#sorry for giving him a nose again it will happen again

[solardrop]

tyrant.

aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader

summary: Hotch lets you take some anger out on him after he disrespects you on a case. tags: smut. 18+ mdni, oral F recieving, face sitting, handcuffs, hate sex?, maybe more so annoyed sex idk bro, not proofread word count: ~0.9k a/n: i have once again tried practicing smut. This is probably gonna happen a lot sorry. I feel like the header makes it seem like this is much more intense than it really is i promise you its not. I hope you like it! you can also read it on ao3!

Aaron lets out a tired sigh as he stretches his arms out across the bed of your shared hotel room. He shakes his hand petulantly, the sliver chain of his handcuffs jingling as he does so.

"Throwing a fit right now doesn't change you breaking the chain of command" he mutters

"I was doing my fucking job" you sneer "And you try to punish me for it?"

You secure his other hand with your own pair of cuffs. He was flat against the sheets now, arms locked to handles of nightstands to either side of the bed. "You embarrassed me Aaron, in front of the whole team—the whole fucking precinct!"

"Your idea was reckless. You were stubbornly determined to give local law enforcement tasks that would end up exploding in your face."

You blink slowly, heat rolling out from your ears at the nonsense you were hearing. Not a single apology.

"You're out of line and subverting authority," you mock," you're not in the position to give demands," Mimicking the earlier bite of the man who loved you oh-so-deeply as you climb up by his shoulders and hover your center above his face. A metallic clank sounds as he reaches to grab your thighs on instinct. A wicked smirk stretches across your lips.

"Careful sweetie," you pout, "wouldn't want you to have to go up the chain of command to report to Strauss the expense you raked up destroying hotel property."

You drag the length of your folds across his face, shivering as your clit nudges against the tip of his nose. Aaron's tongue laves out to taste you. He cranes his neck as much as he can without hurting himself, searching out more of your taste. He groans out in bliss when you finally put your full weight against him, finally able to slide his tongue into the warmth of your cunt.

When Hotch eats you out, you always feel stripped. He holds you open. He sets the pace. He decides exactly how and when you're gonna melt for his tongue. You were docile, malleable.

But like this? Your knees pressed into the mattress beside his head? The yellow hotel lights glinting off the steel wrapped around his wrists? The sight of his dark lashes fluttering below the curve of your stomach?

You brace a hand on the wall as you raise yourself up for a moment. Willing the dark vignette of your impending orgasm from the corners of your vision. If you cum now you'll fold. He'll tell you to let him go and your fuzzy brain will comply. You'd be under him in milliseconds. Right now you are in control, you wanna keep it that way. You close your eyes, One….Two….

"Fuck… Honey come on"

Your eyes flash open to glare at the man below you. "I'm sorry I didn't think I gave you permission to make any demands right now?"

He winces and licks his lips. The muscle in his bicep contracts as he pushes against his restraints. The corner of his cheeks shine with your wetness, the defiant look in his eyes making your pussy clench through your frustration.

"I'm sorry. But you can't undermine—"

You slam a hand down onto his forehead, lacing your fingers through his inky strands as you press his head back into the soft sheets. "God, shut up," you grit.

You grind your wetness along his face. You fight against his attempts to open his mouth, rutting your clit against his closed lips. You get a firmer grip of his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to your center. Goosebumps prickle your back as your moan out into the sweet silence.

"You're such a —fuck— fucking bully," you wheeze, "I've trained. I'm— I'm capable and you know that." He hums, the vibrations tickling you all over.

"But you always steamroll every. fucking. thing i say."

You raise a leg and plant your foot into the mattress, the new angle giving you leverage to thrust into his mouth with new fervor. Breathless laughs escape your lips at every roll of your hips. The only sound the tyrant between your legs could make were a series of honeyed moans. The clinking sound of the metal around his wrists slows as he relaxes in your hands. Finally submitting to your power. His lips kiss and suck at wherever he can contact —your puffy lips, your hardened bud. Hotch was finally silent, finally pliant. Letting you—No fuck that, succumbing to you fucking his face. You bite out a remark with every buck of your hips.

"I don't have to respect shit"

"Who the f-fuck do you think you are?"

"if this is all it takes to get you quiet I would've done it — ages ago"

A powerful suck on your clit causes your voice to break. Your leg slams back down to the mattress as your thighs clamp around his head. The heat in your stomach builds as you hump against him frantically. Snarky comments and sharp curses replaced with heady pants. The ice cold rush of your orgasm surges through your spine, halting the circular motions of your hips. Your nails press into his scalp as you hold him to you; his tongue lapping at your inner folds while you shake against him. Your body relaxes as you ride out the wave of your orgasm. You use the last of your energy to toss yourself to the side of the mattress, careful not to kick him in the face on the way down.

Your eyes blur against the blinding lights, a pair of heavy breaths filling in the empty space around you. Aaron's still-hard dick strains through his slacks, making you giggle when you twist around to catch a glimpse of it.

"Sweetheart," he breathes, "I'm sorry, get the keys…let me touch you"

You really should follow the chain of command. 

[marvelavengerspovs1]

Chapter 2- Ruinous

Pairing: Bucky x F!reader

Warnings: Lots and lots of angst (sorry but not sorry), toxic behaviors between Bucky and Reader, 18+ MDNI

Length: 1.8k

Summary: You and Bucky are going through a rough patch. Is it something worth fixing?

A/N: Did I write this when I should’ve been studying for an exam? Yes, but I couldn’t help it!

I do not give consent for my work to be translated, copied, or sold!

Bucky stares at the pieces of the whiskey glass on the floor. Little droplets of the whiskey mixed with the Asgardian liquor stained the wall and the floor. It was unfair, you lashing out at him. You knew his struggles, his demons. And he told you it wasn’t your fault.

But he knew, deep down, that you were being fair. You had to do what was good for you. And right now, that wasn’t him.

Bucky collapses on the couch, his head in his hands. He knows that he acted like an asshole. He knows that you deserve better than that. So why couldn’t he change? Why couldn’t he stop lashing out?

He doesn’t have the answer. He wants to, but it’s like he can’t control what he’s doing. So he gets up, grabs another glass and pours himself a hefty amount of Asgardian liquor and whiskey, and grabs the mostly untouched box of cigarettes from his secret cupboard.

-

You wake up cold. You felt the emptiness beside you and slowly opened your eyes. You’re not home, you realize. The explosive fight with Bucky happened. You leaving your shared apartment happened. You staying the night at Natasha's happened.

You stare up at the ceiling, trying to think. How can your relationship be saved? How could you leave the relationship? The decision is daunting to say the least.

To start off, Bucky and you have been together for years. You know each other inside and out. Well, you used to.

You shake your head and try to think more.

Bucky has a short temper, quick to anger. But it was never with you. When you fought, it typically wasn’t anger that made you scared. He always made sure that you were trying to understand his side.

You shake your head. You couldn’t stop contradicting yourself. If you thought about a good thing about Bucky, a negative would follow. The whole situation is confusing for you.

You decide that laying in bed isn’t helping your decision. You get up and make the bed, trying to be a good guest. You leave the room to find Natasha in the kitchen making breakfast.

She offers you a small smile. “Morning, want some?”

You look at the pan and see eggs. You scrunch your nose.

“No thanks, I can’t even think about eating right now.” You sigh and hop up on one of the counters.

Natasha places her spatula down and leans on the opposite counter to look at you. “I’m guessing you didn’t get much sleep.”

“Well I did sleep, it wasn’t very restful though.” You yawn and shrug.

Natasha nods. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I just don’t know what more I can say, you know?” You feel your eyes begin to water again. “I knew about his baggage, his nightmares, who he is. And I fell for him hard and fast. And now he’s going backwards and refusing to get help. All of the bad doesn’t negate the good, but his recent actions are things I can’t overlook.”

Natasha hums and pushes a lock of hair behind her ear. “Maybe this is something you need to talk to him about.”

You quickly wipe under your eyes with a sniff. “Is that a good idea?”

Natasha pushes herself off of the counter to stand in front of you. “Are you scared that he’s going to do anything irrational?”

You shake your head. Even though Bucky isn’t acting totally like himself, he’s not an idiot.

Natasha nods. “Then you need to have this conversation with him. Maybe he can tell you his side of things and maybe that’ll change things for you.”

You think about what she said. On one hand, you know that talking to Bucky would maybe clarify some things for you. On the other hand, it may cause another fight. But it was something you were willing to risk.

-

You unlock the front door, the stench of Asgardian liquor and smoke filling your nose. You see Bucky on the couch, a cigarette in his hand.

He takes a drag before turning to you. “Where were you?”

You frown at his hand. Bucky follows your gaze. He knows you hate it when he smokes. Smoking is one of the few things he picked up again when he felt stressed. But he told you that he stopped because of how much you hated it. Now you know he lied.

“Natasha’s.” You mutter.

Bucky scoffs at this and puts out the cigarette. “Of course you were.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He stands up. “It means I’m tired of you always running to her when we fight.”

“How is that any different than you going to Steve?”

“Because Steve is Steve. He’s my best friend.”

You let out a humourless laugh. “You’re telling me that just because Steve is your best friend he’s better than Natasha? She’s not some stranger.”

“Well she’s basically one to me, you spend so much time with her.”

“Well maybe I wouldn’t if you weren’t an asshole!” You raise your voice.

Bucky clenches his jaw. “So it’s my fault that you always run to her?”

“Sorry I don’t feel like I can come home!” You yell at him sarcastically.

He furrows his brows. “What, you don’t feel safe?”

“Look at you now! You’re getting angry with me for wanting space and hanging out with Natasha. Why would I come home if this is what I’m coming home to?”

“All because of what happened yesterday? Is that why you don’t want to come home?”

“No, I don’t want to come home because I’m scared of you! I’m scared that you’re moving backwards and this isn’t something that I can help you with. And��� I’m scared that this isn’t something that I want to be around.”

“What do you mean you don’t want to be around?” He takes a step towards you.

“Bucky, you’ve been going backwards for months. You’ve been quick to anger, you started to drink more often, you’ve been lying to me about smoking for who knows how long. You act like you don’t have friends or loved ones who want to help you, like you don’t have resources.”

Bucky swallows. “I don’t need help. I’m fine.”

You take a shaky breath. “Then I’m moving out.”

Bucky’s eyes widen and his heart drops. “You’re gonna move out because I started drinking more and smoking again?”

“No, I’m moving out because I cannot and will not watch you destroy yourself. I come home drained. Not from work but from guessing what you’re going to be like. I want to do anything but come home to you and it shouldn’t be like that.”

Bucky runs a hand over his face. “What happened to through thick and thin? You’re gonna abandon me because I’m trying to work through some things?” 

“Bucky I’ve been with you through thick, and I’ve been with you through thin. But you haven’t. I can’t be two people.”

“Well sorry that I can’t be the perfect boyfriend.” He rolls his eyes.

“I’m not asking for perfect. I’m asking for you to do the bare minimum and I’m not even getting that.”

“So me sharing everything with you is not enough?”

“Bucky, you only share halfhearted things! You tell me what you had for lunch and then your upcoming missions. I don’t know much about who you were growing up or what your favorite color is. I want to know all of you and you only want to share a fraction of that.”

“Do you really think it’s easy for me to share the things Hydra did to me? The things I did?”

“I’m not saying it’s easy. And I’m grateful that you shared bits of that, but you are moving backwards. You won’t even go see your therapist!”

“I don’t need some shrink to tell me the fucked up things I’ve done. I don’t need someone who doesn’t understand what it was like to be a fucking science experiment try to ‘decode’ me. Therapy doesn’t work.” Bucky takes another step towards you and softens his voice. “And I don’t need you to see how truly broken I am.”

“Bucky, I only see you. I see a man who has overcome all of these terrible things and is trying to right his wrongs. But I can’t see all of him when he’s starting to pull away from me. And you can’t say therapy doesn’t work when you’ve only been to 3 sessions and haven’t been back in months.”

“Fine, I’ll share things with you. Is that what you want? I’m not going to see some shrink, bringing up the past is… it has too many memories.”

You sigh and shake your head. “I need space, you need time. I can’t keep living like this, seeing you deteriorate in front of my eyes.”

Bucky finally lets himself break, his eyes water and his voice cracks. “For how long?”

“Until you show me you’re trying to get better.”

Bucky swallows. “And if I don’t?”

You shake your head. “You’re going to try.”

Bucky nods. You take a deep breath and wipe the tears staining your cheeks. It bothers you how much you’ve been crying the past few days but it’s been a long time coming.

“I’m going to go get more of my things.” Bucky nods, not able to say anything to you.

As you move towards the bedroom, Bucky sits back down on the couch. How is this real? He thought to himself. He knows that his actions have consequences, but you are the best thing that has happened to him. Was it because he was too selfish? Should he have known that all good things come to an end?

But you were willing to come back to him. You wanted him to get better. And he knows that the selfish part of him isn’t going away when it comes to you.

You exit the bedroom with another big bag of your things. Bucky looks up and stands.

“I don’t know what to say.” You try to take in every feature of his. “I’m probably going to stay with Natasha for a few days, then I’m going to talk with Tony about a more permanent solution.”

Bucky nods, not being able to bring himself to talk. You feel a pang in your heart, not wanting to leave him but knowing that it’s what's best.

“I guess I’ll see you around.” You walk towards the door.

Bucky finally speaks up. “Stay safe.”

You turn around and give him a small broken smile. “You too.”

As the door closes behind you, Bucky can feel everything around him shake. He sits on the couch, his head in his hands. Bucky lets out a cry, gasping for breath.

His whole world had left.

[whump-in-the-closet]

The Future is Bright

cw: fucked up superhero agency, interrogation whump, beat down, hero whumper whos an A+ asshole, manhandling, creepy whumper, asphyxiation, choking, broken nose, concussion, blackmail (let me know if missed anything!)

masterlist

Teddy yanks against the restraints on his wrists and ankles. All he can manage is to shift the chair an inch. It scrapes with a horrible sound, then silence. It's been hours since that Savior agent left. His stomach growls, reminding him of the aching hours and that, his muscles wired to relax, are forced stiff. He can no longer feel his fingers.

“Goddamn it.” He’s never cursed with any real weight, but now, the words slip out like they mean something.

I have to get out of here. I have to get out of this fucking mess--

Then, truly, the most gorgeous human he's ever seen walks in.

Teddy's mouth drops, just a little.

The man who steps in looks like he walked out of a Renaissance painting—something Michelangelo or Botticelli might’ve agonized over for weeks. Dark curls are cut, crisp, just below his shoulder and fall over his eyes-- so dark, he can barely see the pupils. White linen enhances, rather than obscures, his lean, poised build. He smiles, all white teeth.

A Savior Hero.

You can just tell.

It's in the way they carry themselves. The way they're vaguely not human.

Teddy closes his mouth, aware of the blood in his own hair and the state he's in. The realization hits him like it's a bucket of cold water dumped over his head.

And, god, the man's voice is almost kind. "So you're the one giving us trouble."

Oh. Not good.

"N-no. Not trying to." It takes all of Teddy's self-control to try and bite back his anxious need to apologize. But his brother isn't there to remind him he doesn't need to, so it slips out on instinct. "I'm sorry. I just want to go home."

The man nods, sympathetic. And for a second, Teddy has hope.

Then, "Well, that can't happen."

The hope dies a violent death. Teddy’s throat tightens, and he hates himself for the way his vision blurs. "...We didn't do anything wrong."

"Mr. Wade. Can I call you Teddy?"

Teddy nods miserably. Sure, whatever, we're on a first-name basis now.

"My name's Scott." He sighs and leans on the table, the movement lethargic. "I've heard some pretty disappointing things about you from my partner, Teddy. But I'm not here to ask 'why'."

Teddy winces. His head is spinning so badly, he can't think straight. Each strain blurs at the edges, vanishing before he can pin it down. Slowly, he manages, "So...why are you here?"

Scott smiles again and straightens. "I'm not here to ask why you won't cooperate, I'm here to make you cooperate. And then, I'll cut you a deal at the end." He walks to stand behind Teddy. "I don't make idle promises, Teddy." His voice is treacherous, soft, condescending.

Teddy's breath is quick and fast and trapped in his throat. He wrenches his head back to look up at Scott. "What? I'm sorry, I don't know where your-- fugitive is! I don't know what you want from me! Please, please, let me go!"

The man places a structured hand on Teddy's shoulder, as cold as if it were carved from marble. “Relax,” Scott soothes. “Savior unlocks power, Teddy. For me? Strength. The kind only Herakles could dream of.” His fingers slide up, curling around the back of Teddy’s neck. "Here, let me show you."

I'd rather you didn't.

"Please, sir, no need!"

Too late.

Scott slams Teddy's face into the table.

There's a horrible snap, a wrenching sound of cartilage giving way, then bone.

Teddy screams.

Scott twists his hand into the boy's hair and yanks his head back. Blood spurts from Teddy's nose, soaking the table red, red, red.

Slick copper somehow gets inside Teddy's mouth and he's gagging, gagging, choking on his blood.

Scott pulls the chair back and steps in front of it.

Through teary vision, Teddy can make out the man's silhouette. He's frantic, panicking-- no, no, no-- the man draws his open hand back.

The next blow is across his face, then again, from the other direction.

Teddy's ears are ringing. His thoughts splinter, shattering into static.

Scott grips Teddy’s jaw, tilting his head up, forcing him to look at him. His touch is deceptively gentle, a mockery of anything kind, ever.

“You see,” Scott murmurs, as if explaining something to a particularly slow student, “We're stuck with you and your brother, and now we're going to make the best of it."

Teddy’s whole body shakes. His ears are still ringing from the blows, and blood pools in the back of his throat. He coughs, trying to clear it, but it only makes him choke harder.

Scott clicks his tongue. “Oh, don't you dare throw up on me, lad.”

Teddy barely registers it before Scott grabs him by the hair again--holding him steady-- and drives his knee into his gut.

White-hot, throbbing pain bursts through his ribs. His breath spikes out in a strangled, soundless wheeze, and for a moment, his whole world is just that—searing, suffocating, unbearable.

Scott waits, letting him writhe. Patient.

Teddy barely has the strength to move. The chair rocks slightly, but the restraints keep him bound, helpless. His body screams for air, but his lungs remain deflated, useless.

“Breathe,” Scott instructs, voice light. “Come on, lad, don’t pass out on me.”

Teddy gasps, ragged and shallow. The air burns his throat with the intensity of a knife driven through his trachea.

“Listen up,” Scott crouches, leveling their gazes. “Here's my deal. Take it seriously.” His breath smells of mint and pine.

Teddy shakes his head, barely able to hold it up. “I don’t—” He coughs, blood dripping down his chin, coppery and wet. “I don’t know what you want—”

The man drags a thumb over Teddy’s cheek, smearing the blood. “Not the brightest, huh?”

Then, without warning, his fingers tighten around Teddy’s throat.

Panic flares, instinct kicking in. Teddy jerks against the restraints, struggling uselessly. His vision starts to blur at the edges, darkening, he couldn't breathe, couldn't--

Scott watches him with casual curiosity, head tilting. Then, just as suddenly, he releases his grip.

"Got distracted there, lad, sorry. You have a very delicate throat-- I just wanted to see if I could-- ah, never mind." He stands up and shoves Teddy's chair towards the table. "So, right, your decision."

Teddy collapses forward, wheezing, gasping, barely able to hold himself upright.

The man places a sheet of paper before him, along with a pen. "Sign here." He taps softly at the bottom line with a careful finger. "You can join Savior, become a real hero with your brother."

Teddy is already shaking his head.

"Or we can go for round two."

For the second time in an hour, Teddy curses and means it. "Fuck...you. I'm not...signing that. You can't make me--"

Scott shrugs, unsurprised. "Round two it is."

taglist: @rainydaywhump @chaotic-orphan @whump-in-the-night @violets-whumperflies @whump-till-ya-jump @paperprinxe @b0amagination (let me know if you want to be added/removed!)

[ash-unhinged444]

Bake with me?!:Valentine’s Day

It was the day after you baked cookies with your big bro, your hair still smelled of the peppermint shampoo he got for you. It was Valentine’s Day at school and again like every year you didn’t get a single valentine, when you walked into your home your big brother greeted you.

“Hey little dude! How was school? Happy Valentine’s Day, Come here!” He pulled you into a hug smiling wide, and as his big and strong arms wrapped around your body, your face resting in his neck as you tensed up while a couple tears rolled down your cheeks and you whimpered into his t shirt “n-happy v-valentines day”.

