#look ma i did it - fifteen sentences

[allherfuckingtears]

Got a secret, can you keep it?

Summary: Certain news leave you devastated as you walk into the hands of your not so gentle husband.

Characters: dark!Steve Rogers x wife!reader

Warnings: non/dubcon elements, allusion to sexual content, violence, (forced) pregnancy, power imbalance, dark elements

This story contains dark elements, be aware. 18+

Note: Just a little something for @cockslutpadalecki 15 sentence challenge. Haven't written anything in a long time, so bare with me.

__________________________________________

Soft snowflakes dance down the sky, landing on three inch blankets of snow covering once pristine green gras. The suns shines proudly, making the snow glisten like the 24-carat diamond resting heavy on your ring finger. But even the beautiful scenery doesn't reach you. A picture that once would have made you smile like a child on Christmas, now only suffocates you further. Fingers play with the tiny charm on your necklace, a nervous habit picked up when you were younger, as you stare out of the window of your prison, trying desperately to keep the tears and screams inside as the two blue lines mock you. 

You refuse to accept your fate. It can't be true. Not again. 

Tiny hands grab onto your forearm. "Mommy, Mommy", the voice startles you. "What is that?", curious fingers fish for the plastic stick sitting next to you. 

"Nothing, Jay", you push the test out of his reach, as it disappears in your back pocket. "Don't worry about it, baby." 

"Mommy, you've been crying! Why have you been crying?"

"What…" Your fingers meet wet cheeks. - You have been crying. "No, no", you stumble on your words, desperately wiping your face. "I'm okay"

"But you… you've been crying!" The blue eyes looking down at you start to glisten as James' voice turns shrill. 

Panic rises as you desperately try to placate the little human in front of you. You sush him as you pull him down on the floor and into your lap, "Mommy's fine - see", you force a smile on your lips. "Everything's fine, baby. It's okay", you whisper into his hair as tiny arms wrap around your throat. "Have you seen the snow? It's crazy, look", you turn him towards the window. 

"So pretty…" he mumbles, eyes gleaming. "Maybe we can go out and play?" Excitement rises and he's out of your arms and in front of the window before you can even blink. "Please, Mommy!"

"Sure, Jay. But you'll have to wear something warm, okay? It's very cold outside" Standing up you brace yourself on the wall as your head spins.

"Not Jay, Mommy. James. Daddy doesn't like it", he scolds you, voice serious.

A shudder crawls down your spine at the mention of his father. You swallow as you look at the blonde toddler, his spitting image. "Daddy, doesn't have to know".

"Daddy doesn't have to know what?", a deep voice echoes. You jump turning around, heart beating as Steve stands in the doorway. 

"Daddy!", the little boy in front of you squeals, running into the arms of his father. Steve scoops him up off the floor as his cold eyes meet yours. You gulp. 

"Steve…", the whisper escapes you before you can think of what you actually want to say. He's not supposed to be here. Not for the next four hours. Bile rises in the back of your throat as the plastic stick stabs you in your lower back. You're going to vomit, you're sure of it. He looks at you expectantly, gaze turning sterner when you don't move. When you don't greet him like he trained you to. 

"Y/N", his voice snaps, jaw ticking. "Now." 

But you can't. You can't. If you go to him now, if you give him the kiss he wants from you, he'll feel it. He'll feel the test. He'll know and there will be nothing you can do about it. No escaping your fate. Just like the last two times. You know you're done for when he lowers Jay on the ground, gaze still on you. 

"Go, check on your brother, James." He dismisses the boy. Jay looks at you before turning and running through the door. Leaving you alone. To unknowingly suffer at the hand of his father. 

"Kneel", the command comes as soon as his son is out of sight. "Before I fucking make you." You know you have no choice. If you don't do as he says, then he'll make you. This way, you might at least get a chance to hide the doom lingering in the back of your pocket once you inevitably have to ready yourself for your punishment. 

"Steve, please…", you plead as your knees hit the floor. You resume the familiar position, eyes down, palms up. You know exactly what to do. At this point it's basic instinct, a second nature forced onto you for the last four years. A barely audible whisper leaves your lips, a final entreaty before you inescapably have to give into his perverse fantasies, "Please… I'm sorry".

Colds hands find your chin, making you look at him. His thumb catches on your lip, pushing into your mouth. You hollow your cheeks, tongue swirling around the digit. Eyes pleading with him. His thumb presses on your tongue before he releases it with a loud pop. "Go on, baby. You know it's more fun for me when you beg."

[navybrat817]

Heat Inducing

Pairing: Alpha!Steve Rogers x Omega!Female Reader Summary: Steve gets what he wants by any means necessary. Word Count: Over 400 Warnings: Implied noncon, dark themes, a/b/o dynamics, implied forced bond, fighting, light choking, could be considered drugging, Steve Rogers (he's a warning, okay?) A/N: For @cockslutpadalecki 's Fifteen Sentence Challenge (prompt in bold) and can be considered a companion piece to Bucky's First and Last.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Header by yours truly. Banner by the lovely @sgt-seabass and divider by the wonderful @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

One day, you would come to accept that Steve Rogers was stronger, faster, and more determined than you would ever be, but it would only happen with you kicking and screaming along the way. You should’ve known the alpha only asked you into his office once most of the other agents left so he could get you alone, like he intended to from the moment he decided you would be his mate. You managed to get a lucky punch in before he knocked you to the floor and straddled you, shoving a shiny, red pill into your mouth before his massive hand covered it and forced you to swallow.

You didn’t know it yet, but it wouldn’t be the only thing forced down your throat today by the time he was done with you.

Unshed tears burned your eyes as he finally let you breathe, coughing and gulping in air as you wished you could throw up the offending, heat inducing capsule. Life wasn’t easy or kind to omegas and you weren’t foolish enough to think anyone would help you should yell for it. Because who would stand up to Captain America, the very hero who helps everyone?

Steve caught your fist when you thrashed beneath him, squeezing hard enough to remind you that he could turn your bones to dust if he wished. Instead of looking angry like most alphas would at the attempt to not submit and get away, he smirked.

You froze momentarily when he leaned down and whispered proudly, “Bucky’s omega was a fighter, too, but he got her in the end thanks to me."

You hissed and shouted an impressive string of obscenities as he tore your clothes away, your body growing warmer with each passing second and your will to fight slowly starting to fade. The hand suddenly around your throat cut off your next insult and you half expected the alpha to make a remark about your language or how he'd wash your mouth out.

But he surprised you by releasing you and stating with a smile, “I don’t care if it takes all night, you will submit."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips before you said, “I will never willingly submit to you, Steve Rogers.”

As he flipped you onto your stomach with a growl, you stared at the door just a few feet away and knew you would never taste freedom again.

So, that happened. Hehe. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[jobean12-blog]

Hot and Cold

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Word Count: 394

Summary: Sometimes body heat is the best way to keep warm. 

Author’s Note: One more little 15 sentence drabble for both Lisa’s @cockslutpadalecki​ 15 sentence challenge and prompt #15: “you better shut that pretty little mouth before I put it to work,” and Navy and Roo’s Slumber Party @the-slumberparty week 3 challenge and something new: I used the trope generator and got ‘huddling for warmth.’ Thank you all so much for hosting these! YAY! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the sweet @firefly-graphics​ thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: Sassiness on everyone’s part, Joel’s grumpy and knows best of course, implied smexiness 

GIF NOT MINE: Credit goes to @dopedillin​ thank you lovely🥰

Joel Miller Masterlist

“It’s fucking cold as balls out here,” you mutter as you warm your hands over the fire.

Joel’s eyes lift from the flask between his fingers and he shoots you a warning glare, his tone sharp when he says, “watch your language darlin’.”

You raise a challenging brow and scoff, “why? Because someone might hear me?”

He gives you no answer as he stands and walks around the fire, dropping the flask into your lap before he looks up at the stars.

You open it with shaky hands, downing the rest of the liquid with one long and burning swallow.

You hold up the empty container, waiting for him to take it, your eyes still focused on the dancing flames, when his fingers close around yours and he yanks you off the ground and against his chest.

“Get in the sleeping bag,” he demands, “you’re freezing.”

“Yeah,” you start, rolling your eyes and sassing him, “I said that already and don’t you tell me what to do!”, you finish, poking your finger into his chest.

He growls low and deep and you feel it vibrate right through you, the sensation sending a new kind of shiver down your spine.

“Anyone every tell you that you talk too much?” he drawls as he pushes you toward the sleeping bag, his hand pressing into your lower back.

“Actually, no,” you counter when you turn to face him and attempt to put some distance between the two of you, “I never gotten any complaints about my mouth at all.”

His jaw clenches tight and his eyes drop to your lips, his warm breath fanning over your cheek when he grits out, “you gonna pitch a hissy fit and freeze your ass to death or get in?”  

“I guess if my only other option is freezing my ass to death,” you mumble, mocking him as you sink down and shimmy into the sleeping bag, your mouth falling open in surprise when he looks at you expectantly as he unzips the other side and starts to slide his legs in.

“Wait a second,” you protest weakly, the rest of your words coming out as a breathy whisper when his hard body lines up with yours…“you won’t fit.”

“Oh I fit just fine,” he murmurs, “and you better shut that pretty little mouth before I put it to work, darlin’.”

[shadeysprings]

House Arrest

—StepDad!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Your mom goes to attend a work conference for a couple of days, leaving you home alone with her husband.

