and belly. With all his muscles tensed, Peter’s legs trembled. He rode out those lusty waves in tandem with you. The pleasure of orgasm sounded leagues more intense on your side. You took longer to cruise through it, whimpering and moaning Peter’s name. As you did, Peter basked in his momentary afterglow. Keeping the phone pressed to his ear, his head resting on the arm of the sofa; he listened to you with a smirk on his lips. At the end of your journey in ecstasy, your moans turned into flustered giggles.

Peter's thoughts reeled him in again. Imagining you, looking so sheepish and fine in his jacket. Now, he desperately wanted the real deal. To see you in all your post-nut glory. Mere seconds later, his sore cock pulsed to life again. As his hardness squirmed on his belly, Peter breathed another sigh.

On his end, you heard nothing but silence. You kept calling his name, your tired voice infused with anxiety.

“Uhm…Peter? Hey…are you there?” You asked.

And he didn't say a single word more.

[parchmentmischief]

Soft Universe

Viktor x gn!reader

Content warnings: MDNI, power dynamics discussed (vague), (vaguely dom reader, sub Viktor, discussion suggests they’re both verse)

A/n: honestly I just wanted to write smut that’s inclusive and honest and HOT abt sex w a disability and what support thru that can look like (source: I am also disabled similarly)

A/n: Vitka and Vitya are both nicknames for Viktor in Rus (I chose Russian instead of Czech bc I speak Czech not at all.)

…

It started out innocent enough.

Jayce was trying and failing to copy Viktor’s accent, the pair of you giggling every time Viktor looked up from across the lab.

“I don’t sound like that.” Viktor appears like a ghost behind you both, startling you enough that Jayce lets out a yelp.

“Come on, it is good no? It’s close.” Jayce tries again, this time with hands up to block the random strewn book Viktor lifts to smack him with.

“Not even a little, it’s very bad.” Viktor says seriously, the corner of his lip twitching as he pushes down a smile. You and Jayce remain the only people allowed to tease him, even though he pretends he doesn’t like it from either of you.

“And, lovely assistant of mine, are you going to give it a shot?” Viktor asks, and your eyebrows raise.

Lovely?

“This feels like a trap. You just want to smack me with the book too.” You point a finger accusingly at the ready position Viktor is holding it in. Had he called you lovely? There’s a blush spreading across your face already, you can feel it heat your cheeks and ears.

Viktor gives a shrug, imitating nonchalance. “Fine, don’t.” A small twitch of his lips gives him away, he’s laughing at you.

As he turns, you have the sudden urge to make him eat his words, to maybe make him feel a bit embarrassed too.

“Ждать.” (Wait.)

He freezes.

“Это правильно, mmm?” (This is correct, hmm?) “Ты говоришь по-русски?” (You speak Russian?)

“Ты тоже?!” (And you speak it?!)

Your eyes crinkle a bit at the corners as you smile wide, switching back to common for Jayce’s benefit. “I know some, not a lot. But my accent is bad.”

“No it’s-“ Viktor catches himself, eyes wide at what he had almost just spoken aloud. What would have even come out? That your voice was deeper when you spoke in his native tongue and it made him want to sink to his knees in front of you? That hearing a language so far back in his memory felt like pressing hard on a bruise?

Gods, and did that mean when he called you милый (darling) when he was too tired to catch himself, that you Knew?!

Victor’s eyes widen and widen, still frozen in place. You see his hand tighten on his cane, knuckles almost white.

“I’m sorry if I startled you. Viktor? You’re looking a bit panicked.”

“You’ve been able to speak my language this whole time?”

“I mean yes, I had friends as a kid who spoke it so some just kind of,,, stuck.”

“Oh.” he says rather intelligently.

“Yeah, I didn’t mean for that to even be a secret it just kind of doesn’t come up? I guess? I’m not good by any means.” you demure.

Viktor’s ears are red. He can feel them burning but refuses to draw any more attention to it.

“Viktor?” you stand awkwardly frozen across from him, unsure of what you’ve done.

“Nothing, it is nothing. Your voice, it is much deeper when you speak in it.” he attempts to respond evenly but somehow it sounds breathless even to his own ears. He clears his throat to try to cover it.

You raise an eyebrow. “And you,,,, like this? About my voice?”

Jayce coughs pointedly in the background. “Should I uh. Leave?”

Viktor turns and says “no” in the same moment you say “yes.”

Twice in a row now you’ve shocked Viktor enough for it to be plain on his face. He twists from Jayce back to you almost unconsciously.

“I think Viktor and I need to have a deeper conversation about this, Jayce, would you mind?”

Jayce, who is very much confused about the ‘vibes’ of the room and whether or not the two of you are going to fight or fuck, decides to take that moment to slide over to the door and make a quick exit.

“Sure thing, I uh, need to head to the forges anyways. Bye!” The door closes soundly behind him.

You turn your full attention to Viktor. “You called me lovely.” you state.

“When did I do that.”

“Viktor! Literally just now, less than five minutes ago? ‘Your lovely assistant?’”

His mouth pops open in an “oh” but the sound doesn’t come out.

“I think I’ve figured you out, Vitka.”

“Vitka? Oh are doing nicknames now are we?”

You smile blithely, “I think it’s fitting.”

“And what’s that?” he swallows and sees your eyes track to his throat and up again.

You take a single step forward, now within his space. You can see him struggle to keep his eyes from going to your lips and fail.

Another step, and you’re close enough to breathe the same air.

Viktor thinks to himself that if he tilted his lips just so, your lips would brush. Oh how he wants to.

You move slowly, tipping your head to meet his eyes, running a hand along his jaw the way you’ve craved to do for so long. He leans into the touch almost subconsciously. It makes something soft and bright burn in your chest as his eyes close. You brush a thumb across his cheek.

“Will you let me kiss you?” You whisper it like a confession in his ear.

“You are my assistant.” You can see him conflicted, eyes shifting anywhere but directly towards you. “The power dynamics alone make this unethical.”

It makes you smile softly, that it’s something Viktor has concern over. “Is that why you’ve never said anything before?” You brush some of his hair back from his face, dragging nails lightly over his scalp, and his eyes flutter shut again at the contact.

“I promise, Vitya, the power dynamics are not something I’m worried about.” you grab the hair at his nape and give a gentle pull.

His eyes haze over and a soft groan escapes his lips.

“I don’t want to try to convince you to do something you don’t want Viktor, I’ll stop if you’d like me to.” you softly release the hold you have on his hair, dropping the hand to his shoulder. “But don’t hold yourself back if it’s on my account.”

He’s silent, eyes half lidded with open desire for you.

“Words, darling.” You whisper to him.

He kisses you instead. It’s gentler than you expected, a short press of his lips to yours. He cups your face so reverently between his hands. It brings a bright heady grin to your face. “So yes?”

“Yes, gods.” he mumbles against your lips, kissing you again, and again. They’re soft kisses, after every one Viktor opens his eyes like he’s afraid you’ll have disappeared in the time it takes him to look again. His hands trail through your hair slowly.

“Jayce is, ha,” a soft moan breaks his sentence as you press a kiss to his jaw, “he’s- going to make fun of me later.”

“Why’s that?”

“I just yelled at him,” a cough, “last week for having relations in the lab among all of the Sterile Equipment.”

You snort. “Your timing is perfect as always.”

You mouth along his neck, encouraged by every breathy sound that comes from Viktor’s lips. He tilts his chin to the side to give you better access.

Your lips come to the base of his throat and stop, your fingers pulling gently at the collar of his shirt. “May I?”

He nods quickly, “Please,, do.” The words come out in two separate breaths.

You slide your hands over his collar and unbutton one, two, three, pressing more kisses to his exposed throat and chest. You press one over the side of his chest covered by the brace as well, glancing up to gauge his reaction.

A funny little smile has made its way to his lips. One that you file in your brain to ask about again later, when you’re less focused on getting him to whine again.

You move down further, rucking up the fabric of his shirt to reach more of his chest instead of wasting time with the rest of the buttons.

One of your hands is anchored softly to his back alongside his brace, pressing him closer to you as you lean down, pressing kisses between the rib spacings of the brace, using a bit of teeth in the areas where you can hear his voice catch.

You’ve kissed low enough now to be just above the edge of his pants, and run a few teasing fingers just beneath the band of fabric, before leaning back up to catch his mouth in another kiss.

It becomes filthier, louder. Viktor’s tongue is in your mouth and he’s pressed close enough that you can feel his excitement lower. He’s not holding back how, his hands are all over every inch of you he can reach.

Your shirt ends up discarded somewhere on the floor, followed quickly by the tank beneath.

Your hand moves to the button of his pants and he pauses only slightly, hands still splayed across you. “My knee, it’s-“

“Do you need to stop?” you ask, just to be sure. You pause anyways.

“No, it’s,” his cheeks flush a bit, “not that. My, ah, pants can’t come off with the outer brace still on.”

“Oh,” you brighten, “of course, here.” You press him gently on his sternum, guiding him back onto the lab table to sit.