He broke off the hug and he leaned down a bit as he looked into your eyes

“Woah hey hey, what’s wrong buddy? What’s got you so upset? Did something happen at school? Were those kids mean to you again?” he shot up straight and clenched his teeth “I swear if they lay a hand on you again- they’re not going to like what the-“ you hugged him tightly again shoving your face into his soft t shirt, he smelled of his cologne and that scent always brought you comfort. He wrapped his arms around you again and you say “no one h-hurt me.. n-no valentines..” he kisses the top of your head and lets out a sigh “ugh.. I’m sorry little dude.. that doesn’t make any sense, you’re so cute and sweet and kind.. whoever doesn’t give you a valentine doesn’t deserve your time. How about big bro treats you tonight? Hm?? We can have your favorite snacks, and I’ll make us a treat and we can watch a couple movies hm? How’s that sound?” He asked as he held your head close and played with your hair lightly.

You nodded as he played with your hair and then he breaks off the hug and kneels down to meet your eyes, he wiped your tears and sweetly said “how about you go change into some comfy pjs and I’ll get our nest set up and make us a treat and our snacks mm? Sound good?” You nodded again and went to your room to change into a soft cropped t shirt and a pair of soft black sweatpants. As you came back to the living room the couch was set up with your favorite blankets, a couple plushies, and the coffee table had all your favorite snacks, some candy, a bowl of pretzels, and 2 pb&j sandwiches without the crust cut into triangles. You sat on the couch and got comfy and tangled in the blankets, put on a movie as you waited for your big bro to come sit by you.

Your big bro was in the kitchen making chocolate covered strawberries, it’s Valentine’s Day of course, and they were your favorite treat, he made your strawberries them extra special this year; first, he soaked them in plain vodka overnight, then he hollowed them out and put some melted chocolate inside of them, then he dipped the tops of them in crushed graham crackers. After an hour he brings two plates and 2 bottles of water to the couch and sets them down on the coffee table along with the other snacks.

“Alright buddy, I have our treats here hm? Ohh you look so comfy cozy.. what movie did you pick?” He asked as he wrapped his arm around your back feeling your warm soft skin peaking out of your crop top and pulled you close.

“Mm. It’s uhm- a new one it looked uhm nice” you say as your head rest on his shoulder, the smell of his cologne filling your nose, you inhaled and exhaled slowly as you began to relax.

“Mm here, have a berry, I made them special for you little dude just how you like them.” He took a strawberry and held it up to your lips, and you took it in your mouth mindlessly as you watched the tv screen.

Your big brother rubbed his big hand up and down your back slowly, as you ate the berry you loved the taste of the chocolate and graham cracker but something tasted off, maybe it was just a less ripened batch this year..

He rubbed your back as you both watched the movie, grabbing a couple pretzels and ate them, then he grabbed his pb&j and he took a couple bites then asked “mm another strawberry bub?” As he held it up, your lips still had a little chocolate on them as you opened your mouth eating the second berry.

“How do they taste? Are they yummy?” He sweetly asked while his hand trailed up your shirt rubbing your bare back lightly. The berry tasted so delicious, but something was still off about it, your throat began to sting a little and your brain got a little spacey as you kept watching the movie..

“Y-yeah they’re g-good..” you said softly before licking the chocolate off your lips, as you licked your lips your big bro lifted your chin to look at you and he softly planted a kiss on your half chocolate coated lips, it sent shivers and a bolt of electricity down your back.

“Mm.. your lips are so soft bro, and they taste so delicious..” one of his big hands kept rubbing your bare back up and down slowly, and his other hand cupped your face to hold you up as he kissed you again so softly and slowly..

“Mmh. B-“ you whimpered against his lips while he grabs another berry and softly slides it into your mouth. “Shhh., just relax and enjoy the berries.. I made them so special for you.” Your eyes widen a bit before they shut half way as you chewed the third strawberry. Your mind felt weird like time was moving slower, your eyes fluttered a bit he moved his hands from your back to your waist then massaged your thighs and hips slowly.. you tried to break the kiss and push him off but your stomach was filled with butterflies. He gently got ontop of you and straddled you, his weight pushing into you, why was he ontop of you? Why did these strawberries taste off? You felt confused and spacey as he ran his big soft hands up and down your sides, then he slowly started to push his hips into yours, the cloth of your sweatpants and his sweatpants causing friction and you let out a soft whimper, looking him up and down with your heavy eyes. What was he doing? Why was he doing this? You just wanted to watch the movie, you didn’t expect this to happen on Valentine’s Day..

“Mmm, here, have another berry little bro, you’re so calm and light underneath me aren’t you?” he slid another vodka soaked berry into your mouth and teased you while his hips kept grinding into yours. The butterflies and knots in your stomach got more intense as you moved your hands around slightly not knowing where to put them as you watched him grind into you while in a daze. He grabbed your hands and put them to rest in the dips of his hips, you held on tightly as the friction between both of your sweatpants grew.

“Aww, are you getting flustered little bro? It’s okay, you don’t have to be shy.. all brothers do it. It’s perfectly okay.. you’re doing so well.” You whimpered softly underneath him as your hands tightened around his hips, your whole body was flustered and your bottom half was getting hotter as the friction grew harder between you and your big brother.

“Mm…come here buddy..”

He got off your lap and sat beside you then he gently pulled you onto his lap, holding your hips firmly.. your eyes fluttering as your brain got more and more spacey, your throat burned a little and you licked your lips as you let out a soft whimper “b-but- mmh.. wha-“ your big brother leaned up to plant his lips on yours again, slowly kissing you over and over. He slides his warm tongue into your mouth and rubs it against yours, both of your lips getting covered in the strawberry flavored saliva. He ran his hands all over your body gripping and rubbing your hips, waist, thighs and ass, you whimpered into his lips as he made out with you, making you feel so small in his big strong arms. As he dug his fingertips into your hips grinding them back and forth into his bulge you felt his bulge grow bigger and harder, your eyes widened as you opened your mouth mid kiss to let out a soft whine. He softly said against your lips “shhhh. Big bros going to teach you something really cool okay? Just relax you can trust me” he rubbed your hips once more before cupping your ass gently and he broke the kiss off “mmm.. here why do you sit in front of me hm? I’ll help you, don’t worry.” He picked you up off his lap and set you infront of him on your knees, and when you looked up at him with your heavy glassy eyes, mouth wide open he stroked your cheek slowly before saying “you look so cute like that.. right in that spot..” he grabbed one of your hands and said “rub it through my sweats.. cmon you can trust me I’ve got you, you deserve a good Valentine’s Day bud.” You nodded as your eyes half open and mind moving so slow, you bit your lip as you squeezed and rubbed his bulge as it grew through his sweatpants. “Mmm god I never realized how good your hands felt little dude..” he said as he took his sweatpants and boxers off and tossed them aside, your heavy eyes looked him up and down and he took your hand and put it back on his bare cock “mm god your hands are so soft.. ffuck.. here c’mere..” he slides his soft fingers under your chin and guides your face closer to his hard cock, you fixated on it with your big heavy eyes.. it looked so hard and yet so soft and gentle at the same time..

“Mm.. you look so good like that… open your mouth for me.” He demanded sweetly while he rubbed your chin holding it softly. You opened your mouth half way and your big bro rubbed your bottom lip with his thumb, then slide his thumb into your mouth rubbing it against your tongue softly before he grabbed his cock and put the tip of it against your lips and tounge..

“Mmm… your lips are so soft, ffuck just..- wrap your lips around it and lick it slowly hm??”

You wrapped your saliva covered lips around big bros cock and sucked on just the tip gently and your eyes fluttered a little “ffuccck my god your mouth feels soo warm and soft.. my god…” he moaned as he put a hand in your soft hair and held onto it grabbing a handful while he rubbed your red hot cheek with his other hand. You drooled as he thrusted into your mouth lightly while your half shut eyes looked up at him, he looked so relaxed, was he enjoying this???

Time passes as you continued sucking and licking on his hard cock, he moaned and groaned louder “gaaah fuck my god little dude.. your mouth is phenomenal… I’m getting close, mm.. if I would’ve known it would’ve been this easy to have your mouth I never would’ve soaked those strawberries in alcohol.” He chuckled and stroked your hair as his hand gripped harder, and your eyes widen a bit, drool running down your soft lips and chin… all down his shaft. He grunted and slid his hand under your chin holding your head in place as he groaned louder while tensing up, and finishing down your throat. “My god dude, you did such a good job.. here come here..” he put his arms around you and lifted you into his lap pulling one of your soft blankets over you and cuddled you close. Your lips covered in saliva, cum, and hints of alcohol soaked berries. “Mmm.. you did so good little bro, I’m so proud of you, you pleased brother so well didn’t you?” You nodded slowly as you closed your eyes and nuzzled your face into his neck, his cologne filling your nose..and fell asleep peacefully.. is every Valentine’s Day going to be like this? Is everyday going to be like this? Either way, you wouldn’t have it any other way..🖤

[nessieart]

The Way Back. X

wc: 8.2k

Summary: These powers were meant to help people. Help The Avengers, your family. It felt like every time you used them, something bad always happened. Maybe someone has the answers, somewhere.

Bucky x reader || Steve x reader (eventually??)

AN: It's a long one! i didn't want to break this one up. and im sorry in advance.

Masterlist

Previously:

Bucky hesitates for another minute until he slowly climbs into the bed. You give him a reassuring look when he pulls the covers back up.

"I'll be awake for a while, so you can get some sleep, OK?" The only light on in the room is your dim side table lamp. Bucky's face is illuminated in a soft glow as he looks at you. "What?" You chuckle nervously.

His eyes bounce between yours before he scoots closer, leaning in to place a soft, lingering kiss on your cheek. He smiles at you and lies down, one arm over your legs as he brings his pillow to your lap. You run your fingers through his short, damp hair, and before you could tell him goodnight, he was limp with sleep, and light snores could be heard from his lips.

The next morning, you're awake before Bucky, which is surprising. You usually love sleeping in or longer than Peggy would like you to.

As if he can sense your eyes on him, Bucky peaks an eye open. He hums, wrapping his arms tighter around you. His voice is rough with sleep. He nuzzles into your hair, inhaling deeply.

"James, I have to be in soon," you speak against his skin, but you make no move to leave his arms or the bed.

"Just a few more minutes," he sighs.

**

You're dressed in record time, just as Peggy knocks on your door.

"Darling," she calls through the door, "are you both decent?"

"Yeah, Peg! Be out in just a minute!" You squeal as Bucky wraps his arms around you and drags you back onto the bed on his lap. "Bucky!" You laugh.

He hums again, "Thank you. For last night. I don't think I've ever slept so good." You twist in his arms, pecking him on the lips and drape your arms over his shoulders.

"Anytime, Sarge. You're safe with me. Remember that." Your fingers drag along the hair at the nape of his neck. Bucky lets out a satisfied sigh. He kisses you then, hands gripping a little tighter to keep you on his lap. He tilts his head to deepen the kiss, and your fingers scrap against the back of his neck. He moans softly, and you swallow it, licking into his mouth.

There's another knock at the door, impatient and fast, "Charlotte!"

You pull away from Bucky. He whines when he can't follow your lips. You're both panting, and you smile at him. As you extract yourself from his arms, you peck him on the cheek, "See you later, Sarge."

**

You and Peggy arrive early - despite your…slow start to the morning. You brought a thermos of coffee for you and Howard. You could almost hear his joyous thanks in your head. Peggy walks beside you as you try to find Steve.

When you round a corner, you see Spinner at a desk, glasses low on his nose as he takes notes from an open book.

"Rupert," you greet. He looks up, wide-eyed at you and Peggy. He pushes his glasses up his nose and swallows hard.

"M-morning, Ms. Charlotte, Agent Carter."

"We're looking for Captain Rogers, Agent Spinner. Have you seen him?" Peggy asks. He nods frantically, finger pointing through the makeshift library.

"He's so skittish, isn't he?" Peggy whispers as the two of you continue on. You laugh. Oh, if she only knew.

After the next set of bookshelves, you see Steve. But he's not alone. And Peggy goes rigid beside you. You could feel her silent anger but also her pain. You're not sure why it bothers you so much, seeing Steve kiss some random girl. It's not like you're with him or anything.

Maybe because you've known him for so long, he never seemed interested in anyone. Not the girls from SHIELD or the barista down the street. Or the ones Natasha tried to set him up with. There's a twinge of jealousy that runs through your veins seeing him like this. Future him being in love with you doesn't make much sense now, with his tongue down some random SSR woman's throat makes you want to throw up.

It hurts.

"I think we found him," you say flatly, just loud enough for the couple to hear you.

Steve all but shoves the woman away. She's a little dazed, but she notices you and Peggy, "I'm sure there's something else for you to be doing, Agent?" Maybe it comes out more harshly than you meant, but no one says anything.

The blonde ducks her head, and she scurries away.

You're starring daggers at Steve. He gulps, face bright red as she looks at Peggy.

"Captain. We're ready for you…if you're not otherwise occupied." Peggy turns abruptly and stalks away. her high heels click loudly as she leaves.

"Agent Carter, wait!" Steve goes to move after her, but you step in his way. "Charlie," he warns deep and low.

"Steven Grant Rogers, you ass," you grit out, you stop his advance with a hand to his chest. He tries to move you. He should be able to throw you across the room easily, but you don't budge. Your face burns the longer he looks down at you.

He places his hand over yours on his chest. Something only Bucky has ever done, his thumb strokes over your knuckles.

"Charlie, please," he pleads softly. You look away from him and pull your hand away. Steve catches up with Peggy quickly, and you follow behind, dragging your feet.

You can hear them as you follow, hand shoved into a pocket, your other squeezing the thermos a little too tight. Seeing Steve kiss someone else shouldn't make you feel the way you do. There's a tightness in your chest, a twinge of anger under the surface. There's a scowl on your face as you all near the end of the hall, big metal doors stand between you and the lab.

"You wanted to be a soldier. Now you are one. Just like all the rest."

Steve's face becomes flustered. He takes Peggy's hand, but she yanks it away. "Well, what about you and Stark? How do I know that you two haven't been…fondueing the whole time? You're staying in his penthouse, ain't ya?" You can tell he regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth, but he kept going.

"Steven!"

"You still don't understand a bloody thing about women," Peggy turns on her hell and storms back down the corridor.

Steve's shoulders slump, the door opens, and you push past Steve. Howard wraps his arm around your shoulders, "Fondue's just cheese and bread, my friend," Howard steers you further into the lab. "And it sounds like she thinks you've got more going for you than that." Howard releases your shoulders as you pass a motorcycle. You kneel down and pull your toolbox closer.

You work on auto pilot as you listen to Howard and Steve. Howard explains some of the things he's been busy working on.

Gear, weapons, clothes. You peak over the motorcycle to see what they're talking about. The table is filled with shield prototypes. Steve's old shield sits battered and riddled with bullet holes. He runs his hand over it.

Howard continues on, or he tries to explain the intricacies of the shields he's been working on.

"What about this one?" Steve bends to grab something, ignoring Howard completely.

"Uh, well. that's just a pro-"

"What's it made out of?"

"Vibranium," you speak up. "It's stronger than steel and a third of the weight." Steve whirls the shield around. Your chest feels tight again. You haven't seen him hold that in a very long time.

Your tools clang back in the toolbox, the noise echoing in the room. Some people stop and stare at you.

"I'll be back," you mutter as you pass Howard.

"Charlie?"

"It's fine, Howie," you dodge him and head out of the bunker. You just need some air. Everything was closing in, too hot, too fast. Before you could reach the stairs, you stop when someone calls out to you.

"Stark!" Phillips says. You can hear his smirk. "My office." He leads little room for opposition, and you heave a heavy sigh. Hand gripping the railing a little too tight. You groan and follow him.

He closes the door behind you, Spinner is already seated when you enter. He gives you a small wave. Phillips sits at his desk. The two of them wait for you to sit, but you hover by the door.

Frustration and anxiety thrum in your veins, not being able to take the walk you needed to clear your head. Your chest heats up as you feel your powers surge. Your hands alight in a blue flame, and you let out an aggravated scream, throwing your arm back and punching the concrete wall next to you.

Your chest heaves, powers subsiding. The room is heavy with baited breath, silent and thick with tension. The concrete cracks outward from the impact of your fist. Small chunks crumble to the floor as you retract your hand back. There's a fist sized indent in the wall.

You inhale a deep, calming breath, shoulders relaxing. You crack the knuckles on your hand, roll your wrist around, and take a seat next to Spinner. The two men don't move, their eyes wide and unsure.

You cross your leg over the other, "You wanted to see me, sir?" You ask casually, as if nothing happened.

Phillips clears his throat, straightening a little more in his chair. He doesn't make eye contact with you as he shuffles through papers on his desk. Maybe just to keep his hands busy.

You glance at Spinner. He sits ridged in his chair, a sheen of sweat on his brow. Did neither men know you could do that? It brings a smug smile to your face at the thought. Maybe you had more say in this whole mess than you thought.

"I burned them," Rupert mutters out quietly. When you raise an eyebrow at him, he continues, "The negatives as well." He can't meet your eye either. You give him a nod of understanding when he quickly glances up in your direction.

Phillips grunts, opening a file and sliding it towards you. You grab it and bring it closer.

There's instructions on the things you'll need for your mission, weapons, and gear - just in case. The information they hope to extract from the bases they are sending you to.

"Earliest convenience," Phillips grunts out. You smirk at him. He heaves a heavy sigh and rolls his eyes. "alright, dismissed," he waves his hand in the air as you rise from your chair. "And no more punching walls, Agent. Especially not in my office," you laugh as you go to leave.

"No promises, Colonel," you call over your shoulder.

**

Over the course of the next few months, the war continues. Captain America and his Howling Commandos have taken out Hydra base after base.

In the background, you've been going ahead of them and infiltrating the bases for secret files. Any secret that Schmidt thinks he can hide, you've been uncovering and bringing back to the SSR.

Sometimes, after finishing your mission, you'd wait in the shadows just to make sure Steve and Bucky would be alright. And every time you thought to interfere, they would pull through. Bucky was an incredible sniper. You had no doubts they would all be ok.

But still, you always hung back and watched. Just in case.

Christmas and New Years came and went. Celebrating with your found family and friends. You bought Howard a new camera. He couldn't seem to put it down - much to everyone's discomfort.

You and Bucky had become closer, much to Howard's discomfort. He always seemed to grumble about how the two of you were always attached at the hop. Which, to be fair, you were.

A few of the Howlies were loading up a truck, getting ready to move out to the next base location. You had gathered more intel about hidden bunkers and testing facilities on your last mission.

You stand off to the side, eyeing the motorcycle you've spent the last month fine-tuning. "Don't go blowing up my hard work, got it, Cap?" You cross your arms as he peers up at you. An amused smile on his lips. "I mean it!" You all but whine.

Steve laughs and stands tall, hands going to his belt. His default Captain America pose, you tell yourself. His shield is strapped to his back, scorch and bullet marks chip the paint away, but the Vibranium underneath is unharmed.

"Alright, alright," he raises his hands, still chuckling when you give him a look. There's a flash and click of a camera to your right, and you whirl around to Howard.

"Howie! What'd I say about pictures!" You try and scramble after him, but an arm catches you around the waist. The familiar gruff of Bucky's laugh reaches your ears. "James, you let me go before I throttle you!" That just makes him laugh more.

Steve leans back on his bike, arms crossing over his chest. There's a fond smile on his face as you and Bucky bicker back and forth, Howard laughs and still takes pictures.

Peggy sidles up next to Steve, the same fond smile on her face. "They're very good together, don't you think?" She asks softly.

Steve hums, "I'm just glad Charlie brought Bucky back to himself. After what happened…" he trails off, eyes skating down to Peggy, who nods, and then back up to you in Bucky's arms. There's bright smiles tugged on both your faces. Eyes crinkling at the corners. He can see how much Bucky cares for you in that look.

There's a pang that runs through him, but he's so used to it now that he just buries it further down. Deep within himself so no one else can see it.

Peggy stands just close enough to him that her elbow almost touches him. He can feel the heat of her body, smell her sweet perfume. The lingering scent of hotel soap on her skin. If he really concentrates, he can hear her heartbeat. The inhale and exhale of her breathing.

But then he can also hear Bucky, his soft murmuring into your skin, the breathy giggle you let out when he kisses right below your ear.

Steve clears his throat, shifting his stance as he looks away from both of you.

There's another click of the camera, a moment caught in time; forever.

Bucky and you smiling at each other, your hand on his chest, his hand over yours. It looks like you're trying to push him away, but his other arm is wrapped around your waist. Steve and Peggy behind you. She's looking at Steve with a soft expression, and Steve's looking at you.