Warnings: noncon, smut, stepcest, age gap (reader is over 18), threats, and angry Joel. This is a dark fic, heed the warnings and proceed with caution.

A/N: Another piece written for @cockslutpadalecki's Fifteen Sentence Challenge and happy to finally write Joel! Been a fan since the games were released and it was such a treat to dive into his character.

Your feedback is highly appreciated and reblogs would be amazing. Enjoy! ❤️

You whimper against your pillow with your hands clutching tightly onto the sheets as angry tears continue flowing down your face, Joel’s groans echoing off the walls, his chest pressed taut against your back while he thrusts his cock roughly into your cunt. 

He didn’t wait until your mom left the driveway, his footsteps bounding up the stairs almost immediately. Your heart plummets to the pit of your belly when you hear your bedroom door open, his low voice cooing the pet name he’s given you as he stalks inside, fear gripping your senses in a vice while you lay still in bed, the mattress dipping and you feel his hand caress your waist through the blanket and a light kiss being placed on your shoulder. 

“She’s gone—”

You wish desperately that your mom didn’t leave for the conference, or at the very least, wished you made plans to leave the same days with your friends just to avoid being stuck at home with Joel. But with every reason you gave her for you to agree with your made-up plans, Joel had an argument thrown right back.

“There are tons of creeps out there, hon, and we don’t want our little butterfly getting hurt, do we?”

Success shone in his eyes when his words rooted deeply into your mom’s head, having her agreeing in an instant that it was safer for you to stay home with him, her husband, the monster that’s been tormenting you since the day he set foot in your home. 

“It’ll be so nice having the place all to ourselves, butterfly,” he mumbles against your ear, lust swimming in his words as he hooks your leg against his arm, keeping your legs apart and wide while his other hand snaked from beneath you, fingers grazing your breast before taking purchase of your neck, “No more sneaking around in the next few days.”

“Fuck you, old man!” You spit but soon gasp when his fingers tighten around your throat and dig into the side.

“You talkin’ smack now, baby?” Venom laces his voice when he scolds you but it doesn’t stop you from fighting back, thrashing violently against him but stopping all at once and crying in pain when his hand lands harshly against your swollen cunt. “You better shut that pretty little mouth of yours, baby, before I put it to work.”

“Fucking make me!” You cry before cocking your elbow and slamming it against his ribs, Joel choking and yelping in pain, his hold of you slackening and letting you go. 

You roll off the bed and crawl on the floor as fast as you can, darting towards the door, but your body suddenly slams back to the ground when your ankle is yanked hard, the air escaping your lungs when Joel gets on top of you, crushing you against the carpeted floor when he splays his forearm down on your shoulders.

“You fucking bitch—!” He spits and you grunt in pain when he drops his weight on you. “You’re gonna regret doing that.” He threatens, hot breath fanning over your skin when he leans in closer, feeling him smirk when he presses a kiss on your cheek, the tears rolling down your face once again upon realizing that there is no escaping him. 

“We have a couple of days to ourselves, my butterfly, and I’m going to make sure that every hole of yours is thoroughly used before your mom gets home,” Hauling you from the ground, he pulls you with him, forcing you down on your knees with a tight grip on your shoulder before settling himself on the edge of the bed, his cock, hard in his hand as he begins to stroke himself, “And we’re starting with that fucking mouth.”

I no longer keep a tag list but if you want to be kept updated on my fics, follow my side blog @springlibrary and turn on notifications.

[late-to-the-party-81]

Never-ending nightmare

AN: this is my entry for @cockslutpadalecki’s 15 sentence challenge and in Lisa’s honour I’ve decided to make this a follow-up to the fic I wrote for the last challenge of her’s I joined in with - Yesterday’s Dream, Today’s Nightmare. Thanks to @navybrat817 for spitballing with me and providing some of the dialogue. Dialogue prompt from Lisa's list in bold.

Beta’d by @lunarbuck

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and moodboard/banners by me. Please note - pics in moodboard do not reflect the size or ethnicity of the reader. My reader is a blank slate for you to imagine as you will.

Master list

Relationship: Dark Ransom x Reader, Dark Ari x Reader

Word Count: 600

CW: THIS IS A DARK FIC - Implied Non Con/Rape, but not described in detail, Basement wife vibes, kidnap, drugging, violence, major angst and despair, no happy ending.

You’d lost track of the days since that fateful ‘first day at work’ when Ransom had drugged you, violated you, and then later, when you were unconscious, taken you to what was probably his home. You hadn’t seen anything outside of this room and it’s en-suite, other than what little you could view through the small, high window when you stood right on your toes; a few trees and hills.You’d seen a lot of Ransom though, more than you’d ever wanted to, and there was nothing you could do to stop him - you were shackled by your ankle to the bed, naked and unable to escape him or his voracious appetites.

You’d struggled at first - fought him tooth and nail, as he laughed and cuffed you around the head to disorientate you, before pinning you down with his big hands and even bigger body, taking what he wanted, despite  - and probably egged on by - your cries. Eventually you gave up fighting - it did nothing apart from wear you down, leaving you battered and bruised - and lying limp and blank seemed to take the fun out of it for Ransom, which you considered a win, albeit a small one.

Days passed, blending together one after the other after the other, and the only thing you didn’t know was what time he’d appear to torture you, be that mentally, physically or both. He forced you to wash and to eat and drink, and you swore he was drugging you - you were alway light and floaty when you were in the bathtub, almost able to forget the how and why of you being here until he dragged you out and did what he wanted.

However, one day the monotony was broken when Ransom entered your room with another man in tow; shaggy, dark blonde hair with an even shaggier beard, and both so tall and broad it should have scared you, but his eyes, as blue as the ocean, seemed, initially at least, so kind. You looked at the stranger, your own eyes wide and imploring - maybe you could appeal to his better instincts, convince him to help you escape and release you from this living hell? When Ransom nipped into your bathroom to wash up, you turned to the man and pleaded with him, asking him to help you, but as you rambled his expression darken, and showed more and more amusement, making your heart sink - this man was a friend of Ransom’s and was no doubt as bad as him.

“Hey, Ran - your girl here asked me to let her go, and if she’s asking that, she isn’t broken - just means you don’t know how to play with your toys,” he commented with a smirk as your captor returned, drying his hands on the small hand towel.They both looked at you darkly, and you felt a new frisson of fear run down your spine - if Ransom on his own was bad, him and this friend of his together was going to be downright terrifying.

With a condescending smile, Ransom approached, and for the first time in days - or was it weeks - you scrabbled away, ankle chain clanking, using the bed as a futile barrier, panic rising in your body despite your efforts.

“Is that so - maybe I should get you a collar so you don't forget who you belong to, even though I’m gonna let Ari play every once in a while.”

He dragged you onto the bed as you screamed and kicked, watching the stranger - Ari - start to shed his clothes and knowing you were never going to get away.

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @tuiccim @yarnforbrains @flordeamatista @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @talia-rumlow @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @writing-for-marvel

[galatially]

❝𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐩❞

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — 𝐟𝐰𝐛!𝐚𝐫𝐢 𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 x 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 — i'll keep you in secret if only to see you at all; it's rare to find that you've caused a stir with one ari levinson

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 363

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — strong language, implied smut, mutual pining, honorifics (honey, sugar)

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — not gon' hold y'all, this was really hard but i'm actually proud of the outcome! thanks again to @cockslutpadalecki for letting me join in on the challenge! and a round of applause for me actually finishing a challenge for once!

“Can I talk to you?”

You took your gaze from the brunet in front of you, your features schooled into passivity. “I’m busy talking to…?”

“Frank.”

You gave an apologetic smile, putting your hand overtop his. “Frank. Right.” Your eyes flicked up to Ari’s — though his features didn’t betray anything, you saw the hard set of his jaw and the one vein throbbing against his neck. 

“Can it wait? Frank and I were just getting to know each other.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer before grabbing your arm and leading you towards the back of the house. He ignored your pleas to slow down and pushed you into a nearby bathroom. 

“What the fuck, Ari! I was talking!”

Ari tipped his chin. “He know about the marks you’re hiding? That’s why your hair’s like that, right?”

Heat crept up your neck. “That’s none of your business.”

He stepped forward, pushing you up against the door. “Anything regarding you is my business, Y/N, you know that.” He caged you in between his arms and leaned in closer. His blue eyes gave you a once over, lingering on your lips. “You left this morning.”

“I thought we agreed to no sleepovers.”

“You agreed, I didn’t,” he corrected. “I like when you spend the night.”

You frowned. “I don’t get you, Ari. One minute, you say that this is just sex, no strings. The next, you’re giving me hickies and acting jealous.”

“I won’t apologize for marking you up, honey,” his lips brush against yours now, “everyone should know that you’re taken.”

Your breath hitched. His words from the night prior, sudden romantic musings that you had to force yourself not to react to, played in your head. 

I love you, sugar

Don’t leave 

Will you stay?

He didn’t mean them, he couldn’t have. 

“Ari…”

His mouth slotted over yours, swallowing your misgivings and reticence as he licked into your mouth, claiming you. His big hands molded around your hips and pulled you into him. His fingers kneaded your soft skin, more than likely leaving fresh bruises, branding you. 

“You’re mine, Y/N. You have to know that,” he spoke against your lips. 

“Ask me properly, then.”

His hands moved from your hips to cup your face, a smile cutting across his face.

“If you wanted me to beg, why didn’t you say so?”

