#that I was reaching for a third when my brain went !!!!!

[acowardinmordor]

its a good thing Eddie died in the 80s before the world got good at making edibles that taste like candy. That boy has no air space between 'that was tasty' and 'have some more' Leave that guy near a container of gummies unattended, check an alert on your phone, and boom: that entire thing is empty and Eddie is oblivious that ate them at all. I need to see Steve whacking the package out of his hands to stop him before he can instinctively eat four of them. I need Steve to dispense them to his boyfriend one at a time and has to keep them in a hidden drawer, not because of addiction but because his wonderful beautiful idiot boyfriend is too adhd to be trusted around sugar-drugs.

Brought to you by my very adhd brain, and the very tasty gummy that I spat into my hand after realizing I'd literally just swallowed one.

[sheeezu]

Yes, this is a new account, I just made this. I don't care if people question the authenticity of my post, my experience as a shifter, or whatever I'm about to say.

I don't know how to use Tumblr, nor do I know how to make my post reach people who need it, nor would I be a narcissist and say "you're lucky if you found my post!" I don't mind if this reaches an audience or not, I'm glad to get everything off my chest.

Yes. I've shifted.

I have shifted realities, more times than I can count on my fingers, and that is for a very specific reason, which I'll explain later.

I'm writing this because I'm about to permashift, and no, I won't hear out any antishifters or people who don't like permashifting in general, I don't care about your opinion so don't waste my time.

Before I start, I'd like to say one thing:

I was irrational minded, I lacked belief in myself and shifting. Shifting often times felt like a chore more than a fun activity, and i have to admit, it became an unhealthy habit.

So? Why did I mention this?

Because I had been lurking around shifting communities and I realised everyone feels like this, a very (mentally) painful feeling where the lack of shifts starts acting as your biggest enemy, and the phrase:

"Shifting needs practice!"

Sounds like poison when it comes from an experienced shifter.

Though, is the phrase actually true?

No, not at all.

Shifting does not need practice!!

Here's why:

(BTW, I will explain my "method", no matter if I have time or not. Also, I don't call this reality "Current Reality", instead I call it Void reality, so don't get confused.)

The "practice" you're doing is only affecting your void reality (taking time out of your day, making you constantly think you're in your learning phase, so it doesn't exactly lead to your desired reality, does it?)

Of course, if you view it as a skill, it will in some way act like that, it'll become a skill for you, and you can never succeed on your first, second, third, hundredth try, because in your brain you have registered the fact that shifting is this grand, universal task, and that it is very difficult (because its common sense that you practice difficult things to get good at them)

Practice is a very humane and earthly act, if people have succeeded doing just practice, then good for then, they're right in their own way, but it didn't work for me, and in my opinion it's the worst way to view shifting, and often times it is demotivating, and you'll mess up you're entire journey.

Shifting is not a skill, shifting is a universal law.

I'll become more clear as I explain my journey:

My journey:

I found shifting from a random YouTube video 3 years ago. I might have only said cool and moved along.

A year later something traumatic happened in my life, which shook me so badly I needed an escape.

First of all, I chose astral projecting, but I realised I was too much of a coward to do so.

Then I came towards shifting, first DR was very typical, it was Hogwarts.

Having no knowledge whatsoever in the topics of spirituality, meditation, I went straight to methods, because they were like guides for me, I was very inexperienced, of course, and looked at other people and what they were doing for guidance.

Alice in wonderland method didn't do much, raven method was too uncomfortable (side note, all this raven method does is make you too focused on your void reality, cmon, in your DR are you laying down like a starfish?) And I was having terrible trouble with my intrusive thoughts (which made the floor disappear from under my feet, made the stairs for the stairs method too short to climb or straight up made them dissappear as well)

I didn't have any luck that year, no mini shifts, no lucid dreams, or sleep paralysis. And my DRs never remained constant. They always changed on a daily basis.

I was big on methods, I couldn't realize they never worked for me.

Although, this year of failure led me to finally figure out where I belonged.

A DR made out of scratch, which I spend much effort in putting the pieces of it together.

The DR, which was called "Home reality" really made me feel settled in my journey.

LOA, and the consciousness theory were the leading factors which made me shift.

And don't worry, it isn't what you're tired of being told, I didn't just apply any orthodox definition of LOA and succeeded.

Background to my first shift:

It was a particularly stressful day, I really missed my home.

I was studying at my college (I still am, but...) and I was dreading giving a chemistry test, I did not prepare. In my mind, one thing was constantly looping in my head.

The scenario of the chemistry teacher coming in, and taking the test, and the next day I get it handed back with a big fat zero.

But then I stopped and wondered, having already known about the consciousness theory, so according to it:

"I am constantly letting this thought run in my mind, and constantly letting this reality dictate what happens next."

Basically, I realized what was about to happen next was indirectly in my control, but with my line of thinking, I was letting this reality control it directly.

I stopped, like actually stopped thinking.

And with a blank mind I thought.

"I won't have to take any test today."

And went around telling my classmates this with a confident tone.

The teacher came in, said we'll instead do some practicals in lab.

So the test got cancelled.

Going home, I got excited, i felt powerful.

I decided to apply this to shifting.

Before shifting, I took a nap during the day, (if you're tired your body insists on sleeping, so your mind will get hazy and you will start acting lazy towards your goal)

And after living how I normally would, before bedtime, I listened to some songs, and look at a Pinterest board which reminded me of my home reality.

My method and what happened next:

First phase of shifting:

When I laid down on the bed to start shifting, I first got comfy (for me, if I feel sleepy for some reason, I laid on my back, I can't fall asleep in that position, but if I think ill stay awake until I reach a "detached state" then I sleep on my side, it's comfortable)

I obviously wasn't checking the time, but I spent about 10 minutes getting relaxed, all I do to relax is:

a) look at the blackness (closed eyes, looks like starry skies) and try to believe I'm looking at the milky way.

b) think about my home reality, just faces of my loved ones, and nostalgia inducing images.

c) Affirm, but don't focus entirely on affirming, usually in the back of my mind I'm repeating "I have shifted to my home reality" "I have shifted my senses to my home reality" "I have stopped sensing the void reality" "I am smelling, tasting, feeling, hearing and seeing my home reality" no other fancy affirmations required. (Now that I think about it, you need to affirm NOW because this method has two phases, one where you are shifting, and one where you have shifted, and you are in the 3D, where you are occupying your DR self, their thoughts, and memories, and popular method usually only have one phase, either you are shifting, or have shifted. So my point is if you affirm later and you'll be affirming when you're supposed to be in your DR, and obviously, your DR self won't be spouting out affirmations about shifting to a random reality for no reason.)

During this time, you'll feel tingly all over. It's a good sign.

And you'll feel a certain detachment, like you aren't exactly here, you have no idea what position you're lying in, and where your feet are. (Please, for the love of God do not start counting your feet or get freaked out that you can't feel your leg, you'll come back to the void reality.)

So you can start the next phase.

Middle phase (optional):

To prepare for the next and last phase, you can do this to get ready, or don't (First read the third phase)

This is all about connection to your DR.

Think about memories from your DR, focus on the faces of your loved ones, the way you act, talk, your mannerisms in your DR, or you can simply say affirmations like these one:

My name is ___.

I work as a ___.

My age is ___.

Don't try to imagine vividly or anything, lightly touch upon the basic details of your DR, the construction and foundation of any reality and the person, who has existed there for their entire life.

(That's you!)

Phase three:

Take a sudden, abrupt stop from your stream of thoughts. (Yes intrusive thoughts will still pop up but don't give any importance to them) when you're in a blank state of mind, not longer than 30 seconds, you need to build up to the last step of your shifting method, and journey.

a) start imagining hearing the voices of your loved ones or just any voice, calling your DR name, your nicknames, with different tones. (For example, i heard my name in an angry tone from my father when he was scolding me, I heard my name followed by a laughter when my S/O teased me.)

OK, for me, I started feeling intense, groundshaking symptoms at this moment. Sudden flashing of lights, extreme feeling of floating, and ofcourse, feeling tingliness so much that it felt like pins and needle on my entire body. (I did ignore the symptoms)

b) plan the rest of your day in your DR, which you will be spending.

AGAIN, PLEASE DON'T SAY IT LIKE THIS.

❌️When I reach my DR ❌️ I will have to go to that eye specialist for that appointment.

Instead: (and the more you personalize it, the better)

Ughhh, I have to go to that appointment- this day will suck.

(Don't mind my example, that was the only thing I could think of at the moment)

c) in this reality, you are constantly thinking of something, your thoughts are definitely what constructs this reality, and your current thoughts are affecting your subconscious. (By this point, your subconscious is grounded in your DR, so don't worry about that bastard.)

Now, you're going to start thinking, thoughts which are going on in your DR self's mind, start with one sentence, with which you'll be able to start consciously thinking like your DR self.

And think in the style, tone, and mood of your DR self, and keep the thoughts strictly related to your DR.

Thats it, but what happens afterwards? And what happened to me?

So for me, I started feeling weird while I was thinking.

And I remember I thought this:

"Ugh, I don't want eggs for breakfast."

(I'm not saying this is the key to shifting, at this point, I had covered various topics, including, weather, my upcoming work assignment, and praised my S/O for a good 5 minutes.)

And I started panting, like suddenly I was trying to catch my breath, the room felt bright, so I opened my eyes, and well, I was in my home reality :)

I was delirious for a few second, my S/O was looking at me worriedly, but surprisingly, it didn't even take me a minute to adjust, it felt all so natural and I wasn't scared.

I didn't even feel emotional, at all, and didn't hug my S/O with tears in my eyes, I straight up asked to be served breakfast, incase anyone was wondering.

So that's it.

Although i have much to say, I'm tired of writing, but I'm more than willing to answer each and every one of your questions, although I only have 7 hours left till I permashift, I'll remain mostly active till then.

And no, I'm not rereading this to fix my grammar, so just ask if anything confused you.

Ask away.

I'm still not sure if this'll reach anyone or not.

[kitten4sannie]

backstage bukakke with ateez ♡

a/n: is anyone in need of post coachella performance brainrot?? :33 and if any of you were wondering,, no i’m not okay 🙂‍↔️🫶🏼 without further ado, here’s a LOT more backstage debauchery (like i went insane….i should be in a padded cell rn….) except this time san brought the whole crew to help drown you in cum <333 enjoy the meal my dears bc i can never show my face in public again after this 😭😭

w.c: 2.4k

warnings: alcohol use, subby fem manager! reader, free use, domteez, gangbang, who’s the biggest menace here? that’s for you to decide 🫵🏼, this is just complete filth btw,, dirty talk, degradation/praise, pet names/name calling, so much cum….., yungi confirm the big cock allegations, hongjoong might have a captain kink idk, double penetration, anal, implied sloppy seconds/thirds/fourths kskssb, brief tit play, brief oral, cum eating, size kink, bulge kink, breeding, creampies for days, a bukakke as promised <3

Once the members sent out their last waves and finger hearts to the adoring fans and locals in the vast festival crowd, they made their way back to their temporary dressing room to catch their breath and have a celebratory drink or two. Brimming with adrenaline and energy due to their momentous performance, they erupted in enthusiastic greetings as soon as their dear manager entered the room, a few of them draping their arms around your shoulders to give you a quick hug.

“Manager-nim, did you like the show?” San spoke up, bringing his glass up to his mouth, taking a small sip of the potent liquor.

“You know you can just call me by my name, San, and I thought you guys absolutely killed it, like always,” you replied, scanning their faces, lightly adjusting the hem of your work blazer. No matter how many times you had all of their eyes and attention on you, you couldn’t seem to get used to it. It always made you feel hot under the collar, not knowing what was going through each of their minds when they looked at you the way they did. With interest. Hunger.

San couldn’t help but smirk, his dimples visible. You had taken the bait. He watched Yunho serve you a glass of whiskey. “You’re right. We’re way past titles, aren’t we? Especially considering the way I had you bent over for me right after our set last weekend.”

You choked on the liquor, your body suddenly feeling hot, especially under the heated gaze of the men standing around you. “S-San, behave yourself.”

He lightly licked at his lips, his gaze sharpening, ready to add to the growing heaviness of the atmosphere in the room. “Don’t act so coy now, sweetheart. You know better than that, don’t you?”

You bit into your bottom lip, looking up to Yunho for help, only to find that he was giving you an increasingly perverse smile, like he was reminiscing about something filthy.

Yunho reached down to wrap a lock of your hair around his jewelry adorned finger, sighing, “We could all hear the way Sannie fucked your brains out, doll, but you wanted us to hear, didn’t you? Even though you’re our manager, you’re still our good little slut, yeah?”