**

The year goes by fast, and the constant moving of Captain America and the Howling Commandos around Europe leaves you stuck in London with Howard, Peggy, and the rest of the SSR. You get restless while you wait for word from the front, waiting on bated breath for letters from Bucky.

It wouldn't be a problem if they knew about your powers. You could just portal to them, and the anxiety would be over.

The only times you got glimpses of Steve or Bucky is when you wait, hidden in the shadows after one of your reckon missions.

"Will you relax, kid?" Howard says next to you. You grumble under your breath. "They'll be fine. We made all their gear and equipment, right?" He nudges your shoulder with his, pulling a smile from you.

"I know. It's been almost four months since they've been back. I miss them," you whine a little. Howard shifts, resting his hip on the table. He leans on one hand to brace himself up.

"Y'know, I hired that film crew for more than historical documentation," his eyebrows raise when you give him a look. Your lips twitch up, and Howard's smile matches yours. "I know you love him, Y/N," he says quietly. "You should tell him when he comes back."

Howard takes your hand in his and squeezing, "It's complicated, Howie. It's not -"

"-Not that simple," he continues, "yeah, I've heard that before."

You laugh, "Well, at least it's a slow day," you sigh.

"Stark!" Phillips yells from down the hall.

Howard and you groan, "You just had to say it, didn't'cha?"

**

2018, Somewhere in Space

Tony finishes his recording for Pepper. Just in case one day, the ship makes it back to Earth. Someone in the vast, now half empty universe is bound to pick up the distress call. Somehow. He sighs heavily. It hurts to breathe too deep, think too loud. Think about the people he's lost on Titan. Tony's trying desperately not to think about the people he cares about on Earth, hoping they're all ok.

"Come on, old man, you need to rest," Nebula grunts. She tries to haul Tony up, but he just waves her off with a lift of his fingers. That's all he can muster now.

Tony's too tired - hunger left him a few days ago - too thirsty to function. Maybe he can just rest his eyes for a minute. It takes too much energy to keep them open.

Just for a minute.

He's really fine. Don't worry about it.

Totally… a-ok.

It's fine.

There's a bright, warm light that reaches Tony's closed lids. It's familiar. Almost like the sun. His eyes blink open, squinting at the brightness. It's blinding and beautiful.

Through the spaces between his fingers, he sees it, a gasp leaves his dried and cracked lips.

"…Y/N?…"

**

Tony is surprised to see Steve, something like relief flooding through his veins, he sags as Steve holds him up. His breathing is shallow but heavy. Being back on Earth and actually breathing oxygen and not sparingly through filters makes his head dizzy.

Steve held out hope to see you come down the gangway of the spaceship behind Tony and Rocket's blue friend. He keeps looking over his shoulder as he helps keep Tony upright.

But, if you were in there, you would have portalled everyone back to Earth. Unless you were seriously injured. Or…

No, he won't think like that. Not until he hears otherwise.

"Hang on," Tony heaves out, "Wait. I-I lost the kid. I-"

"Tony, we lost," Steve's brows furrow. Lost everything, the fight, their friends. Bucky.

Tony can't hold back the tears now. His breathing is hoarse as he tries to keep in a sob. "She's gone -" he chokes out, "She- Y/N sacrificed herself - and for what? I couldn't - She -" Pepper runs up then. The tears break and stream down his face, and he and Pepper embrace. "She's gone," Tony keeps repeating.

Steve thinks he's not breathing. Maybe he hasn't been since Thanos 3 weeks ago. Maybe he died, and this is his nightmare, his Hell. Cursed to be in a world without you in it.

**

1944, 13 days before Christmas Eve.

It seems you'll never get that damn motorcycle back from Steve, so you've been tinkering with a new one. Using the last of the Tesseract infused bullets Howard had locked away. No one was here this late anyway.

You can feel the pulse of the tiny core in your pocket, the thin glass jar does little to protect it from you.

The bike is suspended above you. You're on a floor roller, the engine open, and parts scattered around you. You're sure it'll work just fine. Fore you, anyway. The tiny blue bead drops into your hand, and it pulses along with the beat of your heart. Carefully, you place it in the chamber in the engine you made. It whirs silently, then hums low. you pull your away slowly, waiting on bated breath for something to happen.

When all seems ok, you put the engine back together. All the parts going back where they started. The fuel tank is empty , you point a finger inside, powers surging through your hand and out your finger and into the tank.

You squint through the tinted goggles on your face, careful not to put too much force behind your powers. Just enough to jump-start the motorbike. You stop after a moment, exhaling a deep breath as your powers subside. You place the cap back on the fuel tank. The bike hums softly.

When you place your hand on the throttle, you ease it slowly. Twisting ever-so-slightly. It turns, the engine humming to life. It doesn't sound like a normal motorcycle, but that's what you were aiming for. Probably.

You let out a triumphant laugh. You did it. Everything seems stable. Small puffs of blue mist come from the exhaust. Residual energy from your powers, you assume.

Howard finds you like that in the morning, elbow deep in another project. You're humming a song you forgot the name of long ago, your foot taps absentmindedly out the beat.

"Nope," you pop the P. "Can't. They'll be back soon."

"Have you even gone to bed?" Howard leans his back next to you. Hands stuffed into his pant pockets.

"Y/N," he chides quietly. "You should get some sleep."

"You're one to talk," you grumble. "Ow!" You nick your finger on something sharp you can't see.

"Here," Howard takes your hand and examines it, his calloused fingers rubbing over your palm, straightening out your fingers. "Eh, doesn't look too bad, kid." He squeezes your hand between his. "Please get some rest. For me," he pleads. He gives you his best puppy eyes. Eyebrows puckered in the middle, there's a pout to his lips.

Your eyes drift to the cough in the far corner. There's a warm wool blanket draped over the back. You feel your shoulders sag just looking at it.

You're roused from sleep slowly, a dip in the sofa by your hip, a soft brush of fingers over your hair. A rumble of a voice calling to you.

"I'll wake you in a few house. Tops," Howard says. You him in annoyance and drag your feet over to the couch and plop down. "That's my girl," he calls from across the room. You just lift your hand in the air in response.

"Charlotte," it rumbles again, the hand runs down your back, rubbing soothing circles. You stir slightly, a grumble leaving your lips.

"5 minutes," you sigh.

"Charlie, get your ass off my couch!" Howard yells. You grunt in response. There's a familiar laugh next to you. Your heart skips a beat, leaping up into your throat.

You twist on the couch, the blanket wrapped around your legs as you try to sit up. You grin wide as your eyes land on Bucky.

"You're back!" You throw yourself at him, arms going around his neck as his wrap around you. "I missed you so mcuh, James," you mumble into his neck. It feels like you can breathe again for the first time in a while.

Bucky squeezes you tighter, "Hi, sweetheart," he says softly, his lips ghosting over your cheek.

"I thought you weren't getting in until tomorrow?" You don't want to let him go, you want to latch on to him and never let go. Your eyes shoot open, and you pull away from Bucky, eyes critical as they sweep over his features.

"How long was I asleep? Is it tomorrow?" Your head whips to look at Howard. He's smirking. "Howie!"

"You needed the sleep," he shrugs. You scrub a hand down your ace.

"I need coffee," you go to get off the couch, but Bucky pulls you into another hug. You laugh and pull away just enough to put your hands on his face. He smiles down at you, and you peck quick kisses on the spots you can reach. Bucky laughs in return, eyes squeezing shut when your lips pass over his lids.

"Are we goin' out tonight?" You ask, just loud enough for Howard to hear too.

"Anything you want, sweetheart," Bucky grins.

Howard groans, "As long as you're outta my lab. You two make me wanna stuff cotton in my ears. We'll go out, sure, but I need help with a few things first." You agree, telling Bucky you'll see him later, he leaves with a kiss to your forehead, and Howard rolls his eyes.

**

"I'm going back to the hotel to clean up. You should do the same," you call out as you leave the lab.

You stepped out of the shower feeling rejuvenated. Sleeping on a stuff couch for a few hours and working nonstop for almost a full day wore you out more than you cared to admit. You push the door open to the common room, expecting to see Bucky waiting, but that's not Bucky.

"Yeah, yeah," Howard's muffled voice responds.

"St-Steve?" Your face heats up the longer you two stare at each other. You see him visibly gulp, you pull your bathrobe tighter around your body.

"Ch-Charlie…" Red creeps up his chest and neck, taking over his face and ears.

You're standing in the middle of the room in nothing but a small bathrobe, water dripping off your hair, and your skin is still flushed from the hot shower. You might be getting lightheaded.

"where….?"

"The front desk," Steve says louder than he means to, he turns on his heel to face away from you. Back rigid and hands clenched tight at his sides. You nod, thought he can't see you.

"It's good to see you, Charlie," he says quieter. He turns his head slightly, eyes barely peaking back at you over his shoulder.

Your heart rate kicks up a beat, and you clutch the bathrobe tighter, making sure it's tied around your waist. The room is quiet. You know he can hear your heart from across the room. You shift on your feet, face heating up again. Steve's head tilts more so he can see you better out the corner of his eye.

"I-" the suite door rattles, and you squeak, shuffling back into your room. The door closes just as the main suite door opens. You can hear Bucky greet Steve and vise versa.

You heave a sigh, willing your heart to calm. You quickly dress, towel drying most of your hair, you'll deal with it later, and just braid it to the side. You emerge from your room 10 minutes later, Bucky and Steve sit on the couch together. Each on opposite ends, leaving the space between them open.

Steve has a full glass of dark liquor in his hand, Bucky's is nearly empty.

"Boys," you greet them. This time you wear a pinstripe suit. Black turtleneck and high heels. The pants are waste high, and the legs are wide. The belt around your waist is blue to match the gem in your bracelet and the one in your chest. You toss the pinstripe jacket over your shoulder, cocking your hip out as their eyes drift to you.

Bucky whistles low, "Damn, sweetheart," he gulps down the rest of his drink and pats the seat in the middle of the couch. "You always know how to out dress everyone." He crosses his leg over the other, ankle resting casually on his knee. He drapes an arm over the back of the couch as he eyes you.

Steve sits with his legs spread wide, an arm draped over the back of the couch, too. His fingers almost graze against Bucky's. His stare is heated, a smirk pulls at one side of his face, and he brings his glass to his lips. "Good to see you, Charlie," he greets you again.

You swallow and make your way over to the couch, "Hi, Steve," you toss your jacket onto the love seat before you go to sit.

Bucky jumps up before you can sit, claiming he has to get you a drink. You shake your head at him as he crosses the room to the car cart. You can feel the heat of Steve's body at your back as he silently stands behind you. He leans in close, a hand on your waist and his other holding his drink in front of you.

"Charlie can have mine, Buck," he rumbles. His voice vibrates through you with how close his chest is to your back. "Here," he says in your ear. Your fingers shake as you go to take the glass from him, his fingers skim down your arm as you grip the cool glass in your hand.

"Aren't ya thirsty, sweetheart?" Bucky asks. He's suddenly in front of you. The heat of the two of them around you is overwhelming. Steve's fingers on your hip grip you tighter as Bucky tips your glass to your lips.

You keep eye contact with him as you gulp a mouthful of whiskey down. Somehow, the burn of the liquor isn't nearly as bad as the two of them surrounding you make you feel.

"Better?" he asks. You nod slowly. The air is thick between you, your head a little fuzzy with Bucky and Steve so close. Bucky tips the glass to your lips again, and you take a slow pull this time.

When you swallow, you feel Steve's lips close to your ear. "Words, doll," he says. Bucky's eyes flick to his then back to you, "Finish her drink, Buck." Bucky does without hesitation, gulping down the last few mouthfuls of whiskey as if it were water.

"Yes," you whisper out. Steve's hand wipes the whiskey drops from Bucky's lip, then dip in his mouth. Bucky's tongue laps at Steve's thumb. And you think out might pass out. You whimper without meaning for the sound to leave your throat. Both men chuckle.

"Think she forgot we're such good friends, Stevie?"

"Steve?" "Stevie?"

Steve shakes his head, eyes refocusing in the room. "What?" You were standing near the far end of the couch with Bucky. You both give him a concerned look.

Steve clears his throat. He feels his face heat up, "Sorry, must have zoned out. What were you sayin'?"

"Said we're ready to go, punk. C'mon," Bucky throws an arm around your shoulders and starts to steer you towards the exit.

Steve lets out a big shuddering breath, still trying to get the image of you between him and Bucky out of his mind before he stands and catches up with you both.

**

"Ms. Charlotte?" You hear Rupert call from the lab entrance. "Are you in here?"

"Be right there, Rupert," you call. You finish your thoughts in your journal and stash it away in Howard's desk drawer. You grab your gear before you leave, "Ok, Rue, lead the way."

To say you were a little excited to finally be going on a mission with your friends was an understatement. You were over the moon.

You see Howard standing near where people are packing up one of the convoy trucks. He's waving his arms about, yelling about what crate goes where.

"Howie," you chide, he stops his arm waving to wrap one around your shoulder.s "Leave them be. They know what they're doing." Howard grunts but relents and steers you towards Steve, Bucky, and the Howlies.

"I don't know how I feel about you actually going through with this. Skulking around in the shadows is one thing. But this…" Howard mumbles to you.

"Everything's gonna be fine, Howie. They're finally gonna see what I can do." You smile at him, and he tries to return it. He knows how much this means to you. But it doesn't mean he has to like it.

"I like the suit you made for me," you tack on, Howard gives you a smirk and chuckles.

"Ok, kid, you're welcome."

"Here, wait," you tug him to a stop and take his camera from him. You hold the camera high in the air, wrap your arm around Howard's waist.

"What are you doin'?" he huffs. He tries to take it back from you, and as he's distracted, you kiss his cheek, snapping the photo as he protests. You laugh and hand it back to him.

Before you leave, you make sure to give Howard a hug, the smile never leaving your face. "Love you, Howie. I'll be back before you know it!"

Howard hums, his arms squeeze you a little tighter, "Yeah, yeah. You better go before they leave without you. And then I'd never hear the end of it," he smirks.

As he watches you board the back of the convoy truck, he raises his hand as you wave before the canvas closes and blocks you from view.

"Love you too, kid."

**

You were 5 miles from the next Hydra base, or so the map and intel had given you.

"We'll split in 2 groups," Steve started, running his fingers over the map. "Group A heads north of the complex, set the charges and fall back. Radio in when you're far enough away. Meet at the rendezvous here," he passes his fingers over another spot on the map and taps it.

"Group B, you're with me. We set charges on the south side, get in, and grab the things we need. Take out any hostile force we see.

"We'll have sniper cover as long as Buck can see us." Steve nods to Bucky, who nods in return.

"We've done this plenty of times before. A quick in, out, destroy. Let's show these Nazi bastard's what we're made of."

There's thunderous cheers as the Howlies break the huddle. They disperse and gather their equipment.

"Charlie, you sta -" Steve starts.

"Cap, if you tell me to stay here, I'll shoot you in the foot. I'm going with you."

Steve purses his lips, hands on his hips. He shakes his head, trying to disagree with you.

"You're not gonna win that one, pal," Bucky speaks up. You flash him a grin, and Steve sighs.

"You'd think you'd know me by now, Tough Guy," you playfully punch his arm.

**

You're about to split into your groups, just as dusk falls. Bucky gets up on a rock, taking the vantage point he needs to see the complex from. His rifle is already set up.

"Starkling, we're headed out," Dugan calls to you.

"Comin'!" You turn to Bucky. He looks up at you from his seated position. You step into Bucky's space, standing between his legs.

"Somethin' I can help you with, sweetheart?" Bucky smirks up at you, a hand skating up your leg to rest on your hip.

You run your fingers over his cheek, "I love you, James." It flows easily from your lips. You're not sure why you waited so long to say it. But now that you have, you don't want to stop. "I love you," you smile at him. You can feel the heat rise to his face under your hand.

Bucky's lips part, eyebrows pucker in the middle, and his eyes gloss over with tears. He's up in a flash, lifting you up as he rises to his feet. A laugh bubbles up from your chest. He kisses you then, sweetly. He's grinning wide against your lips.

"Charlotte Stark, I love you." He says against your lips. The smile on your face falters slightly. You're happy he said it, but a small part of you wishes he said your real name instead.

You take your bracelet off and place it in his hand, "Here, keep it." You peck him on the lips as you go to pull away. He stops you, pulling your hand back onto his chest.

"You mean the world to me, sweetheart. I hope you know that."

You smile up at him, "I know, James." When he lets your hand go, you step away and go to catch up with your group down the hillside.

**

"Charges set, Cap," you tell him. He nods and leads your group to the side entrance of the complex. There are far fewer Hydra soldiers guarding this facility than the others you've all encountered.

Steve tilts his head, eyebrows low under his helmet. He holds a hand up to tell your group to stop. Something doesn't feel right.

"Head back to the rendezvous point," Steve says low enough for everyone to hear. They nod and slink away. "You too, Charlie."

"Not gonna happen, Cap. Can't leave my partner alone on this one," You tap his shield, and he huffs but nods at you.

After silently making your way through the compound, you and Steve come upon a room filled with heavy weapons; machine guns, body armor, and grenade launchers. Some form of hand help canons.

"We found it," Steve breaths, a smile tugging his lips. He looks at you.

"Something doesn't feel right," you glance around. It's too quiet. "Where are all the guards?"

"We get what we came for and blow it all to hell. Let's go," Steve draws out his shield, securing it tightly on his arm as he leads you through a long corridor with a few closed doors.

"Check the rooms on the left, meet back here in 5," Steve waves a hand, and you both split up.

You find what you're looking for in the second room. Filing cabinets filled with the heavy weapons schematics Phillips and Spinner wanted. Right where Spinner said they would be.

Your fingers graze the files, and stop. You get that feeling again, a tug in your chest. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end.

As you enter the hallway, Steve is also standing there. He looks back at you with his typical Captain America look. Mouth in a grim line as he makes eye contact with you.

The lights go out.

"Cap…" you hedge closer, the urge to use your powers flare up your spine. You swallow it down.

"Let's go," he commands. All thought of getting any more intel from this facility goes out the window as you two jog towards the exit.

As you enter the main room with the weapons, a single light turns on overhead.

"Not so fast, Captain," the man says. He holds up one of the weapons from a crate. It's large. It looks like a rail gun attached to a backpack that glows an eerie blue.

This weapon is different from the others. Powered by the Tesseract, yes, but also something else. You can hear the weapon power up. The quiet hum and whirring echoed around the room.

The man steps forward, his face illuminated by the overhead light.

"Rupert?" Your stunned surprise makes him laugh. It crawls down your spin and sits in your stomach like a rock. You feel sick.

Steve angles his body in front of yours, shield raised high and defensive.

"What do you want?" Steve sticks his arm out in front of you to coral you backward, the both of you step backward together, inching toward the exit.

Rupert follows, his laugh echoes around the room as the rail gun in his arms starts charging.

"Oh, dear Captain…" his glasses flash in the light, and the grin on his face is anything but friendly. "It was never about you." His eyes catch yours, and your heart sinks. "Does your precious Captain know what you can do, love? Does that boyfriend of yours?" He spits. He cackles again, the rail gun in his hands whirs. He lifts it and fires a spray of bright blue bullets across the room.

Steve covers you with his body, shield up, protecting the both of you from harm. "Once it stops firing, make a run for the door," Steve says in your ear. You nod. After a few beats, the bullets finally stop, and the rail gun whirs and slowly stops.

Heavy laughter pierces the air, and you and Steve peak over the shield to see Spinner reloading.

"Run, Charlie," Steve pushes you toward the exit. He follows close behind you, shield coming in front of you to charge through the door.

Bullets rain again as you burst through the doors. They cut easily through the metal and concrete. Piercing through it like paper. You've never been more thankful for Steve's vibranium shield.

"This isn't where we're supposed to meet," you huff. "He forced us away from the others. Bucky," your eyes are wide and fearful.

"It's ok, we'll be fine. C'mon," Steve grabs your hand, and you both try to outrun the spray of bullets.

"If we make it to the rendezvous, we can blow the building. We're almost there, Charlie." The next rain of bullets stop, you tug your hand from Steve's and slump against the wall, heavy huffs of breath in the cold night air.

Steve kneels down next to you, catching his breath for a moment. When he catches your eye, you both nod and start to run again.

"There!" You point as you round the corner. You can see the Howlies at the treeline. On the other side of the iron rot fence.