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — what a wonderful way to dip my toe into my ari era

[justagirlinafandomworld]

Power Play

Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader

Word Count: 400

Summary: Ransom invites you to some charity event and you refuse to go. He doesn't like being told 'no.' You don't like being told what to do.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Smut. A struggle for dominance. Quick and dirty in an elevator. Biting. Oral, male receiving. Language.

A/N: Written for @cockslutpadalecki’s 15 Sentence Challenge. My first time writing for Ransom, so of course it’s this lol. Hope you enjoy! Any and all mistakes are mine, this has not been beta read.

Arms braced against Ransom as he forced you back into the empty elevator, the doors closing just behind him and cutting off the sounds from the crowded ballroom.

Your back hit the wall, then your head as Ransom attacked your mouth with his, teeth knocking, lips splitting, tongues reaching for the other desperate for contact.

You gasped through the pain, pleasure quickly following as his hands ruthlessly squeezed and tugged at your breasts.

“All you had to do was wear the fucking dress,” Ransom growled into your mouth; his fingers finding the button of your jeans and ripping it apart to slip into the band of your underwear.

Your hands fisted into the back of his blazer, jerking downwards to get it off of him.

“Don’t you ever shut the fuck up,” you returned his fire and pushed him back towards the wall at your side, the elevator trembling with the movement; “you wear the fucking dress."

His blazer now on the floor, you worked on the buttons of his ridiculous twelve-thousand-dollar shirt and stuttered when his fingers began to tease and pinch your lips.

“It’s hot when you talk back,” he said with a deep chuckle, relishing the moment of control as you squirmed in his grasp.

With an impatient groan, you pressed your face into his neck, your mouth easily finding the pulse point that you knew would drive him crazy with just a bit of suction.

At his staggered cry, you abandoned the buttons of his shirt entirely and wrapped your arms around his neck to securely hold your lips to that delicate junction.

You could feel the skin welting on your tongue, could almost taste the blood rushing beneath and soon Ransom had pulled his hands from your jeans to grip the curve of your ass and squeeze you to him.

“Fuuuuuck,” and he bit down into your shoulder hard; only releasing you once you let his neck go with a wet pop.

You stared up into his lust blown eyes, his anger still very near the surface even as he lifted a thumb to pull at your lower lip.

“I didn’t want to go to the stupid party anyway.”

When the doors finally opened onto the penthouse on the top floor, you were on your knees with a mouth full of cock, fingers digging into Ransom’s ass cheeks and Ransom coming completely apart over you.

[nekoannie-chan]

Marks

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Avenger!Reader.

Word count: 391 words.

Summary: Steve and you needed a moment alone.

Warnings: Smut, PWP, bite marks.

A/N: This my entry to @cockslutpadalecki‘s Fifteen Sentence Challenge with prompt #12:

"I know you said no marks... But what if I put them where nobody except for me will see them?"

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou  @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz  @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae  @harrysthiccthighss @marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose  @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry​ @azulatodoryuga​ @daemonslittlebitch​ @endlesstwanted​ @chemtrails-club​

Steve unbuttoned your blouse, nimbly with one hand, leaving your breasts boobs exposed, then began to fondle them, he lightly pinched your nipples, and you mentally cursed, he knew how to please you, there was one problem though, anyone could open the door and see you.

—Steve… s-s-stop — you begged, you didn't want anyone to discover you, you didn't want anyone to find out what you were doing.

“Are you sure you want me to stop? “Steve asked, running his hand down your belly.

You shook your head, no, you would never refuse to have sex with him, maybe it didn't matter if he was seen.

So, what if they knew the "dark" side of Steve Rogers!

"I know you said no marks... But what if I put them where nobody except for me will see them?" he whispered in your ear, and you moaned in response.

You felt his lips and tongue run down your back and continue down until he reached your thighs.

He made you spread your legs a little apart and lightly bit the skin of your thighs, just enough to leave marks, but not to hurt you.

You moaned, tried to close your legs a little and push him away, he knew how to make you "suffer and punish", although you actually enjoyed it.

—Don’t you dare to close your legs, I wanna punish that sweet pussy —he commanded.

He came up and smiled when he saw your wet pussy, ran his fingers, smiled again when he pulled them out, wet, and ran his tongue, you knew soon your legs wouldn't be able to hold you up, he knew it too, so he held you down to force you to stand still.

You pressed your body against him as you reached your orgasm, boy did Steve Rogers know what he was doing!

He got up and got behind you, but not before making sure you had somewhere to lean back, he penetrated you and used one hand to cover your mouth to prevent you from making noise and someone from finding you.

“I know you do, but you like it, don't you? “Steve asked in your ear and you nodded as you felt another orgasm and triggered his simultaneously.

Just as you pulled apart and adjusted your clothes, you heard someone start to open the door.

[cockslutpadalecki]

asdf oh sweet lord have mercy on my soul that last line got me in a chokehold 😩🥴

Dirty Little Secret

Warning: alluded stepfather relationship, smut.

Summary: you're the sheriff's dirty little secret.

My submission for @cockslutpadalecki 15 sentence challenge. Some Lee Bodecker for the hodeckers.

As always, I would love your thoughts!

You touch the chafing along your neck, the raw skin that burns at the lightest brush, that makes you wince and whimper. You feel him behind you, weight shifting the bed, creaking in the frame as he takes your hand away from your throat. His naked stomach presses to your back as he inhales the scent of your hair and growls.

"I won't apologise for marking you up, everyone should know you're taken," he rubs his hard length against you, already wanting for more.

You gulp and nod, saying nothing as his hand runs up your arm and trails down the curve of your side. His affection castigates you, the wrongness staining your skin as he drags his fingertips over your hip. Tomorrow, he'll be in a suit, stood across from your own mother, telling lies to her and the priest.

"Why you shakin', girl?" He nuzzles the shell of your ear as he feels beneath your ass.

"I'm sorry, sir," you sniff, wondering how you'll hide the bruises in the pretty pink dress your mama sewed for you.

"I know it's hard ta keep a secret," he lifts your leg and guides his swollen tip along your entrance, "but it's all romantic, isn't it? A forbidden love and all that."

You clench as he pushes into you, the bluntness making you whine as he slowly impales you. He hushes you and pets your hair as he sinks in to his limit, holding himself there as he wiggles his pelvis.

"I know you feel me, girl, feel how much I want you."

[navybrat817]

Collateral Damage

Pairing: Winter Solider x Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You pay the price when the Avengers try to undo the snap. Word Count: Over 300 Warnings: Noncon (you have been warned), dark themes, light choking, Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier, (he's a warning, okay?) A/N: Another one for @cockslutpadalecki's Fifteen Sentence Challenge (prompt in bold).❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Header by yours truly. Banner by the lovely @sgt-seabass and divider by the wonderful @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You tried to warn the Avengers that time travel could cause more harm than good, but they didn’t listen since they did their best to think of every possible angle and consequence. Even with the assurance that things would go back to the way they were, or at least be fixed enough, you had a feeling that something would go wrong. You just didn’t expect to be the collateral damage along the way.

And you learned quickly that in some universes, the heroes never win.

“You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat.”

The words were spoken so quietly through the mask that you almost didn’t hear them as the soldier plunged his cock deeper into you. The assassin with the cold blue eyes didn’t remember or recognize you, but it didn’t stop him from making you his. For whatever reason, one you didn’t know at the time, you were his mission and he was going to complete it.

“Bucky, please,” you tried to plead before the hand around your neck tightened, tears sliding from the corners of your eyes.

Bucky once told you no matter what world the two of you found yourselves in, you’d be together. The man inside of you wasn’t your Bucky though, the man you fell in love with, the one who turned to dust on that fateful day. You hoped wherever that version of him went that he was at peace.

“You’re mine now,” the soldier growled, snapping his hips harder as he choked off your cry, not realizing that he was in fact Bucky.

Maybe you could help the Soldat remember who he truly is, but today wouldn’t be that day.

Because you were now the prize of the Winter Soldier, collateral damage in a battle you never wanted to fight to begin with.

Can't be that bad, right? Hehe. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[jobean12-blog]

The Farmer’s Fancy

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader 

Word Count: 478

Summary: Joel finally has his farm...now all he needs is you. 

Author’s Note: So I decided to really challenge myself with this one and write something for Lisa’s @cockslutpadalecki 15 sentence challenge and prompt #11 (”you look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat”) and Navy and Roo’s week 3 Slumber Party ‘Something New’ challenge @the-slumberparty I did something soft!dark here which is not something I do much and lightly used (k)idnapping- I’m giving the illusion here and as I continue to experiment I hope to get more into it all! Thank you to my sweet friend Navy💕 @navybrat817 for her extra encouragement and overall awesomeness and support! Love you! HUGS! Thank you so much to Lisa, Navy and Roo💕 for hosting these great writing challenges and celebrations, it’s so great and I really appreciate it! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Thank you bunches to lovely Daisy @firefly-graphics for the divider! 🥰

Warnings: binds, some language, (c)hoking, smexyines, soft!dark themes: (k)idnapping hints

GIF NOT MINE: Credit goes to @salome-c thank you lovely 🥰

Joel Miller Masterlist

You struggle against the binds at your wrists, your curses and cries lost in the vast openness of the farm while you watch him stride over to you, his hands on his hips as his eyes sweep down your body and flash with heat before he murmurs, “I’d untie you if you didn’t try to run every god damn time, think you’re ready to be good for me darlin’?”

You sag against the wooden pole of the small stable and hang your head with a nod, your body deflating even more when he releases you from the binds and you find yourself weak and falling into his arms.