Something clicked into place inside your brain like it usually did when they talked to you like this. You could finally stop being so uptight and in control, instead allowing the eager members to do as they pleased with you. “Yeah, I am,” you nodded shyly, your insides on fire.

San took a step towards you, reaching out to run his fingers along your collar bone. “Can I ask you something?”

Your breath caught inside your throat. You knew what he was going to ask. You knew what they wanted. Despite the professional relationship you had with the members, you always seemed to end up in increasingly unprofessional situations with them. You couldn’t help it, not when they always made you feel so good. Wanted. Craved. “Say it, San….”

His pointer finger drifted down your chest, along the seam of your blazer, gazing down at you. “Can we make you our whore, Manager-nim?”

The members exchanged pleased glances with one another, some of them pulling at the crotch of their tailored pants.

“As long as someone locks the door, okay?” you answered underneath your breath, your eyes beginning to glaze over with lust.

San simply took a step around you, running his hands up and down your shoulders, coaxing you out of your blazer and unzipping your work dress, presenting you to his beloved members like you were a treat — one they would savor together.

-

“Don’t pass out on us now, baby,” San’s husky voice attempted to reach you through the fog you were in, his fingers gently rubbing at the fresh load that had splattered onto your flushed cheek, sliding his digits into your panting mouth for you to clean. “How many was that, hm? How many cocks have been inside you so far? Can our slutty manager remember?”

You stopped counting long ago, too fucked out to think about whose cock had already rearranged your insides and who had stuffed your ass full. You couldn’t even remember who had fucked your face either, but your sore jaw was proof that it was most likely one of the more gifted members. “I-i don’t know how many, just want more,” you whined out, looking up at San past your wet lashes.

“Yeah, you always want more from us, don’t you, baby? Want us to go to our limit? Want us to give you our all, huh? Are you going to milk us all dry like a good slut?”

You could hardly listen to his breathy, self-serving monologue, not with the way Wooyoung was gripping your hips and shoving his thick cock into you with abandon, like you were his own personal sex doll. “Uh-huh, wanna be good for you all…”

“How precious,” San sighed under his breath, all while he jerked himself off, beads of pre-cum spilling out of the twitching tip, watching the way his closest friend pumped himself in and out of your clenching hole, noticing the way his hips began to stutter. “Then, be good and take Wooyoung’s load inside that tight little cunt of yours, just like you took our Captain’s and Seonghwa’s earlier, okay? Can you do that for us, baby? Can you be our pretty little cum dump?”

You couldn’t speak, simply responding by squirting all over Wooyoung’s thrusting cock, just about ready to fall over from the overwhelming pleasure, but unable to with the way Mingi was behind you, his heaving chest pressing into your back, his ringed fingers lazily groping at your sore tits, balls-deep in your tight ass.

“Pretty baby, our pretty girl,” Mingi praised in a gravelly voice, his lips against your ear, squeezing your tits just as his groans began to crescendo, driving himself into you a few more times before he held still, previous loads leaking out of your ass and down the sides of his veined cock to the base as he filled you up again. “Can you feel that, babydoll? Feel the way I’m stuffing you full of cum? It feels so good, you want to cry, don’t you?”

All you could do was nod drunkenly, tears pricking at the corners of your hazy eyes, your trembling thighs growing more and more numb.

“Look at her, guys, she’s cumming just from being bred,” Wooyoung panted out, his hands squeezing into your sides, holding you still on his pulsing cock, not attempting to pull out until he was sure your inner walls were coated with his cum, chuckling smugly along with his fellow members at the way you desperately drew in another shaky breath and simply whined instead of forming words. “Poor slut can’t even talk. Someone should shoot their load down her throat. Maybe it’ll help ground her.”

“Way ahead of you,” Yeosang softly interjected, giving you a princely smile as he walked up to where you were positioned on the lengthy couch. He ran his slender fingers through your hair, slowly angling your head back as he did, bringing his slicked-up cockhead to your parted lips. “Say ‘ahh’, darling.”

Just as you obeyed, you watched Yeosang’s pretty flushed face contort in pleasure, reaching out to wrap your fingers around his pulsing length, milking it for all it’s worth, rope after rope of hot cum shooting into the back of your throat, a few dribbles remaining on your tongue. You were so full of cum, all of your holes were used up, and yet you needed more. “Not enough…More, please. I’m being such a good girl, aren’t I?”

San’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip, sharing glances with the other members, squeezing around the base of his cock to keep himself from busting right then and there. “Guys, I think we broke our manager.”

“Isn’t that the point? Look at her. She loves it,” Wooyoung pointed out, motioning to your blissed-out face, before he finally pulled out of you, reaching down to spread open your used hole, pleased sighs echoing inside the room. “Look, Sannie, her cunt’s all messy now. Ran through. Just the way you like it, huh, you sick fuck? You want sloppy seconds?”

San nodded his head, salivating, practically in a trance.

“Then, hurry up and shove your cock inside her before my cum leaks out,” Wooyoung tsked, climbing off of the cum-stained couch and smacking his hand against San’s ass to get him to spring into action, which he did, laying down on his back and sliding you down onto his cock inch by inch, but not before he tapped his leaking cockhead over your swollen clit a few times for good measure.

San’s dimples accompanied his shit-eating grin as he bottomed out, slowly running one of his hands up your lower abdomen to feel the outline of his stiff cock. “It’s so big inside, isn’t it, Manager-nim? Am I stretching you out nice and wide?”

All you could do was whimper pathetically, because not only were you taking San’s curved cock inside your cunt, but meanwhile Mingi had been showing Yunho the way your hole had begun to gape after the rough treatment you had taken, especially from someone with his size, knowing it was best that he prepped you for his best friend, knowing the term ‘horse cock’ didn’t even begin to describe what Yunho had to offer you. “It’s all for you, bro. Come and get it,” Mingi mused huskily, getting out of Yunho’s way so that he could replace him, one hand on your ass to keep it spread open for everyone’s viewing pleasure, as your hole slowly swallowed up Yunho’s obscene girth.

San and Yunho seemed to be in the middle of an intense competition, considering the way they both would continually thrust into you harder, and faster, grabbing at your tits and hips for leverage to fuck into you even deeper than before, if that was possible. “I-it’s not a–fuck–race, guys,” you cried out, suddenly being pressed back into Yunho’s warm chest when San sat up on the couch and folded you up, jack-hammering himself into you, using you like a cocksleeve. 

“Yes, it is, and I’m gonna knock you up first, not this loser,” San grunted out in between shaky moans, smiling with his canines at you, then at Yunho past your shoulder, who responded by bucking his hips up into you so roughly, he had to wrap his arms around your middle to keep you in place. 

“I’m fucking her ass, dumbass, I can’t even knock her up if I wanted to,” Yunho replied breathlessly, shaking his head, giving San a playful smile, before pressing his lips to your earlobe. “And I want to, tiny. Wish I could.” 

“Not with that attitude,” San huffed, blowing his sweaty bangs out of his eyes, his vision beginning to blur with the sudden onset of pleasure surging through him. “I’m going to fucking–unnnh–fill up your slutty cunt with my cum, baby. Gonna make it so messy. And you’re, fuck, you’re so tight now. That’s our good cumslut.” 

“The perfect cumslut,” Hongjoong interrupted in a low voice, suddenly towering over you, holding his cock near your mouth, nodding approvingly when you began to suck and lick at the tip. “That’s right. You love Captain’s cock the most, don’t you, pretty girl?” 

Seonghwa pushed his way past the other thirsty members who were hovering around you like vultures, slipping his fingers into your hair and gently guiding you to his own cock, cooing at you approvingly when you let it hit the back of your throat. He smiled smugly at Hongjoong, who was now side-eyeing him. “Stay mad. It’s not my fault she has taste.” 

“You better watch it, Seonghwa.”

“You can watch our slut suck my cock.” 

Hongjoong grumbled to himself, reaching down to tug your head back just firmly enough to lead you back to his cock, before you took it upon yourself to sandwich their lengths together so that you could please them both at once. They stopped bickering and instead held onto each other, biting into their lips as their highs began to take over. 

It was then that San and Yunho emitted similar sounding guttural groans, fully sheathing themselves inside you, their fingers squeezing tightly into your hips from either side. 

“Cumming,” they both exhaled, resting their heads on either side of your shoulder, beads of sweat dripping down their jaws and along their straining necks. 

Just as hot cum poured into both of your used holes, Seonghwa and Hongjoong began to shudder and grunt out obscenities, aiming their milky streams towards your lolled-out tongue.

San suddenly waved for Jongho to come closer, pulling out just enough so that obscene globs of cum began to leak out of you, making you whine. “Here, cum inside her, JJong. I want my favorite maknae to finish our cumslut off.”

Jongho gingerly positioned himself near your gushing entrance and plugged you back up with his thick, throbbing cock, his strong thighs smacking into your delicate ones as he vigorously bounced you on his lap. “Want it?” he simply asked near your lips, making you blush.

“Please!”

Just as Jongho pounded his load and the others deep into your womb, Wooyoung, Yeosang, and Mingi pushed their way closer to you, vigorously jerking themselves off in order to leave their own individual mark on you for the second or third time, extremely pleased with themselves once they covered their dear manager’s face and body in their cum. 

Once you all came down, you found that you couldn’t quite operate your body properly, not when your lower half was completely numb and throbbing with residual pleasure. San and Yunho took it upon themselves to cuddle you from either side, while Jongho gently rubbed your tummy in circles, wondering whose load would knock you up first. Only time would tell.

“How was that?” San asked softly near your ear. 

“We weren’t too rough with you, were we?” Yunho murmured, biting his lip. 

“How are you feeling, Manager-nim?” Jongho added gently, patting your tummy.

You sighed gently, reaching up to pat their heads, smiling at the men around you. And to think you actually got paid for this. You couldn’t have asked for a better job. “Guys…I’m fine, and for the record, it was so good, I don’t think I can ever go back to having normal sex again. I’m a bit concerned, actually.”

The rest of the members began to laugh, and you joined along, before clearing your throat, suddenly feeling uncomfortably sticky, looking down to see what you had all done to the poor couch. “Okay, so, who’s going to clean this mess up? And, it’s not going to be me. I can’t move my legs. I…think you guys actually broke me.”

San looked over to Wooyoung, who was already rolling his eyes, pointing dramatically at him. “I told you!”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[elixirfromthestars]

Boulevard Confessions

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x Nurse!Reader 

Summary: Being a third wheel to Peggy and Steve wasn't your ideal Thursday night fun. However, when they tell you Bucky is tagging along you eagerly decide to join them. That is until a third party makes its presence known.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warning(s): drinking / fluff / jealousy / divergent from canon timeline / suggestive language / tipsy symptoms / mentions of war + the hardships that came with it

a/n:  Here’s a little piece that’s been sitting unfinished in my drafts for ages. For context, this timeline is one where Steve and Bucky both made it back from the war safe and sound and are enjoying their lives now that the war is over. Thank you for reading! ₊˚⊹♡ As a little psa my writing challenge is still ongoing!! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!! ♡

for ambiance 🎶

“ I am about to spew my dinner all over this table,” you grimace, downing the rest of your martini. The bitterness of the spirits was lost on you as your consumption grew in time with your sour mood.

Peggy eyed you from across the table, holding back her amusement, “ If you keep stuffing your face with martinis you will.” You reach out to grab another unclaimed drink, but before you could, Peggy slid the rest of them away from you. You crossed your arms, blowing out a resigned sigh. Even in your inhibited state, you knew better than to argue with an SSR agent. 

Peggy shook her head at you, “ As your best friend I have an obligation to put a stop to this. Don’t you have a shift tomorrow at the clinic?” Your eyes went wide at the reminder. 

You slump in the booth, dreading the bad hangover awaiting you in the morning. “ I do, but thankfully it's in the afternoon. I won’t feel it by then. . .” You trailed off, failing to convince Peggy, or yourself, you wouldn’t be miserable at work tomorrow. Peggy turned to look at the dance floor before returning her attention to you, “ You know, maybe you should dance the dizzy away. It might help you sober up.” Your lips purse at her suggestion, noticing a certain blonde-haired blue-eyed super soldier returning from the bathroom.

 “ It's easy for you to say. You have a dance partner,” you motioned over to Steve. 

“ You would too if you would only go up and ask him,” she pointed out. 

You glanced at the dancing couples, “ No way. With the way that leech is clinging on to him—I’d never get one word in.”