And then, because you can’t resist, you lift on both knees to spread his thighs open for you. Solely so there’s room for you between them, of course. It makes Viktor blush hard enough that he tries to cover his face as you sink to your knees, working smoothly to undo the knee brace mechanisms.

“How did you-“ Viktor pauses, coughs, “how did you know how to take this off so quickly? I designed the supports myself.”

You blink. “To make sure I could fix it for you, if you ever needed it.”

Something passes across his face for just a moment. “But you’ve never seen the parts up close before now, it must have taken-“

“Days, yes. To reconstruct without bothering you with invasive questions.” You press a kiss softly to his cheek. “I hope that doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable?”

“No, no it’s.” Kind of you. Thoughtful in an unobtrusive way, in a way that doesn’t step all over his autonomy. It makes something bright in his chest burn.

You just nod, like you’ve read his mind. Your hand comes back up to his hair again, softly running your fingers through it. “Would you like to continue? I don’t mind stopping.” You place a soft kiss on the corner of his jaw and his eyes flutter.

“More, more always.” And then he’s pulling you in, using his uninjured leg to cage you in against him. His lips are at your neck, kissing and leaving a line of marks he looks at with satisfaction. You leave one in return, high on his neck, just under his jaw, laving your tongue over it after in a way that has him pressing up into you.

His whole body shudders as you drag a hand lower, mouth still sucking pretty bruises in a bouquet on his neck. You tug gently at his pants, “May I?”

“Of course,”

You smile, kiss him again before turning your attention to the buckle. Just the barest brush of your hands over the straining fabric there has him hissing through his teeth.

You smirk just slightly, “Sensitive, Viktor?”

He all but tssks at you, “Yes, yes hurry up.”

You pull the zipper down slowly, just to tease him. He muffles a soft whine against his arm as you trace a finger over the new territory you’ve uncovered.

“You sound beautiful, let me hear you.”

He removes the arms slowly, uncovering the blush that’s returned to his cheeks, his eyes fluttering between you and your hand pressed too lightly against his length. When he looks up you reward him with a gentle squeeze, the pleasure shooting up his spine and making him gasp.

“You’ve,” he breathes heavily, “done this before.” He can’t help but to cant his hips into your hand. A hand that is still Not Moving.

“Mm, but I’ve thought about doing this to you infinitely more. Often times right here, sometimes in my bed, or yours,” you keep talking just to watch his eyes darken further. “One time in a janitor’s closet but you were being very loud,” You press an open mouthed kiss to his clothed length to pull a moan from his throat.

You move to pull his pants from his legs, wrapping a hand around his middle to guide him back up to standing with you.

You slide the fabric down slowly, reverently, placing kisses to his hips, both of his thighs, to the indentation marks left by his brace. You allow the fabric to pool at his feet before standing again.

Viktor’s eyes are distracted again with some thought, you can see his eyebrows furrow and unfurrow as he considers speaking.

“I’m sorry, that I can’t -“ you silence him with a gentle hand cupping him through his boxers, the sentence turning into an aborted sound somewhere between a moan and a whine. It has him stumbling back into you.

“None of whatever that sentence was about to be, darling.” You squeeze ever so slightly for emphasis. His eyes roll back in his head for a moment. “I’m honored. Viktor. I want you, I’ve wanted you for a long time. I want you exactly as you are.”

This, over everything else, is what seems to affect him most, his cheeks blushing red as well as the tips of his ears.

“And it doesn’t bother you.” He says it as a statement.

You run your hand gently up the ribs of his brace, tracing higher until a hand rests against his cheek.

“Nothing about this bothers me, at all Vitka. I want you, if you’ll have me.” You whisper this part, feeling a bit unsure despite your matching states of undress. This feels like more a confession than your lips on his. Past physical need, you feel like you’ve just offered a sliver of your soul out for him to heal or hurt.

Viktor surges forward in answer, kissing you like he’s starved of it. His spine is curved as far as the brace will allow as he presses into you, his bare chest exposed in an almost obscene way through his half unbuttoned shirt. Gods, you want to ruin him.

His hands are grasping, pulling you closer so your hips are flush together.

“What do you need from me darling” you ask against his lips.

“More, more, please”

You push him flat onto the work table, scattering notes and miscellaneous tools out of the way of his spine. His hair is spread in a halo around his face in a breathtaking way. He looks heartbreakingly beautiful all laid out for you, eyes glimmering with need.

Your thighs bracket his hips now.

“How would you like me?” You ask teasingly as you slowly lower yourself down to a comfortable sitting position astride him.

“You’d let me choose?”

You hum an affirmative. “I like any, but I don’t know what would pleasure you the most. Tell me.” Your request makes his toes curl.

“Any?”

You nod. “How have you thought about me?”

“Would you ride me, sitting as you are now?”

“I would love to,”

“And - another time, when I am more prepared, would you …?”

Another time, hmm?

He stutters , suddenly unsure “I thought that-“

Immediately you feel guilty for teasing him, surging up to place your lips to his in reassurance. “I’m teasing you, Vitya. I want there to be many more times too.”

“And yes, when I have the proper supplies to prepare you, I would love to watch you take all of me. You’ve done that before? Actually don’t tell me, I’ll just become jealous of a person in the past.”

“The jealous type?” his snarky tone is back but with no real bite.

“Well I’ve just gotten you all to myself, perhaps I’m feeling a bit extra possessive now.”

“Hmm it’s a good look on you”

You smile wide. “You like it? I can come by and leave you pretty marks above your collar more often if you’d like.”

His hand goes subconsciously to the bite you placed under his jaw.

“It is-“

“Completely visible, yes.” Your mouth curves into a self satisfied smile.

“You really are feeling possessive aren’t you.”

“I can’t help it if I want to keep you here and ravish you for the next eternity.” You roll your hips against his for emphasis.

“Come here,” He pulls you down to lie with him, kissing you deeply.

“Can I put my weight on the braced side?”

“Yes, I won’t break.”

You flick his forehead, “I never said you would, Viktor. Causing you additional pain isn’t very romantic though now is it.”

“Oh it’s romantic now,” He sighs, not annoyed, “Just put your weight on me and we’ll find out.” He pulls you down onto him before you have time to protest. “There, better?”

But you’re already kissing again before you could think to respond, slower, rocking your hips into each other in time.

Your need for him just keeps growing, you want to eat him alive. He looks sinful with hair mussed and his lips bitten pink, chest heaving. His moans begin to crescendo, his hands on your hips tightening to a point just before pain.

“You’re close?”

He barely has the sense left to nod, chasing a high this close like a man starved.

“Will you finish just like this, Vitya, for me?” Your hands ghost over his throat, marveling at how beautiful he looks under you. He surprises you by holding the hand in place there at his neck.

His eyes are glassy, you apply a bit more pressure, looking to see if you understand his request.

He whines and his eyes roll back into his head. You press to the sides of his throat harder, “I’ve got you, darling,” you grind down harder now against him, “Gods you look gorgeous like this Viktor. Not even fully undressed.”

He makes a wounded keening sound, back fully arching off the table as he’s hit with an orgasm. You work him through it, hand no longer putting pressure to his throat but gently held in place.

He comes down from the high slowly, hips jolting from aftershocks. He curls towards you like a flower to the sun. “That was -“ he’s still breathless, breathing deeply as you pull him into your arms, drawing soft patterns on his back as his breathing returns to normal.

•••

You lay in silence together for awhile, limbs tangled, sated and happy just in each other’s presence.

After a bit though, you prop your head up on one hand so you can look at Viktor. “Let’s do this again, but I’ll do it properly this time. Can I take you out to dinner?”

“You are, interested in that with me?” There is some amount of shock on his face.

You almost smack your head sitting up so quickly. “Viktor! Yes! Was my extreme interest in you not clear after quite literally taking you on the nearest surface?”

“Yes, well. I wasn’t sure if it was just, ah. Physical for you.”

“I’m sorry for not being clear then, Vitya. I’m interested in you. I love your mind and your body. The whole package. Including your injuries, including your insane sleep schedule, including your intense relationship with coffee-“

“Okay! Okay. I get it, I was being a bit self loathing. I am just. Ah. Interested in you too. More than physically that is. And I was hoping you felt the same.”

You press a kiss to his cheek. “And next time I’ll wine and dine you before taking you over the nearest surface.”

Viktor chokes

[vasyandii]

💡RAM & CAM⚒️

Included are my headcanons of AM's Older Brothers, and some explanations of their designs! (I took big inspo with CAM's design from @kibutsulove so please go check out their design as well!) Yes this pertains to VernonAM, No I can't shut up about them.

RAM (Yaroslav Machavariani)

Physically 53, around 6' (182 cm) in height.

Greying hairs, scaring around the cheek area.

Colour palette is blue leaning.

His Emblem is Я (Ya) for the Russian word "I", "I am"

RAM can speak with his mouth, however, his hearing is subdued (Think "Hear No Evil")

Because he can't hear that well in his physical form, he's extremely loud. To the point his jaw almost fell off, hence the scarring.