“There now,” he whispers, taking your chin between his fingers and lifting your eyes to his, “I knew you could do it.”

Your menacing glare is met with a smirk as he backs you toward the wall, hay catching in your shoes and the smell of horse surrounding you, your body hitting the wood before he crowds you against it, the hardness between his legs pressing into your stomach.

With a gasp of his name you grab his broad shoulders, unable to hide the way your body succumbs to the simple fact that he’s touching you, and you swallow hard, licking your lips.

“Promise me, darlin’,” he drawls, “promise me you’ll do as I say and you won’t try and run anymore, you know I’ll keep you safe.”

His lips skim the shell of your ear, more of a whispered warning than anything else, and you cling to him, your breathing heavy as he places a kiss just underneath your ear before his mouth trails softly down the column of your neck.

“Lemme hear you say it,” he growls as his large and calloused fingers trace your collarbone, sliding higher until they close around the base of your throat and he pulls back to look into your eyes.

“I promise,” you choke out, your nails digging into his back.

“Repeat it,” he whispers against your lips, his fingers putting more pressure on your neck.

“I promise,” you say again, whimpering when he shoves one thick thigh between your legs and his fingers squeeze even harder, “I won’t run and I’ll do as you say.”

“There’s a good girl,” he croons then abruptly removes his thigh and replaces it with his free hand, making you clench around nothingness.

His fingers tease along the edge of your pants, his motions unhurried when he slides them lower and purrs, “you look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat.”

“Joel,” you find yourself pleading when his fingers brush over your panties, the material soaked and stuck to your skin.

He hums appreciatively, his words warm against your lips and his tone smug when he whispers, “fuck’ darlin,’ I knew you’d be easy to break but this is too good to be true.”

[shadeysprings]

Should've

—Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

Summary: You begin to regret leaving your home in the midst of your punishment.

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, rough sex, angry Lee is angry. The fic is dark, proceed with caution.

A/N: Written for @cockslutpadalecki's Fifteen Sentece Challenge. And what a treat it was to write Lee again, my favorite big boi.

Your feedback is highly appreciated and reblogs would be amazing. Enjoy! ❤️

You should have stayed at home and continued knitting the socks for Marissa’s newborn. But you didn’t; instead, you took Shirley’s shift and went to the diner, which had you talking to Danny, one of your childhood friends, when he asked you about your ma while refilling his mug with coffee. 

That’s when Lee saw you, the diner going silent when he stepped inside, his leather jacket open wide for everyone to see the gun strapped to his belt. If you stayed home, then he wouldn’t have threatened Danny and beat him in front of everyone, wouldn’t have dragged you out of the diner, humiliating you as he shoved you into his cruiser. 

If you stayed at home, you would still have a job. 

If you stayed home, you wouldn’t be crying on Lee’s bed, naked, used, and bruised, with his stomach heavy against your lower back and his hands clawing on you desperately, hungrily, your body moving along with the rocking of the bed while he fucks you mercilessly. 

“Talkin’ to that boy and showin’ everyone you a fuckin’ slut? Humiliatin’ me in front of the whole town?!” He growls, his chest pressing down on your back, pining you to the mattress while his fingers curl around your neck, choking when he tightens his grip. 

“N-no—” You whimper but the words come out garbled, your core burning brightly as his cock slams deeper into you, again and again, your pussy walls fluttering around him. “I’m sorry—”

“Sorry don’t fix nothin', sweetheart—” He snarls, his hot breath scalding your skin when he presses his face against yours. 

You gasp in relief when he pulls his hand away from your throat, lifting himself from your back. But the reprieve is only short-lived when he wraps his fingers on the back of your neck, pushing you down roughly against the bed, a silent scream leaving your lips when a sharp slap lands on your ass. 

"Maybe I should get you a collar so you don't forget who you belong to," He groans and your body shakes in dread, knowing fully well that Lee is a man of his word. “You’d like that, don’t ya?”

You hear him laugh darkly from behind you and you can’t stop thinking that this is all your fault. Regret washes over you like a big wave, and the small voice inside your head quivers as it whispers, “You should’ve stayed at home.”

I no longer keep a tag list but if you want to be kept updated on my fics, follow my side blog @springdandelixn-archives and turn on notifications.

[wordsofelie]

Chapter 7

🌅Don’t you dare runaway (A Phoenix and Ashes Sequel)

Miya Osamu x f!reader

Summary: Miya Osamu thinks some things will never change— Atsumu will always be annoying; his Ma’s food will always be the best and you will always be his favourite sunrise.

Content Warnings: Timeskip Setting, Manga Spoilers, ex!Suna, Swearing, Alcohol Consumption, Mention of Sex Scenes (No Description)

Words count: 5.4k

chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 - chapter 8

“How’s Tokyo?”

It’s only a few words, barely a full sentence. However, it took Osamu a whole fifteen minutes to write and almost a face-first collision with the glass door of Tokozu, his favourite kitchen knife store in Osaka. The man found the exercise harder than any literature essay he ever had to do in high school (and Osamu, despite being named after a famous novelist, was never fond of literature). But now, the message is sent and there’s no going back.

His meditation instructor as well as one red-haired hitter, told him he should stop overthinking, and for the last month, Osamu thinks he did a good job at calming his stormy mind. But it’s different now, you’ve been in Tokyo for three days (or what feels like six months, at least to him), and apart from the message to ask you if you arrived safely (which you did), Osamu hasn’t contacted you in 72h. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, but he just needs to give space. He told you how he feels, exposed his fragile heart to you, and now what you do with it is your decision and yours only.

Still, Osamu wants to act casual like before (and also shows that he cares), something he hasn’t been good at for the past months. You miss the old Osamu, the friend you could always rely on, the one who wouldn’t mind letting food burn on the stove if you needed him. Maybe it’s time for that man to come back.

Thus, this morning, as he strolls through the streets of Osaka, heading to the store, he sends you those few words.

“Good morning, Sir,” a forty-year-old something greets him when he enters. “May I help you with something?”

Osamu’s eyes wander all around the shelves before describing what he is looking for.

“There’s a couple of knives that could meet your requirements.” The man starts showing him various options when Osamu’s phone buzzes in his pocket.

It’s you.

The younger man excuses himself and runs towards the exit. He waits two or three rings before answering.

“Hey,” he says, clearing his throat.

“Osamu,” you tell his name, his heart skips a beat (or a thousand). “How are you? Is this a good time to call?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I was just in town to buy a new knife for the fish.”

“Oh, maybe I should call later then-”

“No!” He cuts you off, someone passing by is startled by his sudden outburst. He avoids their gaze, “It’s fine now. So… how have ya been?”

“I’m great,” you reply, and he can hear the excitement in your voice, “I love it here. The JVA offices are in that huge building in Omiya, and everyone is wearing suits and there’s even a bakery on the ground floor, so I usually take something there and go to the park. I can’t wait for the cherry blossoms to bloom, it’s gonna be beautiful. And I need to take you to the bakery, you’d love the cannelés.”

Osamu holds back his laughter at your French accent, cute, he thinks.

“There’s already a communication team,” you continue, “everyone is so kind and to be able to discuss my ideas with everyone is such a cool thing. Don’t get me wrong, I love working with the Jackals but…well, the guys aren’t the best at giving advice when it comes to their social media. Except for your brother, actually.”

“I’m glad,” Osamu says with a soft voice.

“And Kuroo is amazing to work with and he’s actually kinda funny sometimes, but he has that weird laugh-anyway, I think he likes my work… But that doesn’t mean he's going to keep me on after my trial period.”

Osamu is relieved, happy even, that you’re enjoying your life there, but when he is about to express it, the words get stuck in his throat and no sound leaves his lips.

There’s a silence following your story, and you’re the one who breaks it. “I’m coming back in two days.”

“And I’ll be there.”

“Also… in three weeks or something, the National Team is having their last public practice match before the Olympics and it’s in Osaka, are you going to install a stall at the gym?”

“Yeah, I will. Ya know how the guys will react if I don’t.”

You chuckle, probably picturing some very disappointed—and hungry— Atsumu, Bokuto and Hinata (and Meian, though he’d tried to keep a straight face since he has the role of captain to uphold). “Cool, then, I’ll be there.”

“That’s my line.”

You offer him a genuine laugh and a warm feeling spreads through his stomach, which stays even after the call ends.

Two more days. Osamu counts in his head.

He takes a deep breath and enters the shop for the second time, this time being careful with not banging his face into the glass door.

“Can’t ya just stop movin’, please?” Atsumu begs and a sound comes out of his throat, something between a sigh and a groan. 

But his demand doesn’t seem to reach his brother’s ears—even though he said “please”, ‘Samu, ya spoiled brat—as said brother continues to pace like a caged animal in their cramped living room.

“I’m goin’ now.” Osamu finally announces.

“Gosh,” The setter rolls his eyes, “her train arrives in two hours.”

“What if there’s traffic on the way?”

“Ya know what? Just leave, yer so damn annoyin’ right now.”

“Moron,” Osamu exclaims, slamming the door on its way out.

It’s too late for Atsumu to say more than just an offended, “Oi!” since his twin already left the apartment.

There’s no traffic on the way and Osamu is forced to wait for you—though it doesn’t matter how long he must wait; if he had to endure a lifetime of longing just to see you again, he would agree in a blink of an eye.

The only bad thing is that time passes very slowly, and it makes him think over and over again about what might happen.