You hear it before it lands, and earth shattering blast, then a bright blue light lands on the ground separating you and Steve. A giant crater from one of the canons, you assume. You're both knocked far apart, skidding and tumbling on the ground.

"Run all you want," Spinner calls from the roof, there's other men up there with him. Holding the majority of the heavy weapons. "But these bullets were made for you," he taunts again.

There's heavy bullet fire, this time aimed at Steve. He dodges and blocks the hail and runs for cover. The Hydra men keep suppressing fire on Steve and the Howlies. Keeping them away from you.

Spinner climbs down the ladder on the side of the building. He adjusts the rail gun at his side. It clinks with every step he takes.

"Why are you doing this?" You scramble backward as he advances. "Why work for Hydra?"

He laughs, the rail gun whirs to life, heating up as the Tesseract charged ammo glows menacingly. "For the future of humanity, love. And you won't be part of it. To see Hydra's rise to glory."

You glare up at him, your powers flare in your chest, "I'm from the future, you fucking asshole. News flash! You - Hydra, the Nazis - you all lose!" Your hands burst into blue flame and you jump to your feet and lunge towards Spinner.

The rail gun lets out a whine. It fires as he tries to back track away from you. A few bullets wiz past you, the heat of them leaving marks on your exposed skin.

Your fist lands and hits Spinner in his chest. He goes flying back until he hits the wall, hard, crumbling to the ground in a heap. The rail gun whines louder now as you approach. The suppressing fire from the roof slows. You can hear Steve shout for you, but you ignore him.

You're standing over Rupert now, your chest heaves with anger and frustration, your arms fully engulfed in blue flames. "You were my friend," you grit out. Tears of frustration threaten to fill your eyes and spill over. He laughs, blood pouring from a wound on his head, down his forehead. He coughs up blood as he looks up at you, glasses cracked and hanging off his face.

He holds a shaky hand up, your eyes zero in on his finger, and a pull pin dangles from it. Your wide eyes catch his for a second, blood seeping down into his eyes.

"Hail…Hydra," he rasps, his palm opens and out rolls another Tesseract fueled weapon in the form of a grenade.

Your heart plummets to your stomach, and your head whips to Steve, who's running to you with his shield raised to block the remaining gunfire. He catches your eyes.

Time seems to slow as you hold your hand up to stop him. The immediate panic on his features breaks your heart. You open a portal to stop the blast wave of the grenade. Being this close to the complex, if Spinner's grenade explodes, so will the charges your team set. And they are too close to the blase radius. They'll be caught in it, too.

The portal opens and swallows both you and Spinner. There's no end destination in your mind, just far enough away from your friends that they won't be affected.

"Charlie!" Steve shouts. One second, you're in front of him, and the next, a dark cloud engulfs you, and you're gone. Spinner is gone.

The next second, an explosion high in the sky goes off. Blinding blue and illuminating the night sky. It's terrifyingly beautiful.

There's a thud next to him. He jumps in surprise. You're lying there at his feet, scorch marks on your suit, Steve's nose scrunches at the smell. There's puffs of blue smoke coming off your body like steam.

Steve bends down to touch you but retracts his hand. Your skin is like fire. It burns his fingers to touch you.

"Charlie?" his hands hover above you, unsure of how to help.

You gasp for breath, hoarse and rough going in. You can't feel your fingers or toes. It feels fuzzy and static, and you feel weightless and heavy at the same time. It's hard to focus on Steve's face, blood, and tears cloud your vision. You try to smile at him, but you grimace in pain.

"J-just hold on, we'll get you help," Steve looks behind him, at people you can't see. Your fingers brush over his leg, and he jolts. "Charlie…"

"It's…ok…"

Steve tries to scramble towards you, your body slowly dissolving into a foggy dark mist. He's calling for you, but you're already gone. He shouts for Bucky again, his best friend so close, but not close enough. Not in time to call out to you or say he loves you again.

Your eyes flutter closed as the mist takes more of you away. When Bucky skids to a stop next to Steve, falling to his knees, he lets out a broken sound.

"Sweetheart?" Bucky's out of breath. "Charlotte?" His hand comes down to touch you, but it goes through you, your body erupting into a blue mist, and then you're gone.

**

It feels like you're floating. Slowly drifting backward. Maybe landing on the soft grass beneath your feet. Softly, smoothly falling.

There's a streak of blue across the sky. A shooting star illuminated the night sky and plummeting to earth. Hard and fast and unrelenting.

**

Howard bends over, gasping for breath as he clutches his at his chest. It hurts. God, it hurts so much. Is he having a heart attack? He can't breathe. His eyes brim with tears, and they spill over hot down his cheeks. Why is he crying? He gasps again, and the air in his lungs feels like it's burning him from the inside.

"Howard! What's wrong?" Peggy holds him by the arm, trying to get him to sit down. He shakes his head as he stares wide eyed at her.

"I- I don't know," he breathed in deep. The pain is gone, but he has a sinking feeling in his gut that it's only just beginning.

**

"Have you even made new friends in the city?" Green eyes glance sideways towards Steve, a perfect eyebrow raised in question.

Steve huffs, "Who needs friends when I got you, Nat?"

"Smart ass," she chuckles. They sit in companionable silence for a while. It's not often Steve comes out to visit Natasha at the compound. It stirs up bad memories of life before the snap.

"Oh, look," Nat points to the sky, a bright blue light streaks across the sky. It's traveling fast, too fast, he thinks, for a shooting star. A meteor burning up in the Earth's atmosphere. But it seems almost familiar.

"Think it's Carol?" he asks absentmindedly. Natasha hums.

"I talked to her a few days ago. She never mentioned coming back Earth side so soon…" Nat stands, bare feet padding through the grass. Her eyes squint, trying to focus more.

The streak looks like it's picking up speed, it turns midair, changing directions towards the compound.

Steve stands on alert, "It's coming this way," he warns. He grabs Nat by her bicep, pulling her along and far away from the falling star, plummeting towards them.

It's silent in its decent. The only noise to be heard is when it smashes into the ground. The impact of creating a giant 30-foot crater in the ground.

The bright blue light shines in the darkness. Like a small sun, Steve and Nat have to squint and block their eyes as they come closer, peering into the crater.

It hums, pulsing like a heartbeat as they approach cautiously. The light dims as they near.

"What the hell," Nat breaths out. In the center of the crater lies a person. Huddles in a tight ball, arms wrapped around legs. The figure is floating, suspended in the air a few meters above the ground. Hair billowing out in wisps.

It uncurls its body slowly, Steve steps in front of Natasha, arm blocking her advance. Slowly unfolding limbs stretch out, toes flex before they touch the dirt beneath them. The ground pulses at the contact. The light fades and sucks back inward to the figure as it inhales a deep, gasping breath. Chest heaving then relaxing. Another pulse through the ground and then the air around them returns to normal. One foot steps forward, then knees give out, and the figure crumbles to the ground in a heap.

The glow is gone now. The only light left is in the center of its chest. She, from what Nat and Steve could tell. A woman. She rolls over, a soft groan leaving her lips.

Natasha gasps, hand flying to her mouth, "Oh my God," she rushes forward, falling to her knees by the unconscious body. "Steve, your flannel," Nat snaps him out of his thoughts. He shrugs his shirt off and hands it to Natasha.

The woman is naked, hair matted and dirty. It looks like she's been rolling in mud. It's caked on her skin in layers.

"How?" Steve croaks. He swallows around a lump in his throat. He falls to his knees next to Nat. She has tears in her eyes when she looks up at Steve. There's a look on her face that he hasn't seen in years.

"I don't know. But we have to get her inside. Call Bruce and Tony," she smooths hair back from a dirt covered face. "Hang on, Y/N. Help is coming."

tags: @valckenaux

**

[iguessweusewords]

prompt from @misscrazyfangirl321

"Are we in love? I mean, yeah, probably, but that is a problem for future us. Right now, we're just trying to survive the plot."

Odysseus and Penelope pre-EPIC ______________________________________________________________

There was nothing in this world that could have prepared Odysseus for the pain of Athena’s betrayal. He asked her for help to get Penelope to notice him. It was his fault, he supposed, for not being more specific. Afterall, nothing gets a girl’s attention like ruining her best friend’s love life. He was pretty sure Penelope would never even look at him again after this. 

He was currently trying to mend Helen’s broken heart by proving that Menelaus wasn’t the one who stole the Queen’s favourite necklace. It was rumored that anyone who touched the necklace other than the Queen would die a horrible death. Unfortunately, it just so happened that Menelaus got a cold the very day it was stolen. Naturally, the suitors with their brains the size of a rat’s nose decided that the most logical conclusion was that Menelaus was the thief and the necklace, obviously, was cursing him with death via a runny nose.

Of course, all of this wouldn’t have happened in the first place if Odysseus hadn’t tried to impress Penelope with his cleverness by pointing out that the Queen’s necklace was stolen. In his defense, the goddess Athena told him it was a good idea. In Athena’s defense, she was not the goddess of love. 

Now, here he was hiding behind the curtains of the Jewel Room trying to find out who the real thief was. 

He heard a rustling beside him. Odysseus turned, intending on telling them to be quiet, only to freeze when he saw who it was. 

“What are you doing?” Penelope asked.

This was fine. This was totally fine. Penelope was looking at him. Speaking to him. Looking as beautiful as ever. He most definitely did not forget to breathe. He was fine. He was calm. He was cool. He was collected. 

“Penelope, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to make Helen cry. I was just trying to impress you. Please don’t hate me. I’ll fix this. I’ll prove Menelaus didn’t do this.”

See, completely calm. 

“You were trying to impress me? Why?” she asked, ignoring everything else. 

Okay, that’s not how this was supposed to go. The first time he told her how he felt, he was supposed to be cool, impressive, not nearly crying on his knees. But it was too late, he couldn’t go back now. 

“Because I’m in love with you? I have been since the very first time I saw you. I was supposed to say this in more beautiful words, but I can’t look at you and form coherent sentences at the same time.”

“How about this?” she suggested with a smile. “After we’re done with all this, why don’t you meet me by the olive tree and you can give me those beautiful words then.”

It felt like Odysseus’ brain turned to mush. Maybe there just wasn’t enough oxygen behind these curtains. The real thief could have walked in at this very moment and stolen every jewel in the castle and Odysseus would not have noticed. Did Penelope just suggest that she wanted to meet him again?

“Wait, you don’t hate me?”

“Why would I hate you?” she laughed. “You’re the only one here with any brains. I like you.”

She liked him? 

“Are we in love?” Wow, he needed to slow down. She never said anything about love. He probably freaked her out with that. Now she really was never going to speak to him. She probably doesn’t even want him at the olive tree anymore.

“I mean, yeah, probably” she said, breaking him out of his spiral. 

Oh. Oh.

They were in love. 

“But that’s a problem for future us.” she continued. “Right now, we’re just trying to make it through this plot.”

Right. The plot. The plot where the suitors accused his best friend of something he didn’t do. He totally forgot. 

[newcaptainofsquad9]

Was This Vacation a Mistake? ~Crazy Rich Asians( Astrid x black! fem! reader)~Part 4

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5

Summary: Finally back home, you resume your life as a professor but find yourself still thinking about Astrid and the events of the vacation. Lucky for you, someone comes to spare you of any grief you still had.

Word Count: 2.4k

Tag List(I added folks were commented and enjoyed) : @madeleinecamilanightwood16, @ladydragonpurplefire,

Author's Note: Here's part 4 guys. Sorry this has taken so long. I'm going to try and end this fic this year within the next three chapters. Thank you for reading as always. And if you wanna be added or removed from tag List, let me know.

Classes finally started back, normalcy followed and that was all I could hope for. Everything that happened in Singapore is still there, how can I even try to forget it that fast? Rachel promised to speak about it whenever yet she had her own issues to deal with.

Apparently, she called it off with Nick after the debacle in his homeland; the entire situation has had me torn. I'm sure they'll talk it out, or take a long enough break to figure something out. Or maybe it was my fault, I shouldn't have even gone on the trip in the first place and Rachel would have been engaged right now. Nick's family would love her and not turning up their nose at me, her random Black friend.

I know, I shouldn't think like that. Rachel will nag me about it if she saw me here in my office frowning down at a student's paper. My red pink has marked it enough, perhaps a break is in order.

A soft knock rapped at my door. A student perhaps, Rachel would have texted or called if she needed something.

"Come in," I said, eyes still steady on the page.

A clack of heels and the clack of the door shut follows.

"What can I help you with?"

My pulse quickened at who's in my office now. From the heels I suspected an international student and their fancy abundance but here Astrid was dressed in a low cut white top, black blazer and high rise jeans. Her hair was pulled up and her shades sat on her head.

"I had to see you," she said, smiling softly. "How have you been, darling?"

I stood up, put away the paper I was grading and rushed toward her.

Astrid met me halfway, embracing me gently like I was made of glass, like she did when she first hugged me at her house a few weeks prior. It got firmer once she caressed my back, resting her chin down on my shoulder.

"Everything OK?" she whispered. "Nick's been worried."

"No, he shouldn't be," you groaned. "He should focus on himself, did he send you all the way here? W-What about Cassian?"

Astrid frowned. "Did I come at the wrong time? Cassian has the best nannies looking after him, and I wasn't going to be here long. Was my coming here not what you expected, wanted even?"

I caught the twinge of sadden edging in her voice.

"Y-Yeah, it's unexpected but it's not that I wouldn't want it," I tried explaining through burning cheeks. "You being here is great. I think it'll help."

Astrid stepped back, studying me and my office around us. Everywhere her eyes swept caught me with enough self consciousness to scold myself to clean a bit more around here, take some books back to my apartment sometime during another holiday.

"Your office is quaint, reminds me of you," Astrid said, stepping over to a stack of books I had on the cover of my desk that's stuffed with loose papers. "I bet you've read these dozens of times over, dissected them to bits for classes, yeah?"

I just nodded as our eyes met again.

"Yeah, mostly during undergrad and downtime between semesters now," I said. "I usually just read what the board signs off for my classes and short stories for my kids to tear into during discussions. Rachel and I had a little book club during our mfa time here ages ago."

Astrid chuckled. "Ages?"

"Seven years, give or take, ages to me considering where we are now."

"And where are you both right now, y/n?" Astrid said, crossing her arms.

"We're fine," I said a little too quickly. "Rachel just needs her time, and I-I don't want to mess up things more."

"She'd like to know how you're doing."

"Why? Did she beg you to come here?"

"Of course not. Y/N, are you truly all right?"

I bit my lip; that's a simple but loaded question. Astrid's concentration on me wasn't helping with me being entirely truthful either.

"Not really, no," I admitted.

"I'm so sorry, darling," Astrid said. "Do you have plans or classes for the rest of the day?"

"Well, I have another half hour of office hours."

"Have they really be in and out of here as of late, dear?"

Astrid stepped back over to the door, peeking from under my blinds for some sort of added measure.

"Ok, I guess my office hours are over today," I said, returning to my desk to push the paper I was grading back into my folder. "The rest of my schedule is clear. Did you have something in mind, Astrid?"

"Let me get your mind off of things, let me take you out?"

My face flushed at her words; she doesn't mean what I think she means, right?

"A-Are you asking me out, Astrid?"

"I don't know, if I say yes will that convince you?"

....

Is this a date or not? I didn't ask, yet the feelings were still there--deep in my stomach, my hands barely worked once we got to the restaurant--a chain not too far from campus.

Astrid even pulled the chair out for me, an act of common courtesy right? Rachel's not here and I can still detect her incredulous stare, hopelessly shaking her head--she'd believe it to be more. Should I text her? No, she needs space, I need to focus on this myself.

"Have you decided?" Astrid said, peeking over her menu. "Or do you need more time?"

"No, I'll have the grilled chicken club sandwich with a side of Mac and cheese."

Astrid nodded. "Great, I'll have the salmon and potatoes."

The waitress returned, took our menus and orders, and deposited our drinks at our sides.

Alone now, our eyes keep meeting and I need to try and not make it as awkward as it already is.

"So, do you usually do chain restaurants when you visit the states? Do you visit the states often?"

"Sometimes I visit when Nick is here and he's with Rachel," Astrid explained. "Not often but they have character to them. Not a lot of them have good options but their fries are a guilty pleasure of mine."

I giggled. "Really? Why didn't you order any?"

Astrid shrugged. "I wanted to try something different. Do you prefer chain restaurants? Or do you like something more lower scale? Higher scale, maybe?"

Her eyes swept to me once she said higher scale, smiling to spread the beauty mark on her face magnificently.

"Oh, I'm much more lower scale," I chuckled. "Still a struggling college student at heart but I'm not cheap as I used to be--I'm not cheap at all but--"

"Darling, I get it," Astrid said, laying a hand over my own. "Although, I hope I can give you a taste of that higher scale."

I wanted to draw back, not voluntarily but a knee jerk reaction; she's saying those things again and it's making me feel amazing. I know she means them but I'm not sure why I feel like she doesn't. Astrid's not like those ignorant people back in Singapore, not like the family who ridiculed you and Rachel. I don't even know if she likes women in that way, perhaps she is and I'm overthinking all of it. Maybe I should have contacted Rachel.

"Y/N? Are you all right?"

I decided to be honest and said, "No, not really. But I don't want it to ruin the night, or our time. We don't have to discuss it anymore, at least not right now."

Astrid started for a moment, thinking before nodding. "Of course, darling."

The waitress soon returned with our food, placing it in front of us before retreating to another table swiftly. My sandwich looked fine, Mac and cheese too but the taste wasn't terrible--not good, mediocre, nothing on Kraft or even what they fed us during grade school.

Astrid must have noticed my displeasure, frowning behind her bite of salmon. "Do you not like it?"

"It's not that good, but I'll manage."

"Do you want to replace it? I can tell the waitress."

I flushed, inching into my seat subconsciously, holding my fork tight. "Astrid, it's all right. I can just eat it."

"Why? I want this to be a great experience with amazing food," Astrid explained. "You deserve it, so why can't you let me do this for you?"

Do I really deserve it? I have been feeling shitty since the vacation in Singapore, since Rachel and Nick's supposed split and since--since I couldn't get over being singled out for something I can't control and shouldn't feel ashamed of being: Black. Black American for that matter.

And here Astrid is being so caring and genuine, willing to spend time and money on me; she does feel more for me more than Rachel or Nick's friend--I'm not entirely sure if it's romantic but there's something more here. I hope I'm not reading this wrong.

"Y/N? Whatever you decide, I'll do it for you," Astrid declared.

"Sure, you can order us some fries. Is it all right if we share?"

Astrid smiled; I could have sworn I saw a hint of red peak through her face.

. . .

After some amazing fries and some superb ice cream (thanks to some convincing from Astrid, flashing another smile and heavy eye contact).

She's even more convincing when we're sharing an Uber, laughing lowly at a joke I told. It wasn't that funny, well at least when Rachel's heard it but she's heard it a thousand times; something minuscule about an old job I had, something dry, something existential. Astrid's laugh though, how close she is and the contact--arms brushing mine due to how smaller the car is or for the fact that she's nudging me--or how she pays attention. I can't look at her without smiling which leads to more of the attention.

"You have a wonderful smile, has anyone ever told you that?" Astrid admitted. We finally got back to my apartment, still talking.

I invited her in without thinking, holding her hand so she doesn't trip over the hitch in the last step going up my floor.

"I think my mom told me before? Lots of times, maybe an ex boyfriend, maybe?"

Astrid scoffed, nudging me gently with her elbow. "I'm serious. Every time I see you, there's something new. Something that amazes me."

I pushed the door open, locking it fast as we both rush inside.

"Are you sure you're serious," I said, leaning against the door. My heart is pumping fast, hyper-like all in my ears. "What's with these things you've been saying?"

Astrid tilted her head. "Y/N."

"You have a child! You divorced someone--you're loaded and gorgeous, and I-I'm--"

"You're a beautiful woman I'm having a great time with," Astrid said, finishing my sentence before the words could come out. "Is my being a divorcee an issue?"

She asked the question with an air of humor and walked away from me, finally giving me a chance to breathe from her intoxication. At my bookcase by the wall that sat ways from the threshold to the kitchen, Astrid's attention swept over it, placing a finger up to the spines of the concealed books.

"No, of course not. I-I that's not an issue. Astrid, I-I-"

Everything's hot, burning, my face especially and I can't speak anymore.

"Darling," Astrid's in my presence again, worried.

"Is it OK if we talk more? If I can ask you more things?"

She nodded and I led her to my tiny sofa across from the bookcase, plopping down on it together; our eyes met yet again.

"Ask me anything, darling," she said. "Anything."