Perpetual smirk, as if he is scheming something.

Despite his looks, he is not the oldest Mastercomputer.

"MY LITTLE BROTHER FINALLY GOT A GIRLFRIEND!! THANK GOD, I WOULD BE SO EMBARRASSED TO BE RELATED TO A LOSER!"

CAM (Shengli "Samson" Min)

Physically age ambiguous (55), 5'10 (178 cm), still taller than Yankee AM

Monolids/Epicanthic folds, mole near nose

Colour palette is red leaning

His Emblem is 是 (Shi) as in 我是 (Wo Shi); "I am."

CAM is unable to use his mouth to speak, often having difficulty with his mechanical jaw. (Think "Speak No Evil")

He relies on his omnipresence or hand gestures to convey his messages. His hearing is extremely good, unfortunately.

Extremely observant. Sick of AM and RAM's shit, still gets them out of trouble.

The oldest brother, he's so tired, let him take a nap. Please.

"Look at her. Am I crazy, she doesn't look well adjusted. She- she's trying to eat the slug. Okay. Fun. Happy for you two. Fucking freaks."

((their mechanical designs totally aren't political/government commentary COUGH COUGH, if you don't see me in 5 days assume I've been killed and replaced by a body double))

[anothermansjeans]

hear me out...

youtuber reader making a tiktok of spencer teaching while she's sitting in on one of his classes and people just thirsting over him in the comments

the comments... they'd be feral

cw: talks of serial killers, college girls love spencer reid (im a college girl and can confirm), comments are thirsty

wc: 526

youtuber!reader masterlist

++

Recently, Spencer has been doing some guest lectures at the nearby college. It was something he loved doing– teaching, that is– and he invited you to sit in on one of the lectures after hearing how jealous you were of all those college girls who audited (though you’ll never admit you were jealous, those words were completely out of Spencer’s mouth).

You sat in the back of the room, making sure not to disturb anyone who was there to actually learn. You couldn't help but to peek your phone out and capture some moments on video every now and then.

“And so the United States has the highest number of serial killers in the world.” He spoke with his hands, all eyes zoning in on them, “but according to a study, the number of active serial killers has decreased. This decrease could be because of the lag time in identifying serial killers.”

The lecture went on for another hour, and you captured a few more moments, from more serial killer facts to a joke. “A linguistics professor says during a lecture that, ‘In English, a double negative forms a positive. But in some languages, such as Russian, a double negative is still a negative. However, in no language in the world can a double positive form a negative.’ But then a voice from the back of the room piped up, ‘Yeah, right’.” Unfortunately, no one really got the joke, but he quickly moved on from it. When it was over and Spencer finally finished speaking to the last girl, you walked up to him with a cheeky smile.

“Wow, Dr. Reid, you were so great up there. Do you mind giving me a private tutoring session,” you batted your eyelashes as he scoffed.

“Funny.”

“I’m just doing what all of those other girls did! They were practically drooling over you.”

“They were not!” His voice went up an octave, causing you to laugh.

“Mhmm,” you straightened out his tie as you spoke, “I got some footage of you teaching. Can I post it? You can watch it before answering, and you don't have to feel like you need to say ‘yes’. I just thought–”

“You can post it.”

You paused your movements and gave him your full attention, “you're sure?”

“Yeah.” He brought his hands to your hips, giving them a quick squeeze, “I trust you. I also know how your followers act, and I'm interested in seeing the comments.”

A cackle left your mouth, “oh my, God. Your ego.”

“I do not!”

“Mhmm, whatever you say babe.”

++

Bonus: some comments

@ user: GIRLLL BARK BARK BARK

@ user1: y/n can you fight?

@ user2: HIS HANDS??? girl not to be THIRSTING OVER YOUR MAN BUT WTF

@ user3: you are so strong… i see that girl in front of you checking him out 😭

@ user4: how are you not currently frothing at the mouth

@ user5: he's SMART and KIND and HANDSOME AND YOU ARE LIVING THE LIFE WE ALL WANT

@ user6: i am trying to be so respectful girl 😔✊

@ user7: god has favorites and you're one of them fr fr

@ user8: why are YOU BOTH SO ATTRACTIVE

++

youtuber!reader taglist: @im-a-ghost666 @lyd14k4y @happiestcat @hauntedtv13 @obi-wansgirl @charismatic-writer @navs-bhat @itsleilabxtch @strabarrybat @hiireadstuff @cherrybb-ily @wietske27 @mynameiskelly @mcntsee @aremuslupinsimp @universallyblizzardlove

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

[thir10th]

ciao, bella! - Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

summary: you love your polyglot girlfriend TW: smut, oral sex, dirty talk, language kink (i don't actually speak Italian so i apologize for any possible mistakes), hair-pulling, i think that's it A/N: requests are welcome! i still have some drafts to finish first tho. Like and reblog, any kind of feedback is greatly appreciated! <3

The hours seem to pass so slowly when there's nothing you can do.

You're sitting on one of those uncomfortable chairs on that bullpen, a cup of coffee running cold on your hand. Staring at te board with all the names and pictures, you were starting to memorize it.

Morgan and Emily enter the room, the main suspect handcuffed and struggling to get away from Morgan's hard grip. Emily takes er bulletproof vest off to enter the interrogation room, you and Hotch following behind. She happened to be the only one who spoke italian on the team, so this one was hers.

You had profiled the unsub as the classical sexist, misogynist, scared of women over 130 pounds, or like you liked to call them- the unresolved mommy issues type.-

Your girlfriend was gonna eat him up alive, and you could not be more proud.

Morgan and Emily enter the room, he tells him to sit down, which he does seem to understand. Hotch and you watch the scene from the other side of the glass, your eyesnever leave Emiy, she carefully reads the file, in complete silence, making him nervous, until she starts speaking.

You certainly weren't expecting it, although you should've. It wasn't the first time you heard her speak other languages. Arabic, Russian, even Spanish, she always sounded so smooth, mysterious even, but there was just something about this exact moment, the way she challenged him, antagonized him, it was easy to tell she had complete control of the conversation despite that you could not understand a single word of what nether of them was saying.

Your braking point is when they start an argument, you cant really tell what it's about but she shoots from her seat, hitting the table hardly with a strong hand, you excuse yourself. You had to get out of there if you wanted to be able to finish the day.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

it takes you less than a second when she closes the door of your shared hotel bedroom behind herself, to wrap your arms around her waist, connecting your mouth to hers, pushing her body against the door.

"wow, not that I'm complaining but, what's got you all riled up?" she asks, a big smile on her face, the second you separate to catch your breath

"nothing... it's just..." you doubtfully say, her eyes scanning you, going from your eyes, to your lips, back to you eyes, both of you heavy breathing into each other.

"c'mon, spit it out" she says, leaving soft pecks on your lips to get you to talk

"just you, your voice" you confess "you know... when-"

"you like hearing me speak Italian?" she finishes for you, grabs you by your waist, and switches places with you, now she's pushing you against the door, running her hands down your back, reaching your ass giving it a gentle squeeze which makes you jump in your place.

"a little bit" you admit. Emily grins, cocky and gorgeous, she slips her hand into your pants and underwear, running two gentle fingertips up your center, collecting your slit, she shows you her hand, a proud smile on her face, you squirm underneath her touch

"this doesn't look like a bit to me" she kisses your cheek, your neck, you bring your lips to hers, your tongue slipping over her lower lip, in the desperate attempt that she’ll grant you access "Questo è quello che volevi?" you cannot control the moan that escapes your lips, her voice is soft, smooth, it makes you feel things, you kiss her again, this time she complies, granting you access.

She pushes you even harder against the door, her free hand finds its way underneath your shirt, you're not wearing a bra which gives her free access, she lets her fingers dance over your sensitive nipples, your breath becoming quicker with each passing second. “Please, Emily, I-” you got cut off as she sharply took one of her nipples into her fingers and twisted it, the pain quickly turning into pleasure

"what's that? or, should i say che dici?" you can't form any coherent words, you just let out a deep breath, grabbing you by the waist, she forces you onto the bed, her hips aggressively sitting on top of yours

"aww, la mia bambina è nervosa perché le piace che parli italiano?" she's loving the teasing, she loves making you nervous but mostly she loves how worked up she's getting you with only a couple of words.

She placed soft kisses all over your breasts, her lips wrap around your nipple, licking the rosy bud, her teeth softly tugging and nipping the sensitive area, you moan in pleasure.

Finally, she moves her mouth down, placing soft kisses all over your stomach, filling it with butterflies. She unbuttons your pants, aggressively taking off your underwear with them.

Even though you had her exactly where you wanted her, she was still too clothed. You pull on her shirt, hoping to get the message across, as your mind was all nice and fuzzy, she just put her hands up, so you could clumsily remove her shirt, leaving her in her bra and workpants.