And the conclusion he comes up with is that two paths are unfolding before him: whether the kiss you shared on the doorframe of your apartment is the last remnant of what could have been, or perhaps the first tender step toward something beautiful. Maybe in a few minutes, he’ll have to pretend nothing happened and go back to being friends or stop hiding his feelings and share them with the world.

When you emerge from the station, your blue scarf sticking out of your bag since the weather has warmed up delicately in the last five days, Osamu feels the rhythm of his heart quickening.

You greet each other, get back in the car, and he starts driving.

One second after the other, even though you’re there now, he keeps waiting.

The silence is heavy but somehow it doesn’t cloud his thoughts. Osamu could be analysing each single one of your moves (you scratch your nails, you keep looking at your phone even if you don’t receive any notification), your expressions (you didn’t meet his eyes when you arrived, your smile is tense), but he doesn’t because he has learned better than to attempt to assume how you feel; it only leads to chaos. The man has no control over this situation and whatever happens, he’ll accept it. Nothing matters more than yielding to your choices. Break his heart, move to Tokyo, sever ties forever (please don’t)—he’ll endure it all if it means your happiness.

“Thank you for coming.” You finally say gently.  

 “Sure.” He waits and after a moment of hesitation, adds, “Ya know… I’ve been waitin’ to see ya.”

There’s a pause, the kind that stretches just long enough to create a knot in his chest.

“You have?” You ask, your voice quiet, unsure.

“Yeah,” he admits, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. If you’re about to turn him down, at least, he needs to be honest one more time. “Been thinkin' about ya all day. All week, actually.”

He laughs, a bit too awkwardly, trying to play it off. “Can I say that? Don’t wanna make ya uncomfortable but I guess I’m just really bad at actin' casual, huh?”

Your soft chuckle makes his heart race all over again. “Not as bad as you think, Osamu. I’m happy if we can talk openly to each other without being afraid of what the other thinks. That’s what we used to do.” You clear your throat, “And actually, there’s something I need to tell you.”

There it is, he thinks, the opening he’s been waiting for. He decides to pull over to the side of the road since you almost made it to your place. He licks his lips nervously before turning to you, your eyes don’t meet his when you speak again.

“So… I’ve been thinking. I wanted to have that conversation with you later, not in the car like that, but like you said, it’s hard to act casual…Listen, Osamu.” You finally turn to your right, to him.

Osamu thought he could know how you’re feeling just by seeing the look on your face but right now he is unsure. It’s exciting to know there’s still so much to learn about you, but also threatening because he can’t anticipate your next words and it’s suffocating.

“You’re the kindest person I know, you’re funny and you’re reliable and there’s no one in this entire world, and please don’t tell Umi, with whom I feel so at ease. I’ve never really been into stuff like soulmates you know, even with Rin, I believed he was the love of my life, and it turned out I was wrong. But with you it’s different, it’s like the universe has led me to you. That fact will never change, whatever we … become.” Your voice falters, “But… I made so many sacrifices for Rin, and I don’t regret them, they made me who I am now, but I promised myself I would never do such things again… Yet, I was in my hotel room in Tokyo, finally finding my dream job and loving the team, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About how I wanted to be with you in Osaka, how I wanted to kiss you again… I feel so weak Osamu ‘cause I love you too. I do want us to be together but not like that. I can’t miss this opportunity. If I stay in Osaka, I will resent myself for not choosing my dream and if I leave for Tokyo, I know I’ll regret not being with you… But I have to make a choice.”

“Can’t ya have both? Me and Tokyo?”

You sigh before looking down at your lap. Osamu thinks he saw your eyes getting wet, “I wish I could, but you know how I feel about distance relationships.”

Of course, he knows; he was there when you suffered through the distance that separated you from your first love years ago and how it led to a heartbreak.

“What if I come with y-”

“Don’t even think about it, Osamu. I am not following my dream for you to give up yours.” Your voice is firm, but there’s a hint of pain behind your words. “I swear I thought about all the options because I know you’re right for me… but there’s nothing we can do about it.”

Osamu was convinced there were only two paths, one where you love him, one where you don’t. But what if there is a third option? What if you love him but fear getting hurt?

It’s not that she doesn’t like you, she’s just afraid, Umi told him. He recalls precisely the moment your best friend pronounced those words to him.

There’s hope. Osamu has to hold on to it.  

“Give me one month.”

“Huh?” Your brow furrows in confusion.

“I’ll find a solution, I’ll make it work, I promise.”

“Osamu,” you sigh again, this time it sounds desperate, perhaps frustrated, “this is not some sort of romantic movie, this is real life.”

“I know that, and I’ll find a real solution.”

“What if you don’t find the solution after that month? I know how heartbreaks feel like Osamu, this is only going to hurt you and-”

“Nothing can hurt me more than runnin’ away when I could have tried making it work.”

There’s something in your eyes that shines behind your closed face and clenched jaw.

The atmosphere changes in the car, maybe because of the night falling, or maybe because of something else.

“When we were first years, we weren’t in the same class, but at the sports festival, we were put on the same team for the relay.” You start recalling, the sudden shift in topic catches him off guard, but he lets you continue anyway.

“Umi wasn’t in my team, and I was already not motivated to run the race, especially in front of everyone but it got worse when I was put before you. Can you imagine me, giving the stick to Miya Osamu? You were popular, girls loved you, boys admired you, and I was no one. Sure, I could run fast but I didn’t care about winning that damn event. I guess… the only things I cared about were having Rin looking at me and not tripping in front of your fangirls. But on the day of the festivals, do you remember what you told me?”

He shakes his head. You were always better at remembering stuff.

“You said ‘Trust me, just do your thing and I’ll make it work’. I trusted you; I did what I had to do, and we won.”

You cover your face with your hands abruptly and grumble, “Fuck, I really thought I made up my mind but…” Then, you take a long inspiration before looking at him again. Your eyes pierce his soul, find him where he is the most vulnerable, but also the most in love, “If I trust you one more time… Can you promise you’ll not let me down?”

“I’d do anything for ya to give me a chance.”

He says your name as he promises. There’s something obvious in your eyes when you look at each other, it’s not just hope that Osamu feels, it’s certain and deep. As if nothing could come between you.

You break the distance.

The kiss is softer than the last one. Osamu tries to take his time to appreciate the taste of your lips and the feeling your tongue leaves on his.

No need to rush, he knows it’s the first kiss of a long series (whether it lasts a month or a hundred years).

You pull back with a smile, “Oh, by the way, I have not forgotten that you owe me an explanation for all the times you ignore me. And you better hear what I have to say to you on that matter because you sure hurt me. It might take hours for me to tell you how bad you made me feel.”

“And I’d listen for hours.”

“You’re such a smooth talker.” You chuckle and open the passenger door, “Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow ‘Samu.”

“Huh?” He raises an eyebrow, “That’s what my brother calls me, can’t ya find something else like my lov-”

“Shut up you idiot, I’m not ready for that yet.”

“Whatever you want, I’ll submit.” He teases and his grin is both sincere and charming, it makes you lift your eyes in the air.

You laugh one more time before getting out, “sweet dreams.”

He bids you goodnight in return.

Things go well.

You try to see each other often. Now that Osamu has his Sundays free, he makes the most of them to take you on dates. In the evening, you cook dinner at home and in the morning, you stop by Onigiri Miya to get the bento he prepared for you. You always thank him with a kiss on the lips, a caress on the cheeks and sometimes the make out session gets a little bit out of hand. One day, despite your complaints about how you might get caught, Osamu doesn’t stop until Sato and Nagisa enter the shop (“Oops, didn’t mean to interrupt”, one of them say and Osamu tells you later how they kept on teasing him all day long. “It’s only yer fault though”, he exclaims, “yer too pretty.” And you push him on the chest, your cheeks turning red and your smile wide.)

You receive an email from Kuroo one Tuesday night, with a contract attached to it, waiting to be filled with your signature.

It’s hard to hide your smile, “I got the job.”

Osamu jumps from his chair to yours and kisses you, “I expected no less from my Champion.”

You open your mouth to say something and your boyfriend notices how your bite your lips. The long-distance relationship is starting now, that’s probably what you’re about to say, but Osamu doesn’t want to lose this moment thinking about what’s coming after, so he goes through your kitchen’s cupboards and gets a bottle of sake.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“We have somethin’ to celebrate, don’t we?” His boyish smile makes your heart melt, and you nod.

“Let’s go to Tokyo tomorrow to look for an apartment.” He proposes later.

Your brows knit together, “but your restaurant…”

“I can close it.”

Osamu looks at you with the determined eyes you thought he had lost. It’s confident and calm at the same time, it’s kind, and so particularly him. It’s the same look he had when you won the relay a decade ago, when he told you he got your back during your heartbreak, and when he swore he’d do anything to be with you.

This time, you're the one who kisses him, and you taste of sake. His hands find the skin of your lower back and the man wonders how he could have missed out on something so soft all these years. Maybe it’s the alcohol but his mind becomes intoxicated, still, it feels good, and the next second he lifts you to lead you to the bedroom.

The next morning, your head hurts—and so do your muscles—but Osamu makes sure to cover every inch of your body with kisses as an apology (to which you don’t complain).

Finding an apartment in Tokyo is a drag at first. Between the too high-priced single-rooms and the over-demanding landlords, your energy is drained at the end of the day.

“I’ll never be able to find something…” You whine.

“Hey,” Osamu flicks your forehead lightly, “don’t say that it’s only the first day. Let’s find an hotel for tonight and we'll continue tomorrow.”