"Well, being divorced doesn't matter," I explained. "I just wanted to ask if you, um."

Sexuality is her business, anyone's personal business that they can choose to tell or keep to themselves. Yet she's here asking me and granting me the chance to get to know her better; I can show her a piece of me that I've only shown to the people closest to me.

"Tonight you were very touchy, encouraging and just overall flirty tonight and I--"

Astrid took my hand, slid so close that our thighs now touched. "And?"

It's obvious. So obvious or I'm just idiotic; Rachel would slap me over the head if she could.

"I-I'm bisexual, my liking includes guys, women, gender nonconforming people and everyone in between and around that umbrella," I explained. My hands couldn't stay still, Astrid saw, tightening her grip and rubbing her thumb over my knuckles. "And I-I'm into you Astrid--it seems like you're into me so, do you like women too or not?"

Astrid giggled. "Darling, I've been flirting with you since Nick and Rachel brought you home. I can tell this is a deep issue to you, so yes. I've married a man before, had boyfriends but I fancy women too. Dated a few in university but--that's not important right now. Y/N I'm mad about you too."

I'm giggling now too. It's an organic head-high, almost doubled over with stomach cramping and mouth hurting. Astrid followed in, hands high now: at my arms then shoulders and to my face; I wonder if she can feel the heat radiating from it and noticed how my laughter stopped.

It just happened. I didn't speak, neither did Astrid. Our lips met.

[lichtbrenger]

the guy that hung the stars

[vanillaboyfriend]

i don’t feel like posting pictures. but y3s? long socks? nice pants? cute sweater? AND curls peeking out from under the hat?? i’m eatin so good. ok edit be warned before you expand tags on this i went on a giant rant about nicks clothes whoops lol it is HUGE

[tonycries]

Give Me Tough Love

Synopsis. What happens when your boyfriend just so happens to be mad at you? Well, your poor pússy might just know the answer.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Geto x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, brat-taming, angry séx, oral (male + female receiving), víbrators (Nanami’s), manhandling, unprotected, spanking (Sukuna’s), thigh-riding, intercrural, mentions of Higuruma and Shiu, cúmplay, bunch of heinous stuff idek, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.2k

A/N. Smh I’m sick, try not to catch my virtual cold.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Dirty mouth? He’ll fix it.

“The fuck did you just say to me?” he spits, Toji’s hand tightening around your throat, pathetic little gurgles going straight to his cock. “Because I know you aren’t talking back to me like a lil’ slut unless you want to be treated like one.”

“T-Toji m’sorry- mpfh-” Greedily taking in the way your your mouth drops into a soft little oh! as he grazes his fat tip across your lips, glossing your lips so fucking filthily with his precum, all pretty and dripping down to your chin. Hot and angry, and at perfect eye-level for you.

 Hand moving up to pry your swollen mouth open, “You’re only sorry cuz yer gonna get what you’ve been askin’ for, doll.” 

You’d been extra mouthy with him today, all sass and snipey comments like you just wanted this to happen. And it only took one offhand remark about how Shiu probably lasts longer in bed before Toji’s pushing you onto your knees, hand at your throat, breath hot against your ear. And, well, that smart mouth can do nothing but beg for mercy now.

Toji scoffs, snapping you out of your daze, “Nothin’ to say now, huh?” edging his hips closer “Open wide f’me now, yeah- jus’ like that- m’gonna clean out this dirty lil’ mouth of yours. Hngh-”

And with that Toji’s stuffing himself into your mouth. A raw little grunt leaving the back of his throat as your lips stretch so sinfully around his thick cock, and if he angled his head just right he could see the way your throat was bulging and full of him. “Shit, doll. Look at you struggling to take me.”

And Toji’s so mean - not even easing you into it before he’s thrusting in harsh, quick little strokes into your heavenly mouth. “Hah- Hard to take me all?” he taunts, loving the way you’re choking and gagging all around him. 

Pulling you down on his swollen cock till your nose is pressed against those tufts of black hair at his base. So wet with precum and spit. “Shouldn’t be, no? Ngh- A lil’ slut with such a fucking filthy mouth like you should take me s’easily.”

All he gets in response is a low, wet moan, muffled around his cock. One that goes straight to his twitching balls. Smacking your chin with each thrust, so hard he’s sure it hurts. But he couldn’t give less of a fuck, chuckling, “Heh, forgot you can’t speak with m’dick lodged in your throat, huh?”

And oh Toji almost considers going easy on you at the messy state of your mascara, and the way you bat your lashes tearily up at him. It’s only when you flick your tongue so sluttily underneath his sensitive tip in a way you knew would drive him wild that all thoughts of that go out the window. “So you like this, huh?”

Voice so low and dangerous it makes your cunt clench in- fear? Anticipation? You don’t even know because Toji has his hand wrapped around your throat again, hip stuttering filthily. 

And then it’s like something snaps because Toji’s ruining your pretty face. Abs flexing as he drags your head up and down up and down up and- like some toy. God, he thinks, it’s fucking hard to look at you too - so sloppy with the way precum and spit was dribbling down the corner of your mouth, his dick bulging in and out of your throat. In and out in and out in and- 

“Might let out a few tears, but I know that slutty lil’ cunt of yours has never been wetter.”

Reaching blindly to feel for his phone, he punches in that familiar contact. Cock twitching inside your plushy mouth at the way your eyes widen in surprise. Sputtering around his dick - but you can’t run away, because Toji has a hand firm on your head, pushing you down. Still fucking your pretty lil’ mouth while the line rings once. Twice. 

“Don’t act so suprised, doll. All Shiu and I are gonna do is fuck some manners into you.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Karma’s a bitch

“Mhm, yes, Higuruma. I’ve told the supervisor to email me the documents. Oh? In the background?” 

His darkened eyes sweep your figure - wrists tied, soaking through your panties, swollen lips falling into a little oh! at the bullet vibrator buzzing maddeningly in your dripping cunt. All controlled by the man himself, watching you like a hawk from the corner of the bedroom. “Must be the wind.” 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt-

“Kento- please, wan’ cum. Ngh-” you whine pathetically. But it all falls on deaf ears, because Nanami only manspreads further on the armchair, a long finger unhurriedly coming up to signal you to be quiet as he continues on his business call. 

Intensity setting 1.

Oh you could just cry. How did you even get here? 

All you did was send him a few photos in his favorite lingerie while he was at work - who knew that Nanami would end up clocking early, coming straight home to absolutely fucking ruin you for that little stunt that had him sporting a rock-hard boner all through an important meeting. 

“A voice? Ah, yes.” and that snaps you out of your little reverie. You blink at the flash of amusement in Nanami’s eyes as he continues the call. “Yes, a little fight as all couples have. Y’know how it is.”

Intensity setting 2.

You jolt at the stimulation, body jerking up for some - any - friction. “Kento~” you choke, tears clinging to your eyes now. 

But oh where Nanami was usually gentle touches and sweet, sweet love - he was so fucking mean now. Licking his lips at the slick dribbling down your legs so sloppilly, spreading in such an obscene pool on the sheets below. Frustrated tears cling to your lashes - you just wanted to fucking cum. 

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly say she’s mad at me.”

Intensity setting 3.

No, you were fucking losing your mind. 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt- Blinking tearily at Nanami as his thumb draws quick, relentless little circles on the intensity. The vibrator throbbing against your walls in time with your quivering walls, just grazing that one spot. But purposefully avoiding it so that he could see you fall apart and all desperate. 

He sighs, “I know, I have to make it up to her, right?”

Intensity setting 4.

“You have any ideas, Higuruma? Flowers?” 

“Hngh- Kento- Please, wan’ your cock.” Gritting your teeth so that you won’t just scream or outright demand that Nanami ends the call and makes you cum right now, you settling for low, needy little whimpers of his name. Whiney in just the way you knew he liked. And by the looks of the painfully hard cock straining against his trousers, you knew it was working. 

“Or, chocolates?” 

Maybe it was working too well because Nanami’s amping up his abuse on your cunt. Devouring the way you’re reacting so sensitively to the way he was turning the vibrations up and down. Swollen cock twitching at the wet gasps leaving your mouth, thighs twitching and squeezing together so sluttily to get yourself off. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” you blink away the tears in your eyes to risk a glimpse at the man currently driving you wild. Irritation spiking at the way he was huffing out a laugh, “I could just make her cum hard enough to see stars. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Intensity setting 5.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise - violent and fast. The last thing you see is the cruel little smirk curling Nanami’s lips before he’s setting the phone down with a quick goodbye. And then it’s all stars behind your eyelids as you finally cum, not even caring if whoever’s on the phone hears the strangled yelp of “Ah! Kento, m’cumming m’- hah-”

And it’s all you can do to ride your high out on the vibrations still stimulating your sore cunt. So sensitive and maddening that you almost miss the metallic clinking of a belt.

Ringing in the heady air, the complete opposite of the voice to suddenly very close against your ear, low and hoarse with desire, “Now, think it’s time for me to make it up to you. Hm, sweetheart?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Work for it!

“Get off on m’thigh, or you’re not getting off at all.”

Geto’s had enough of the cold shoulder today before he decides you’re getting one too - even when you’re needy and sat so prettily on his lap. It was only fair, right? Which is why he swats away the hand reaching for his aching cock, angry and throbbing in his fist. Twitching in his hand at the adorable little pout playing on your lips, “Nuh uh, bad girls don’t get what they ask for.”

“But Sugu~” you whine, slightly whiny yet not desperate - at least, not yet. “Already said I was sorry-”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it for that attitude you were givin’ me earlier, gorgeous.” he cuts you off, leaning back comfortably on the chair. Smirk only widening at the way your eyes were so deliriously locked on the way his fist starts moving in slow, languid little strokes up and down his swollen cock. “Now, y’gonna fuck that pretty lil’ cunt on my thigh or just watch? S’fine f’me either way.”

You huff at the way he was being so mean - letting a beat of silent staredown pass. One. Two. Cunt so achingly wet and dripping all over where you straddled Geto’s muscular thigh.

“Fine.”

You feel so dirty dragging your pussy all over his thigh like some bitch in heat. Your clit pressing down on his skin hard. “Sugu!” you yelp, hands reaching up to play with your sensitive nipples, still rocking your hips sloppily. 

Fuck does he love your little show - and you can see it too. Catching the way his balls squeeze painfully, brows furrowing and locked on the way your folds were spread apart so sluttily. 

“All that talk but look at y’now.” he hums. And Geto knows he’s supposed to be punishing you, but he can’t stop the way he starts bouncing his leg to meet your grinds. “What’ve ya gotta say for yourself now, my lil’ slut?” 

“M’sorry!” you whine, nails digging into his shoulders to steady yourself as he fucks you on his thigh. So hot and messy. His skin glistening in the dim light with all your sweet sweet juices, trailing down to the cushion below and pooling at his heavy balls. And Geto was such a fucking picture - hair falling over his shoulders, bottom lip bitten, cock so long and mouthwateringly hard, flushed your favorite shade of pink at the tip.

Only bouncing his leg faster at your cute lil’ whines, like he was turning you into his slut - hit stupid lil’ slut. And all you can sputter out are strained little “M’sorry m’sorry jus’ lemme touch you. Wanna touch you-”

He cuts you off with a desperate, desperate kiss. A permission. A surrender. And you taste the sin and the satisfied little grin on his lips as you reach for his heavy cock. Drinking in the low hiss at the back of Geto’s throat as you start stroking him in quick, desperate tugs. 

And he lets you. 

Hips bucking to chase the feeling of your soft hand wrapped so deliciously around his throbbing cock. Faster. Your nails delicately tracing the pulsing veins along the side, swirling under his slit because shit you might act like it’s a punishment but you’ve never been wetter. “Fuck this hand was made f’me, you were made f’me.”

Previous anger forgotten - perhaps in some miraculous act of mercy - Geto couldn’t even care less if it was all sloppy, mindless little tugs and grinds, high off of your desperation. In fact, Geto wasn’t any better with the way he was snaking a hand down to draw steady, lazy little circles on your swollen lips.

Whispering against your lips, “Make us cum within the next five seconds or you’re going back to getting off on my thigh and nothing else.” Oh. Not an act of mercy.

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Evil twin

“Sorry-” he’s murmuring into your neck, lifting your leg just a little bit higher to slide his cock messily between your swollen folds. “Ngh- sorry, baby. Fuck.”

Choso can’t even remember why he’s pissed off - or that useless little argument that led to this - but when Choso’s angry, it’s like he flips a switch. Such a silent tease where he’s usually all lingering kisses and everything you could ever want. 

Which is why he’s got you splayed out on your side, angry, red tip kissing your entrance in a way that was so filthy. 

“Cho, jus’ gimme your cock.” You arch your back, rubbing so deliciously against his abs, flexing with the strain to not just plunge into your pretty lil’ cunt right now. “Jus’ want you inside me. Please?” And shit Choso must be really pissed off because he doesn’t waver even at the way you bat your lashes at him, instead resorting to leaning down and kissing that adorable pout off your lips. 

He bites down on your bottom lip, tugging ever-so-slightly as he starts sliding his cock inbetween your pretty thighs. Creating such a sticky mess as he moves in slow, shallow little thrusts - Choso was always so sloppy. And such a fucking tease as he angles his hips to just graze your swollen clit.

You gasp into his open mouth, mewling out a strained lil’ “Ah! W-wait what’re you doi-”

“Fucking getting myself off, what does it look like doll?”

Fuck, he was really mad. But that doesn’t stop you from craning your neck to glare at him - eyes traitorously drinking in his flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes, stray strands of dark hair sticking to his forehead while he meets your gaze head-on. Unwavering. 

“Bit rude to get off by yourself, huh?” you scoff, raising a brow at the slow smirk curling his lips. 

“You’d know a lot about being rude, huh?”

You don’t even have the time to react to his sheer audacity because Choso’s snaking down a hand to toy with your swollen clit. Still rocking his hips between your thighs. Loving the way all you can do is buck into his touch and whine so prettily as he rolls the sensitive bud between two long fingers. “But since I’m so fuckin’ nice, you better thank me, baby.”

“Y’like this?” he hums hoarsely, playing with your needy clit. Index circling your hole, just barely dipping in before he’s swiftly moving back to rub delicate patterns on the bud. “Could’ve gotten more if you hadn’t run that pretty lil’ mouth earlier.” 

“B-but I want more.” you’re babbling deliriously, trying to meet his relentless little rhythm on your cunt. Just wishing that he would fuck you like you wanted him to. But no - not yet.

“More? You think you deserve more?”

“Yes!” and it sounds like a sob that goes straight to his cock. “Wan’ more please. Was wrong- ah- I was wrong-”

Choso isn’t even sure if you remember what you two were fighting about, but that doesn’t stop him from having such fun bullying you - high off the power and the way your cunt tries to clench around his fingers. And especially your little surrender. 

“Exactly what I was waitin’ for.”

It’s like something snapped because Choso’s bullying his fingers in between your folds, curling deftly against that one gummy spot he knows will have you letting out such cute lil’ whines. Hitting that spot over and over as he pumps his fingers in and out of your cunt. Letting you soak him in all your sweet juices.

And you’re so sensitive and needy that all that spills from your lips are mewls of, “Oh- hngh- Choso Choso- yes, jus’ like that. Faster.”

Maybe for the first time tonight, Choso listens. Movements getting so sloppy and frantic as he chases your high. And occasionally you get such a delicious taste of his throbbing cock as his hips get erratic, fucking himself on your thighs.

You cum with a strangled gasp of Choso’s name, hips bucking wildly. White-hot pleasure running down your spine, and your blood roaring in your ears. It’s all you can do to milk his fingers the way you would with his cock as you ride out your high. 

But luckily for you, you feel his weeping tip nudging your quivering hole. So heavy, precum mixing with your slick in such a sinful combination.  Breath hot against your ear as he whispers a quiet little, “Actually, m’really fucking not sorry.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Plaything!

“Fuckin’” he kisses his teeth, hand raising up, up, up - coming down swiftly- Smack! “Brat.”

“Oh- Hngh p-please.” you gasp, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Nails digging into his shoulders for some - any - mercy from where you’re sat prettily on his lap, throbbing cock stuffed in your cunt. Hard and aching. Yet still unmoving. 

Thumb drawing lazy little circles on your clit, fast enough to have your thighs quivering on his lap, but slow enough to not give you exactly what you want - he’s been teasing you for hours now.

“P-pleeease.” he mocks, voice so dramatically whiny, swatting your ass again. Sukuna doesn’t even know why he’s fucking pissed off, he just likes seeing you all teary and letting out such cute lil’ whines, trying to eagerly to please him. Is he being a bully? Yeah. Does it make it cock so painfully hard watching you try to grind your pretty pussy down on his cock? Fuck yeah.

Which is why he watches you desperately try to fuck yourself on his cock, and oh how he loves taking in this heavenly sight. Your cunt spread so shamefully, sloppy and wet enough that you’re dripping all over him.  

His messy girl. It almost makes him want to play nice.

Smack! And that has you keening, pressing your sensitive tits harder against his front. “What do you want, brat?”

Your breath hitches, words shaky, “Want your cock, ‘Kuna-”

But the only response you get is a huffed out dark chuckle. Strong arms spreading your legs even further as Sukuna leans leisurely against the headboard. He scoffs, loving the way you were always the cutest when he played mean. “You already have it in your pretty lil’ cunt, want more could you want?”

“W-wan’ you to fuck me,” a hand trailing down to massage his heavy balls, moving your hips in slutty circles to meet his, milking him inside you. “Wan’ you to fill me up with your cum till m’dumb. Till everyone’s gonna know- Ah- ple-”

Oh how he loved all your dirty little tricks. “Hm, ya really were desperate for my cock, huh?” he grits out, jaw clenched and eyes locked on the way your dripping cunt was swallowing him up so deliciously. Like you were trying to milk something delicious out of him. “Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight. Ya really that cock-hungry, brat?”

Smack! Speeding up his movements on your clit, your pathetic little sob rings in Sukuna’s ears and goes all the way down to his twitching dick. Massaging your plushy walls just right.

That makes you mewl and buck wildly, slurring out, “Yes! Wan’ed so bad. Wanted to be split a-apart hngh- on yer cock n’ filled to the brim.” 

Fuck, Sukuna bites his lower lip, do you even have any idea what you’re saying?

He doubts it - and he doesn’t give a fuck because before you know it, your hands are pinned behind your back, and Sukuna’s fucking up into you in one, harsh thrust. 

“Said you wan’ my cock, n’ you’re gonna get it brat.”

Messy and desperate as you’re being split apart by his massive cock, starting to ram into you with wreckless abandon. And you can do nothing but take it because Sukuna’s holding you still, arching you impossibly deeper into him.

“Kuna- mm ngh-”

“So cockdrunk that you can’t even speak, huh?” he’s high off of the way your words are a strangled mess. Such a pity you couldn’t do anything else either - with the way he was holding you still. Like some fucktoy from the depths of his treasury. Grip bruising on your arms, only being able to let out such pathetic lil’ ah! ah! ah! against his ear each time his cock hits your bruised cervix. 

“This what my little slut wanted?” His hips are erratic now, fucking any and every thought out of your mind. Hungry gaze appreciatively taking in the way your head was lolling against his shoulder, so cock-drunk and delirious already. “Now, don’t act so fucked out, brat. We’re only getting started.”

Well, he didn’t say he was going to be nice. Now, did he?

♡ GOJO SATORU - Candy for a bad day

“Had a bad day.” It’s all that announces Gojo’s arrival. 

Startled, you whirl his head to catch that an uncharacteristic little sigh, he’s pulling his blindfold down haphazardly, raising his eyes to meet yours and oh-

Fuck, you weren’t going to make it out alive.

And Gojo wasn’t sure whether he would either with the way he was immediately slamming the front door shut, lips searing on yours as he shoves you against the adjacent wall with a soft thud! 

“S-Satoru, what the fuck?” you sputter, head spinning because he was here and then kneeling in front of you so fast you think he might’ve teleported there. Hand groping every inch of you he could reach, thumbing over your hardened nipples. Drawing little circles on your hips as he looks at you through heavy, half-lidded eyes.

You try to talk back some semblance of sanity into him, “Satoru, what happ-”

“Shut up. Those annoying old fuckers always fuckin’ piss me off. Dunno why you fuckin’ made me attend that meeting.” 

Oh. That’s what happened. 

Heaving in a shaky gasp, you let him all but rip off your skirt. Flinging them to God-knows-where with the audacity of a man that would buy you ten new ones to replace it. Gojo’s mouth falls into a soft little oh! at the heavenly sight of your already-soaked panties.  