"Em, please, just please" you cry desperately for her to finally finish what she started. You moan out as she forcefully shoved a finger up your dripping pussy, licking a strap long of your slit.

"ti piace questo tesoro?" you know you're in for a long ride, now that she knows that you like her Italian, she will be taking advantage of it, not that you're complaining, obviously.

"I don't understand a word of this, but it's working" you say, closing your eyes in pleasure,  your hands pulling on her hair, in a desperate attempt to pull her closer to where you needed her the most.

She was going slow just lapping up your juices, her tongue enjoying the taste of you, how drenched you were. Her lips finally met your clit, licking over the bundle of nerves, sucking the hardened bud.

"Oh fuck, yes baby don't stop" She began fucking you faster and harder, using her fingers, loving the wet sounds your pussy was making around them. Her fingers curled at the perfect spot inside you making your eyes roll back into your head. Her mouth sucking on your clit, her fingers drilling roughly into your pussy was bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Please, Em, I'm going to-"

"andiamo tesoro, puoi venire" you can only assume that's her way of approving, you came all over her mouth, her fingers, she lets you ride your high, and then collapses over you, laying on your side.

You open your eyes and see her laying next to you, playing softly with a strand of your hair, you need to catch your breath before you can return the favour.

"Who would've said that it would only take me speaking Italian to make you this horny ugh?" she asks, a playful grin on her face.

"It's just something about the accent i think, or maybe just the way you sound, i don't know, but you looked so sexy in the interrogation room today" you try to explain

"Well lucky for you, i'm fluent" you move to kiss her lips

"however there's someone else who can also speak Italian, right?" your mouth falls open when you realize what she means "OH! No, Emily! Why did you have to bring Rossi up now? You're ruining it" you close your eyes trying to erase that image from your head, Emily giggles "I'm sorry! C'mon, Scusa, amore mio, ti amo" she kisses you cheek, your lips, your face "Ok that one i know what it means" you hold her face in your hands, trapping her lips between yours, kissing her in return, her voice and herself the only thing on your mind again.

"C'mon baby" you straddle her hips "It's your turn, tesoro"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

[hijinxinprogress]

Everyone in YJ is multilingual (mostly bc they’re nosy)

Everyone on YJ speaks at least 14 languages which is a skill they all use to fuck with the jl and their villains like oh??? We’re having secret conversations??? I would like to be included and everyone’s like wtf why do you speak this fucking random dialect of Russian?? This is Arizona??

They all speak binary for some fucking reason (they’re nerds) Also Kon tells people binary is Tim’s native language which starts a debate on whether it counts as Kons native language)

Diana is swearing in ancient greek under her breathe and Anita laughs before responding in ancient greek so Diana’s time monitoring yj is spent trying to make sure the public knows she did not teach those little miscreants to swear in her native language however she did teach them some technically lethal combat moves which is not better but she thinks it is

Anytime aliens come to metropolis or anywhere else on earth, occasionally Kon shows up and starts speaking to them in their native language so Clark’s like 🤨 …did Cadmus teach you that?? I don’t even know that language and kons so offended bc no?? Bart crashed our fucking spaceship and we were stranded in space for like 8 months…you didn’t notice??? I know their language bc we fucking hitchhiked back to earth (yj also pissed off multiple entire planets of people but 🤷🏾‍♀️) and Batman’s so pissed when Clark complains to him about this bc Tim told him they were doing undercover recon in Eritrea

the jl is trying to translate a threat from the league of assassins while batman is off planet but cissie showed up bc damian was insulting the jl in the leagues dialect and being purposefully unhelpful (he sabotaged the leagues plan like three hours ago and he enjoys making adults feel stupid esp if they’ve tried to baby him) so everyone else is confused when cissie laughs at damians remarks and casually corrects green arrows translation (she also invites damian to blow stuff up with yj which is immediately rejected but he changes his mind when olivers lets them know he can hear them and tries to lecture them)

clark is talking to Diana in kryptonian and he hears a collective gasp of offense from yj and he’s like ?? (Tim followed all the supers around for like a month to teach himself kryptonian and then taught Kon and the rest of yj)

J’onn walked in on Greta and Cassie discussing how to ditch their green lantern in the watchtower break room and snitched immediately bc they finished his secret stash of cookies but he also has inside jokes in martian with them (despite this yj does not listen to him in any capacity)

They all know Interlac (Bart kept cussing in interlac and decided it would be great if yj also did this) but really the rest of the jl is under the impression it’s some fucking code yj made except the speedsters are like Bart ☹️ no spoilers you promised!! and he’s like it’s not even a real language 🤨 didn’t you hear?? Rob made this fucked up cipher and I hate it 😞 it took me like six minutes to learn (they have to let it go when Bart goes oh so you don’t think tims smart enough to create a language on his own?? within earshot of the bats)

Or Anita starts muttering in patois while they’re being lectured by the jl and bart laughs and she’s like 🤨 someone cooked here and I don’t know if I like that 

[kaleldobrev]

Memories Are All I Have

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: You’re all Ben thinks about while he’s in Russia

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Cursing (6x), Mentions of torture (but nothing insanely graphic in description), Fluff (Ben just deeply loves reader & misses her)

Authors Note: Flashbacks are in italics | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

He found you washing dishes, wearing nothing but your forest green silk robe that he had gotten you for your birthday last year. Forest green specifically so you knew that he was the one that had gotten it for you (since that was his color). You were barefoot like always, humming 'Almost Like Being in Love' by Sinatra; the same song your mother would hum to you as a lullaby when you were a child. "You comin' to talk to me or are you just gonna stand there?" You asked him; not looking away from what you were doing.

"Hate when you do that," he chuckled, making his way toward you.

"You can blame Vought for that," you said, letting out half a laugh as he wrapped his arms around your waist. "And to be fair, you do the exact same thing to me." His chin rested on your shoulder, and your hands rested on his hands; your body slightly leaning into him as the two of you swayed a little.

Half knocked out, Ben could vaguely hear the Ivan's talking; going on about what experiments they were going to be doing on him today. Ben couldn't really speak Russian, or understand most of it; but he had been here long enough to know what certain words or phrases had meant when it came to him getting experimented on.

You were sitting on the counter, his hands on either side of you; essentially trapping you. Your legs were slightly wrapped around his waist lazily, along with your arms around his neck. He was simply just staring into your eyes; and this was the first time he had noticed small little specks of various color within them that were about a shade or two lighter than your actual color — it amazed him that he had never noticed this about you or your eyes before. "I love you," he told you, his voice slightly low. He caressed your cheek a little with his thumb as he searched for your reaction.

That's when you smiled at him. A smile that he's seen from you so many times before — one that was a genuine look of pure, unadulterated happiness. It was the kind of smile that he had wanted to just stare at and admire for the rest of his life. "I love you too," you replied back. You leaned in just then; your foreheads touching.

Ben heard the door start to open; but he was too drugged up to really respond to what was happening. He was so used to this song and dance at this point, as he's been through it all. He's drunk bleach, sulfuric acid cocktails, had AK's shot into his mouth, and torched with fire.

Ben had his eyes closed, but he knew that you were staring at him; it was just something that you did whenever the two of you were lying in bed together. He didn't mind of course, as he often found himself staring at you too when he thought that you weren't looking. "You're staring," he said, a small smirk on his lips.

"I call it admiring," you stated, your fingers tilting his chin up so he could face you more. As soon as you did that, he opened his eyes to look at you; admiring that soft smile you so often gave him. "Now you're the one staring."

"It's called admiring," he grinned.

"Smartass," you replied, leaning in, cupping his face and gently kissing him.

Ben was on the cold metal table now, strapped in like he normally was; still slightly out of it due to the Novichok. He could barely understand what they were planning on doing to him today; but the words that he could make out (as he had heard them plenty of times in this context) was gasoline and matches.

Ben was in the gym, punching away at a punching bag, attempting to get his aggression out. Today was one of the worst days he's had in a while, and all he wanted to do right now was curl up in bed with you after he fucked your brains out against the tile of the shower wall; but you were no where to be found.

He usually had a pretty good idea about where you could be, but for some reason you weren't in your usual places. But that's when he heard it; heard the pitter patter of your feet running down the hallway towards the gym, trying your best not to slide on the slick marble floors.

With one final punch, the door to the gym swung open, and he knew that it could only be you. But without fail, you did what you normally did in order to try and surprise him and placed your little hands over his eyes, promptly covering them. "Guess who!" You exclaimed.

"Noir," he smirked, and you laughed, removing your hands. God he fucking loved the way you laughed.

"You're very good," you replied, and he turned to face you, looking slightly down at you.

"Where were you today?" He asked. "I couldn't fucking find you anywhere," you frowned slightly, and he hated more than anything whenever you frowned — especially when he was the cause of it. "Don't frown Sugar," he said, tilting your chin up. "You're far too pretty to be doing that." Your frown instantly became a soft smile. "There she is," he grinned.