“What about Onigiri Miya?”

“Sato and Nagisa can manage.”

“Thank you, Osamu, you’re the best. Oh, what’s Sato’s first name by the way?”

“I forgot,” Osamu gets up from the bench where you were both sat and starts walking. You don’t ask for more.

Eventually, Osamu gets back to Osaka the next day because “Osamu-san, we’re running out of spicy sauce, what’s the recipe again? I tried something but it tastes like-”, “Like shit.”, “Oi! Rin don’t say that.” And even though he loves helping you, he must admit he misses being in the kitchen.

Your apartment hunt ends up with a last-minute offer for a one-bedroom place near your office and with a view on the park.

“Yer kitchen is better than mine,” Osamu clicks his tongue.

“That gives you a good reason to come visit me.”

“I’m thinkin’ about more than just one reason to visit ya.”

“You pervert,” you tease, and he tries to defend himself, but it’s probably a lost cause, for deep down, Osamu knows you’re right.

So yes, three weeks pass, and things go pretty well between you two.

It's been a week since he last saw you, though you FaceTime every evening—both to tell him about your day and to show him the first pieces of decoration you've put up; a few flowerpots, two cups on the counter (one for him, one for you), and a framed picture of you and Umi.

And today is the National Team last public practice match, so it means Osamu gets to finally see you in person (yesss, he mumbles when rolls out of bed at dawn.)

The match starts at 1 p.m., the crowd is expected at noon, and Osamu spends the late morning setting up his onigiri stall in the gym’s hall. His hands move automatically as he arranges the ingredients and checks his prep. He tries to focus on his routine because his mind is far from calm.  Sure, he is happy to see you but he knows you’re also waiting for the “real solution” to overcome the distance. But Osamu hasn’t found it yet, not even when you packed your bags and moved in Tokyo officially.Time is running out.

Nagisa probably noticed the somehow stressed mood of his boss and finds himself even more careful than he usual is.

“Can I have one… Ginger chicken onigiri please?”

Nagisa greets you respectfully and Osamu immediately turns to where you stand with widen eyes as if he wasn’t expecting you.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hey.” He replies back and the man has to fight the stupid grin tugging at his lips. “Just give me a second.”

Osamu hands you your order, “Enjoy.”

“Those are new, huh?”

“Yeah, for the Spring Menu.” He explains, trying to keep his cool, but his smile sneaks through.

“I can’t wait to try then,” You smile back, your eyes meeting his. He could stand there all day, just soaking in this moment. But he’s working and you have a volleyball match to attend.

“Well, I’m gonna join Kita-san now. And also-” you glance behind you at the growing line. “Don’t wanna hold up the queue.”

Before he can even think of a reply, you wave and step away. He watches as you walk toward where Kita is waiting and both disappear in the stands. His heart warms at the sight.

The hours pass as the match begins, Osamu and Nagisa catch glimpses of the game through the screens scattered around the hall. Atsumu starts the first set, naturally, and Osamu can't help but grumble to himself when his brother is swapped out for Kageyama in the second. By the time his twin closes the final set with a signature service ace, Osamu rolls his eyes, already dreading the inevitable rambling about it later tonight.

“Atsumu-san is amazing,” Nagisa says and his eyes shine at the screen.

“Well, keep that for yerself please.” Osamu straightens up and starts packing up his stall.

The crowd begins to disperse, he can hear it from a distance. He’s just about ready to close up when a familiar face appears, slightly out of breath.

“Are you still open?” one Akaashi Keiji says with a sheepish smile.

Osamu simply remarks that he’s always open for his best client, and it makes Akaashi even more embarrassed. “That’s very considerate of you Miya-san. Sorry I didn’t come by earlier. I arrived late.”

“No problem,” Osamu replies, handing him his usual set of onigiri. “Yer favorite as always.”

Akaashi accepts the food, then hesitates before speaking. “There’s a new onigiri shop near my workplace, you know. I gave it a try, but... well, they don’t come close to yours.”

Osamu chuckles. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

“But don’t worry, Miya-san,” Akaashi continues, putting his glasses back on, “I’m not going to try to convince you to open a shop in Tokyo this time. I learned my lesson. Besides, you’re probably already too busy with your current restaurant.”

Osamu opens his mouth to speak but no sound comes out of it. Instead, his mind goes blank, and a cloud makes his brain unable to think. But not in an oppressive way, no, this time the cloud is light and pleasant.

Something seems to click inside him, as if a thought that has been buried suddenly rises to the surface. He’s always brushed off the idea of expanding, but now... maybe it’s time to stop putting things aside. His decision comes in a flash, and before he can second-guess it, he’s calling out to his part-time employee.

“Hey, Nagisa! Can ya finish up closin’ the stall? I gotta go.”

Without waiting for an answer, Osamu takes off, scanning the crowd for you. He spots you near the exit, chatting with a few familiar faces. His heart beats faster as he approaches.

He says your name, “Can we talk?”

You raise an eyebrow, but you nod, leading him to a quieter spot—the room where you used to work as the Jackals’ communication manager.

“So,” you begin, crossing your arms as you turn to face him. “What’s going on?”

Osamu takes a deep breath. “I’ve been thinkin’... ‘bout how I can make this work.”

“Make what work?”

“Us.” The word feels huge, but it’s the only thing that matters right now. “I’ve decided... I’m gonna open a shop in Tokyo.”

Your eyes widen, clearly taken aback. “Wait, what?”

“I’ll expand,” Osamu says, his voice is firm. “I’ll open a shop in Tokyo, so we don’t have to do this long-distance thing. I want to be with ya. There are a lot of things I need to think about like findin’ the right place and hirin’ new people, it might take a little bit of time but I have the cash, and I know it’s gonna be alright. Can ya trust me on this?”

The last question is said with more softness, maybe with a bit of fear. But there’s still this determination in his eyes that you love so much.

You seem to process his words for a moment, and he holds his breath, waiting for your reaction. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across your face. Without warning, you throw your arms around him, and he catches you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Of course, I trust you,” you whisper against his shoulder and Osamu feels a shiver running down his spine.

“Honestly…” he speaks again, “I’m already pretty busy with the restaurant but maybe it’s time for the business to grow.”

“And I’ll be here for you. We’ll go through this together.”

Just as you’re about to kiss—something Osamu has been craving since you entered the venue—the door swings open.

Bokuto’s loud voice fills the room with your name, and both of you jump apart, startled.

“What-what’s going on here?” The outside hitter blurts out. His expression is one of shock, like a child who just caught their parents placing presents under the tree instead of Santa Claus.

“Are-are you…?” He points his finger at you, one after the other.

“We’re datin’.” Osamu replies first.

“But we want to keep it quiet for now,” you add, not noticing how Osamu’s brows furrow. Had ya mentioned this before? he wonders but keeps the question to himself. After all, it’s fine—it’s not like he was planning on going all loud and proud about your relationship like his brother would. Still, the thought lingers.

Bokuto grins, clapping his hands together. You’re both surprised by the change in his attitude (even though you should be used to Bokuto’s moody antics by now). “About time! Anyway, the team’s going out for drinks. You guys coming?”

You both nod. Once Bokuto disappears, you sneak a small kiss on the corner of his lips before opening the door again. He holds back a frustrated grunt—he wanted more, but who can blame him? After all, he’s a Miya; aiming for more is in his genes.

You find yourself sitting between your boyfriend and Bokuto in a busy izakaya. The room is loud, and it smells like fried meat and beers. For once, you're not the only girl at the table since some of the players' partners are here too. Osamu’s eyes keep drifting back to you, even while Komori is recounting some ridiculous story about how he saved Kiyoomi’s life when they were kids—which the younger cousin firmly denies. He listens, nodding politely, but his gaze betrays him as it keeps landing on you. You’re engaged in a conversation with Meian's fiancée, something about her upcoming wedding as Osamu picks up some words related to that topic.

“Oi, listen up!” Atsumu calls once all the drinks are served. He raises his glass. The chatter dies down, and all eyes turn to him. “First of all, congrats to the team on today's win. We smashed it, boys. Let’s keep it goin’, and we’ll do even better at the Olympics!” A round of cheers follows, glasses clinking together.

“And second, let’s give a round of applause to Shoyo-kun, who’s just signed a contract with Asas São Paulo! - Is that how ya say it? Anyway, I’m gonna miss settin’ to ya man, but ya truly deserve it.” Hinata grins, showing all his teeth, and rubs the back of his head as he thanks everyone.

“And finally,” Atsumu pauses dramatically and smirks, “I gotta congratulate Tobio-kun for his solid performance in the second set... even though I’m the one who finished the game off with that perfect serve.”

Kageyama, ever stoic, only bows his head slightly and mutters some “Thank you.”

Aran turns to Osamu, “Will yer brother ever be humble?”, his tone is both desperate and exasperated.

The older twin hears the remark and starts justifying his words, but it only creates a ripple of laughter all around the table.

Bokuto suddenly stands up, taking Atsumu’s role, with an unexpected serious face. “I’ve got something to say too,” he begins and raises his glass in your direction, before saying your name. “I wanna thank you for all the work you’ve done managing our social media for almost a year. You really helped us connect with our fans, and I just-”

Akaashi, sitting to Osamu’s right, leans over and whispers to your boyfriend, “But Kuroo-san told me she’s still managing the Jackals' social media, even if it’s not her main focus anymore.”