She shrugged, “ You’ll never know until you try.” These were her parting words before Steve arrived at the table and escorted her onto the dance floor. You watched them, your head bopping along tiredly to the swing music. 

Maybe you should have stayed home. 

You almost didn’t come to the outing—being the third wheel to Peggy and Steve wasn’t exactly your ideal Thursday night fun. However, Peggy had mentioned Bucky would come along, and seeing as you hadn’t seen him in a few weeks due to conflicting schedules, you thought this would be the perfect opportunity to catch up. 

That was until the leech—a woman named Darla—decided to hog Bucky all night. Darla had been trying to get with Bucky for over a month now. You found this out tonight when Steve made a comment about it. Bucky hadn’t paid it much importance, so you thought it must have not been anything serious. However, right about the time you and Bucky were starting to catch up, Darla came over and dragged him away. 

Since then you’ve been inhaling martinis like your lungs preferred them over air. 

You couldn’t help the way your eyes drifted over to Bucky’s figure. Handsome as ever in his navy suit—your favorite color on him—and hair neatly combed. Watching as Darla threw herself at him with the courage that you lacked. Pulling him every which way on the dance floor, holding his hands to her hips in a tight grip. 

Your stomach contents were threatening to come up again. 

When did things get so complicated? You scratched at your brain for an answer. Spending time with Bucky had been so easy back at the military base where you met. You were stationed there in the medical unit caring for wounded and ill soldiers. During that time, you became great friends with Peggy and everyone on the Howling Commandos team. Bucky would frequently visit the medical unit even when he wasn’t sick or wounded. Sometimes you swore he would fake injuries or aches just to come and see you. Anytime he came in with something new he would refuse to see any other nurse but you.

It made you feel special. While other women were smitten with his charms and stumbled over seizing his attention—you had it without effort. You had so much more than just his attention without even trying. On hopeless nights he shared his fears, on days where the war seemed endless you eased his worries, and when he felt like the world was crashing down on him his heart spilled all vulnerabilities to you. 

You found refuge from the horrors of war in each other—a balm to each other’s wounds that went beyond the physical. In no time, something deeper for him bloomed within your heart. 

Ever since the war was over, however, things have been different. It’s been a couple of years and Steve and Bucky work alongside Peggy for the Strategic Scientific Reserve. Going on missions has become their norm, so seeing your friends is a rarity nowadays. 

You on the other hand were given a job at a children’s clinic in Brooklyn. You were grateful for this small piece of normality coming back to you. Treating smaller wounds on smaller bodies instead of lethal wounds during a relentless battle. Your senses are permanently burned with sights, sounds, and smells horrific enough to induce nightmares—and they do—managing to steal precious hours of sleep from you almost every night.

It was something you and Bucky especially bonded over.

“ May I have the honor of a dance, gorgeous?” A voice interrupted your thoughts. You looked up to meet a pair of unrecognizable hazel eyes. A handsome stranger stood in front of you, his hand outstretched for you to take. If you had but only one percentage less of alcohol in your system you would have declined his offer. This of course wasn’t the case, and not wanting to reminisce on more melancholy thoughts, you decided to listen to Peggy’s advice and dance the dizzy away.

Even if it wasn’t with the man you wanted to dance with.

“ You may,” you smiled at him, taking hold of his hand. Swiftly you were swept into the sea of couples on the dance floor. The handsome stranger—who you soon learn was named Thomas—was an impeccable dancer. With one hand holding yours, and the other holding you gently at your lower back, he spun you around the dance floor in rhythmic kicks and slides. Thomas’ energy was infectious and you couldn’t help but match his enthusiasm. 

After two dances your footwork and Thomas’ were practically synchronized. Thomas twirled you, causing a giggle to escape your lips. It seemed the alcohol was stubborn about staying in your system as the twirl caused the dizziness to come back—for a split second—making you trip over your own foot. Thomas caught you and steadied you, both of you laughing at your clumsiness. The carefreeness of it all lulled the ache in your heart.

Behind Thomas, you caught a glimpse of Peggy who was dancing as joyfully with Steve. Her eyes met yours and she sent you an encouraging smile. Soon after, her eyes drifted to something behind you, turning her smile into a smirk. You went back to dancing with Thomas, but manoeuvered around to get a look at what caused Peggy to smirk. Your heart did a little jump when you discovered she had been looking at Bucky and Darla, dancing a few feet from where you were. 

Correction. She had been staring at a Bucky you barely recognized. His jaw clenched and body rigid as he glared daggers at the back of Thomas’ head. Darla beside him looked snubbed, tugging on Bucky’s arm to get his attention. His tense demeanor didn’t move an inch no matter how much she protested. The pair were no longer dancing, merely standing in the sea of all the couples. This piqued your curiosity. 

Why had he stopped dancing? And to glare at Thomas of all things?

You didn’t have much time to think about it as Darla, clearly fed up by Bucky’s lack of attention, grabbed him by his arm and pulled him away from the dance floor. You swayed to and fro with Thomas, controlling the direction you were swinging in to try and not lose Bucky from your line of sight. 

Where was Darla taking him?

Your heart stopped when you realized where they were going. Darla was making a beeline for the back of the bar where the honey hallway was. The spot where all the couples went to have a little more privacy and fool around without having to leave the bar. If he was going there with Darla, then maybe things were more serious between them than you previously believed.

Your heart dropped to your stomach when reality sank in. 

You excused yourself from Thomas, scurrying away in need of some fresh air. He offered to follow along, but you declined wanting to be alone. You threw the entrance door open into the Brooklyn night as a sickly feeling spread throughout your body. 

You stepped into the street, the swing music fading into the background as the door closed behind you. You took in a deep breath, once again regretting the amount of alcohol you had consumed.

If you weren’t drunk seeing Bucky with someone else wouldn’t have hurt so much. It wouldn’t have knocked the air out of your lungs like it's doing now.

You know that’s a lie. That’s a damn lie you’re telling yourself to get you through the night. To give you the strength to focus on your surroundings and trudge home. 

You’d eventually do that. First, however, your body seemed to want to cling to a street lamp to bring the world back to you. The cold metal underneath your palms grounding you for a moment. The breeze blowing past you threading through your hair as if to comfort you.

“ Doll, everything alright?” Your heart stuttered when you heard his voice, the thud of the bar door closing following it. You shut your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from saying or doing anything the liquid courage in your system was trying to wrestle out of you. 

You knew you needed to make a quick getaway. 

“ I’m fine. Just heading home,” you were straight to the point before turning to walk away. Not looking at him as you put one foot in front of the other—and then stumbled. 

Bucky caught you, his arms offering a strong support,“ Woah, Y/n, how much did you drink?” There was a slight annoyance in his tone. As if the mere thought of you having fun was preposterous. 

Or at least that’s how your tipsy state interpreted it.

“ Doesn’t matter. I can have a drink or two if I want to. I get to have fun too,” you retort, trying to push his arms away from your body. Your arms are no match for his, as he doesn’t budge an inch—on the contrary, his hold gets more firm. The world started to spin more, but at this point, whether it was because of the martinis or his proximity—you wouldn’t know. 

Bucky huffed and rolled his eyes,“ This isn’t having fun. This is going overboard,” he counters. His constant need to hold you steady and scold you for drinking irked the part of you that was already upset with him—fueling it more. Especially when you had the image of him heading to the honey hallway with Darla ingrained in your brain. And his arms, the ones around you now, swinging her around on the dancefloor. 

There was something dark bubbling an envious brew within you. 

“ Why do you give a damn?” you snap out harshly. He stills at your tone and it's enough to shake his hold off of you. You force yourself to look at him. Intending to shoot him an annoyed glare. Something to convey what your heart felt when your words failed to—but when your eyes met his you froze. 

They were dark—virtually stormy—and yet, there was a hint of pain in them. Almost as if you had kicked him, but he was toughing it out.

“ What was that about?” He finally spoke after what seemed like too long. 

“ What was what about?” You feigned innocence. 

His eyes got darker, a disapproving half smile on his face,“ Don’t play coy. I come out here to check on you. You’re stumbling like a drunk fool. I try to help and you snap at me?” 

“ I didn’t ask you to,” you’re quick with your dismissal.

“ You…unbelievable…” Bucky lets out a scoff, not knowing how to respond. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into you. In his mind, you’re simply too drunk to regulate yourself. He doesn’t know the vile jealousy that bubbles in the pit of your stomach and gnaws at your heart. He doesn’t know the intense battle your emotions are having with your brain—right in front of him—to stay silent before you truly say something you cannot take back. 

“ Go back inside. I’m heading home,” you say simply, not wanting to dwell on this conversation any longer. You feared what might come of it if you didn’t.

“ No. I'm walking you home,” he shakes his head firmly, his tone matching in conviction. 

“ No, you're not,” you reply, turning to make your way down the boulevard. Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose, “ Like hell I'm not, doll. I'm not letting you walk home alone.” 

“I'm not letting you walk me home. I don't want you to,” you say adamantly as your feet start moving. Bucky is right beside you as they do, not letting you get away,“ I don't care what you want or don't want. I'm walking you home and that's final.” His voice leaves no room for argument. 

The martinis in your system don’t particularly give a damn, but it is enough to quiet you for the time being. Your speed increases slightly, but Bucky can match it easily. For a moment you consider running—as ridiculous as an idea that may be. 

The sharp patter of your footsteps against the pavement synchronizes with the thudding of his as they mingle down the boulevard. The city sounds around you are an otherwise low hum of the occasional car and distant conversation. The city still whispering its signs of life at this time of night.

The walk to your place isn’t too far. And you know if you don’t shake him off soon there would be an unpleasant conversation awaiting you when you arrive.  

“ Don’t you have someone waiting on you at the bar?” You remind him with a little sting to your heart. Secretly hoping this wasn’t the reason he’d walk away from you.

Bucky frowns, thinking for a moment before speaking,“ What? You mean Darla?” The sound of her name on his lips bristles you. 

“ Yeah, her,” the word her spills from your lips as if it was venomous. Bucky catches that and is taken aback for a second. His footsteps coming to a stop. You push yourself to keep walking. Taking this as a sign to ignore the tiny part of your brain that begs you to stop moving.

Not a minute later Bucky strides to your side,“ Doll…are you jealous?” He asks with the tiniest bit of doubt, his small smile overshadowing it. 

“ Me? Ha! No,” your denial is quick—too quick. His small smile turns into a wide grin. You’ve just confirmed his conjecture,“ Yes, you are.” 

“ No. Go ahead and marry her for all I care. I won’t be at the wedding anyway,” you don’t mean what you say and yet you said it anyway. Playing up the indifference act you’ve dawned. 

“ You won’t be at my wedding?” He’s not upset when he responds, he's amused. He has to hold back his laughter at your train of thought. This gets under your skin and you grumble a snippy no before picking up your pace. You’re now imagining Darla in a wedding dress next to Bucky in his suit and it does devastating things to you. 

“ That’s impossible.”

“ How so? I just won’t go.”

His tone takes a more serious turn when he replies, “ It’ll be hard to have a wedding without the bride there.” You come to a halt, your head whipping so fast to look at him you almost gave yourself whiplash.

“ What?” You manage to find your voice. His gaze softens,“ You heard me, doll.” He’s being completely sincere—you know this deep down. However, there’s still a part of you that doesn’t believe this is happening. That believes this to be a dream.

“ You don’t mean that.”

“ I do. If you were to ask me where I see forever—I see it with you.”

His confession takes your breath away. The mere admission of him thinking of you as his eternity—as the one he wants beside him for life—your heart could burst at how delightfully overwhelmed it feels. 

“ But you—” you start and his pointer finger gently presses against your lips to shush you. He already knows what you’re about to bring up and he needs to nip it before your drunken mind jumps to wilder conclusions.

“ She’s just a friend. She’s a secretary at the SSR—nothing more. I was dancing with her to be nice. Honestly, I was trying to find a polite way to leave her and get back to you until I saw you dancing with that guy,” he removes his finger from your lips once he’s done explaining. At the mention of Thomas, his jaw clenches briefly and annoyance flashes in his eyes. 

It dawns on you why he was glaring at Thomas earlier. The realization of Bucky having felt as jealous as you did sends your heart ablaze. Your heart had gone through so much tonight, you were surprised it hadn’t gone into cardiac arrest already. 

“ Who’s the jealous one now?” you tease, an almost giddy smile on your face. 

Bucky rolls his eyes playfully,“ Yeah, doll. Unlike you, I’ll admit it. I was jealous. I don’t like seeing you with another man. Laughing and dancing—should've been me, not him,” he says stepping closer to you. His eyes reflected pure adoration.