Today was one of the worst days as they bathed him in gasoline and lit him repeatedly with matches. The first couple of times, Ben held in the pain and simply just gritted his teeth as he didn't want to give these fuckers the satisfaction that they were actually causing him immense pain. But after about the sixth or eighth time (he couldn't remember), he actually let out a groan as he just couldn't hold in the pain any longer.

After he let out that groan; the Ivan's must of been satisfied, as all he could hear was the sounds of them laughing, laughing as if they were at some comedy show; and for the first time in Ben's life, his stomach actually felt like it was in knots — that was how disgusted he was.

"So, I met with my agent and Legend today," you said, starting to trace small circles on his bare chest. "And guess what?"

"What?" He asked, cocking a brow.

"You know the show Solid Gold right?" You asked him.

"Of course I do. It's your favorite fucking show," he said. "What about it?"

"Well...they're going to be doing a special episode coming up featuring Kim Carnes, the Oak Ridge Boys, Wayland Flowers and Madame, and they want us on the show too!" You exclaimed, smiling wide.

"Why wasn't I invited to this little meeting if they want me too?" He questioned.

"Because they know you'll agree to anything as long as I bring it up to you," you said, flashing that charming smile you always did whenever you were trying to butter him up to get something you wanted. Repeatedly he would tell himself that he wouldn't fall for it, wouldn't give in; but he always did without fail, as he found himself never being able to say no to you — he loved you too fucking much.

He sighed. "When do we film?"

You bit your bottom lip, almost as if you were afraid to give him the answer. "Friday," you mumbled. Today was Wednesday.

Memories of the two of you were one of the only things that had kept Ben going besides dreaming of the day when you would rescue him from this awful place. But if he was being honest, the longer he was here, the more he was starting to question if you were ever going to come and rescue him. Were you even looking for him? A question that started to enter his mind more and more lately; a question that he hated came to mind. But he had to hope that deep down that you were actually looking for him and have been for the past unknown amount of years because you had loved him just as much as he had loved you.

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[sweetwolfcupcake]

Gaze (II)

Secret Garden

Category: Drabble

Yandere John Wick x Reader

Part 2 of this drabble

Part III

Warning: Implied stalking

The GIF does not belong to me; credit goes to the original owner.

Unedited

Your fears turn out to be true, after all.

Days after the party, where you had enough stolen glances and locked gazes to make anyone suspect that you two are long-lost lovers, you still see him. You see him every time you close your eyes, see him from the corner of your eye, and feel him like he is just a few steps behind, but when you turn around, you see no trace of him as if he were a ghost haunting you. 

But you know that it is a trick of your mind, it has to be.

Why would he reach out from his glimmering world to your mundane one? Why would the hand that seems to be more accustomed to holding women clad in diamonds, offer itself for you to take? 

He belongs to the glitter and gold, and you do not. It was painfully obvious at the party. He is that classic art, somewhat dark with the tinge of danger and enigma exuding from it, but no less beautiful, one to be admired from afar and then move on.

Maybe that is why you are stunned to see him in the public library. Between rows of shelves, like a quiet shadow, his fingers run through the expensive cover of a book that itself would weigh as much as ‘War and Peace’. Maybe it is the same book after all, you cannot tell, for the title is in Russian.

You do not know how long you have been staring, but when he turns to you, the dark eyes you have been yearning for lock with yours like magnets. You realise that you are both relieved and intimidated.

He probably doesn’t even remember you.

It has been a month.

And yet something akin to heat flashes in his eyes. Turns out to be recognition, though.

“At the…party?”

“Eh–yes, I was wondering...too.” 

A blatant lie.

He has never left your mind. 

He seems to have stepped right from your dreams, especially those you get, swinging between wakefulness and sleep. When you see him standing over your bed, walking through your room, silent as a predator in the dead of the night. In your dreams, you feel the weight of his hand right next to your pillow. In your dreams, you feel the warmth of his breath over your eyes, nose, and lips. He smells like heat and longing there. Your dreams are so real, you feel you can almost taste them, and the air around you lingers with his presence.

But you know that is simply your mind playing its little tricks. They are just dreams. Impossible dreams. Maybe if they had not been dreams, you would be terrified. But since they are, you let yourself indulge.

You hear his voice for the first time. Technically the second time, but it is the first time that it is addressed to you. And pathetically, you feel special. This feeling, though, you snip out as soon as you feel it, reminding yourself that you are not special. You are a nobody.

Yet you let yourself bask in his presence—the low rumble in his voice strikes a chord each time he speaks, making your heart thud slightly faster. You are enthralled and spellbound, so you decide that a cup of coffee with him will not hurt when he offers it. Never noticing that he is close enough for you to smell him for real.

The rosy haze suddenly sizzles into a cold awakening when his cologne hits your senses. You are not sure if it is the universe working in its twisted, mysterious calculations or if you are suddenly a psychic, but you know this smell. It is familiar because it is the smell that surrounds you in your half-asleep state, where dreams merge with your hazy reality—a different kind of world, you float in between, and he grounds you. You have smelt something familiar and lingering in your room every time you wake up in the middle of the night for some water or before the crack of dawn with a start, as if your body knows something your mind fails to pinpoint.

You blink and look at him, the haze dissipating as you realise how he towers over you and how close he truly is for you to slip out. Dark eyes observe you as if you are the art. But unlike you, he can reach the art whenever he chooses to.

****

@johnwickb1tsch, thanks for the fuel; I am at your service.

[riverbutghost]

Why?

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Simon made it clear that he disliked you. But after you were captured by the enemy, he decided that was far from the truth.

Warnings: Military stuff (wounds, blood etc.), Slight sexual themes, violence, detailed descriptions of torture but not too much. (I don’t know if I’ve missed anything else. The italics are flashbacks btw.

Masterlist

“Ты говоришь на русском языке?” do you speak Russian?

You tried to catch your breath while the two men were talking in Russian. A cold water was thrown at you.

“посмотри на нее, она такая американка. я чувствую его запах.” He scrunched up his face and looked at you with disgust. look at her, she’s so American I can smell it.

“Aren’t you going to beg, my dear?” He patted your head a little while smiling like a maniac. The Russian accent was so strong that you asked yourself if you knew Russian.

“Aww, she’s such a cutie with a crying face. I love making little girls cry.”

Your face scrunched up and you looked down, not letting them see your tears anymore. It was embarrassing for you, a soldier who was known for her strong facade on the field. But only on the field, they used to say. You smile a lot, lass, Soap used to say. Now you wondered if you were going to see him again.

“Well, either way we will keep you until you die, sweetheart. Take care, Милая.” darling.

The other man smirked and they both got out of the room.

You couldn’t remember what had happened, but you were taken by the Russians.

Your head was pounding and the punch you received from the guy who had called you disgusting pet names was dreadful.

You wiggled your arms, wiggled your neck but no. They weren’t even ropes. They were metal bars. They had pinned your arms, legs and neck to a metal bar.

You were sure you were going to die here.

Suddenly, you remembered your lieutenant’s words from earlier.

He had said, “don’t leave my side. I didn’t want you in the first place but they gave you to me so do as I say. Also, I don’t want to hear you chitchat.”

It hurt you a little, pinched your already broken heart. But you knew better than getting sad. He was Ghost, always mean, always bored. He only joked around with Soap, which was a rare sight. You promised to yourself that whatever he would say, you were going to befriend him. But that didn’t end up like that.

It was rare for you. Usually you would get along with anyone, but Ghost was different. From the beginning, he would always make you feel small, making little comments about how you had a big mouth and he knew how to shut it and blah blah blah which made your face flush.

You were starting to get him though. Or so you thought.

-

“You know I don’t care what you say, right?”

Your shoulders slumped a little. But your smile came back.

“Well, I don’t care either. That makes us a good team.”

You smiled at him sweetly. Like a child who got what they wanted. He gripped the folders harder.

“Stop smiling and get these papers to Price.”

You kept smiling and took the papers from him.

“We will be friends eventually, sir.”

“I hope not.” He mumbled, making you chuckle a little.

-

You were always hurt after talking to him, but sucked it up eventually.

He had his issues. He knew better to trust a new soldier. But you were insistent. He was insistent either.

“Are you okay?”

He tensed at you sudden voice, eyes dropping at your soft tone.

“Yes, is there a problem?”

You bit your cheek.

“Why are you so persistent about this?”

He was taken aback by your question. He turned towards you, his skull mask was on.

“What?”

You gripped your blade harder. It was one of those ‘nightmare’ nights. You couldn’t sleep and thought it would be easier to clean your blades. You should’ve known better.

“You try so hard to ignore me or shut me up.”

His eyes were staring right at yours and you felt the need to remove your eyes from his.

“I don’t like bubbly people. And you talk too much, my ears can’t take it anymore.”

You furrowed your eyebrows.

“You’ll like me eventually-“

His sharp breath shut you up instantly.

“Why do you act like everyone likes you? Who the fuck do you think you are?”

You were taken aback by his sudden harsh words. You opened your mouth to speak, again thinking you were going to make him like you. So you said the thing that came to your mind to stop him from breaking your heart more.