“I will.” You announce, high enough for Koutarou to hear. “I’m not completely leaving the Jackals.”

Sakusa sighs heavily. “We already know that. Bokuto’s just being dense as usual,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.

“Wait, you’re not leaving us?” Bokuto asks and his large amber eyes get glassy.

“No, I’ll still be around. I’ll be based in Tokyo most of the time, but I’ll come by every couple of months.” You smile at him gently.

Bokuto grins before sitting down with a long sigh of relief.

The next minute, he turns to you and Osamu. His eyes scan around and he drops his voice to a whisper, “So... you’ll be in a long-distance relationship?”

From under the table, Osamu squeezes your hand, and you return the gesture with a soft smile.

“Actually... I’ve been thinkin’ about openin’ a shop in Tokyo. It’s still just an idea, though, so let’s keep it between us for now.”

“Dude, that’s another secret I have to keep! But you can count on me.” He takes a sip of beer before adding, “Oh and I’m happy for you two.”

Osamu intertwines his fingers with yours, for the first time in a while it feels like everything is falling into place. As if he can finally exhale after holding his breath for so long, because nothing can come between you now.

He glances at you; you’re absolutely beautiful. It’s almost unfair how gorgeous you appear in his eyes. There’s so much he wishes to tell you right now, so many more touches he wants to share. The desire to be selfish takes over and he leans in. As he parts his lips to whisper that he loves you, Atsumu shouts.

“SUNARIN! So cool you made it!’

You drop his hand in a sharp, almost reflexive move.

Your knees no longer touch each other, a thin void is left where your shoulder was resting.

Suna strides into the izakaya. Osamu can’t help but look at you, as his former teammate approaches to greet everyone. You’re clearly troubled by the situation, and after all, it’s only normal. What Osamu doesn’t like though, is how your gaze is glued to your ex now and how all your attention is directed towards the middle blocker, instead of him.

He feels his lungs get smashed all over again.

Because just when he thought everything was finally settling, it hits him that perhaps, there’s still one more obstacle to overcome.

author notes: i hope you love roller coasters haha

i really enjoyed introducing new characters from haikyuu even though it's only for a small part of the chapter

did you guys love this chapter? (only 1 left btw)

sorry for the delay againnn

lots of love

taglist: @wolffmaiden, @teyvatsunsets, @obibiwan, @sugacor3, @sunahsvt, @iluv-ace, @cinnamonruts

[alia-schlatt]

𝐴 𝐶𝐼𝑇𝑌 𝐹𝑂𝑅 𝑇𝑊𝑂 || 𝐽𝑆𝐶𝐻𝐿𝐴𝑇𝑇

Part One:

In which Kat gets a call from her friend Ted, who needs her for an episode of his podcast.

Authors Note:

This story has an OC female character and will be safe for work. This is a random short story that came to me while watching Chuckle Sandwhich (surprisingly) and is going to be multiple parts.

NB:

- SFW

- First person POV

- No Smut

- Story under cut

- Word Count: 1.5K

My phone rings, startling me from the game I was playing on stream. I look down at the name on the screen and silence it. If Ted needed me, he would call a second time. It was a rule all my friends knew. The line goes dead, and I look back at the camera. “Sorry, Chat, nothing too important, don’t worry -“ Before I can finish my sentence, the phone rings again, cutting me off.

"Okay, I have to take this really quick chat," I say, answering the call. "Ted? Hey, I'm on stream." I let him know.

"Hey yea, yea, I know. But I'm in a bit of a pickle and need your help," He says, his voice full of worry.

I feel my brows furrow in concern. "Are you okay? What's happened?" I ask, and I can hear the worry coating my voice. I look at chat, and they're going crazy only hearing my side of the call.

"Nothing bad, don't worry, but shit-" He cuts off before a string of cuss words exit his mouth.

"Ted?" I ask once they stop.

"Sorry, sorry, I was pacing and hit my toe on the goddamn kitchen chair." He takes a deep breath. "I need you for a podcast episode," He says.

"What?" I ask, stunned. “I thought everyone was already booked?” I ask, stunned.

"Well, yea, but fricken Mackie got food poisoning. And he just phoned. Had to disappear halfway through to throw up. But he was one of my guests and I need a replacement immediately. Is there any chance you wanna join for an episode?" He asks, and I scoff.

"Would I wanna? Ted, I'm literally its biggest fan. Of course, I'd love to.” I smile and hear him breath a sigh of relief.

"Thank you so, so, so much! You don't know how you've just saved my ass. I'll send you a location. Can I expect you to be here in an hour?" He questions.

"Ah yea, let me just finish stream, and I'll be there," I tell him.

"Perfect! See you then," He says before he bids me farewell.

I put my phone down and can't stop the huge smile that spreads across my face. I remember I'm on stream and looked up at the camera.

I look at chat, and everyone is going crazy.

"Chat, I just got the best opportunity in all my time making content. At least, in my personal opinion. So, with that said, I'm going to have to end the stream earlier than we had planned. But I promise you, it's worth it," I say before starting to log off. I read out the last few donos and said goodbye to chat.

When I end the stream, I immediately shut off all my equipment, setting a timer for thirty minutes and getting everything laid out for when I get ready. It takes five minutes before I jump in the shower. That takes another ten.

When I get out of the shower, I spend ten minutes fighting myself, trying to decide on an outfit. I finally settle on a pair of dark blue high-rise jeans and a white lacy tank top. I pair it with pearl jewelry and put my hair in half up, half down pigtails with little white ribbons.

I decide to go for a more natural makeup look, stressing over time. I still had half an hour, but with LA traffic and my mother's words, "If you're on time, you're fifteen minutes late," ingrained in my mind, I was strict on time management.

As I did my makeup, I thought about what this meant to me. I was always the girl who listened to podcasts. My Spotify had more true crime podcasts in its year wrapped than it did music. So when Ted, a friend I had met when I first moved to LA, told me he was starting a podcast with friends, I was excited, but it was out of my comfort zone.

I was used to true crime and murder talk and having to listen to three grown men talk about some of the stupidest shit, it toom some getting used to. But man, when I finally did, I was all I could listen to. I was always one of the first people to listen to a new episode and would spend at the very least an hour on call with Ted afterward, discussing it.

I had told him multiple times that he didn't have to, but according to him, "it helps the podcast with coming up with ideas and figuring out what viewers liked." As if I represented all of them.

So this was a huge thing for me. I was so excited I couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like. But when my second timer ran out telling me I needed to leave, I jumped out of thought. I looked in the mirror one last time, looking for problems in my outfit and makeup, which, thankfully, there were none.

I stopped right before walking out the door, throwing on a pair of white Converse that had little pink flowers on them. I walked out of my apartment, locking the door, making my way down to the parking garage where my yellow 1969 Volkswagen Beetle waited for me.

When I got to the address Ted sent me, I all but ran out of the car into the building. I was five minutes late. Some idiot in a Lamborghini had smashed into a family suv, and the police had blocked off most of the lanes, and so I thought taking back roads would be quicker, which resulted in me getting lost.

When I walked in, I greeted one of Ted's employees I had met briefly at one his birthday party. She told me they were still recording with Ethan Nestor and that it shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes. I took a deep breath of relief before sneaking off to the bathroom.

When I got out, Ted, Schlatt, and Ethan had just walked into the main hall entrance. I could see Ted looking around nervously before relief washed over him when he saw me. They said their final goodbyes and Ethan’s phone rang as he turned to leave. When he was out of the building, I smiled at Ted, and he walked over, immediately throwing me into one of his signature bear hugs.

"Thank you so much for doing this. You're a lifesaver," He said into my ear.

"Never been happier, too." I smiled at him when we pulled apart. 

"Schlatt, this is Katie," He said, introducing me. I rolled my eyes.

"Kat actually, but it’s nice to me meet you Schlatt," I tell him, putting out my hand to shake. He looks down at it.

"Nice to meet you," He smiles, and I feel my neck heat up.

"Let's give you a quick rundown of everything before we jump into the recording," Ted tells me. "Follow me," He says, walking past Schlatt. I follow, giving Schlatt a small smile, slipping past him.

A few minutes later, we're sitting down and pressing record. "Welcome everyone back to Chuckle Sandwich. We are here in LA for Chuckle week. And we have a very special guest with us today, Kat Monroe, more commonly known as KaMo." Ted introduces me.

"Hey everyone," I smile, giving the camera a small wave.

"We were supposed to have Makkie with us, but unfortunately, he ate some off food last night and is recovering. So, instead, we have a knight in shining armor," Ted says.

"Are female knights still knights?" Schlatt questions, causing me to give him a look before questioning it myself.

"I think so, right?" I say.

"Where's Google, Tucker?" Ted Jokes.

"It's a Dame," Tucker says, scrolling on his phone. "A Dame is the female equivalent of a knight of an order of chivalry," Tucker adds.

"The more you know, I guess," I joke.

We're about twenty minutes into the recording when Ted just finished a story about the time we tasted every single drink from Starbucks for one of my YouTube videos when Tucker asks a question.

"I've just realized you dropped everything you were doing because Ted needed help, and you're telling us all these stories, but we don't even know how you too met?"

I look at Ted, questioning if I should tell the truth. He gives me a small nod.

"We actually met on a dating app," I say, and both Tucker and Schlatt’s jaws drop.

"A dating App" Schlatt says to Ted. He shrugs.