“ Why didn’t you ask me?” your question comes out quieter than you’d like. Enamored with the way he’s looking at you. You can barely focus on anything else. 

“ Because when it comes to you I get all nervous and worked up. It's like I’m a punk again—a dumb kid with a crush. I don’t want to mess it up with you, Y/n. I would never want to do anything to lose you. Guess I got too caught up in doing things right I didn’t do anything at all,” Bucky opens up to you, his answer shedding away any last bit of hesitance in your body.

“ Bucky…I wish it would’ve been you instead too,” you say softly, stepping closer until you’re only a few inches away from him. His features match yours in fondness as he gently reaches out to grab hold of your waist, pulling you even closer, and closing the final bit of distance between you.

Your hands rest delicately at his chest. You can feel the way his heart races under your fingertips, drawing out a small gasp from you. Knowing you had this effect on him delighted you. It made you wonder how long you had been making him feel this way—and how long you had missed the signs.

“ Told you. I’m a dumb kid with a crush,” he reiterates with a soft chuckle. You giggle at his words, beaming dreamily at the way that all of this is real. That Bucky has feelings for you, and you two can only grow closer from here on out.

For a split second his eyes dart to your mouth. Having you so close like this tempts Bucky to no end. Everything he’s ever wanted to do with you crosses his mind and it drives him crazy. He has no idea where to start or if he’ll even let himself start anywhere. 

Your body thrums with anticipation as it waits for him to make a move.  

Bucky ends up tenderly kissing your forehead, “ Come on, doll. Let’s get you home.” Your lips form a light pout, disappointed his lips didn’t touch yours. He sees your reaction and he laughs, giving your hips a light squeeze, “ Doll, our first kiss will happen after you get that alcohol out of your system,” he says, one hand reaching up to lightly swipe at your nose—finding you endearing. 

“ We’ve already had our first kiss.” 

“ Doll we—oh, we have…” 

The memory of you two drunkenly kissing in the medical tent on one particularly lonely night during the war flashes through your minds. The already tension between you rising to a palpable form. 

There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes,“ Still. If I’m being honest, I’m not stopping at just one kiss. So let’s wait until you’re sober, alright?”

“ Not stopping?” Your tone is playful as you pry for further explanation. 

“ Oh no, doll. I'll be doing so much more than kissing you,” he smirks, his words laced with suggestion. His hand goes out to cup your face, caressing your cheek. It warms under his fingertips at his implication. The air around you buzzes with electricity. 

He can tell where your mind went and he’s enjoying every second of it,“ Yeah, doll. Like taking you out on a proper date,” he winks at you. A genuine laugh erupts from you at the way he side steps what he really meant. He joins you in the laughter, his eyes telling you the truth of what he really desires.

You. Every bit of you.

You interlace your fingers with his, knowing deep down he has a point. When you kiss Bucky you want to be all there. You want all your senses to be fully awake to drink in every bit of him. 

Especially if it goes farther than a kiss.

Bucky moves you over so he’s walking on the outermost part of the sidewalk, holding your interlaced hands to his waist so you’re pressed right up against his side as you walk. You tease and playfully banter all the way to your apartment. The unspoken promises and unmistakable yearning for one another dancing around you two. Assuring you there was so much more to come. 

[g0dlyunsub]

holding on.

the six times that spencer squeezed your hand, and the six times you fell for him even deeper.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: mentions of bioweapons, undercover missions, injuries, blood, angst, fluff

word count :: 1.6k

author’s note :: my one brain cell has been occupied by protective!spencer as of late, so this is what we’re dealing with

accompanying song :: ugotme by omar apollo

the first time he squeezed your hand, it was during a handshake. 

you had just joined the bau, and as is customary in introductions, you held your hand out for a round of handshakes. with a tight-lipped smile, you looked into his face as you introduced yourself. 

“f/n l/n.”

his eyes — a charming shade of brown — stared right back at you. 

“i’m doctor spencer reid.”

he grasped your hand for only a fleeting second, but still gave it a gentle squeeze.

---

the second time he squeezed your hand, you were talking behind erin strauss’ back.

if it were hotch or any other member of the bau, spencer would’ve let everything play out and watched your panicked reaction with an amused smile. but it was erin strauss, and spencer could see that she was visibly agitated.

“a good section chief should have faith in the team’s decisions,” you pouted and looked up at spencer, who was chewing on a cookie and humming in agreement.

“she’s been telling me to call her every hour for an update on the case. last time, i was a minute late — a minute late, spence — and she just had to rub it in my face!”

you angrily rubbed the bridge of your nose, sighing as you vented to your colleague. his brows perked up, but you didn’t take note of it; in fact, you started to speak even louder as the rage continued to pile at the back of your throat.

spencer cleared his throat once, but you thought he was just trying to swallow his food. 

“honestly, spencer, do you think i should tell her?”

he blinked rapidly this time, hoping you would get the signal. but when you were still rambling by the time strauss was only a few feet away from your desk, spencer reached for your hand and squeezed it once.

you looked up in surprise, eyes widening as you waited for him to explain his gesture. 

but the voice that spoke up was strauss’.

“agent l/n, i would like to speak with you in private. now.”

you stood frozen for a few seconds, exchanging a panicked glance with spencer.

he gave you an apologetic grimace, but squeezed your hand once again, as if to wish you good luck.

---

the third time he squeezed your hand, it was during your first undercover mission. 

earlier that morning, swat had silently raided the home of two unsubs – a couple that went by the names of mr. and ms. stone – that were covertly collecting harmful biological agents.

after uncovering the news that they were planning to trade their bioweapons with a team of buyers, you and your team decided that the exchange would not fall through. the team revised the plan and decided that you and spencer would pose as the couple and intercept the trade.

so here you were, dressed in a dark green dress, the hem of the fabric flowing in the cool wind of the air-conditioned hotel lobby. spencer stood next to you in a black suit, hair falling in front of his eyes in the form of slick, wavy strands. 

time seemed to still when he reached behind you and squeezed your right hand four times – each to let you know how many possible targets were standing to your three o’clock.

that was all the signal you needed to get into character.

the two of you were a couple only for the night, but you put on a show that would’ve convinced any onlooker otherwise.

you snaked your hands around spencer’s neck before rising on your tiptoes and whispering, “are you ready, mister stone?”

he moved his hands to rest them around your hips, and ran his fingers through the smooth texture of your dress.

he dipped his lips near your ears, so close that his breath tickled your skin. 

“i am. are you, miss stone?” 

---

the fourth time he squeezed your hand, it was because you asked him to.

glass had struck your sides during the explosion, leaving a deep and dark gash in your flesh and surrounding it with a sticky stream of crimson red.

you tried to muster the strength to push yourself up, but it was too much. with a heavy sigh, you crashed back onto the ground.

thankfully, spencer was next to you in seconds.

he softly brushed over your cut skin, and when you flinched at the pain, he tried to console you by saying that the medics were almost here.

“almost?” you wheezed, struggling to keep your eyes open but still able to see that spencer had ripped a part of his dress shirt to wrap your split skin.

when he circled the fabric around your torso and started to apply pressure, you had to bite back a scream. you bit down on your bottom lip so hard that blood seeped through and filled your mouth with its metallic taste. 

“spencer- spence,” you gasped, and wrapped your hands around his.

“it’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeated, trying to reassure you as he continued to apply pressure to your sides.

“squeeze my hand.”

when he didn’t move his hand, you tried again. “please. i need a distraction.”

he furrowed his brows and gave you a hesitant look, but when he noticed the desperation flashing in your eyes, he complied. lifting his hands that were now stained with your blood, he gripped your hand and squeezed.

it felt like electricity coursing through your arm, but it didn’t hurt.

it felt oddly serene to have your blood sandwiched between your skin and his, to feel warmth amidst the draining cold.

---

the fifth time he squeezed your hand, you were on the verge of tears.

you and spencer were just about to regroup with the rest of the team to deliver the profile, but as the two of you were walking across the hallway, the victim’s mother leapt in front of you and yelled in a fit of rage.

“my daughter’s been gone for more than two days, and you haven’t done anything to find him!”

she pushed against your shoulders and you flailed your arms in an attempt to regain balance.

“you just sit around and pretend to work, but you don’t actually care. if anything happens to my monica, i’ll make sure you’ll never work this job ever again.”

that was the last strike that tipped spencer over the edge.

you didn’t even get an attempt to reason with her, because spencer grasped the fabric of her shirt around her shoulders and pushed her into the waiting room.

it wouldn’t be another five minutes before he stepped out, but you could see his face was flush with anger and disbelief.

yours was hot with shame.

approaching you with a concerned expression, spencer put his hand on top of your palm and squeezed. “that was completely inexcusable on her part-”

“it’s okay. i know.” you moved your hand away and forced a smile. 

you could see the words written all over his face — it’s not your fault, you did nothing wrong. yet you still couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt, of the terrible pain that comes with knowing that you’re doing everything you can but still failing miserably.

you walked as fast as you could to the nearest bathroom before spencer could stop you, tears already streaming down your face as you locked yourself up in the stall.

---

the sixth time he squeezed your hand, spencer showed a different side that you’d never seen before.

you and spencer were dating now, so showing affectionate gestures in public wasn’t a foreign concept to the two of you. however, the workplace was a different story. 

both of you did your best to adhere to professional conduct, as it was fundamental to being a federal agent. and although it took some willpower, you refrained from your usual hugs and playful nudges with spencer.

but the detective at the local p.d. was on your tail, unrelenting with his attempts to flirt with you.

“how does dinner at seven sound?”

he flashed his teeth at you and smiled, and it took everything you had within to not retch in front of him. 

“can we please focus on the case here?”

“can’t we talk about both at the same time?”

you sighed, your fingers itching to grab him by the collar and subdue him to a deathly hush.

“no, we cannot, and i’d appreciate it if you would stop-” you waved your hand in an annoyed gesture, “-stop whatever you’re trying to do.”

“you know you could’ve just said no.”

“i don’t think it would take any extra deductions to figure that she’s turning you down, detective.”

your shoulders lifted ever so slightly at the familiar voice, and you had to suppress a smile from surfacing on your lips when spencer took a seat beside you and squeezed your hand.

“it’s just friendly banter, agent. one that you’re not concerned with,” the detective spat back, his stare still fixed on you.

“doctor. it’s doctor,” spencer retaliated, “and i believe that i do have the right to be concerned when you’re making my team member uncomfortable.”

you were so fed up with listening to the detective ramble on and on, choosing to ignore your and spencer’s words. you stood up, braced spencer’s hand, and nodded your head towards a closed-off room.

“come on, babe, i’m tired of this. let’s talk about the case in private and grab dinner together later.”

spencer nodded, a proud gleam shining in his eyes as he stood and placed a hand behind your back. 

you felt your body warm up with fuzzy excitement when the detective tore his gaze away from you defeatedly and clamped his lips shut, and you smiled as spencer followed you out of the room with his grip lying on your hips.

---

every time spencer squeezes your hand, it’s a heartfelt reminder of how much he cares about you.

you don’t ever have to question it.

he knew he would care about you from the beginning, a fate decided by the stars when he locked hands with you for the very first time.

and he’ll prove it to you time and time again, all six reminders a testament to his dedication.

[hivemuthur]

Drugs in Our Body | Reader Version

viktorxfemale!reader AU university, AU modern era, recreational drug use, smut-adjacent (but really was aimed more at sensual)

word count: 5,4K

summary: A self-indulgent one-shot of Viktor and Reader going through a high together and ending up all tangled up, touchy, kissy, breathy, so on and so forth. I might or might not have written Viktor into my core memory from uni.

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

It had been going so well. You’d managed to sneak out of the third floor, enjoy a solitary elevator ride up to your dorm room, and avoid bumping into anyone. A quick stop at the only working vending machine in the building had earned you a packet of honey peanuts—your second small victory of the night. Shoving a tiny packet with white powdery leftovers into the nobody-knows-what-it’s-for pocket of your jeans, you quietly unlocked the door and slipped into the darkness of your bedroom.

Sue, your roommate, was off campus for the weekend, and the relief of having the room to yourself was palpable. All that was left was to rid yourself of the constricting clothes and underwear in favour of her freshly laundered favourite pyjamas. Mission accomplished.

You were just pulling on your shorts when a soft, methodical knock echoed through the silence.

Shit.

Your first instinct was to ignore it. There was absolutely no way anyone could have seen you—you’d made sure of it. This was a very serious mission, and you had accomplished it with meticulous care. You could definitely just pretend you weren’t there.