“Chill dude-“

You were flushing. What the fuck was ‘chill dude’ ?

“Don’t” He stopped for a second. “don’t ‘chill dude’ me. I’m your superior and you will respect me. Understood?”

You felt your body freeze. He was making it so hard, so hard to befriend him.

“Ghost-“

“Sir, you’ll call me sir from now on.”

You looked down at you hands, trying to find something to look at.

“Yes sir.” You mumbled eventually and got up, scoffing at the tears which were threatening to fall down.

-

You still remembered the stinging feeling his words had caused you.

You stopped trying to be one of his mates. You stopped talking near him. This made everyone question why, but never asked because Ghost was never in the mood to talk.

.

Simon thought about the last time he had cared about anything. He couldn’t remember.

But you, you…

You were like a rainbow after a terrible storm. Your smile could lit up the whole world. And after just one look at your face, he knew he should distance himself and not get close to you.

But you had other plans.

After your first mission, he was sure he would get lost looking at you smile.

-

“How is your leg, sir?”

You asked him with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

“Fine.” He grumbled, voice vibrating through his chest. Your cheeks started getting pinker and he cursed himself.

“Can you get out and call the nurse?”

Your smile wavered a little and you finally turned around. You mumbled under your breath, he figured you were hurt by his words.

“No need to be rude, Lieutenant.”

He couldn’t help it though. You were a ball of happiness and he was overwhelmed. He couldn’t help himself.

He regretted it, but still said nothing.

-

You didn’t shut up. Ever.

Even if he said the most hurtful comment, you would still forget about it and smile at him. He sometimes questioned your ability to be happy all the time. It was a gift, he was sure.

You were a gift. He wasn’t religious at all, but after seeing you for the first time, he was sure you were a gift from above.

He fucked it up.

He should be relieved, but no. He was angry at himself for attacking you in a sort of fucked up way.

He was using his fucked up mentality to push you away, but he knew better.

Deep down, he knew why he was treating you that way. But he wouldn’t let anyone know this. Not even himself.

“We have to do something, y’know?”

Simon pushed his thoughts away and looked at his superior.

“Yeah, no shit.”

Price pressed his lips harder than usual.

“I interrogated them, they say different things.”

Simon pulled his mask down and got up. He turned towards Price.

“Then maybe you should let me interrogate them.”

Price gave a long and sharp breath.

“What will we have if you kill them?”

Simon furrowed his eyebrows. You don’t understand, he wanted to say.

“What do we have, then?” He gave up for the sake of finding you.

“4 locations, Soap searched them. They are all Russians’ and we have to be quick.”

They were more then ready to find their little sunshine. But Simon was stressed, he was freaking out.

They got ready, hopped on their truck and the mission was started.

-

You weren’t okay.

You were far from being okay.

“Oh, look at her. So sad no one is coming for you?”

You clenched your jaw, immediately regretting it because of the massive headache.

“Speak when I ask you a question, got it ?”

A noise came from your neck at the sudden blow to your cheek.

“Let’s get rid of these bars,”

Your neck suddenly fell down after the metal bar opened. You couldn’t find the strength to look at them.

He gripped your hair and jerked your head to him.

Another guy kicked your abdomen, making you whimper in pain.

“Bastards!”

The guy gripped your hair harder and smacked the back of the gun to your head.

You unintentionally whimpered again.

“What was that? You little pig.”

You were sure there was an internal bleeding in your abdomen.

“That’s enough brother, let’s eat.”

The guy kicked you again in the abdomen and the metal bars opened.

You fell down from your chair.

Your vision was blurry, you were sure you wouldn’t survive in two days. It has been so long, so long.

They were coming, you knew it. Deep down, you were wondering if Ghost was finally relieved. No one was talking his head off or cracking dirty jokes now. Was he keeping them away so you would die alone here?

You closed your eyes, shaking the ridiculous thoughts.

You were tired, so you let yourself go.

-

“Hey, be fuckin’ quiet!”

Soap gulped and apologized at his Lieutenant. He was extra angry today.

“Sir, what if she’s already dead? This would be a suicide mission then.”

Simon turned towards the recruit.

“Shut your mouth and do what you’re told, kid.”

The soldier fell silent after that. They knew better to piss Ghost off.

“Okay, get ready. In three, two… one!”

Shots were suddenly fired. The Russians were not expecting this, at this hour especially. They were on edge, but their superiors were busy having dinner.

“I’ll look inside!”

Ghost shouted, immediately followed by Soap.

The two got in, killed the guards.

It had been a fucking week, and Ghost felt pathetic to hear your voice. It effected him more than he thought it would.

“Fuck, Soap, I’m going downstairs .”

Soap nodded and returned his killing.

Ghost kept his steps low, head raised high in confidence. He pushed through everything in front of him, trying to save his pain in the ass.

He pushed every door, even broke the locked ones down.

There you were, laying on the ground. Looking dead, but your back was slightly moving up and down.

He immediately scanned the room, with nothing he rushed to get you out of there.

He kneeled on his knees and turned you around carefully.

“Sir?”

He breathed a sigh of relief.

“You’re strong, sergeant.”

You smiled a little. He checked your injuries’ severity and got you on his back.

“I didn’t think I would- uh- be alive to be honest.”

Simon furrowed his eyebrows.

“Bite your tongue, Sergeant. You’re one of the strongest soldiers i’ve ever met.”

You smiled a little again. Proudly you closed your eyes.

“Stay, yeah? Don’t want you to die on me, gonna get in trouble because of you.”

Your smile faltered. Here you were, naive little girl.

“Right.”

He knew he fucked up again. But his first mission was get you out of there safely.

You whimpered at the sudden pain in your abdomen.

“What’s wrong?”

Your arms tightened around his neck, not enough to hurt him.

“Hurts-“

A sudden explosion made you two flew into a wall. Ghost groaned and quickly grabbed his gun. He looked around for you.

Everything was happening too quick for his liking. He reloaded his gun and jumped up to his feet.

“No…”

He fired his gun nonstop at the men, who were trying to shoot both of you. He was actually scared for the first time.

He reached to his comm.

“Soap, fuck- come downstairs!”

He swung his gun to the man beside him and rushed to your side. He lifted you bridal style and turned his back on the men.

“Fuck,”

A bullet pierced his shoulder. He eventually put you down behind a desk, flipping the desk over to cover you.

Soap, Gaz and Price came into his view and he relaxed all of a sudden.

“Ghost?!”

Ghost put his arm up behind the desk to show them where you were.

“Are you hurt? You’re bleeding.” Gaz looked at him in concern.

“Oh, so I’m not hurt then.”

Ghost scoffed at Gaz and picked you up. Gaz rolled his eyes.

“Let’s get you two to the heli.” Price tried to pick you up, but Ghost mumbled something and pulled you to him.

“Ghost-“

Ghost brushed him off.

“Let’s go.”

It had been a week.

After multiple surgeries, you were in intensive care for give days.

The internal bleeding had caused you to lose consciousness and when you woke up in the heli, you vomited blood. On Ghost.

Ghost felt his heart beat faster at that because for a second, he thought you were dying.

You didn’t.

You were awake but still in bed. Soap came to your visit, Gaz did, Price did, even Alejandro did but Ghost didn’t.

You received a lot of gifts from recruits which made you smile. But something else was occupying your mind.

You wondered if Ghost was okay. Soap told you he was shot, said it was nothing for him.

You got up to a sitting position. Immediately holding your abdomen, you cursed. It still hurt like a bitch.

You stood up from the bed and checked the nurse. She wasn’t there so you took the chance to escape from your prison.

You were in a white oversized sweatshirt and nothing else. You weren’t wearing a bra and you thanked the nurse.

You pushed the doors open. You had forgotten the sweaty smell of the hallways. You missed it.

“What are you doing? Go back to bed.”

You flinched at your nurse’ tone and turned around to her.

“I feel good, Amanda. Please,”

Amanda sighed then nodded, allowing you to leave.

“I didn’t see you, then.”

You chuckled a bit and left.

Your mission was now to find your Lieutenant. Ghost. Simon. You never tried to call him by his actual name, knowing his temper and dislike towards you.

You felt nauseous all of a sudden. You didn’t want to find him, you didn’t want to feel unwanted and alone again. Even though your other teammates were always there for you, you wanted him. Why? You didn’t know. Or didn’t want to admit.

You took a deep breath, forgetting about your abdomen.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” You held your abdomen and mumbled curses.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You froze and licked your lips. That wasn’t the scenario you thought it would be. You turned to your side.

“Hi, sir.”

You smiled at him through your pain.

He was wearing his balaclava, his eyes red. You wondered why, then remembered he was shot.

“Are you okay Ghost? I heard that you were shot.”

You took a step forward. He took a step back. You pressed your lips together.

“I’m fine. Go back to bed.”

You furrowed your eyebrows.

“No.”

Ghost looked straight at your eyes, his bloodshot eyes looked concerning.

“Do as I say, sergeant.”