“Swear m’gonna purple hollow them all one day.” he murmurs into your pretty pussy, tongue darting out to draw lazy patterns along your slit. “Gonna have ‘em begging for their lives.”

Words muffled around the flimsy fabric - ones he rips clean off your hips with one hand. Not even letting you flinch at the cool air before Gojo’s pooling your sweet juices on his fingertips. Staring right in your eyes while he pops them into your mouth, sucking them clean and glistening with saliva in the dim light. 

“Oh.” Eyes rolling to the back of his at the taste of your sweet lil’ cunt. “You always taste s’fucking perfect f’me. Can’t believe you’ve been fucking holdin’ out on me.”

And maybe Gojo loses his patience - maybe his sanity - because one taste, and he’s hooked. Diving face-first into your clothed cunt, breathing in your scent so fucking lewdly.

“F-fuck, Toru-” you whisper breathlessly, gripping those soft white locks for some stability. The only reply you get is Gojo licking long, languid stripes up your swollen folds. Your slick glossing his ruby lips, trailing down his chin. “It feels s’good.”

And he’s so uncharacteristically messy - making out with your sloppy pussy like it’s his last meal. All pure desperation, lips puckering so prettily around your swollen clit as he sucks on it harshly. Rolling his tongue over and over and-

“Hate that you made me go. They drive me crazy, y’know.” he slurs lowly into your sensitive cunt. Vibrations sending white-hot pleasure running up your spine. “Makes me wanna wish I could stay home with you, eating this cute lil’ cunt out all day.” 

“Wha- what nonsense, Toru.”

“Your cunt is addictive, pretty.”

You barely even notice the way that he’s the one holding you up, throwing a leg over his shoulder, looping and arm around your waist to pull you deeper onto this tongue. Close. So close. “Hngh- Toru-”

“Close?” he murmurs, muffled. “Can feel y’clenching around m’tongue, y’know. How am I supposed to tonguefuck my pretty girl if she’s sucking the soul outta me?”

He was such a little tease. Becoming as frantic and sloppy as you - dripping all over the hardwood floor with a maddening tap! tap! tap!

And despite the way he was devouring you - licking all over your pussy, tongue dipping in and out of your slutty hole - Gojo still finds it in himself to run his mouth. Babbling about how he’s gonna destroy the elders all while you’re in shambles above him. 

“Hah- Toru, shit I’m close. M’gonna-”

“Give it to me, my girl. Wanna taste y’on my tongue.”

And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes and Gojo’s tongue fucking you through your high as you grind down on his pretty face. Dragging your dripping cunt all over till it’s so messy that it makes your cheeks burn. 

But Gojo doesn’t mind - of course, he doesn’t. In fact, his glossy lips only turn up into a slow, sly smirk as he stands up slowly from the ground.

“C’mon, gotta punish you proper now, princess.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[gutsby]

Make It Stick

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel never thought he’d need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected-peepaw-p-in-v (I’m sorry). Accidental creampie. Age gap. Cumplay. Breeding kink. Ovulation has led me places I wouldn’t go with a gun.

Note: Convergence is a painting by Jackson Pollock. We studied it in high school and I thought it looked like jizz idk

Word count: 4.7k

Prequel | Part 1 | Part 2

He should’ve gotten snipped when he had the chance.

Should’ve taken the plunge, faced his fears of needles and fluorescent-washed doctor’s offices like any man his age could have done and gotten the damn vasectomy. Now he was here, nearly two decades older and still none the wiser in this cold, dead world with a pretty young thing like you between his sheets. In lieu of elective surgery, Joel Miller had only to grit his teeth, bite hard, and repeat over and over again in his head, desperate:

‘Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, DON’T—’

Words like those normally worked. With women that weren’t you, they tended to serve him exceedingly well.

But you were just so tight. And wet. And welcoming. And try as Joel might to pretend like he got laid on a regular basis, the truth was that he didn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t seem to think straight when it came to this fixation he’d developed for you, so, instead, he let his dick do all the decision-making whenever he found himself around you. Ten times out of ten that ended in:

“J-J-Joel—oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—I’m gonna CUM.”

And that made it worth every last life-endangering drop.

Feeling how your flushed, lithe body came apart beneath his touch. How you needed him. How your eyes grew to half the size of your face and you gaped up at the man, lips parted, like you couldn’t even comprehend how the friction of seven inches could make you feel so good.

If he had it his way, he would’ve loved nothing more than to show you that feeling every night, and twice the next morning if his hip wasn’t giving him too much trouble.

But, at present, the man had bigger fish to fry. Like not becoming a new father at fifty-nine if he could help it.

With the last two fluttering pulses of your heat, and almost going cross-eyed from the pleasure as he felt it, Joel yanked his big, slippery cock out of your body and made a fist around his member as he always knew to do. Tugged and pulled and grunted above you—‘Sweet girl, you’re so fuckin’ good to me’—and watched your tits and your belly for the milky white ropes to ensue.

Strangely, though, your skin stayed the same.

No cum-spray Convergence appeared before him, no opaque and cloudy fluids dribbling down your ribs, nothing. Your stomach was as bare as the rest of you, save for a few beads of sweat, and that was all there was.

Joel shook his dick harder, confused. Beneath him, you were still coming down from your high smiling ear-to-ear and staring blissfully at the ceiling. Your chest rose and fell, rose and fell in quick succession, and while you endeavored to recollect your mind, Joel was losing his.

Where the FUCK was his cum?

In no naked horizontal tango to date had Joel simply…cum without noticing. Shit like that just didn’t happen to men, least of all to ones his age, so when he’d wrung his poor cock like a sodden towel and still saw nothing come out, he felt his stomach turn and plummet inside him.

He dropped to his hands and knees in less than a moment and lowered his head between your legs.

“No, Joel!” you squealed, giggling. Kicking your feet, “Another round and I’m gonna combust, you old perv!”

But Joel wasn’t looking to get his dick wet again. He was inspecting you. Or trying to, anyway. Quickly realizing he couldn’t see a thing in the darkness, he let out a breath through his nose and lifted you off the bed. Your naked frame thrown over his shoulder, bare hip beside his head and your strangled, muffled cry of, ‘What the hell, Joel?!’ hardly seemed to register with the man carrying you off.

You were toted to the bathroom. Joel was about to ease you down on your feet. Then, appearing to change his mind at the last second, he set you onto the sink instead. Your skin bristled with indignation, anger. A little arousal.

“Last time we did it on a sink we broke the faucet,” you reminded him, feigning more dismay than you really felt inside. If anything, you liked it when your fossil-age fuckbuddy switched things up. You were just exhausted.

Heedless of your words, Joel kneeled on the floor and pried your legs apart before him. When you swatted at his silver-flecked head, he brushed your hand away.

“Hold still,” he grunted.

“How come?”

“‘Cause I said.”

How quickly he commanded that tone of a father.

“Wanna sleep,” you groaned, about to roll your eyes.

But you couldn’t deny you liked being doted on by him.

Joel’s touch was gentle. Probing. Spidering down the most sensitive parts of your bare lower half, between your thighs, and slowly coaxing you closer to the edge of the sink. Your breath hitched when you saw his head tilt.

He appeared to be deep in thought—a rare sight for anyone who’d seen Joel Miller in the postcoital state. Most every time he’d blown his load before, the man was dead asleep within ten minutes. His joints could barely hold himself upright after a half hour of plowing the back forty, much less carry you, too, so you were puzzled now.

He thumbed at the seam of your cunt, and you whined:

“Jo-el—”

“Can ya…push, baby?” His eyes flitted up quickly.

“Push?”

“Yeah, just…” With a look you couldn’t quite read, he placed the palm of his other hand on your belly. Then, pressing, “Like this. Like you’re squeezin’ somethin’ out.”

You cocked a brow in muted confusion but did as he asked. You watched his gaze, and it stayed on you.

Or, rather, on that soft and pliant spot between your legs the old man seemed to favor so much. On any other occasion, in a position like this, he surely would’ve been wearing a smile. Tonight, his lips curled into a grimace.

And twisted even further when you ‘pushed’ like you did.

At first you felt nothing. A gentle clench of your walls supplied little more than a sense of having been stretched—no novel concept to you, who’d spent the last three-and-a-half months or so getting fucked by the finest AARP affiliate alive most every night. It wasn’t until you clamped down again that you got the feeling there was something else. Something thick and warm and slow as molasses trickling out from between your folds.

You let out a low, tender, ‘Mmph’ without meaning to; it felt kind of nice. Beneath you, Joel’s face turned grave.

He watched as his spend oozed out of your freshly-fucked hole and thought of vasectomies again.

You were young—too young to know better. Too sweet and naïve to see any peril in spreading your legs for a man like him, in a world like this. And Joel swore he’d be careful. But no post-apocalyptic birth control method was perfect, or even close to it, and it was clear he’d relied too heavily on reflexes to keep him from cumming inside you. Joel was old—too old to be doing this shit.

Too grown and well-versed in sex to be making mistakes as stupid as that. His brow pinched in, and he drew his next breath as if the air around him was growing scarce.

“Joel, what’s—”

“When’s the last time you— you— uh…bled?”

Hardly more in control of his face than the rate his heart went thudding in his chest, Joel winced at the end. This time, you were the one to knit your eyebrows together. You could tell by that tight, discomfited tone he wasn’t talking papercuts, but were still unsure of his purpose.

“Like two, two and a half weeks ago. Why?”

Well, fuck.

Joel buried his face in his hands. You scooted closer to the sink’s edge, thinking little of his cum leaking out.

“Why?” you tried again. Softer this time.

An old, weathered head lifted to greet you. It was bleak.

“You see this?” Joel paused. Swiping his finger through the viscous white substance that had trickled out on the counter, in a puddle now, “Y’know what it means, right?”

You let his look, and the question, remain suspended in air for a second. Then another. Then you shrugged.

“Yeah. But…you’re old,” came your answer at length.

You’re old.

Joel and you both knew as much, but the former wasn’t quite following your train of thought. Still wanting to try and mitigate damages while he could, though, Joel reached for the roll of toilet paper that was fastened to the wall and tore himself a strip. He bunched it up and, reaching for one of your knees to spread you further for him, took to daubing the tissue across your entrance.

“What’s me bein’ old got to do with anything?” A little sharp, then, seeing you flinch when he drew too close to your clit, “‘m sorry, baby, just— gotta get this out of you.”

You made a face but let him continue anyway. Your eyes followed each movement of his hand, and reflexively, the muscles in your thighs tightened. Why bother with this when the man has so many better uses for his hands?

For a second, your eyes fluttered half-shut.

“Maria says old folks are, uh…infertile. Got something to do with a middle pause,” you said, breaths labored.

Joel stopped just long enough to shoot you a look.

“Menopause,” he corrected, all too matter-of-fact, before returning to his work, “is a woman thing.”

What the hell were they teaching in Jackson’s sex ed classes, anyway? Then Joel remembered how his brother sincerely believed that women peed out of their vaginas until he was twenty-three, and the thought of you not knowing the ins and outs of male virility wasn’t the most far-fetched idea in the universe. Besides, sexual health wasn’t exactly the community’s highest priority when the world around it was in a perpetual state of decay and hordes of fungus-faced fuckers ran rampant in the wild.

He curved a tender, careful finger against the ring of muscles framing your sex, trying to absorb more cum, and your grip on the edge of the countertop tightened.

“S-So, you—” You swallowed, throat constricting a little too, “You’re sayin’…men can make babies…whenever?”

You sounded so innocent as you said it. Joel wanted nothing more than to club himself over the head for being the cause of this predicament—of being such an instrumental part of the perceived corruption, as it was.

Meanwhile, your head was swimming in filthier thoughts.

Deeper, Joel, keep…pushing in…dee-e-per. You would have scarcely had more luck giving a fuck what Joel was talking about now than if he’d just said the room was on fire. By his voice, you knew you should’ve been paying attention, but the dexterity of his fingers was too much. He was caressing the first couple inches of your inner walls, attempting to scrape what bits of his release he could get unstuck from the flesh, but it seemed he was succeeding mostly in just turning you on. Rendering you deaf to the drone of his words as you pictured him pushing something else inside your tight, throbbing—

“—whole lotta problems for us if you’re, uh…ovulating,” Joel finished, expression taut and oblivious. You hadn’t heard the first part of that sentence and didn’t care to.

“Ovulating,” you repeated slowly. Indifferent.

Joel carried on without a hitch.

“Kids just ain’t fit for this world. I know you know that.”

You nodded along, not hearing a word.

“And if you’re— if y’ever did consider, maybe…”

Your lungs took an extra sharp inhale when Joel’s fingers coaxed out a warm, sticky glob of his load, and he petted your folds with his thumb. Then let out a breath himself.

“…y’oughta start a family with someone your own age—”

That part snagged your attention. Too swiftly, it came:

“My own age?”

Sighing, in spite of those welts of pleasure so heightened by his touch that the space between your legs began to throb and ache. Hardly possessed of more sense to form words that weren’t just echoes of his own, you tried communication from a simpler source—your foot.

You nudged his shoulder, and Joel looked up.

“What?”

“What?”

Parroting was, evidently, a hard habit to kill. Your toes curled into the bare skin of Joel’s shoulder, and when he re-inserted his finger, you ground your heel even deeper.

“When’s that ev…ever stopped us from doing it before, hm?” you said, tone strained but laced with some humor too, “Thought you liked sayin’ you’d make me a mama.”

Joel’s face flooded pink at the recollection—as a matter of fact, there had been several such memories. Instead of answering immediately, he just averted his gaze again. He anchored one hand to your thigh, and with the other teased out another string of your shared arousal before wiping his finger on the tissue, clinically, and repeating. All he had to offer in reply after was: ‘That’s different.’

And it was, to some extent. Joel wasn’t blind to the sea of uneasy looks that trailed behind you both whenever you walked the streets of Jackson together. How wide the eyes would get when instead of observing some filial display of affection play out before them, as expected, you’d loop your arms around his waist and take his lip between your teeth as you kissed—‘Can we please go home now, baby?’—that Joel was certain he’d been cemented as the resident pervert among everyone in town. Just how much worse that reputation was liable to get if there ever happened to be a round and swollen belly between that embrace someday was unthinkable. Dirty talk was one thing; parenthood another entirely.

This is for the best, became the low, grating refrain in his skull. Why he dug so hard, pushed so far inside the wet, velvety interior of your body without a thought for his own desires in that moment; he had to cull every trace of himself out of there, before he had half a chance to think.

“Baby, hey, hey, no—” Joel cut in a second later, abrupt.

No, no, no. You weren’t thinking either. Wrapping your hand around his wrist, pushing his fingers deeper inside.

Smiling a little, too.

“What are you— no, honey, don’t— you can’t,” Joel’s words splintered in every direction, watching you plunge his own index and middle fingers into the slick and the warmth he’d just been trying to get his cum out of. He looked up and saw your lids were heavy, about to close.

“What are you doin’? This ain’t…no, baby, it ain’t…safe.”

Back to sounding like a dad in no time at all.

“What’s wrong with leaving it in a bit longer? Feels nice.”

You had no idea what you were talking about. Joel pulled back on his hand and, in less than a second, had it freed.

“I just told you,” he huffed, “You’re too young—”

“I’m plenty old, Joel,” you returned, eyes snapping open, “You’ve shown me that more times than I can count.”

Joel was silent, stunned. He rose to his feet as your eyes seared holes into his, and for a second, he was uncertain whether to take a step back or reach out for you again.

“Baby…”

To his surprise, something like hurt surfaced behind your eyes. You set your lips in a tighter line, and your grip on the counter grew firmer just the same. He would’ve taken that move as his cue to lean in gently, slot his body between your thighs, and venture an apology of some sort, when the next thing you did stopped him cold.

Without a word, you slipped your free hand between your legs—eyeing Joel closely, almost scornfully, as you did.

You took your middle and ring fingers and sank them into your cunt. Not intending to let a drop of his spend leak out, you wedged them in as far as they’d go. Joel watched. Gawked. Once sufficiently pleased with the look of shock taking over his handsome, aged features, you withdrew the fingers. You brought them up to your mouth, wrapped your lips around the tips, and sucked.

It was a rare thing to get a taste of you and Joel together like this, so you savored it. You moved your mouth further down to drink it all in, peering up with wide, indulgent eyes and a look that was meant to punish.

Feels nice.

Tastes alright, too.

You’d licked the last bit of this glaze off your hand when your stomach clenched. You knew it would happen. Full as you were, you feared your body still hungered for more. As such, it hardly came as a surprise when next your muscles tensed, and you shifted closer to Joel.

“Maybe I don’t want babies with someone my own age.”

Either one of your knees were nudging his hips. Drawing him in. Joel appeared to waver for a second, unsure, but the look on his face made it clear this was mostly a matter of a delayed reaction. He couldn’t get his legs to move because the rest of him was still in awe. Staring at your lips, where the residue of his spend was glistening, then to your eyes, which were no less inviting, then up to the crown of your head and over it, to fix his stare on the mirror behind it. You watched him watch his own reflection with a look that was both hard and unkind, breathing slow. When he didn’t stir from that position after a minute, you touched a hand to his lower stomach.

And, brushing the heel of your palm against what felt like a hundred grey hairs in the old man’s happy trail—your favorite ones—you smoothed a caress along his belly, back and forth, before moving it left. Your hand came to rest on a mound of muscle and fat sitting right above his hip. Love handles, Joel had remarked one morning with vague distaste. Love handles, you’d repeated, beaming. You held on tightly now, appreciatively, and used your well-loved wall of flesh to pull him closer. As with any beckoning of yours, Joel didn’t have so much as half a mind to resist. He did, however, refuse to meet your gaze while you tilted your hips and spread your legs wider, before winding your ankles around the backs of his legs.

“Don’t you think I’d look pretty?” You pouted up at him. Your folds made a light, warm suction rubbing along the front of Joel’s cock—of course he’d grown hard again, and you could hold him, point him down to that wet embrace awaiting him patiently at the edge of the sink.

Joel cursed under his breath.

“‘Course I do…” he said, voice hoarse, “Y’always look—”

“I mean…with your baby inside me, Joel. Right here.”

As if to put a finer point on your words, you nestled the head of his cock inside the first inch of your body. Joel had to seize the laminate underneath you and grit his teeth to keep from letting out a groan too loud. That tip may as well have been a first-rate conductor of heat, and your warmth the thing that might send him spilling again

“You don’t—” Joel choked out, nearly incensed, “—don’t know what the hell you’re sayin’, baby. What that means.”

In truth, there wasn’t a world Joel Miller could imagine where a girl like you could give more than a passing thought to getting knocked up by him—a man his age. What good would it do? You had your whole life laid out before you like a four-course dinner spread; there was no sense whatsoever in letting the meal go to waste on him.

He communicated as much by moving to pull out.

You met the effort with a push of your own, sinking down another inch or two on his shaft and smiling when you saw his eyes roll back in his head at the dizzying friction.

“I know more than enough, old man—” Grin stretching ear-to-ear as you dug your heels in his ass and tugged him deeper, “—who do you think taught me all this?”

Of course, it had been Joel.

Always, always him—the only one, in fact.

Your walls drew him in like a hug. For once, Joel conjured up the strength to take a look between your lower half and his, and when he did, the next moan was inevitable. It trickled through his lips. Your body looked sublime swallowing a third of his cock, and it was almost as though a maggot had crawled into his brain, chanting:

‘Make her full. Make her yours. Tell any man who’d even think of looking her way she belongs to someone else.’

He couldn’t.

Joel would never be so selfish. Just think of her youth.

But when his gaze drifted back to yours, every thought and any word besides seemed gently to melt away. Beneath him, your eyes were two pools of desire.

“You like this…don’t you, Joel?” Your voice was tiny.

“I do.”

In fact, he loved it.

“Then why can’t we?” Why shouldn’t we?

Minuscule now, the words that reached him barely exceeded a whisper. It was as though the moment itself had drained all fear from your face—and out of Joel, all common sense from his brain—leaving you both to stare at the other with shared, stupid, anoetic looks of bliss. The man who had you beat by thirty-odd years seemed nearly of the same mind, with almost identical ignorance.

Idiocy.

“Just once?” Joel croaked.

Somewhere underneath, unseen, you smiled.

“Just one?” you murmured back.

He sank in another inch. When your walls contracted around him, Joel’s hands found your hips by force of habit and pushed your back against the glass behind it. The mirror was cool, and inside you, Joel was throbbing.

“Once,” he repeated, not thinking too deeply.

“One,” you said, with a world of more purpose.