“I know you’re in there,” a voice with an undercurrent of amusement—and the accent—called through the door, slipping straight into the soft spot in your brain. Your current state of unfiltered contentment only magnified its effect, sending warm waves through your body.

Barefoot, your steps silent, you padded to the door and cracked it open. The fluorescent lights of the dormitory corridor immediately assaulted your eyes, and you let out an involuntary whine. Standing there, bathed in the harsh glow like some caricature of a holy figure, was Viktor.

“Need something?” you asked, squinting at him painfully.

He was dressed in sweatpants and an oversized green jumper, the hem of a white T-shirt peeking out at the collar. Leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, his hands rested on his cane, one eyebrow raised, his lips curled into a knowing smile.

“How inconspicuous do you think you are?” he asked, smugness radiating off him.

Your heart sank. Impossible. You had been so careful. Every step had been measured, every movement ghost-like. During the elevator ride, you hadn’t so much as breathed too loudly. He was bluffing.

“What do you mean?” Your voice dripped with exaggerated innocence, enough to make Viktor snort softly.

Slowly, he leaned in, one hand propped on the doorframe as his sharp gaze zeroed in on your face. Your noses were now an inch apart. Less than an inch. You could smell the faint scent of his body wash and the wool of his jumper. Your carefully constructed composure cracked as you inhaled sharply, just once, stealing a whiff of him.

It was worth it.

“This little sneaking-about routine you just pulled,” he said, his eyes studying you, his lips curling in amusement as realization dawned.

It was over. He knew.

The blown pupils, the blush blooming across your cheeks, the smile you couldn’t suppress when he got closer—it all gave you away. But you weren’t ready to let him win without giving him some grief first.

“I… went to get a snack. See?” You reached over to a cabinet by the door, pulling out the packet of honey peanuts and holding it up like a prized exhibit. “Don’t you believe me?”

He raised an unimpressed eyebrow as he took the peanuts from your hand. “Close enough. Maybe I would… if you weren’t giggling the whole time,” he said with a teasing smile.

You froze. Giggling? Impossible. You’d been quiet as a mouse, serious as a statue, your determination unwavering as you had ghosted through the building.

“So… what’s going on?” His voice was casual, curious—almost as if he were asking you out—and it yanked you right out of your spiralling paranoia.

Before you realized it, your hand had grabbed his forearm. His jumper was so soft under your fingers, and you pulled him gently—hesitantly—through the doorway. Your eyes never left his as you inched him inside, a silent question lingering in the back of your throat: Am I busted?

After a moment of silence in the darkness, you cleared your throat. You could see the amusement on his face, etched there the entire time, and it made your blood simmer.

“Just killing time while Sue’s away. Why?” you said, your voice a picture of innocence. You turned away, plucking a book from the cabinet and settling on the bed. Because, of course, you were going to have a reading session in a pitch-black room.

Even with the only light in the room being the faint glow of the corridor bulbs seeping through the door crack, you could feel his gaze flick to your legs. It burned.

“And how, pray tell, were you killing time in complete darkness?” His voice dripped with an unthinkable suggestion, sending a shiver down your spine. Or perhaps the shiver came because the implication wasn’t as unthinkable as you wished it were.

God, get your sass back on, girl. You had to, or you were going to lose miserably.

“Excuse me? Are you accusing me of indecency, dear TA?” you shot back, your tone sharper than you intended but steady enough. It earned you an indulgent smile from him, so maybe it was the right move.

“I would never,” he replied, mock innocence smoothing over his features. Viktor stepped closer, reaching to turn on the night light beside the bed. Its orange glow was soft yet oppressive, making you squint against the sudden brightness. “Though I might take my chances accusing you of… some other indulgence,” he added with a sly smile as he sat down beside you.

“I am a victim, not a villain,” you quipped, the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them.

Viktor’s expression shifted instantly to one of concern, and you inwardly cursed. Too late to take it back now.

“You are?” he asked, his gaze sharpening as he turned to look directly at you, trying to piece together what you meant.

“Sorry,” you said quickly, your voice light and dismissive, though the apology sounded genuine. “That sounded worse than it was. Don’t get all worked up.” You offered him an apologetic smile and, without thinking, rested your hand on his forearm.

His jumper was impossibly soft under your fingers, melting into your skin. You had to gather every ounce of willpower not to let your fingers linger or caress his arm, lest you completely betray yourself.

“There’s a party on the third floor,” you admitted, “and, well… it was boring.” God, you felt like a child explaining yourself after drawing a masterpiece on the bedroom wall while the adults sipped drinks and discussed politics. This felt wrong; surely, you didn’t have to explain yourself.

“Alright,” Viktor replied, his tone reassuring and careful. His eyes flicked down to your hand on his arm, and he didn’t move. It was warm, soft—comforting—and he didn’t want to scare it away.

“And… what did you have?” he asked, his voice low and steady.

“E, I think?” you said, your tone casual but hesitant, like someone confessing to sneaking an extra cookie before dinner. You thought it was E, though it felt slightly different—softer. You felt calm and didn’t think your heart was about to explode.

“You think?” His brow arched, scepticism plain as day. So irresponsible, on full display. He could convince you to do anything now. He could whisper you into robbing a bank with him. He could make you serenade him. He could ask you to lick his neck while he groped your ass and kissed your stomach. He could... no.

“Oh, that makes me look so bad,” you groaned, dragging a hand over your face, the sound almost slapping him out of his dark fantasy. “But it’s not as bad as it looks.” Your hand returned to his arm, and he flinched slightly.

“I am sure,” he replied dryly, “as long as no one has a heart attack or falls in battle with an imaginary dragon.” His attempt at joking felt weak, too breathy to be taken seriously. Shut up, Viktor. What are you, her father?

“God, you sound like a parent, Viktor.” You threw him a look that was part annoyed, part amused. He sounded like a parent—though not like any of your parents. Your parents would have convinced you to take acid with them to deepen the family bond as you all probed through each other’s consciousness. Gross.

“Alright, alright,” he relented with a small smile. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. So… where did you get it from?” He could at least have his eye on whoever drugged his favourite second-year student—or made you so bored you thought E was the answer.

“Snitches get stitches, you know?” you shot back, leaning into the playful deflection. The truth was, you didn’t even know the guy who handed you the tiny zip bag and asked, ‘Do you want to have some fun?’ Somehow, you were convinced admitting that would only make the situation worse.

He sighed, long and exasperated, tilting his head slightly to the side. “Are you feeling alright? Do you need someone to watch over you?”

“I’m fine,” you assured him with a dismissive wave. “I was actually just going to… stay here and enjoy it. And frankly,” you added with a cheeky grin, “if you’re going to stay here, all sober and responsible, I think that would make me self-conscious.”

But please, stay and watch over me, Viktor. Take care of me while my body is crushed with fluff was pushing violently through your mind. You had to cover your mouth with your hand to keep yourself from saying it.

“I hear you loud and clear,” he said, rising from the bed. “Text me if you need something, though?” Pity. He would have gladly combed his fingers through your hair and caressed your hands, knowing that in your current state, this simple touch would bring you more pleasure than any man ever had.

“Or…” you began, your voice slow and deliberate, “you could jump in with me?”

God, yes, roared in Viktor’s brain. Yes, I’ll jump in with you. I’ll jump anywhere after you. I’ll eat your soul, and it’ll be my last meal, and I’ll die happy.

He tried to compose himself, to come off as casual. His eyes widened, his lips parting slightly in surprise. “Are you offering drugs to your TA?”

“You make it sound like the crime of the century, Viktor,” you teased, though the words were a cover for the rising panic in your chest. What the hell had you just done? Had you really just offered your TA drugs? Were you insane? What was that expression on his face now—disbelief? Amusement? God, please don’t let it be pity. Maybe he’d be cross with you, but that might actually be easier to handle. You should’ve just asked him to stay, to bring you water periodically. That would’ve been enough. It would’ve been perfect, actually. Maybe then you could even sneak another whiff of his sweater when he wasn’t looking.

“Well,” Viktor began, his voice dry but with the faintest lilt of humour, “if we treat the university ethos as law, it is technically a crime: drug distribution, leading your classmates astray, bad influence.” He had to hold his composure. Truthfully, he was tempted to snort the entire bag in one go, just to melt into you.

“I think I missed the moment when I forced it down your throat,” you shot back, crossing your arms and meeting his gaze. His joke made you feel calmer, though. Maybe it would end there—just a funny anecdote he’d tease you with throughout the rest of your time at university. And maybe, ten years in the future at a reunion, he’d ask you, ‘Remember that one time?’

“Are you sure it’s E?” he asked, his tone neutral but inquisitive, eyes scanning your face. You were too calm for it to be E. You’d be dancing around, touching his face uncontrollably, and above all, you’d never come back to your room to enjoy solitude.

“No,” you admitted with a shrug. “But it’s really not such a big deal. No… visions. It just… feels nice.”

‘Nice’ was an understatement—it felt like being bathed in butter, like all the knots in your body had untied themselves simultaneously, while your mind retained its analytical sharpness. Or so you thought.

“I see.” His tone grew quieter, more thoughtful, and you watched him carefully as his gaze flicked to the tiny bag in your hand. “Alright, show me what you’ve got.” He silently hoped it was what he thought it was.

You hesitated but eventually held out the small zip bag with a pinch of white powder inside. His fingers brushed yours as he took it, and for a moment, you felt your breath hitch. He had such long fingers you were sure they would meet if he wrapped them around your neck. Oh, God. He tilted the bag, examining it critically, like a chemist assessing their materials.

"And how did you take it?" Viktor asked, lifting a brow. The last time, he had dissolved it in lukewarm water, as they toasted with Jayce. The taste was still unbearable, so they had to down a box of orange juice, and it still didn’t exactly help.

"I… rubbed it in my gums." You winced at the memory. "Do not recommend, though."

"Let me guess," he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "It tastes like shit?"

"Worse." It tasted so much worse. Not that you had ever tasted shit in your life, but it tasted like some vile chemical trying to burn its way through your tissues. It tasted so wrong, yet it gave you so much artificial happiness afterward that you had already decided you’d be able to do it again sometime in the future.

"Ah," he nodded, a small huff of amusement escaping him. "I think I might know what this is." He paused, weighing the bag in his palm, before raising a brow at you. "Alright, ground rules if… I take it: no sex." He couldn’t. He really wanted to and really couldn’t. It would lock you both into a one-night stand while being high, and a potential future of all the stands you could be having depended on him being responsible. As much as he could be in that moment.

"You think rather much of yourself, mister!" you shot back, flustered and scrambling to cover it with mock indignation. You hadn’t thought of it once; you just wanted to curl into him and breathe in his jumper until you snorted it off of him.

"Oh, give it thirty minutes, and you will think much of me as well," he retorted, his smirk deepening into something almost smug. "But it’s more of a contract I’m making with myself while I’m still sober. And I need a witness." Good, Viktor. You deserve a medal. You deserve a girl.

"And your witness can be high, I presume?" You looked at him, amused. It was a shitty contract, but you could oblige. You already knew what you wanted from this night.

"I work with what I’ve got," he quipped, shrugging one shoulder, his tone breezy but precise.

"Alright," you sighed, rolling your eyes. "Consider your contract witnessed."

"Shake on it?" His smile was so wide you would shake on absolutely anything.

"Ugh, fine!" You extended your hand reluctantly, and his fingers wrapped around yours in a brief, firm shake. His hand was warmer than you expected, his grip steady.

"Here we go then," Viktor said, releasing your hand and sitting down beside you. Truly, here we go.

"Wait," you said, your eyes widening as he tipped a small amount of the powder onto the back of his hand. "Are you snorting it?" What the hell was this, Breaking Bad?

"I know how to take my medicine, thank you very much," he replied smoothly, his voice coloured with faint amusement. You would’ve thanked him for learning this way—the taste was almost undetectable.

"And when was the last time you’ve taken this so-called medicine, Viktor? 1976?" you teased, leaning slightly closer to watch him. You thought that if you were ever to do it again, you could lick it off his hand, and that would make the taste bearable.

He gave you a flat look before replying, "My third year, give or take. The thesis caught up with us soon after, and then, well… I had to become a well-respected TA." He delivered the last part with a hint of mockery, letting the words hang in the air.

"Did you lose with the dragon?" you asked, a grin tugging at your lips.

"Yes," he said, deadpan, the corners of his mouth twitching. "It disembowelled me and Jayce. Let me just say, it wasn’t pretty." He leaned forward slightly, his gaze still on the powder as if appraising his next move.

You bit your lip, watching him curiously, the buzz in your body softening your edges. Was this really happening? Watching Viktor—your TA, the notoriously unflappable one—do this was something you never thought you’d witness in a thousand lifetimes. Yet here he was, sleeves rolled up, calm and deliberate, like this was just another late-night experiment.