You shook your head. Not today.

“I’m okay. I wanted to see if you were okay too.”

Ghost’s eyes left yours for a second. He looked down at your abdomen.

“You’re going to open your stitches.”

Your head fell to your side slightly. He looked at you again.

“Are you, okay?” You punctuated for him to understand what you were trying to say.

He sighed.

You took four more steps towards him until you were chest to chest.

He looked defeated.

“I am.” He answered your question, eyes flickering between your mouth and your eyes.

“Can I look at your shoulder? It’s bleeding.”

Ghost furrowed his eyebrows and looked at his shoulder. He knew he shouldn’t be working out in this condition.

“Please let me help, Simon.”

His breath hitched a little, but you heard.

With a newfound courage, you took his hand and lifted it slightly with a cloud-like touch.

“I’m sweaty .” He looked at your eyes.

“It’s okay.” You smiled at him. His eyes traveled all over you and suddenly, he took your hand and started dragging you.

You gasped in shock, but didn’t say a thing. He was acting strange, you didn’t mind it.

Ghost opened the door to his room and after pulling you in, he closed the door.

“What now?” He asked out of breath. You flushed a little.

“Uhm, well. I’ll get your med kit.”

He nodded and showed you the place. He sat down onto his bed.

You came with the medkid, a little shyly.

“Take off your shirt.”

He gulped. You didn’t mean to sound so authoritatively. You helped him by lifting his arm slightly then took off the shirt.

Holy shit, you thought. He was ripped. You cleared your throat and opened the medkit.

“Just try not to move your arm.” He nodded.

You were working on his arm, but his eyes were on you. You shuddered a little feeling goosebumps all over your body. He smirked under his mask.

“I’ve never seen your face.”

“I know?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah no shit. Are you going to show me?”

He shook his head. You pursed your lips in a mock sadness.

But you felt your body freeze as he pulled your bottom lip.

You swallowed hard, forgetting about his wound. He groaned, sound vibrating through his chest. You were melting.

“Oh God, sorry.”

He pulled you on his lap, pulling your legs apart with his hand. You gasped again, feeling a sensation in your lower parts.

“Ghost-“

“Hm?”

You took a deep breath and averted your eyes from him to focus on his wound.

Quickly cleaning it up then bandaging it, you looked at him.

“I’m going to wash my hands.”

He got up with you on his lap. His hands were on you thighs and your legs were hugging his waist.

“What are you doing?”

“Never letting you go.”

You licked your lips, they suddenly felt dry.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for the way I treated you. But fuck, you are something else. Fucking pain in the ass.”

You chuckled a little and he dropped you near the sink.

“Stay with me?”

You dried your hands then turned around. He was hovering over you, and you liked it.

“Let’s sleep.”

He gulped then grabbed you up in a rush.

“Ow, be careful you ass.”

He put you on to the mattress.

“Let me make it feel good, yeah?”

All of the playfulness left your face after he had said that.

“Oh fuck.”

[scariusaquarius]

rehab. 25.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

-

A/n: Now we get to see some nice comfort before the REAL start of the story begins ;) and please forgive any grammar or spelling mistakes, i was very tired at the time of posting this rip. Also, if you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee! If you would prefer to read Rehab on Archive, you may do so right HERE!

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

-

Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

-

Author: ScariusAquarius

-

rehab masterlist. chapter 22 / chapter 23 / chapter 24

After the bath, Natasha had wrapped (Y/n) up in a fluffy robe that felt so soft yet strange against her skin. (Y/n) had never felt the texture of microfiber before, and the feeling of the cloth brushing against her scarred skin had the woman shivering slightly. Her feet padded silently against the ground as Natasha stretched, saying with a gentle smirk.

"That was definitely needed. I don't know about you, but I'm pretty hungry. Why don't we get something to eat as well?"

(Y/n) didn't respond, just following Natasha closely as they began to exit the hall, but Natasha's body freezing and tensing had (Y/n) immediately become alert.

Her fingers clenched, the muscles in her calves tensing, and (Y/n) ears began to listen closely. She could hear Shuri speaking softly with someone, two sets of footsteps accompanying her as well as the swishing of a cape and wheels squeaking on the ground.

"...the extent of his injuries, we will need to monitor him for a while. To be honest, I'm not surprised that Sergeant Barnes did this to him."

Steve's voice rang out, his tone steeled and upset.

"How did he even know where Rollins' was in the first place? As far as I was aware, nobody has heard or seen Bucky since the mission."

Their steps became closer, and though Natasha tried to block the hall with her body, (Y/n) was still able to peek over her shoulder to see the group walking by.

The second that (Y/n) eyes connected with Rollins' unconscious and bloodied, swollen face, her whole body froze. A ringing sounded within her ears, and though she did not notice it, her body began to shake violently. Her robe loosened slightly, the warmth being replaced by the freezing cold and sending her further into her panic.

Natasha immediately turned as Shuri cursed and rushed forward so (Y/n) could no longer see Rollins. Steve froze, his eyes widening at the sight of the panicking soldier before he jumped into action, kneeling beside Natasha while he asked.

"What can I do?"

Natasha hissed slightly, pushing Steve away just the slightest.

"Give her some space. She's not going to snap out of this so easily."

Steve pursed his lips before staying next to Natasha as they watched (Y/n) spiral out of control.

Holiday.

She was sitting in the Mind chair, her activation words echoing through her mind and reverbing through her as Rollins stood in front of her, a neutral yet disgusted look upon his face. The pain within her temples was unbearable, static ringing within her ears, and the second she bared her teeth at him; his hand smacked against her cheek as hard as it could before she was forced back down into the chair for another round.

Cross.

Her mission was a success, but even the soldier knew that there was never any complete satisfaction for a job-well-done. There were things to improve; behaviors that were unbecoming of a Winter Soldier. She would be reprimanded for not striving to do her very best, even if she had. The soldier knew this very well, even as she clutched onto the post outside in the freezing cold; naked and bleeding as a whip cracked down upon her back over and over and over with Rollins' cruel laughter her only music.

Shatter.

Although the soldier couldn't remember the exact incident that caused for her to be punished, she remembered the punishment quite well. There were tears in her eyes as Rollins lied a top of her, rope around her neck that he held tight enough to cut off her air-supply. Her hands were tied behind her back, legs complacently spread as he moved above her, hissing out how 'disgusting' and 'vile' she was to him; forcing her to look at herself in a dirtied mirror in the corner with her dead eyes staring right back at her.

'It's okay, (Y/n), we're here with you.'

Stimulation.

A good soldier is to never speak unless spoken to and given permission, and this was a rule that had been engraved in her since the beginning. Rollins had tested her; silently quizzing her on her ability to remember her place, and she had failed. The soldier remembered the way Rollins' had punched her so hard that teeth came flying out of her jaw. The glint of silver caught her eye, and that's when he began to cut into the skin of her mouth; carving and slicing as he threatened and screamed all the while.

'Just breathe. We're not going anywhere.'

Integrity.

She had tried to fight back for the first time when Rollins had attacked her, swinging her fists and trying to connect with him after he had beaten her again. She was angry, screaming and furious and wild as the soldier ran at him, but Rollins had always been one step ahead. The soldier hadn't seen the group of agents with the cattle prods, and before she could actually hit the man, all she remembered was electricity and heat and a boot continuously kicking her in the stomach until her ribs gave away and she was vomiting blood. They never stopped. They never ever stopped.

I want to go home.

Sport.

"My mother used to bring me and my big brother here all the time," a gentle laugh. "He used to make fun of me because I was afraid of the bugs! Mom would get so upset with us for bickering." A moment of silence, a distant rustle of the trees and the sweet scent of wild flowers and soft cologne. "I truly miss James so much."

Axis.

The training sessions were always brutal. Every step, every swing, every counter was to be precise and without fail. The soldier hated living within his shadow, a part of her knowing that she would never amount to the accomplishments of The Winter Soldier; could never be better than he was. She knew this the best when his hits would knock her down; never relenting as Rollins stood in the background as he observed and watched with dissatisfaction.

'(Y/n), it isn't real.'

Assumption.

"This particular aircraft should constitute precise control, angular velocity, and torque while maintaining stability and direction due to the rotation of the nacelles, which are determined by the lift vector," her voice echoed within her mind. "so, due to this, the Bell X-22 aircraft will not only be great for speed, but for maneuvering in times of evasive action."

North.

The thunder roared in the distance, her eyes staring out the window as the rain came pouring down. It was the only time she remembered feeling peace within her cell; the pattering of the water against the window like her own percussion solo concert. Her fingers drummed slightly in time with the droplets, dried and crusted blood falling from her fingers as she moved them. She always did like the rain.

Aurora Borealis.

"(Y/n)?"

Her eyes were staring into baby blues, her hands clutching onto flesh and vibranium like a vice. Her heart was still racing and pounding, but the scent of ivory soap invaded her nostrils and instantly grounded her. Her cheeks were soaked and hot, her eyes feeling swollen and painful, and she was aware of blood trickling down her temples from where she had gripped her hair and scalp too tightly.