Joel relinquished the last three inches, and with it, all of his resolve. The handsome, scarred, and plainly greying features all twisted as one, and the expression that you knew too well to mean that the man was feeling good took on the slightest hint of guilt. He gripped you tighter.

“One?” Joel panted. Confused.

He pulled out halfway just to find his home again. Your pearly slick mixed together with his spend, and both coated over Joel’s shaft in a pretty, generous sheen.

“One more of you, I mean.” You sounded too sweet. There was no way in hell you’d actually meant it.

Joel’s cheeks flushed again, but he didn’t stop, either.

“Baby…” he trailed off instead. He pushed in, pulled out, felt your tender little hole make an ‘o’ around his shaft, and then he kissed the edge of your left cheek—maybe to rein in the need in his words before he spoke again: “One’a me takes and I’m givin’ ya fifteen more, y’hear?”

The smile he received told him as much as he needed to hear. He probably wouldn’t have believed it even if you’d said the words yourself. Joel’s thrusts sped up, and as the pleasure distended in the pit of his stomach with the friction and the feel, his words flowed a little more freely.

In disbelief, “Wanna be a mama that bad for me, huh?”

Your grin grew bigger. You nodded your head.

“Make your old man a daddy, is that it?”

Exactly. Senseless as it was, your look said it all.

To have slipped between the grooves and ridges of Joel’s brain and caught wind of even a fraction of the things he wanted to do to you then, a smarter girl would have run. Would have shoved him back out as swiftly as she’d let him in and told him no, that’s gross, and gone home. And, had the grey matter floating inside your own skull not been so completely dominated by primal need and wanting, that’s likely what you would have done, too. Instead, with a head full of lewd, youthful stupidity, you seized the black-grey curls dangling at the nape of his neck and drew him closer. You spread your legs wider.

“That is what you’ve wanted this whole time, right?”

Under his scruff, a muscle tensed as Joel bit down.

That’s all he’s ever wanted.

Let the neighbors talk.

Let them say what they wanted to say—it was probably all true to the point they were trying to make, anyway. That Joel was a pervert, of course. That you were naïve, also true. That you would look too good not to stare in a white cotton frock with a bump underneath, absolutely. These were the ideas permeating your brain and his while Joel took a firmer hold of your sides and brought his nose to rest against yours. With every stab of his hips, he pressed kisses to your soft, parted lips, speaking low:

“That what you want, too, darlin’?” More serious now.

The head of his cock nicked a sensitive ridge inside you, eliciting a whimper, but you nodded. You nodded again, feeling the brush of his stubble at your mouth and your chin, and nodded again when he bottomed out, stuffing you tight. It felt a little more momentous than any other time in the past, now that you were picturing a fullness that wasn’t just him. Him and you: a concrete being to soothe the sting of his absence long after Joel withdrew.

Something to stick.

“Please say it, baby.”

Someone to call yours.

“I want it,” you said, sounding desperate.

A coil was just starting to form in the place you felt him. Drifting up, pulling tight, making your eyes go glossy and wide while they stuck to Joel’s and begged him for more.

“Want what?” He sped up, and his thrusts got sloppy.

“Want you,” you breathed, “Inside me, Joel, please.”

As if predicting your next thoughts, the man lowered his hand to your belly. You hadn’t even noticed the smallest bulge had taken shape beneath the skin. Joel slowed, momentarily, then rubbed the base of his palm against the mound where your body was obliged to make room for his cock inside you. He drew soft, tender circles there and, with the motion, sent stars flying before your eyes.

“Good girl,” he murmured, “Right here?”

“Ri— right there. Right there.”

Joel adored that sound. The soft, elated look, the gentle knoll of flesh in a bump below his hand, the whimpers rolling off your tongue repeatedly, quicker and quicker the more the pleasure inside you continued to build. Joel’s release was coming soon, too. For the hundredth time that night, he silently wished he were a little younger; so he could fill you up once, twice, twenty more times until your insides were stuffed and painted white. As if reading his mind, as he had for you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Hope our baby has your eyes,” you murmured to him.

It shouldn’t have had such a strong effect—but of course, it did. Joel pictured the small, sweet infant with irises that shone a bit like his, and his stomach caved in.

Tonight, tomorrow, or ten months down the line, he was getting you pregnant. He’d clear his whole schedule for it

“That right?” And now he couldn’t stop the smile as he spoke, leaning even further in, “What about their nose?”

He kissed the tip of yours.

“Hope they get this.”

He kissed either one of your cheeks.

“These too.”

You had to fight back a laugh while his scruff tickled skin. Two deep strokes away from the brink of release and he still somehow always stayed in tune with your needs.

The threat of your peak was perilously near. Joel’s spend and your slick, tender glaze made a chorus of sounds at each thrust, and the deeper he went, the bigger it swelled. Your smiles couldn’t stay for much longer when the feeling inside you both was being amplified like that. Sensing this, Joel took hold of your face and slipped his touch to cup your chin. He made you tilt your head up to him, as if to ask again, ‘Are you sure?’ and when you nodded, his lips twitched again. A fleeting hint of a grin, like he couldn’t be more eager to finish now if he tried.

Holding your face, cock swollen and throbbing and desperate between your walls, he felt a familiar twitch.

There it is.

[agxxb]

Prettier Than a Star .𖥔 ݁ ˖

rafe cameron x f!reader

summary: when rafe finds you alone, you finally get to know one another.

warnings: smut. unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), oral (f!receiving). use of pet names (baby, sweetheart). praise. underage drinking. best friend’s brother. [5k]

read part two here!

“You’re not supposed to be out here. It’s off-limits to guests.” You turned around in surprise upon hearing a new voice, only relaxing after seeing the familiar face. “Ah, it’s just you.”

Rafe’s head cocked to the side, surprised to see you standing on one of Tanneyhill’s many balconies — but it was a pleasant surprise. He didn’t smile, but his expression softened just a little.

“Sorry, Rafe,” you apologised, a small yet sheepish smile on your face. You hadn’t expected anyone to find you, let alone your friend’s older brother. You just wanted peace and quiet away from the jamboree happening below.

Rafe walked over with a hand in his jeans’ pocket, the other holding a beer. He turned and leaned against the rails beside you. “Didn’t expect to see you at my party.”

“Sarah invited me,” you explained, a short shrug following as you took a deep breath through your nose. “She kinda left me alone as soon as she saw her boyfriend, and I got overwhelmed with the party. This was the only place I knew no one would be.”

Rafe chuckled lightly. “Sounds like Sarah.” He shook his head. He couldn’t lie and say he was surprised Sarah had ditched you. “What? Can’t handle a little party?” he asked, clearly teasing you.

“I can.” You shot him a look, but still grinned. “Just not when people I don’t know are shoving unknown drinks into my face.”

He smirked, taking a quick swig of beer from the bottle. “Hey, those are the best kind of drinks. Free alcohol is good alcohol.” He glanced over at you as he spoke. “You should’ve just come found me when Sarah ditched you.”

“Free drinks are the best, but not when there’s a possibility of them being spiked,” You gave him another small smile before shrugging. “And, in all honesty, I didn’t even think you liked me enough to talk to me. You’ve only ever spoken to me when Sarah’s been there.”

Rafe’s smirk faltered, and his expression softened ever-so-slightly. “Why wouldn’t I like you?” he asked, cocking his head to the side again, looking at you. “You’re one of the few people that Sarah hangs out with that I don’t want to throw into a wall the moment I see them,” he added, giving a scoff of a laugh.

You smiled at Rafe’s words, letting out a short chuckle. He kept his gaze on you for a moment more, something almost thoughtful crossing his face before he looked out to the front grounds of the house.

The night sky was vast, the stars glimmering above. The sea breeze was cool and fresh against your skin, and the sounds from the party down below were just low enough to be a distant rumble. It was nice and peaceful.

“I’ve always adored the island,” you said after a short while of silence, following his eye-line to admire the view: the sea in the far back, the beautiful sunset just above the sea line, and the houses in the close distance.

Rafe looked away from the view, to you, listening to you. He’d never really paid much attention to how beautiful the island really was. The night was nice, though; even he could admit that. He thought about making a snide comment about the view – that it’d be prettier with a joint or drug to enhance it – but didn’t. Instead, he just nodded.

“It is nice,” he agreed, taking another swig of the beer in his hand.

He turned to lean against the railing once more, his side now facing you. He raised the bottle to his lips, tilting his head back as he took a healthy sip, enjoying the taste of it. It went quiet again, and he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. He watched as you kept your gaze on the sky, and you looked almost mesmerised.

It was almost like you were in a trance, the way you just watched the stars above. The sight was honestly rather fascinating to Rafe; He’d never seen anyone just stare into space. He continued to watch you though, and found himself almost studying how captivated you were by the stars, like there was some sort of peace in that moment.

“You like the stars?” Rafe heard himself ask, his voice low and casual as he looked upwards as well.

“Oh, I adore them…” Your eyes twinkled whilst the stars blinked. You smiled, a small one, but it was filled with admiration and fascination.

Rafe listened intently, watching as the soft smile appeared on your face, and he found himself feeling a sense of curiosity. “Why?”

“Because it’s all unknown. It’s scary, but also so cool.”

Rafe hummed lowly, and he found he actually agreed a bit with what you said. The stars and sky were definitely a little scary, but the unknown always was. And yet, it was interesting, too.

He went silent for a few moments, the alcohol in his system making him more relaxed and a bit less guarded. He felt more open, like he could say things he wouldn’t normally say, and that was why he spoke again after a moment of silence. “Want some?”

You looked over at Rafe, seeing him tilting his beer in your direction. You accepted his offer with a smile, taking the glass bottle from his hold and bringing it up to your mouth, wrapping your lips around the top and tilting your head back.

Rafe watched your actions, licking his lips as his thoughts spiralled. He found his eyes trailing over your face, lingering on your eyes, and then your lips, which looked soft and full. The alcohol he had consumed had made his thoughts fuzzy, and he suddenly found himself imagining something else instead of the beer bottle.

The thoughts of how you looked and the soft tone of your voice made his mind wander, imagining what sounds you might make in other situations.

"What’re you doing?" you teased, biting your bottom lip and moving slightly closer to Rafe. You had noticed him staring, scanning your body and – possibly –admiring you.

Rafe knew he had been caught looking at you, and he didn't even know what to say when you moved closer. He tried to keep his composure, though he found his eyes straying once more as he noticed a glimpse of your collarbone.

"I'm enjoying the view.”

"Yeah?" You lightly blushed, cheeks turning a pink champagne, and smiled up at him. "Enjoying it, hm?"

Rafe was captivated as you smiled at him, and his breath hitched as he watched you take another sip of his beer. It was more than a little attractive, and he found his thoughts getting muddled again, his mind wandering to places it had no business going.

"Yeah," he answered simply, his voice coming out deep and rough as he shrugged.

He tried to look away, but he found himself looking at you again, eyes drifting from your collarbone and over the swell of your chest. He knew he was being obvious with his staring, but he couldn't help it. He found himself admiring you, the soft curves and slopes of your body, the shape of your hips. Even though you were still standing a few inches apart, he was suddenly aware of how close you were, and he wanted you to be closer.

“Just admiring?” you wondered aloud, almost hinting at the fact you wanted him to do more.

Rafe briefly wondered what would happen if he reached out and touched you, to feel his hands on your skin. It would probably be so soft, he bet. He could smell the sweet scent of your perfume, and it was like an invitation to him.

His eyes flicked back up to your lips when you bit your bottom one, and he found himself wondering what they would feel like against his own. He took a step forward, his boots thudding against the balcony floor, and reached out, his fingers hovering a few inches away from your skin, the tips of his fingers just barely touching your cheek.

Rafe slowly lowered his hand until it connected, gently resting his palm against the soft skin of your cheek. He gently caressed your skin, feeling the softness underneath his fingers as he stroked your cheek. He felt emboldened, and the alcohol in his system made him a more reckless.

“Your hand's warm," you told him, resting your cheek into his palm. You were aware of Rafe's history and his anger issues, but you weren’t scared of him... especially after the way he'd treated you that night. Rafe hummed in acknowledgement, trying to ignore the way his heart flipped at how you leaned into his touch.

He wanted this, wanted to touch you, and he wanted more than that, too... so much more.

"You're soft," Rafe mumbled, his voice rougher than usual, and he let his thumb gently brush against your jawline.

"I am?" you asked, almost shy after hearing him say you were soft. He hummed in response once again, unable to stop himself from gently rubbing his thumb along your skin, slowly, over and over again.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice still sounding rough, and his thumb started to travel down the slope of your neck. "Soft everywhere."

“You haven’t even touched me everywhere.”

Rafe’s eyes snapped up to yours, trying to see if there were any hints of intoxication behind your words. He let his fingers press gently against the underside of your chin, just barely lifting it.

"You like when I touch you?" he asked quietly, the words just slipping from his mouth. You hummed a response, agreeing to his question silently, and a rush of heat flowed through him. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

The way you almost begged for a kiss made his lips twitch up. His hand slowly moved to the back of your neck as he gently pulled you forward, tilting your chin up. He looked into your eyes as his face hovered close to yours, wanting to make sure you really wanted this. His breath fanned over your face, and he slowly closed the remaining gap to press his lips against yours.

Rafe let himself just hold his lips against yours for a second, just the briefest moment, before he really kissed you. His lips moved against yours, molding themselves to your mouth in a shockingly gentle action.

You moaned softly as your lips moved together, never wanting to stop kissing now you had tasted him. Your hands lifted, placing the beer bottle on the balcony to your right before you touched him: one hand on his torso and the other on the back of his neck, fingers gently scratching at the nape.

At the sound of your soft moan, something inside Rafe snapped. He felt your hands on his skin, the feeling of your fingers scraping against his neck just made him want more, and so he took more by pressing his lips harder against yours.

Rafe quickly wrapped his other arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his front, and he let his tongue gently slide across your bottom lip. His mind was a chaotic mess of thoughts, filled with just need and want and you. He was vaguely aware of the party going on below, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Rafe groaned and pressed even closer against you, pinning you up against the railing. He let his tongue explore your mouth, tasting you before he raised a hand to your throat once again, tilting your head to the side and away from his. He started gently nibbling and sucking on the skin there, letting his lips travel down over your pulse.

“Fuck,” you moaned quietly, closing your eyes as you basked in the pleasure gained from him kissing your neck. “Rafe…”

He felt a rush of satisfaction at the way you gasped his name, the sound going straight to his already-hardening cock. His lips continued to move along the skin on your neck, sucking and then biting down gently, trying to get more of those sweet sounds out of you.

“You sound so sweet when you say my name like that,” Rafe muttered in a deep grumble against your skin as his free hand started to slowly lift up the edge of your shirt.

He felt another rush of heat flow through him, settling deep in the pit of his stomach, at the breathy sound you made in reply to his praise. He let his fingers slide across the newly-exposed skin of your hip, his warm touch sending shivers through you.

“You gonna let me take you to my room?” he asked huskily, pulling back from your neck to look into your eyes again.

“Is that what you want?” you asked him with a soft grin, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. You tilted his head to the side, littering kissing up and down the column of his neck.

Rafe groaned as he gave you more access to his neck, pressing lower-half against you, and his fingers dug into your hips. He was already so hard, just from the way you sounded and the feel of your lips. He felt like his brain was completely clouded over now, and he couldn’t think of anything except you.

You hummed, lightly nipping at his neck and smiling softly as you heard Rafe let out a sound, like a moan had been caught in his throat. You pulled the collar of his shirt to the side, sucking at the skin between his neck and shoulder, leaving a mark and soothing over it with your tongue.

“Fuuuuuuck,” Rafe groaned again, the feeling of your tongue making him shiver. He took a shuddering breath as he tried to force himself to think clearly, but all he could really think about was your mouth on his skin.

Feeling how hard he was against your lower stomach, you pulled back to bite your lower lip. “You wanna take me into your room, Rafe? Wanna have your way and do whatever you want to me? Make me feel good?”

The teasing tone of your voice had his lust-filled brain short-circuiting. He felt your hand press against his hard length and he gritted his teeth, your hand moving up to slide over his abs, feeling his muscles tense.

“You keep doing that, and I won’t be able to make it to my room,” his voice was low and gravelly as he spoke.

“Yeah, pretty boy?”

He grunted as he felt an unexpected rush of heat at the nickname, and length twitched against your stomach. “Keep it up, and you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

“What if that’s what I want?” you whispered into his ear, leaving another peck against his cheek.

Rafe quickly turned his face to capture your lips with his own, the kiss anything but slow or gentle. He tried to pour all of his need into it, pushing his tongue into your mouth and hungrily tasting you. He nipped at your bottom lip, his teeth scraping against your sensitive skin, and he began to move his mouth down over your jaw.

“Take me inside, Rafe. Please.”

He heard the hint of a moan in your voice, and the way you said his name, begging him to take you inside, was almost his undoing. He needed to get you alone, behind a locked door. Now.

Rafe pulled back, looking at you, his eyes dilated and filled with so much lust that it was like he’d completely lost himself in the need for you. “Come with me,” he said, voice raw, and he stepped away, just enough to grab your hand.

He wasted no time in pulling you along with him, hurrying through the balcony doors into the house, barely giving you a second to shut the door behind you before he was pulling you down a hallway and toward his room at the end. Rafe quickly opened his door and pulled you inside, shutting it behind you and locking it.

He pushed you up against the door, trapping you with his body. “Please fuck me,” you begged with a moan, fisting at the fabric of his button-up shirt.

The sound of your soft, pleading moan and your words made his head spin. At that exact moment, he was done trying to control himself. He felt his brain shut down, any higher thought completely gone, and he suddenly all he cared about was getting his hands on you.

He quickly unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off and tossing it aside, before his hands almost immediately went to the shirt you were wearing. “Too many clothes,” he whispered thickly, his voice barely more than a rough grumble.

The moment he could see your skin, Rafe’s hands were on you again, touching you, feeling you. He couldn’t help but notice the little shivers you were making when he did. He brought his lips down to your neck once again, leaving more hot, wet kisses. His tongue traced the hollow of your jaw as his hands outlined your body, his touch rougher and greedier with each passing second.

Rafe let his lips move lower, down your neck and over your chest, sucking and kissing, his teeth gently scraping against your skin as he went. He stopped just above the line of your bra, taking it off before looking at you. You looked gorgeous: hair all tousled, marks already forming all over your skin, and breathing heavy.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” Rafe muttered almost gruffly, his eyes travelling over your face and down your body.

“Only for you, pretty boy,” you bit your bottom lip, running your fingers over his buzzed head as he knelt down in front of you, his hands on your hips.

He couldn’t help the way his breath hitched at the feeling of your fingers. He felt himself almost entranced by you, your sounds, words, and touch making it so that he didn’t care about anything other than you.

He continued his journey down your body, his lips on your stomach, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses and bites on your skin. His hands started to wander too, touching and exploring, sliding over your legs and moving up the inside of your thighs.

He looked up at you, watching your face as did so, the urge to mark you as his so primal and strong. He continued to kiss the tops of your thighs, leaving another mark behind before slowly making his way up again, closer and closer to the edge of your underwear.

“Fuck… Please.”

“Please what, Sweetheart?” He let his hands slide up your sides to your lower back, hooking his fingers on the edge of your underwear. He started to pull them down, his eyes still looking at you for your reaction. “C’mon… talk to me.”

“Please touch me.” Tears began to form in your’ eyes, but not from upset or pain; you were so turned on and impatient — you needed Rafe to touch you. “I’m so wet for you. Please.”

His own breathing was ragged now, his eyes dilated to the point the blue of them was almost completely gone, only a ring around the edge of his pupils visible. The way you sounded, so desperate and needy, almost had him fucking you against the door.

He brought his head closer to where you needed him, his lips hovering by the skin there for a moment. “How bad do you want me to touch you, baby?”

“So fucking bad, Rafe. Please,” you begged, running a hand over his short hair again. “Please.”

He leaned so that his cheek was resting on your hip, and he let out a low exhale, his breath warm and hot against your skin. “I’m gonna take my time with you,” he murmured, and then his lips were on your skin again, leaving kisses down your hip, towards your center.

It was like he’d suddenly lost all self-control, his need to touch you, to taste you, was so strong that it was pushing him past that edge of self-restraint. He pressed his lips against your core from over your lace panties, his tongue immediately tasting you through the fabric, and he let out a low moan.

“Fuck, you taste good.” He spoke directly against you, his voice gravelly and thick with lust, before slowly hooking his fingers under the lace of your underwear and pulling them down, needing to get them off you so that he could taste you properly.