"Fuck, I’m sorry. Push it away from your mind – no dragon in sight, just me," he said, seeing your eyes widen and remembering how prone to suggestion your mind would be right now.

"See you on the other side," Viktor said, tipping his head back slightly as he snorted the powder. He blinked a few times, exhaling slowly, then turned to you with a faint, lopsided grin. "Hmm… we need some more light. And music. And… do you have any food?"

"Is everything a project with you?" you asked, a laugh slipping out despite yourself.

"I like to take as much as I can from the little moments of indulgence that are granted to me," he replied, his tone matter-of-fact, though there was a hint of something warmer beneath his words.

"Not the sex though," you shot back, folding your arms but unable to hide your teasing smirk.

"Don’t sulk. You’re going to like it," he said, brushing you off with a wave of his hand before pausing and glancing down. "Do you mind if I take this off?" Without waiting for a proper answer, he began unbuckling his leg brace, the metal joints clicking softly in the dim light.

"I don’t think there’s anything I mind at the moment, Viktor," you murmured, watching him. The deliberate way his fingers worked, the small sigh of relief he let out when the brace came free—it was unexpectedly intimate, and you felt something warm settle in your chest.

He placed the brace aside, flexing his leg experimentally before leaning back on the bed. "I will be asking you a lot of questions tonight, so you better brace yourself."

"Whaa…? I didn’t sign up for an exam!" you protested, widening your eyes in mock horror. You had already put on your comfort Spotify playlist with a lot of The Smiths and Dandy Warhols on it, and a couple of colourful dinky lights scattered around the room.

"It’s not an exam. Consider me… your guide," he said, his tone taking on a playful gravity that made you grin.

"Viktor, I’m not an E virgin. I don’t need to be handheld," you said, rolling your eyes but plopping down close to him all the same.

"It’s not handholding. And I wouldn’t doubt your expertise," he said, his voice low and steady, "but it’s not E you’ve taken."

Your brows knit together as you stared at him. "No? What is it? Are we going to die?" Your mock horror made Viktor chuckle slightly.

“It’s M. The joy of E without the speed. It’s… nice,” he explained, his words soft and unhurried. He tilted his head slightly, as though listening to something only he could hear. “And given how I am starting to feel, we have around… two, maybe three hours of this?”

Your stomach flipped at the easy confidence in his voice, at the way he seemed so utterly calm despite the strange circumstances. You shifted in your seat, trying to suppress the giddy flutter rising in your chest. “So… what do we do?”

“Nothing. Anything you want. See what you feel like,” he replied, his gaze meeting yours, steady and curious. For a moment, the room felt impossibly still, like the two of you had been suspended in time. The edges of everything softened—the glow of the lamps, the hum of the city beyond the window, even the faint buzz under your skin. It all blurred into a single, surreal moment as you looked at him.

“What I feel like…” you murmured, your voice trailing off as a sudden, uncontrollable grin spread across your face. “Alright, Viktor. Guide me.”

“Come closer,” his voice was soft as he patted a space on the bed in front of him, splaying himself on his side. You leaned in slowly, propping your head on your fist.

“May I?” His hands hovered over your face, asking non-verbal permission before he touched you. You nodded, closing your eyes, and it made Viktor smile this time. His fingertips ghosted over your cheeks and brows; a touch so gentle you could barely feel it yet felt it intensely at the same time. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until Viktor spoke. “Breathe.”

“Are you nervous?” he asked, seeing you give a shaky exhale.

“No,” you lied. Your heart was thumping in your chest so loudly now that you were convinced Viktor could see the tremble in your sternum if he looked closely.

“Let’s get rid of this tension,” he said, pulling you into a tight hug. You immediately wrapped your arms around him, cradling the base of his skull with the fingers of one hand, while the other hugged his waist tightly. You could feel his soft jumper under your palms and felt warmer as his scent filled your nostrils. You breathed him in—the body wash, the fresh laundry, his skin and clothes wrapping around you like a blanket.

He slid one hand around your back and shoulders, the other finding its way down to the base of your spine. For a fleeting moment, he had an internal struggle to resist the urge to squeeze your ass tightly. Your bodies slotted together as if it was meant to be—here, on your dorm bed, entangled together, forever. His hands kneaded at your flesh when he rolled over you swiftly, allowing his palms to travel to your ribcage, squeezing it affectionately as he pressed his face to your body and took a long, deep whiff of you. You weren’t wearing a bra, so he was painfully aware that only one layer of clothing—relatively easy to get rid of—stood between his lips and your skin. You arched into his movement, making him release an audible sigh of contentment.

“You smell nice,” he whispered against your neck and smiled as he rubbed his cheek on yours, his eyes closed, heat slowly spreading through his veins. Then, he hooked his good leg under one of your knees to feel more of you underneath him, propped his elbows on each side of your head, and dropped his forehead to rest on yours.

You looked up at him, expression unreadable, as if you were studying him. His blown pupils, gold rings around them barely visible, dark freckles on his pale skin travelling deep under the collar of his t-shirt, the sharp structure of his face softened by colourful lights, the tiny bud of flesh crowning his upper lip. You really wanted to kiss him.

He saw the flicker in your eyes, nearly completely black now, before he rolled you to the side. “Not yet,” he whispered hoarsely as he tangled your fingers together, raising your palm to his lips to place a soft, lingering kiss on your knuckles.

“Bear with me, please,” the plea in his voice tied you into knots. His touch burned you, even as slight as the feeling of his long fingers cradling your palm. His hands felt heavy on you, grounding you, keeping you safe on this ride.

“Why so cautious?” you asked, your voice soft but edged with curiosity.

“I need to brace myself here,” he replied, his tone steady yet laden with something deeper, something vulnerable. He had to be cautious. If this was the time you had sex for the first time, it would be the last. He was convinced of it. Even when his entire body screamed at him to shed his layers of clothing and just merge with you. Just drown in you.

“I remember the contract, just the reason for it… eludes me now,” you said, using his own phrasing that he so often threw at you. You managed a small, teasing smile, but it trembled at the edges.

He chuckled quietly, the sound warm and almost sheepish. “I will indulge you then. This... would either be the best or the worst we could have,” he paused, measuring his next words and deciding if it was the right place to bare himself in ways other than nudity. “And I’m not ready for either tonight,” he added, the words hanging between you, a delicate balance of truth and hesitation.

For a moment, there was silence, as the space between you stretched, and you could feel the tension in his every breath. You were starting to understand what he meant, not just in the words, but in the way his hands tightened around yours, the way his body was so close yet still holding back.

“Viktor,” you murmured, your voice softer than you intended, pulling your gaze from your joined hands to meet his eyes. And God, he was so beautiful.

“Don’t think about what is not happening. Focus on this,” he said, squeezing your hand and rubbing his thumb on the heel of your palm. The touch sent a jolt through your body. “I promise, it will be good. I haven’t even kissed you yet,” he smiled, and you felt your resolve falter and shift to his side.

A quiet agreement settled between you. You wouldn’t step beyond the layers of clothing. There were so many steps still to take tonight, though. Viktor took a deep breath, partly in relief, partly to brace himself for what came next. He cradled your neck, and you wondered if his long fingers would leave a palm-shaped burn mark on your skin. His exhale washed over your face, smelling faintly of toothpaste and a man. He kissed you in slow motion, allowing you to warm up to the novelty of this touch.

You took his upper lip between yours as he slowly coaxed his tongue into your mouth. His hands travelled down to prop your bare thighs under the length of your shorts, and God, he was so happy you were wearing shorts.

He kneaded at the backs of your legs, his touch strong and confident. His mouth explored yours, licking the inner side of your lips, a faint taste of lip balm on his tongue. He bit your lower lip gently, sucking on it long enough to leave a mark that would bloom in full by morning.

You tangled your fingers into his hair, pulling him closer, breathing through your nose, as your hips and chests met, melting together.

He let out a breathy laugh, surprising himself. “You taste like a girl,” he murmured, his voice soft and unguarded. You blinked at him, not quite understanding. What he meant was that you tasted like lip gloss and summer, like a sweet drink laced with heavy alcohol—and it was the only taste he wanted in his mouth until the end of time.

“Any girl?” you asked, shooting him a questioning glance.

Instead of explaining, he said simply, “My girl,” before sinking back down into you, his lips trailing along your neck, nipping lightly at your ear. His hips rolled against yours without meaning to, and you felt how hard he was, but you didn’t comment, respecting the boundaries you’d both agreed upon. Instead, you wrapped your legs around his waist, your warm hands sneaking underneath the layers of his woolen jumper and crisp t-shirt. His body was all sharp lines and firm muscle under your touch, flexing instinctively beneath your fingers—a striking contrast to your softness, yielding to the shapes he wanted you to take.

When you closed your eyes, the brightness behind your lids didn’t dim, but it sharpened your focus on the sweet sounds he made. The soft whimpers escaped him as he breathed you in, the slow, deep inhales he took every time his face buried itself in the crook of your neck. His hands slid gently under your sweatshirt, wrapping around your ribcage and squeezing softly, almost as if he were coaxing your heart to him. His thumbs brushed the line just beneath your breasts, making your body tense in response, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he pressed his face into your stomach, his lips lingering there in a kiss that sent warmth blooming through you—a kiss he’d wanted to give but thought impossible only an hour ago.

“I have no words to describe this feeling,” he said quietly, his head resting against your belly, his hands moving to caress your thighs. You tangled your fingers into his hair, tugging gently to ease the tension from his scalp, and he let out a soft groan in response.

“Better than being eaten by a dragon?” you teased, your voice low and light as your mind wandered, overwhelmed by all the goodness surrounding you.

He propped himself up quickly, his flushed cheeks and disheveled hair framing his face. His lips were swollen from kissing, his eyes bright and loving as they locked onto yours. The sight stole your breath, and you felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for listening to him, for letting this moment happen.

“You have no idea,” he replied, a smile breaking through.

Your bodies resumed their slow, unhurried dance, a rhythm built not on urgency but on the quiet comfort of simply being together. He held you close, his hands moving in soft strokes up and down your back, drawing you tighter against him. The warmth between you felt like a steady, glowing fire, soothing and constant. Your fingers found their way back into his hair, and you kissed him again, slow and tender, each lingering touch a wordless promise you both understood.

The intimacy felt endless, as if nothing outside this moment existed. His heart beat steadily beneath your palm, a rhythm that matched your own, and you let out a contented sigh as you melted into him. Viktor’s breath slowed and deepened, syncing with yours, his chest rising and falling against you. The space between your lips disappeared again, the softest whisper of air passing as you kissed, savoring the connection like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Time blurred, stretching and bending until it felt infinite, a luxury you didn’t dare question. The soft sounds of your kisses filled the quiet room, the outside world forgotten. You felt him smile against your lips, his hands cradling your face, his thumbs brushing the edges of your jaw with a tenderness that sent your heart racing.

Eventually, the kisses slowed, and he rested his forehead against yours, your faces inches apart, your eyes closed. A pleasant heaviness settled over both of you, the high of the moment fading but leaving behind a sense of peace. Your jaw ached faintly from the constant kissing, but you didn’t care. Viktor, too, seemed to feel the weight of exhaustion creeping in, though his arms stayed tight around you, unwilling to let go just yet.

As the faint strains of I Love You by The Dandy Warhols played softly in the background, the last remnants of the high dissolved into a quiet contentment. His breath evened out, his hand resting warm and steady on your back. You let yourself drift, your head nestled against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as it lulled you toward sleep.

The last thing you remembered before the world faded completely was the warmth of his arms holding you close, his presence wrapping around you like a shield. Nothing could pull you apart—not in this moment, not ever. And with that, you both surrendered to the embrace of sleep, the quiet comfort of each other’s existence the only thing that mattered.

[dreamsteddie]

AITA Steddie Au Part Three

Part Two

Hello! Sorry for the delay! This week was very busy with student conferences and my own midterms so I haven't had a lot of time to work on this. This is more of an interlude building up to bigger things, but I hope you enjoy it!

Also! Get in the comments if you have any ideas of an actual name for this series so I can stop calling it AITA Steeddie Au. I can't think of anything good 😓

------

Eddie takes Steve on that second date.

And then a third and a fourth and eventually he stops counting because he's seeing Steve as often as he can between their jobs and other responsibilities. He feels high off it, giddy with possibility and hope for this new thing that he's never had before.