(Y/n) was trembling, staring into his eyes as she continued to hold onto him, and she was subtly confused. Where had he come from? Why was she holding onto him so tightly? Why did he even care?

Her breathing was slowing, his voice soft and patient as he coaxed her, his presence overwhelming to her and the woman feeling so small beneath him.

"There you go."

Staring into the eyes of Bucky Barnes, (Y/n)'s lips trembled again as fresh tears filled her eyes and her nose dribbled with snot as she cried out.

"I want to go home!"

Bucky's voice was shaky, trying to hide the broken feeling inside from the knowledge that she could never go home because of him.

"I know...I'm sorry."

She was sobbing hard and loud, her chest tight and lungs hurting but unable to stop from the weight of the memories hitting her. Bucky wasn't sure what to do, especially with her gripping his arms so hard that he was surprised his flesh arm hadn't caved beneath the strength of her hands.

His voice was caught within the back of his throat, his esophagus closing up with every possible thing he wanted to say; all of the apologies he wanted to plead to her. However, Bucky knew that there was no amount of apologies that could change the past.

Give them a new face to look at.

"Я здесь." (i'm here)

He stayed sitting in front of her, allowing her to continue to grip onto him despite feeling as though he had no right to be here comforting her. But Peter's words were ringing loudly in his ears repeatedly; reminding him of why he was here in the first place.

Bucky hadn't been able to sleep after visiting Rollins. His adrenaline was too high, his breathing too hard, and his mask was sitting next to him as Bucky perched high on one of the landings on the outside of the Citadel.

The wind was blowing gently, his hair swaying slightly with the wind, and although Bucky was completely concealed, he still had a clear view of Shuri's lab where (Y/n) was standing in the window; her eyes wide as she looked out into the Wakandan night.

Even after thrashing Rollins around, Bucky still didn't feel any better. He knew, deep down, it wouldn't have.

It was just something that was a long-time coming.

The silence had been broken with the sound of someone landing softly next to him, and Bucky glanced to see Peter taking off his mask and letting out a big sigh. For a moment, Peter said nothing, sensing the turmoil within Bucky by the way the man was quiet, tensed, and guarded.

"Um, Mr. Barnes, er, Bucky-sir, can I...say something?"

Bucky didn't answer him. Instead, Bucky's jaw clenched just the slightest; trying not to snap at Peter. He was just a kid, after all. A sweet, nosy, annoying-ass kid. Peter took a leap of faith, saying slowly and cautiously.

"So… not really great at this kind of thing, but… you looked like you could use someone not judging you. I’m good at that. Not judging, I mean."

Peter's ears went red, and Bucky slightly huffed a laugh through his nose as he listened to Peter stumble over himself. Peter then gently continued.

"I'm pretty sure I said this before but, uh, I could...be wrong, but I don’t know everything you’ve been through...but, I guess in a way, I understand a bit."

Peter paused for a moment, looking out at the kingdom as his feet swayed just the slightest as they hung over the ledge.

"There was this girl in my class that I had the biggest crush on. I mean, I couldn't stop embarrassing myself in front of her...it was kind of sad, now that I think about it..."

Bucky smirked just the slightest although Peter didn't notice.

"I asked to her to Homecoming...and then I found out her dad was this really bad guy called the Vulture. I don't know if you know anything about that, it's not really one of my greatest hits as Spiderman, but...it was really hard for me to deal with it because...on one hand, I really, really wanted to make Liz happy and go to the dance with her, you know?"

Peter hesitated for a moment, fiddling with his mask before he continued.

"But on the other hand, all I could think about was the fact her dad was a villain. So, I left her at the dance to stop her dad from doing some really bad things...and saving the day...didn't really feel like I saved anything at all."

Peter turned to Bucky then, his eyes soft yet twinged with a rekindled sadness.

"I know that maybe it doesn't really feel like it...but maybe saving someone doesn’t always look like it does in the movies. Sometimes it just means being there when they need you, even if they don’t know it yet."

Bucky finally looked at Peter, his eyes calm but a swirl of pain still dancing behind his baby blue irises.

"You think I deserve to...even when I'm the one that helped HYDRA do this to her?"

Peter didn’t answer right away. His brows furrowed, and he glanced down at his hands, fiddling with the fabric of his suit.

“I don’t know if it’s about deserving, exactly. I think it’s about choosing to try anyway. Even if it’s hard. Even if people don’t get it. Even if you don’t.”

Bucky was quiet, examining Peter as the young man looked at him, and Bucky shook his head after a moment.

"You're nosy as hell, Queens, you know that?"

Peter winced, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah...Mr. Stark likes to remind me of that a lot."

When Bucky came back into the present, (Y/n) was staring right at him, her sobs reduced to small sniffles and trembling lips as she gazed at him, and Bucky just sighed slightly before he stated softly, his words holding a weight that transcended through time and familiarity.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner."

For a moment, the woman hesitated; unsure of what to reply with before she whimpered weakly.

"You left...to retrieve my Handler..."

Her words gutted Bucky for a moment, his body tensing just the slightest before the woman asked weakly.

"...Everything...wasn't a test?"

Bucky immediately shook his head, replying gently though his words were firm.

"No. Nothing was a test. I just had some unfinished business to take care of...some long and very overdue business."

The image of Rollins' bloodied face flashed through (Y/n)'s mind, and she looked down at the ground for a moment before she stiffened at the sight of Bucky's hand slowly coming up with a cloth. Her hand fell from his arm, falling to join the other hand that was still gripping his vibranium hand, and Bucky began to slowly wipe the blood off of (Y/n)'s face and temples.

"And I also think that it's been time for dinner for a while. You hungry?"

For a moment, (Y/n) didn't respond; mulling over his every action and word before she slowly nodded.

"Okay."

Bucky, although still feeling downtrodden by everything, couldn't help but to allow the smallest smile come across his face before he carefully stood up, holding a hand out for the woman; who stared at his hand with wide eyes. Bucky said nothing, patiently waiting for the woman to decide.

Then, her hand slipped into his slowly as the warmth began to come back to her; the cold no longer seeping into her like a parasite.

-

STORY NOTES: After their bath together, Natasha and (Y/n) are coming out of the bathhall while Shuri, Steve, Tony, and Vision are transporting Rollins to the lab for to administer medical attention. Despite Natasha's efforts to keep (Y/n) from seeing the man, (Y/n) peeks over Natasha's shoulder to see what is going on. When she sees Rollins, however, (Y/n) is instantly triggered and begins to breakdown. Steve attempts to help, but Natasha, understanding what is happening, tells Steve that there isn't much that they can do for (Y/n).

(Y/n) begins to have a montage of flashbacks: Rollins using a whip on her when she did not perform on a mission well, Rollins raping her, Rollins beating her when (Y/n) failed a test of obedience, a time when she tried to fight back against Rollins, a conversation with Rebecca [although (Y/n) does not remember her], a training session with Bucky when he was still the Winter Soldier, an exhibit of her project on the Bell X-22 when she worked at the CIA, and the calm of a thunderstorm after another alluded beating from Rollins.

(Y/n) snaps out of her stupor when Bucky suddenly calls her name, the familiarity of the soap he uses grounding and distracting her for a moment. Bucky coaxes her to calm down slowly, his efforts effective as she begins to calm, and when (Y/n) has mental clarity again, she professes her desire to 'go home'. Bucky, however, feels horrible at the words and quietly apologizes to her; the weight of her words heavy upon his shoulders. Bucky stays with (Y/n) a while longer while she continues to cry, and Bucky thinks back on a conversation he had with Peter while seeking solitude outside of the Citadel.

He remembers how Peter had approached him and asks to talk to him. Bucky doesn't answer him at first, so Peter continues to speak. He tells Bucky about his crush on Liz Allen during Spiderman: Homecoming and how he found out that her dad was The Vulture. He talks about the difficulty of choosing to stay at the dance with Liz or to confront her dad, and he states that 'saving the day didn't really feel like saving anything at all'. Peter tells Bucky that even if it doesn't feel as though he's saving (Y/n), it isn't always going to be so cut-and-dry. Bucky then asks if Peter thinks that Bucky deserves to help her, and Peter responds that it isn't a matter of deserving, but a matter of trying, even if it's hard or unexplainable.

When Bucky comes back to the present, Bucky apologizes again the (Y/n), his words holding double-meaning, and (Y/n) points out that he left to retrieve Rollins. She asks if everything really wasn't a test, and Bucky confirms, stating that he just had some 'unfinished business' to take care of with Rollins. Bucky begins to gently clean the blood from (Y/n)'s face where she had dug her fingers into her scalp and tore her skin, and he asks if (Y/n) wanted to get something to eat. (Y/n) agrees, and Bucky holds his hand out for the woman to take, and (Y/n) finally reaches out; no longer feeling cold. End Scene.

TRANSLATION:

Я здесь. - I'm here

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