"So, is this your way of announcing your relationship?" Tucker jokes

I laugh. "Oh gosh, no, Ted actually rejected me after one date, said we were better off friends. Which, if I'm honest, is a blessing in disguise. Now he's like my big brother," I tell Tucker, and Ted nods along.

"So, do you have a boyfriend?" Schlatt asks, and I look at him and smirk.

"Why do you wanna ask me on a date, big guy?" I say and see him blush.

I laugh a little and put my hand on his shoulder. "I'm joking, but no, I don't have a boyfriend... I have a fiancé. Best person in my life. " I smile, and Tucker is quick to start asking me about him

[starbuckie]

𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐬

pairing: highschool!bucky barnes x reader

words: 1.0k words

warnings: senioritis, fluff, and bucky being a clingy little shit

summary: senioritis is a bitch, and that virus certainly extends to two teens in brooklyn.

a/n: i’m tired of high school and shit and finals are kicking my ass so i wrote this lil thing. (also look at this lil skinny noodle theater boy, i woulda dated the heck out of him) anyways, please enjoy <3

main masterlist || sebastian stan characters masterlist

Y/N’s eyes focused in and out on the pot of pasta her mother was cooking on the stove. There were many other things she should have been doing, pressing matters like the fifteen unfinished assignments she had to turn in by the next Monday, but the combination of a near-summer school day and the stress of not actually doing the assignments was getting to her.

“Honey, I’m home!”

Great.

The bane of her existence came in the form James Buchanan Barnes, God-like dick game and loved by all mothers. His fluffy chestnut hair was swept under a baseball cap, and he carried two bags of groceries, for her mother, into the kitchen where she sat.

It wasn’t as if she were bothered by her boyfriend, but with him around there was no way in hell she would get anything finished. Turning back to the half-assed, half-written page she had been working on for hours, she tried to ignore the presence of Bucky hugging her mother hello.

Once again, an absolute kiss ass.

“Hey, pumpkin,” Bucky dropped a kiss to her forehead as he started to put the groceries away. Fucking suck up. “How come you didn’t answer my text? I asked if I could come over.”

“I did answer your text, asshole.” Y/N turned over her phone to check the texts for evidential proof. “Yeah, see, I texted you no.”

Bucky shoved the phone away from where she held it out to him, placing an orange on the table. “And I chose to ignore that text because I wanted to see you.” He sang with a smile.

That little smirk he wore was enough for Y/N’s tough resolve to break and she stood to pounce up on him from behind with a hug. She nosed his neck gently and smelled his cologne, amber and oud filling her senses and making her mind all boggled with thoughts of him.

“Hey, if you two are gonna be gross, then go upstairs,” Ms. L/N smacked her shoulder with the dirty dish rag and she squealed away from the hit. “But if you two are gonna bang, then go to his because I’m not washing those damn sheets for you do that.”

Both of the teens blushed at her ribbing, and immediately grabbed their stuff to scramble upstairs. As they trudged up the stairs with their backpacks, Bucky noticed the way Y/N’s eyes would flutter shut for a moment and the way her steps faltered. It was no secret that her five AP exams were kicking her ass, and the studying was no better.

The way he saw it, there was no point in struggling onto the slippery grasps of sleep in replacement of studying. Highschool was three weeks from being done, and soon enough they’d be out of Brooklyn and on their way to California to hit the sun and study their asses off in college.

As soon as they entered her ivy-painted room Y/N slammed the stupid essay on her desk and slumped into her swivel chair. Bucky knew the drill well enough by that point, dropping his backpack by the foot of her bed and flopping onto the pristine white sheets with an obnoxiously loud groan. “God, this bed feels so good, pumpkin, I don’t know how you can stay out of it for so long.”

“Well, when you’re falling behind in school it’s a lot easier than you’d think.” Y/N quipped back distractedly. The words on the paper seemed to swirl and move right under her stare, and there was no way she could focus. She knew that eight more pages of blank papers sat right under the first, all waiting to be filled out with sentences about the effects of cardiorespiratory coherence on the spectrum of human emotions. 

Bucky groaned, hauling his legs onto the sheets and turning towards his girlfriend with a pout. “C’mon, babydoll, if you come over here, you can have sex with me. How’s that sound? You wanna have sex with me? I’ll do that thing you like, even make you shed a few tears...”

Though his offer sounded more than appealing, Y/N had to turn it down and shift herself in the chair to ease the throbbing of her core. “As much as I would like to cry on your dick, and trust me, I would very much like to cry on your dick, I unfortunately need to cry on my essay instead. I was getting work done all until you walked in with that cute lil’ smile of yours.”

Bucky blushed at the comment which made her grin. It was amusing how flushed he got after making such raunchy things to her. “Well, what do you want, babydoll. I can bring you a bowl of mac and cheese from your ma, or,” he scooped her up in his arms, reveling in her squeals of laughter, “I can snuggle ya to death. How’s that sound?”

Her voice was muffled against the fabric of his henley, but he could kinda not really understand the words she gurgled out. “I’m gonna take that as a yes.”

Y/N laughed in his hold, turning over to smush her face into his chest. “I’m just tired of this bullshit. All the assignments and late nights, and don’t get me wrong, I love my mother, but if I get one more comment about my study time management, I’m going to scream.” She sighed, clutching just a bit harder around his back. “I want it all to be over, I guess. Just you and me in California already, sitting in the sun and drinking green juices, or whatever shit they do over there.”

Bucky didn’t even have to say anything, Y/N knew he shared the same sentiment. College was fast approaching and scary, and the stress of the impending graduation did nothing but make it seem that much farther away. 

“God, you’re so warm, I wanna lay with you here forever. Studying can go fuck itself.”

“Then stay with me, pumpkin,” he chuckled, pulling her closer. “I ain’t going anywhere yet.”

Legend has it that there was no studying done for the rest of the night, and Y/N’s mom would find them passed out in each other’s arms before six o’clock.

[nekoannie-chan]

Marcas

Pareja: Steve Rogers X Lectora Vengadora.

Palabras: 361 palabras.

Sinopsis: Steve y tú necesitaban un momento a solas.

Advertencias: Smut, PWP, mordidas.

N/A:  Esta es mi entrada para Fifteen Sentece Challenge con la frase #12:

“Sé que dijiste no marcas... pero, ¿qué tal si las hago donde nadie puede verlas excepto yo?”

        Si te gusto por favor vota, comenta y rebloguea.

No doy ningún permiso para que mis fics sean publicados en otra plataforma o idioma (yo traduzco mi propio trabajo) o el uso de mis gráficos (mis separadores de texto también están incluidos), los cuales hice exclusivamente para mis fics, por favor respeta mi trabajo y no lo robes. Aquí en la plataforma hay personas que hacen separadores de texto para que cualquiera los pueda usar, los míos no son públicos, por favor busca los de dichas personas. La única excepción serían los regalos que he hecho ya que ahora pertenecen a alguien más. Si encuentras alguno de mis trabajos en una plataforma diferente y no es alguna de mis cuentas, por favor avísame. Los reblogs y comentarios están bien.

DISCLAIMER: Los personajes de Marvel no me pertenecen (desafortunadamente), exceptuando por los personajes originales y la historia.

Anótate en mi taglist aquí.

Otros lugares donde publico: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

Tags: @sinceimetyou​ @black23​  @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad​ @azulatodoryuga​

Steve desabrochó tu blusa, ágilmente con una mano, dejando tus pechos expuestos, luego comenzó a acariciarlos, pellizcó levemente tus pezones, maldijiste mentalmente, él sabía cómo complacerte, aunque había un problema, cualquiera podría abrir la puerta y verlos.

—Steve… d-d-detente —rogaste, no querías que alguien los descubriera, no querías que nadie se enterara de lo que estaban haciendo.

—¿Estás segura que quieres que me detenga? —Steve te preguntó, bajando su mano por tu vientre.

Negaste con la cabeza, no, tú nunca te negarías a tener sexo con él, tal vez no importaba si lo veían.

¡Qué más daba si conocían el lado “oscuro” de Steve Rogers!

“I know you said no marks… But what if I put them where nobody except for me will see them?” te susurró al oído, gemiste como respuesta.

Sentiste sus labios y lengua recorrer tu espalda y seguir bajando hasta que llegó a tus muslos.

Él te hizo separar un poco las piernas y mordió ligeramente la piel de tus muslos, lo suficiente para dejar marcas, mas no para lastimarte.

Gemiste, intentaste cerrar un poco las piernas y alejarlo, él sabía cómo hacerte “sufrir y castigarte”, aunque en realidad lo disfrutabas.

—No te atrevas a cerrar las piernas, quiero castigar ese dulce coño —él ordenó.

Subió y sonrió cuando vio tu coño húmedo, pasó los dedos, volvió a sonreír cuando los sacó, húmedos, y pasó la lengua, sabías que pronto tus piernas no te iban a poder sostener, él también lo sabía, por lo que te sujetó para oblígate a quedarte parada.

Apretaste tu cuerpo contra él cuando llegaste a tu orgasmo. ¡Vaya que Steve Rogers sabía lo que hacía!

Él se levantó y se puso detrás de ti, no sin antes asegurarse de que tuvieras donde recargarte, te penetró y usó una mano tapándote la boca para evitar que hicieras ruido y alguien los encontrara.

—Yo sé que sí, pero te gusta, ¿verdad? —Steve te preguntó al oído y tú asentiste mientras sentías otro orgasmo y a la vez provocabas el de él.

Justo en el momento en el que se separaron y se acomodaron la ropa, se escuchó como alguien empezaba a abrir la puerta.