Eddie has done relationships before, a couple of times. A small handful of boys and girls he took out on dates and tried his best to woo all went up in flames one way or another, but none of those relationships left him feeling so gone so fast. He felt like he was always holding himself back from giving himself up completely, too afraid of falling without a safety net to reach for that deep devotion he's always craved.

Steve makes him feel like they're plunging into that unknown together.

Still, no matter how much he's been trying to avoid it, the looming specter of what the hell to do about his friends is looming over his head.

------

"Are you fucking serious right now dude?" Eddie asks, a complicated mix of righteous anger, humiliation for himself and Steve, and complete disbelief at Gareth's unwillingness to back down from this making it increasingly difficult to keep his cool.

"Look man, all I'm saying is that Steve is like, the complete antithesis of literally everything we stand for. He's a nepo baby business major who's never had an original thought in his life! I would know! I've read one of his papers." Gareth says, forced nonchalance coloring his tone and riling Eddie up even more.

He rears up, shoulders pushing back and hands grasping at the air like he could pull down his frustration from the either and condense it into a solid ball he could lob at Garteth's head to finally knock some goddamn sense into his brain.

"Hey, hey, hey. Okay, Eddie, I'm really sorry about this. It was a fucked up idea, I don't know what we were thinking." Jeff interveins before the frustrated banshy noises Eddie is letting out turn into another yelling match that won't get anyone anywhere.

"I think we just got too caught up wanting to help you get out of this rut and it all turned into something completely insane. You don't gotta forgive us Eddie, but if there's anything we can do to try and make up for it, we'll do it. Isn't that right Gareth?" Jeff pointedly asked with a look that says agree with me right now or else.

Gareth doesn't say anything.

The thing about all of this that Eddie just can't wrap his head around is the why. Why would his friends, his sheepies, do something so cruel? He knows none of them have ever looked kindly at people like Steve. Too many traumatizing high school humiliations behind them all to trust when someone who looks so much like all the guys who bullied them in high school tries to reach out, but Gareth and Jeff have never tried something like this. In fact, it's used to be Eddie doing most of the anti-jock revenge planning back in the day, even if nothing ever actually came from it.

He thought, incorrectly it seems, that they had grown out of the worst of it by now. It's been three years since Garteth graduated, and five since Eddie made his final attempt, and leaving their hometown behind did a lot to heal old hurts.

So why this? Why now?

"Is this seriously how it's going to be man? You won't tell me what the fuck any of this was really about and you're not even going to try and apologize? Seriously?" The righteous anger is starting to seep out of him, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion.

Gareth just continues to stare at him defiantly, not saying a word.

Eddie pinches his nose and takes a deep breath, "You know what? Fine. Whatever. If this is how it's going to be then I'm out. Jeff, I'll talk to you later, probably not for a little bit though. Gareth?" The other man lifts his head from where he'd been looking down at his shoes. There were tears in his eyes, just a little bit but enough for Eddie to clock it. Face red from some unnamed cocktail of emotions Eddie doesn't have the energy or desire to interrogate right now. "Call me when you're ready to grow the fuck up. I've got a second date to plan."

With that, Eddie turned on his heel and made for the open garage door.

"What about the band, man?!" Gareth called.

Eddie kept walking.

-------

That was over four weeks ago.

He hasn't spoken to Gareth for most of that time. The first couple of days he blew up his phone with angry to half-apologizing texts that Eddie promptly ignored. After the second day, he sent a single text back letting him know he didn't want to talk unless he had a real explanation and apology to give both him and Steve and that he was going to block his number for a little while. He could let Freak know if he was ever ready to talk like adults. Eddie trusted him to tell if Gareth was being genuine.

In other news.

Waking up to strong arms secured around his naked waist is fast becoming Eddie's favorite way to start the day. He and Steve slept together for the first time last week, and since then it's like neither of them can get enough of each other.

"Hey, baby." Steve rasps in his ear, tilting his head down to smear sleepy kisses onto his shoulder. The hand that was resting against his ribs meanders its way down to the trail of hair under his navel, scratching just a little and making Eddie feel like a contented mutt. He's not sure if he should feel horny or like he could sink into the mattress and sleep for another full 8 if Steve keeps holding him like his.

"Mornin' sweetheart." he says deciding that a couple more hours of sleep is definitely the way to go. Steve, it seems, has other idead.

"What you thinkin' about this early in the morning?" He asks, hand continuing to scratch lazily at Eddie's stomach like he's not completely destroying Eddie's will and ability to focus on anything but the warm body behind him.

But it's been a long time coming, and as much as he doesn't want to, Eddie needs to start thinking about what he wants to do about his friends? former friends? estranged family? band and Steve deserves to be a part of the conversation.

Eddie sits up, bringing Steve up with him to rest against the headboard. "I've been thinking about the band. Gareth and Jeff, that is." He pauses, waits for some kind of reaction that doesn't come. Steve looks concerned, but not in the way he thought he would.

"Ok." Steve responds, waiting for more.

"I guess I just don't know what to do." He looks out into the middle distance of Steve's bedroom. Takes in the display of swim, basketball, and baseball trophies displayed proudly on a shelf, catching the early morning light. "I'm still so fucking mad. It's honestly kind of irritating how mad it makes me to think of what they did. It was so fucking stupid."

Steve hums a little, letting Eddie get it out.

"But at the same time I can't help but fucking miss them. Miss the music and the campaigns and everything else." It's honestly been eating him alive, the mix of anger and longing he's been feeling for his friends. The constant longing to go back in time and stop them from concocting this shit show but also, like, stalk Gareth to his 8 AM Business class so he can run into Steve and they can fall in love at first sight or some shit.

Silence.

Steve shifts. Moves so he can look Eddie right in the face. He looks thoughtful in a way that Eddie had to get used to. Sometimes when Steve is thinking hard about something, he scrunches his face in such a way that it makes him look like he's judging you. He isn't, it's just an unfortunate fact of life that his baby has a resting Judgemental Face™.

Steve heaves out a big breath, bringing Eddie back down to earth. "I mean, I don't want to, like, cloud your judgement or whatever but maybe you should try and talk to them one more time. Jeff appologized right?"

And, ok that's definetly not what Eddie was expecting to hear. It must show on his face because Steve is suddenly looking away, embaraced.

"I just..." He trails off, taking his own turn staring out at the dull shine of his old acomplishments. Eddie watches as his face once again turns pensive as he stares harder at the remnents of his high school acheivements.

"I used to be a pretty shitty guy. Did the same kind of shit your buddies did a couple of times." This isn't necessarily news to Eddie. They've talked a little about who Steve was in high school and how much work he put into himself before he decided to go back to college. It's still a bit of a shock to hear, though.

"So I get how someone can make a mistake like that, y'know? So if you want to try and talk it out, I won't be offended. I know we're in this together, now." Peace said, Steve reaches for Eddie's hand and gives it a squeeze.

It hits Eddie again, just how good Steve Harrington is. It hasn't been long, not really, since they got together but they've fallen together so completley, so easily, that it's easy to forget that there's still so much they have to learn, so many layers for Eddie to peal back. Behind every judgemental remark and complaint about the frequent phone calls he gets from chuldren he used to babysit in his hometown is a man who cares deeply and is capable of great forgiveness, even if it hasn't been earned yet.

Eddie squeezes his hand back.

"Are you sure?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, it's not we have to totally forgive them, right? But I think you need to get a real answer from both of them about why it happened. Maybe you can find a way past it, maybe they'll say something that puts the nail in the coffin." He responds.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and thinks.

Steve is right. Eddie isn't satisfied with any of the answers he got last time, and he knows that there has to be more to the story than "trying to get Eddie out of a rut" and he's not going to be able to put any of this to rest until he understands.

"Ok, yeah. I'll call them." Steve gives him an encouraging smile at that, rubbing the back of Eddie's hand where they haven't let go yet.

"Good, I'm glad. And I can come with you if you want. Hit em from both sides." he says. Eddie think's he'll take him up on that offer, but right now he had more imporant things to do. Namely, tackling his sweet boyfriend onto the mattress and having a mid morning tousle.

"We'll see. Right now I've got more imporant things to do." He says in his best aproximation of a sultry voice. He doesn't know how good it really is, but it seems to work based on the way Steve's eyes get hooded and he looks down at Eddie's mouth.

Gotcha.

Before Steve can lean down and kiss him, Eddie snaps his hands down to his boyfriend's sides in a well executed tickle atack. Steve immedietly jolts and starts howling with laughter, yelling between breaths that Eddie is "a fucking asshole" as he continues his relentless atacks.

Eventually, Steve manages to regain his bearings and go on the offence, turning them over and trapping his boyfriend's hands beneath his knees so he can atack Eddie's equally ticklish sides.

Once the late morning has passes into early noon and they've both settled back into Steve's signifigantly more rumpled be, Eddie takes one more moment to think about the furute to come before he shelves it. He knows that whatever conversation is to come, it won't be easy, and even if things go as smoothly as possible with Gareth and Jeff, things will never be the same between them all.

Looking down at Steve, who is sporting the most outrageous bedhead in human history, laughing at the stream of reals Robin sent him in the middle of the night, he thinks he'll be okay either way.

Tag List

@wheneverfeasible @the-dark-hearts @sofadofax @wrenisfangirling @whatfinestandsfor @lilpomelito @raisedbylibrarians @ollyxar @mugloversonly @xxbottlecapx @hezaaxdexangelous @kimsnooks @that-one-gay-crow @travelingtwentysomething @shoujo-wizard @stripey82 @live-laugh-love-dietrich @cr0w-culture @notaqueenakhaleesi @bookworm0690 @r0seprincess @estrellami-1 @little-annie @dreamercec @tinyplanet95 @rawrx3ky-txt @bexinator3000 @justalittledrainbamage @scarletyeager @themoonagainstmers @yesdangerpls @mydysfunctionallife @maverickricky @silentiumdelirium @i-amthepizzaman @samsoble @foolishness-and-confusion @dragonmama76 @gregre369 @thewickedkat @lexr86 @martinskis-lydias

[astoldbylanii]

Say It

ఌpaige bueckers x reader

warnings: 18+, smut, ovulation went crazy this month😭, basically no plot...like at all

inspired by - say it by ne-yo

---------☙

"Paige please..."

The only two words your brain could fathom right now, and you were lucky they made a sentence. She was the reason why.

"Please what baby?" She asked, but she knew the answer. She always knew what you wanted. She could tell from the way your body pushed itself closer to her hand. From the way your jaw fell open just from her light touches. From how soaked you were. Paige was fluent in the language your body spoke. Yet, she still didn't give it what it wanted needed.

"Come on now, I can't give you what you want unless you tell me what it is? I'm not a mind reader, baby." She insisted. That was a lie. Partially, anyway. She could read you in every way. Her hand traveled familiar paths down your hot skin. One of her hands traced careful circles on your thigh as the other was pressed into the bed, right beside your head. "Here? Is here good?" She pressed when you whined as her hand grazed over your wet lips.

"Baby-"

"Or here? Hm?" She cut you off, her fingers sinking between your lips to graze your clit. Just as fast as they were there, they left. A frustrated whine left your lips once again. "Come on baby, it's a simple question. Where do you want me?"

"Paige just-" You couldn't complete the sentence, but you could lead her hand down to where you wanted her. She tutted, pulling her wrist away from your hold.

"Now you know better." She scolded, but there was no real bite in her words. "Come on baby, just say it. All that running your mouth earlier and now you can't use your words? Say it baby, tell me what you want so I can give it to you. Can't be that hard." She teased, a cocky smile coming across her face as she watched you struggle every time her fingers brushed against your clit.

"Paige please. Need you so bad, P."

"Mhm, keep going. Tell me where." She encouraged, finally giving in and rubbing your that perfect button between your soaked lips.

"E- everywhere. Need your fingers inside, need your mouth on me. Please Paige- oh-" You were cut off by her finally giving you what you needed. Two of her fingers finally slipped into you with ease.

“That’s my good girl, finally using your mouth for something good.” She said with a proud smile. You moaned, gripping tight onto her shoulder as she smoothly got into a rhythm. “I’ma give you what you want but you gotta keep being vocal for me, ‘kay?”

“Mkay.” You panted out. You would do anything she wanted as long as she stopped talking and put her mouth where you needed it. Paige pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, continuing to press wet, open mouth kisses down the rest of your body until she reached between your thighs.

“I need to hear you from down here, baby. Let your moans be loud as your disrespect was earlier and keep your eyes on me.” She ordered, and you knew the underlying promise she hadn’t said. If you don’t listen, she’ll stop. So, you nodded in agreeance, your hand finding the back of her head as a silent urge. Paige laughed at your impatience, her free hand rubbing your thigh comfortingly as her fingers kept up her place. She press a swift kiss to your clit before taking between her lips,, sucking hard.