Rafe’s hands were suddenly firm on your hip as he pushed your legs apart, keeping you open for him to put his mouth on you, his tongue licking and exploring. He was relentless, actions desperate. He felt the way you trembled under his touch, and he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to hold back for very long, not if he kept hearing those little sounds you were making.

You moaned loudly, eyes rolling back in pleasure and head titling back against his bedroom door. “Fuck! Feels so good, oh my god!”

Rafe loved the way you sounded, the way you reacted to him as he continued to suck on and lick at your clit. But he needed more. He pressed his hands against your hips as he continued with his attention, his tongue more demanding now. He was addicted to the taste of you, not wanting to ever touch another woman nor that he’s had you.

He continued his actions on your clit, finding what made you shiver and moan, what made you melt. He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of the sounds you made as he worked you with his mouth, pushing you higher and higher.

Rafe suddenly shifted, his tongue switching to a different angle. He could feel you shaking, getting closer and closer to the edge. He didn’t let up, his hands having moved to your thighs, keeping your legs open as he pressed himself closer, his tongue never slowing down, never stopping.

“Fuck!” you sobbed, the pleasure almost too much but so fucking good. “Please don’t stop, please don’t stop. Feels so fucking good.”

Rafe couldn’t possibly stop now, not when you sounded like that, not when you were so close. He could feel how your body was tightening, almost trembling as you got closer. He was so caught up in your sounds, in your taste. He kept his movements at the same speed, not wanting to change anything, and then you were there, falling over the edge. Your legs shook as you came, crying out his name as he lapped you up greedily, still wanting more after tasting you.

Only when you were starting to come down did he stop. Rafe slowly stood up, his mouth still wet and glistening, and looked at you, at the way you were leaning against the door and trying to get your breath back.

You immediately leaned forward to kiss Rafe, your lips meeting his instantly. He felt you melt against his body, and his arms encircled your waist, kissing you almost desperately, like he was starving and you were the only thing that could possibly satisfy him.

Rafe grabbed the back of your thighs and wrapped them around his waist, picking you up and moving you over to his bed, lightly dropping you onto the mattress before crawling over you. He loomed over you on the bed, his hands on either side of you. He could feel how you were looking at him, your eyes raking over his bare chest and the bulge in his pants, almost like you couldn't decide where to look first. It was driving him crazy. He felt like his skin was on fire, and he needed you to touch him, wanted to feel your hands on him.

“Please fuck me,” you quietly begged, looking up at him through your lashes. He leaned back, hands moving to his belt as he unbuckled it before sliding it through the loops of his jeans, taking them and his underwear off next.

“Yeah?” he asked breathlessly, raising an eyebrow. “You want that?” He looked down at you hungrily, his eyes taking in the way you looked beneath him. He suddenly grabbed your wrists and pinned them to either side of your head, trapping you beneath him. “You gonna be good for me if I give you that?” he whispered, his voice low and gravelly.

You nodded, silently pleading, begging, Rafe. You were soaked, and not just from when he ate you out moments prior. There was something about hearing him say those words, something about the way his voice sounded, so sweet and dominating, that made pleasure burn through you, making you want him even more.

He gently, almost reverently, released your wrists, his hands roaming over your body instead. “Good girl,” he murmured, voice rough. “That’s my good girl.”

Your hands lifted to rest on his bare back as Rafe smirked, reaching down and lining himself up before pushing forward into your sopping wet pussy. Your eyebrows furrowed together in pleasure, having him fill you to the brim.

"Oh, my god…” Rafe was hypnotised, his fingers grabbing at your hips. He could barely think, his mouth hanging open as his eyes glazed over.

The feeling of you beneath him, around him, was so intense he had to pause for a moment to collect himself. He felt like he was on fire, his body tense, his muscles coiled tight as he held himself above you. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this way, this intense, this desperate. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before he started to move, his hips rocking against yours, eyes locked on your face.

He could feel your hands on his back, your nails clawing at his skin, and it only turned him on more. “That feel good, baby?” Rafe asked, voice strained with how good you felt.

“S-So good,” you nodded, tears building up in your eyes once again from the pleasure. “So deep.”

“Fuck,” Rafe moaned deeply, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. Your lips parted as his hips slapped against the backs of your thighs. It left you feeling dumb, no thoughts left in your head apart from how pretty Rafe looked above you. “Pussy’s so good.

“Please, please, please,” you begged, tilting your head back to look up at him. His own lips parted as he reached his hands up, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as he stared as your tits in awe. “Just like that — keep fucking me like that.”

Rafe could feel every little gasp, every moan, every whimper you made, and it was driving him crazy. You were making him feel things he didn’t know he could feel, and he was lost in you. He could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, could feel himself losing control, and he knew he couldn’t hold back for much longer.

He suddenly leaned down, his face just inches away from yours, and pressed his forehead against yours. He was breathing heavy, his breath mingling with yours, his heart racing. He was hanging on by a thread, fighting the urge to let go, but he wanted to see you fall apart for him first.

Rafe suddenly slid his hand down your body, his thumb finding your clit and quickly rubbing it. You moaned loudly, nails scratching down his back and leaving red marks in their wake.

“F-fuck!” you cried, the pleasure consuming you. Rafe sped up, going harder and rougher, his own hand coming up to wrap around your neck, adding a little pressure — just the way you liked it. He loved the sound of your voice, the way it changed as he touched you, the way it got higher and more desperate as you got closer to the edge.

He couldn’t hold back a low moan of his own, keeping his hand on your neck as he sent harsh thrusts up into you, your pussy squelching with each one.

“That’s it,” he rasped. “Let me hear how good you feel.” He suddenly grabbed your hip, using it as leverage as he started to move rougher, his body tensing up. He was so close, so close to losing control, but he wasn’t ready for it to be over yet. He suddenly leaned down again, his mouth right next to your ear, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. “Cum for me, baby.”

“O-Oh, my God!” you moaned loudly, barely able to say anything other than that and his name.

He knew you were close, could feel it in your body, and he felt his own body tense up in response. ”That’s it, Sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice thick and low. “That’s it. Let go for me.”

“Rafe!” you screamed his name as you came, legs shaking around his waist with your head thrown back against his bed. He felt you tighten around him, felt your nails digging into his skin, and he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Gonna cum so fuckin' deep in you,” Rafe mumbled, letting go of your neck and running purely on primal instincts now. “Gonna take it all like my good girl, yeah?”

“Uh huh," you whined, tits bouncing as he continued to fuck himself deeper into you. “Please cum in me!”

“Prettier than any fucking star.” Rafe grabbed ahold of your hips, grinding his hips deep into yours a few more times, before coming to a stop. He came hard, his body tensing up as he buried his face into your neck, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he rode out his orgasm.

You felt full as his cum filled you up, letting out a hum of content. Rafe couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but lay there, his body weighing you down, face pressed into your neck. He was breathing heavily, his body still shaking from the intensity of his release, and he couldn’t remember ever feeling this good, this wrecked, this satisfied.

He suddenly lifted his head up, eyes locking on yours immediately, his face flushed. “You… are amazing.”

[rafesugar]

rafe changing his mind about leaving

warnings: s2 rafe, overstimulation, fingering, rafe getting a little bit aggressive, mean!rafe if you squint, heavily inspired by that scene in buffalo 66 where billy leaves layla in the motel

p!link

you were woken by faint rustling in the motel room. your eyes adjusted to the dim light just enough to make out rafe’s silhouette as he slid something sleek and metallic out of the room’s vault. “what are you doing…” you mumbled sleepily, unsure if he even heard you. as your eyes got used to the dim light, you realized he was about to leave. you sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes. “where are you going?” you ask in a panic, your eyes following his every move.

“i'm getting something taken care of, but for the meantime, you need to stay here” rafe said, your eyes making out the gun metal in his hand. “why can't i come with you?” you didn't want rafe to leave, ever, and especially not at this time. it was dark and quiet, too quiet.

rafe paused, his gaze steady on yours. “if someone finds you, they’ll take you away from me. we don’t want that now, do we, doll?” he said, his tone monopolizing. “when are you coming back?” he exhaled sharply, his irritation growing with each question. “you really gonna start this again? why would i even leave you, baby? really leave you.” he scoffed before taking his keys from the table.

“i really like you, rafe. i'm gonna be really sad if you don’t come back.” you prop yourself up on your knees, looking up at him. he froze in his tracks, his eyes narrowing. why couldn't you just trust him? “i’m coming back! goddammit..” his voice rose before he caught himself, throwing the keys at the tv, shattering the motel's property. you jumped at the sound, squirming in bed with unease. rafe let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. he tossed his gun onto the armchair, the pistol falling at its cushion. “look. look, baby, i'm sorry.. you really want me to stay?

“no.” you had a small pout on your face, but no way were you gonna admit that you wanted him to stay, especially not out loud. “no?” rafe let out an amused chuckle, getting in bed and pulling your hips onto his lap. “my baby doesn't want me to stay?” he teased before wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you in place as his other hand reached for your panties, ripping them off you.

he wasted no time, slamming two fingers in until he was knuckles deep. you winced at the intrusion, your walls fluttering against him. “r-rafe!” you bury your face against the pillows to muffle your moans. “shhh” he pumped his fingers in and out at an unforgiving pace, the room filled with the sound of your whining and whimpering, as well as the squelches of your sweet little cunt.

you let out a whine, kicking him and pushing his hand away in attempts to get him to stop or at least slow down. “no no no. what happened to the ‘i really like you, rafe’ bullshit, hm?” he curled his fingers to hit that soft spot of yours. you let out a cry as your orgasm hit you harder than the previous ones where he alternated between torturing your clit and drilling into your abused hole. “n-no more! no more!” you cried, kicking him in attempts to get away. “acting so needy and the second i give it to you, you don't want it? well too bad ‘cause you're gonna take what I give you.”

[nereidprinc3ss]

kiss it better

in which spencer notices your bruised knees and tries to make it up to you

18+ (fluff, allusions to past intimacy) warnings/tags: gn!reader i believe, reader has bruised knees lol, guess why, implied intimacy, hurt/comfort, sorta implied d/s dynamics maybe?? spencer is so smart and not very smart, but forever my no. 1 cutie pie a/n: why do i love writing about smut like before and after smut way more than i actually like writing smut LOL anyways here is this cause i haven't been posting very much!!! (also ik I said I don't like babe as a pet name but shhh) and GIF :D

“Hey,” you grunt as you flop on the bed in your pajamas, rumpling the neat covers. “Pay attention to me.”

Spencer holds his Sudoku off to the side and watches, eyebrows raised, as you scoot closer, tossing your leg over him. Soon he’s abandoning the book and pen on the bedside table in favor of hooking his fingers under your knee and stroking your leg, much to your delight. 

“Okay. What kind of attention would you like?”

You allow him to put his other arm around you and settle your cheek on his shoulder. 

“This is pretty good.”

“Oh, good,” he says with only a hint of teasing, leaning down slightly to kiss your lips and then the tip of your nose. 

When he pulls away you can’t help smiling up at him like a lovestruck idiot. Obviously he’s perfect all the time, but in his glasses, with his hair messy, wearing a navy crewneck instead of a button up and tie… he’s just… he’s just so…

He’s just so alarmed?

“Honey, your knee.”

“My knee?” Your own brows furrow and you track his eye line, craning your neck to look down to the blotchy sprawl of purple and red marring your skin. “Oh.”

The pillow is soft under your head where it falls, unconcerned even as Spencer gawps at you, baffled by your nonchalance. 

“What did you do?”

You snort. 

“What did you do, Spencer?”

It’s cute, the way his lips move as he silently repeats the sentence, trying to discern the meaning of your words. 

“What do you mean? I did something?”

“Babe.”

The knot between his brows has not loosened any—in fact you’re worried he’s going to give himself a headache. Or at least make himself dizzy, with the way his eyes cycle between your own. You try again, covering his anxious hand on the bend of your leg with your own. 

“When we got back from Penelope’s thing, the other night?”

Slowly the understanding seeps into his expression—soft guilt in his eyes, and a deep red stain in his cheeks. At least his face relaxes. 

“Oh.”

God, he’s so cute. He can’t hold eye contact, looking down once the shock of embarrassment has faded and swallowing, a little frown twisting his features once more. You reach up, brushing his cheek with a thumb and adjusting his glasses. 

“What’s wrong?”

The question comes out too smiley, but you can’t help it. 

“I hurt you,” he says, quietly, utterly ashamed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“I kinda think you did,” you tease, and Spencer says your name with a serious edge. You try to quit grinning so much. “Baby, it’s fine. You didn’t hurt me. Don’t you ever get mysterious bruises?”

His eyes are wide and honest on yours when he meets them again. 

“No. My iron levels are optimal.”

Naturally. 

“Okay, well, lots of people do. Sometimes I get a bruise and I have no idea what it’s from because it never hurt. These,” you look down, gesturing to your knee, “never hurt. It’s just what happens when your knees hit the floor.”

“Well you shouldn’t have been on the floor,” he scolds, countering with a sweet touch on your cheek. “I’m never letting you touch the floor ever again.”

Your shit-eating grin is back and better than ever. “Oh, so you’re going to carry me everywhere we go?”

“If that’s what it takes. I don’t like seeing you bruised up.”

“It’s okay. I bruised myself doing something I love.”

At this Spencer rolls his eyes and kisses you once more before gently pushing your leg away and getting out of bed. 

“Where are you going?” You ask, all smugness gone and more concerned than you ought to be as he flicks the bathroom light on. For a moment you receive no answer, but then he reappears bearing a white tube. 

“Give me your legs,” he says, sitting next to you on the bed. You swing your legs over his lap and watch on in mild interest as he dispenses lotion from the bottle and tosses it aside, carefully rubbing it into the bruised skin. Every few seconds he glances up to gauge your reaction, and though it’s definitely tender, you avoid wincing. “You don’t have to do that. I can tell it hurts.”

You laugh. 

“Yeah, well, it didn’t until you started trying to fix it.” The ointment is pungent and you make a face. “What are you rubbing all over me?”

“This is vitamin K and Arnica. It will make the bruises go away faster.”

“Aw. You don’t think they’re pretty on me?”

He sets the bottle on the nightstand and retrieves the pen he’d been doing Sudoku with earlier, uncapping it. Your heart swells as he draws tiny sad faces by the bruises on your knees, glasses slipping down his nose as he focuses intently. 

“I always think you’re pretty. I just never want you to be hurt, ever.”

“Are you done taking care of me now?” You ask, reaching out for him. The pen joins the bottle and suddenly he has no concern for your bodily health, practically crushing you with a hug. When he speaks it’s muffled by your shoulder. 

“Never.”

You hum, nose tickled in his hair and forming a dastardly plan. 

“You could kiss them better.”

Spencer laughs and presses his lips briefly to your neck. 

“I might just do that.”

[rafeysbunny]

heyyyyyyyy! I have a thought. Do you think that reader could get rafe to beg? Like maybe he did smth that pissed reader off so she’s been ignoring him but rage just can’t take it anymore? I love your writing so honestly just go crazy

-👻 anon

a/n. first ask, i'm so excited! in answer to your question: yes! absolutely, yes! this man is soo pussy whipped, he'd do anything for reader. ty for the request, babe!

two hours of you giving rafe the cold shoulder it's all it takes for him to break. he knows he fucked up greatly, but you're just being so mean that he cannot help the way his lips curl into a pout as he kneels in front of you, pleading for your forgiveness.

only you could get rafe motherfucking cameron to beg like this.

"baby, 'm so, so sorry," he apologizes, big hands gripping onto your plush thighs tightly so you can't get away from him this time, not again. "forgive me, yeah? i know i screwed up, and i'm sorry."

his lips start peppering kisses over the sliver of bare skin under the hem of your top as he keeps muttering words of repentance, the actions making your heart melt. "it won't happen again, i promise to you, angel."

"i'm really pissed at you right now, rafe," you address him for the first time in hours, voice tone sharp.

he doesn't care how cold you sound, though, the fact that you're finally talking to him instead of ignoring his presence nearly makes him cry happy tears. how embarrassing is that? he can't believe you got him this hooked. he should be the one in charge, not you, but, let's be honest, he's too in love with you to even care anymore.

"i know, baby, i'm sorry," he repeats for the hundredth time, puppy, blue eyes staring up at you entreatingly. "what can i do for you to forgive me? i'll do anything, just please, stop being mad."

"anything?"

a mischievous smirk spreads across your pretty face, your mind already conjuring up all the filthy ways he could make it up to you.

"anything, angel."

that's how he ends up tied up to the bed, hands desperately tugging at the fluffy, pink handcuffs in a failed attempt to break free of them while you ride his pretty face. he's fucking drowning in your pussy, dick achingly hard inside his pants.

what a shame you won't make him cum this time, as a little punishment.

your hips rock against his face unabashedly, feeling the way his eager tongue parts your chubby folds to drink up your sweet essence, occasionally slipping inside your pussy to fuck you with it. his nose is rubbing your puffy clit every time you grind down, which has you mewling and shuddering atop him.

"i love you so much, baby," he'd mumble against your cunt, totally mesmerised by the hypnotic sway of your hips and your taste.

your flesh muffle his words and grunts, but you understand what he says and look down at him with adoring eyes, just to find him staring up at you in the same way, pink lips glistening with a combination of your arousal and his spit.

the sight is enough to send you spiralling into a mind blowing orgasm that makes you let out the most lewd moan you've ever made, body shaking as your legs close around his head, almost suffocating him.

"fuck, i love you too," you breath out, the aftershocks of your climax making your brain dizzy. "i forgive you, rafey."

honestly, he doesn't quite understand how this could be a punishment for him, but he's not one to complain.

more.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Imagine going on adventures with Logan and Deadpool and you’re the voice of reason behind them 😆 Deapool the idiot with hot headed Wolverine that reader has to keep in check all the time

It’s not easy being the only person with common sense in this rag tag trio of yours.

^^ this is literally you babysitting two grown ass men that need to be kept on leashes and separated from one another in case they fight, again.

You are overworked and underpaid to be dealing with this shit, but there was no one else who had the patience for Wade nor the compassion and empathy for Logan as you did.

So unfortunately you were stuck with them for every mission given but despite how vastly different and incompatible some of you were -*cough* Logan and Wade *cough*- you three worked well enough together that you were a force to be reckoned with.

You were forced to face situations where wade would be pissing Logan off to the point his claws were out, and you had to pat the rugged man on his shoulder, wait for him to look at you as you pointed towards his claws;

‘Them. Away. Now.’ -you.

Wolverine: *grunts*

You: don’t give me attitude, put. them. away. Now.

Wade: ohhh Logan’s in trouble!

You would then look at Wade before pointing at him like a disappointed parent: and you, stop pissing him off if you like to keep your dick where it is! Or so help god me I’ll cut it off myself!

Wade: 😶

Wolverine: *smirks and puts the claws away*

You were their voice of reason, their angel on their shoulder, their peace keeper and confidant and they respect you for keeping up with their shit. However it wouldn’t be much like Logan and Wade to make your life easy as you often had to stand between the two as a barrier of sorts to keep them from killing each other.

When in actuality they are flipping each other off behind your back and it wasn’t until Logan slapped wades hand away, causing him to say ‘ow’ did you look between the two of them as they acted like they weren’t acting like children a few moments ago.

You: I’m so sorry you’ll have to excuse them.

*Meanwhile Wade and Logan fighting, stabbing each other in the balls in the background*

You: WOULD YOU TWO STOP FUCKING FIGHTING FOR FIVE MINUTES!!!

Wade and Logan; *immediately stop and point at each other* he started it!

They were the reason you had grey hairs at an early age you swore this to anyone who’d listen. They were a pain in your ass, thorn in your side and a headache waiting to happen but the moment you were threatened, Wade and Logan put aside their differences and acted accordingly by standing protectively in front of you.

Logan: I would shut the fuck up if I were you bub.

Wade: oh look what you did, you made daddy angry.

Logan and you looking at Wade: 🤨😐

You: can you not make everything into a sex joke?

Wade, booping you on the nose; it comes with the territory peanut.

Logan: be serious for fucking once, they’ve just got threatened!

Wade: you don’t think I want our pookie to get hurt? (why do I think he’d say pookie unironically)

You: kill me now and end my misery. Please someone, anyone. Preferably pyro. (He’s hot, literally and figuratively)

Being stuck with Logan and wolverine is a curse and a blessing at the same time, which one you want to focus on more is up to you. However you three were incredibly loyal to each other, even if you do piss each other off from time to time, but you’d never betray one another for it wasn’t an option.

You were stuck with these two whether you liked it or not.