“Paige!” You cried out. Already, she almost had you throwing your head back as you let out a loud moan, finally receiving some relief. Paige kept up her pace with her fingers, flicking your clit with her tongue. Her first two fingers curled against your spot deliciously before she added a third, grazing that same spot again. “Oh fuck- right there, baby.” You said, as if she didn’t already know.

Paige sped her fingers up as her tongue circled around your pink clit before taking it into her mouth once again, never breaking eye contact.

“Oh goddd, Paige…” You whined. Though you hoped there was no god watching how Paige devoured your pussy right now. Your fingers gripped her hair harder as her fingers began to thrust harder, her eyebrows furrowing as she focused on you and your pleasure. She moaned into you, feeling the way you tugged on her blonde hair, as if she could get any closer. Just as you were about to reach that peak, just as your aching hole clenched around Paige’s fingers, she pulled her mouth away.

“Say it, tell me what you need, baby.” She said, waiting for you to follow through as her fingers kept moving. She watched with a smile as your mouth opened and close, being patient for the words to fall from your pretty lips. All that came was another moan.

“I know baby, I know. But you gotta tell me, show me how sorry you are for how you spoke earlier. Use your words now, pretty thing.” Paige tried to comfort, but her voice was only making it worse. She still was patient with you, her fingers keeping you right on edge. She knew you needed her mouth to finish you off.

“Need to cum, please Paige, please…”

“Mhm, that’s it baby.” She praised proudly, pressing a soft kiss right below your belly button before she removed her fingers only to be replaced by her tongue. Her tongue moved in and out quickly while her soaked digits rubbed your clit just as rapidly as her tongue fucked you.

“Oh shit-” Your back arched up off the bed, head thrown back as a high pitched moan left your throat that you knew Paige would mock you for later. Your body tensed, overwhelmed by the sudden change of pace before you came, making a mess on Paige’s tongue that she was happy to clean up.

Your legs spasmed around Paige’s head as she tenderly licked up the creamy essence that your pussy couldn’t seem to stop from exiting your body. Your now empty hole clenched around nothing as Paige pressed a final kiss to your clit before leaving to go get something to clean you up. You panted, trying to allow your body to come down from its high.

You were drifting off when Paige returned, only to receive a slap to your thigh that woke you right up. You look at her, confused until your eyes wander down to find the false dick attached to her hips. She smirks at the confused look on your face.

"Not you thinking we was done. Nah, turn that ass over."

"But Paige-"

"What'd I say?" She interrupted your protest, grabbing your hips and pulling down closer to the edge of the bed. “I said keep your eyes on me, and even though you look so fucking sexy when you throw your head back while you cum for me, that’s breaking eye contact baby. And contrary to what some may say, I’m a woman of my word. So we’re not done.”

“Paige, I don’t know if I can do anymore.” You admitted. The blonde haired made a noise that sounded like a scoff in response to your words. She shook her head at you, her hands traveling up and down your trembling thighs carefully.

“Come on now, you’ve done much more than this before. If you really don’t think you can, you know what to say, but I think you better tell your pussy that.” She tempted, her hand wandering to your aching cunt just to drag her thumb up and down your sopping lips. “She’s so ready for me, I know you can take more. Plus I think I deserve it after how you treated me earlier, hm?” Paige egged on, her fingers still mindlessly teasing you as her blue eyes bored into yours.

She was right too, you did kind of feel bad for the things you had said earlier. You were already thinking of ways to make it up to her but this was not on the list. Though, feeling the way her thumb began to rub your clit slowly, the way your body was reacting to her touch, you couldn’t help but to agree to go another round.

Paige smiled, her hand still making a mess of your pussy as she leaned down to give your soft lips a delicate kiss. You could still taste yourself on her tongue from when she had just made you cum before.

Paige pulled away just as she felt herself getting too deep into the kiss, a wet string of spit still connecting the two of you before you leaned up to get one last peck in. She finally pulled her hand away from your lower lips with a wet tap, bringing her thumb up to suck your juices off as she waited for you to turn around.

“Yeah, perfect like that, pretty girl.” The athlete complimented, pushing her palm into your back to make your arch a little bit deeper once you got on all fours. “Just like that…” she muttered to herself staring at your round ass. You already has a good body when you’d first met her, but she’d like to think the growth in your glutes was due to her, and not just because she’s been making you work out with her.

Paige gave your ass a quick tap, watching it move before she spread you for her, leaning down to spit on your pussy. Though, it wasn’t like it needed anymore lubricant. She spit on the 7-inch shaft as well, using her hand to get it nice and wet for you. With that, she leaned down to press a swift kiss to the side of your neck, one hand gripping your hip while the other guided the purple dick inside of you.

You both groaned out at the entrance. You because of the feeling, and her because she was enjoying watching the length disappear between your soaked lips.

“Fuck.” She let the curse tumble from her lips with ease. Once the length had completely disappeared, she let go of the base of the cock, instead, letting that hand travel up to grip your shoulder. She gave you one testing thrust to get used to the intrusion before her thrust became harsher. Her pace was fast, not wasting a second before picking up speed.

Paige bit her lip, watching the way your as recoiled against her hips before giving into temptation and giving it a hard smack. That plus her constant thrusts almost caused you to lose balance, but Paige was quick to fix you up.

“Nuh uh, keep that arch how I like it.” She scolded. It seemed like she was only getting rougher as the grip on your hip tightened and she began pulling your hips back to meet her thrusts.

“Oh fuck, Paige-” You moaned out. Loud clapping sound around the room as you gripped the sheets beneath you.

“Huh? You wanted to say something, baby?” She asked, breathing heavily as she waited for you to reply. She tsked when nothing but moans fell from your lips. “Damn baby, I know it feels good but I asked you something.” Paige said, her caring tone contrasting with the way her hips met your ass harshly. She swiftly swooped your hair into makeshift ponytail, pulling you up so her lips were next to your ear. “Since you can’t think of what to say right now, I’ma tell you. Say you’re sorry. Say you’re sorry for how you spoke to me earlier, you’re sorry for you’re nasty ass attitude. Cause, you are, right baby? You sorry?”

You nodded as much as you could with her tight grip on your hair, a whine falling from your lips once again. Paige chuckled, licking up your neck before sucking a hickey into your skin, right behind your ear.

“Say that shit then. Tell me you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry Paige. So sorry, oh fuck- didn’t mean it baby. Just missed you so oh-“ You gasped as Paige made a particularly hard thrust rub right up against your spot. “Shit Paige…”

“Yeah, I know pretty girl.” Paige said, finally releasing your hair from her grip. Only for her to push your head down into the pillow, her other hand still squeezing your hip. “I’ll accept your apology, just need you to cum for me baby.”

Paige kept aiming for that same spot, getting it everytime. Your moans were getting louder and louder with every thrust, almost overpowering the sound of applause in the room. You were right on edge, clenching your eyes tight as your body began to tremble against the mattress in a way only Paige could make it shake. Your hole clenched so tight around Paige’s cock that it made it hard for her to continue at her pace, but she kept on. Thank god you married an athlete.

“Come on baby, show me how sorry you are. Give it to me.” Just as she finished her sentence, her hand reach around to rub your clit, her fingers quickly matching her thrusts pace. That combined with the sound of her voice, plus the way that her dick kept brushing so perfectly against your spot had you falling apart just for her. “Oh yeah, just like that baby.” She praised as you came, her hand not slowing down as she watched you squirt all over her hand as pussy pushed her out along with your cum.

With shaky legs, you collapsed. Panting tired from the intensity of it all. You felt, Paige's cool hands gently rubbing on your hot skin, attempting to calm you down. Once your breath leveled out, she turned you to lay in your back once again.

"You okay?" She asked, hands running over your hips. You nodded, your heavy eyelids causing Paige to smile faintly. Your hands found hers and you intertwined them as she leaned down to peck your lips.

"I'm sorry." You whispered against skin, already trying to regain your strength to show just how sorry you were.

"I know." She whispered back with a smile.

[littlemelaninfics]

Just One More

WARNING: Overstimulation, crying reader, language, fingering

“No, no, no, no!”

There you are, 4 orgasms in and writhing wildly in Bucky’s arms as he continues to rub circles around your clit. You're trembling with tears streaming down your face while you desperately try to get away from the torturous manipulation of his hands. All he could do was smile as he keeps the cold, heavy metal of his left arm tight around you middle.

He kept pulling you back into his chest when you couldn't help but buck your hips and gasps for breath, “Bucky… please… no more, I can’t-”. He puts two fingers in your abused opening,

“Yes, you can,” he says sternly, mouth pressed to your ear. The bass in his voice vibrates the wires in your brain. He's all you crave.

He lets out a deep breath when he slides a third finger into your hole. You were helpless and at his mercy. Your hands are trapped behind your back, between your torsos with a red Christmas ribbon he found. Your legs were trapped between his so when you tried to close them, he just had to spread his wider. There was absolutely nothing you could do to stop him from playing with your sensitive pussy.

“Ohhh, I’m not done yet, Baby. Not yet.” He pulled his fingers out and went back to the same speed on your clit.

“Oh my god, Sir… fuck, please, don’t stop,” you moan loudly, trashing in his grip when the tight coil in your abdomen comes undone. Wave after wave of pleasure crashing through you. You're full on sobbing in blissful agony before going tractable in his arms. All your body could do was tremble from head to toe when he pressed his nose into your slick neck and finally slips his fingers out of you. He loosens his hold on your torso, allowing your legs to close a bit to give you a well deserved moment. You go to close them more when he cups his hand possessively around your pussy. He’s still not done.

You start to cry again; the combination of the tears and your whining making you sound so pathetic and helpless. He just eats it up.

“Noooo… Bucky, please, no more… stop, I- I can’t… please, no…”

“Shhh. You're doing so well for me,” he says, pressing his lips against your temple. "What do you say to get me to stop?"

He laid a light tap to your swollen petals, "tell, y/n. Stay with me."

"Brooklyn," you said in the faintest whisper.

"Why?"

"It's where we met...FUCK!"

He doesn’t wait another moment before slipping two fingers back inside your sopping pussy, making you cry out when they graze your ultra sensitive walls.

“James-FUCKKK!,” You drag out as you sit your head up to watch his attack on you,

"You want me to stop? Say it and I'll stop." He knew you wouldn't and he reveled at the fact that he had complete control over you. The fact that he didn't reprimand you for using his legal name meant that he was having way too much fun in this torture session to even care.

“No! Please don't stop…” His fingers reached the spot that undoes it all and your eyes roll back as you place your head back on him, completely quiet.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Bucky watches, mesmerized that it's him who's making you cum like this.

You whimper in his arms, gulping in large breaths that pass right by his ear from where my head is resting on his shoulder. Your entire body is trembling. Your sweaty skin sliding along his own when you try to wiggle away from his touch.

You stay like that for a moment before he presses another kiss to your temple. By this time, your eyes are closed and you're starting to come down. Your breathing stables until you feel a heavy, icy sensation start to travel back to your overused cunt.

"You've been such a good girl for me. I know you can give me another, Baby.”

[lanabuckybarnes]

Might have re-watched Captain America: Winter Soldier again 🫣....and it's just something about the way he says "You're my misson." All I know is this gives off HUGE smutty vibes. I love your written so I just knew I had to ask you!

Ohh nonnie the way he growls it as well (panties soaked)

18+ MINORS DNI, DUB/NON CON THEMES AHEAD

His metal hand pressed against your throat, you should’ve passed out ages ago but he wasn’t squeezing enough to hurt. He was keeping you in place.

You don’t know how you ended up on Hydra’s watchlist. You were a regular person, a security expert who woke up at 6am every morning, showered and got ready for the long hours at the office.

Your boss had some new clientele. They were in the market for top-notch security and they’d chosen the company you worked for, and your boss had chosen you to be part of the team. You learned quickly that they were a very secretive group, you only ever met the messengers and even then they blanked every other word you spoke besides a polite hello.

It was one boring day, completely uneventful, the usual in your office. You were working on the can’t security side of the project when your screen went black, then a logo appeared—an octopus? Weird.

“Hey Jim come look at this” you notified your cubicle neighbour who peaked over the barrier. Just as he did mountains of files filtered onto your screen, many of them in Russian it looked like but one thing was for certain. You definitely shouldn’t have seen it.

That night after packing up and heading downstairs you noticed Jim still at the revolving doors.

“Hey, you alright?” You asked, he looked pale, if you were in an old house you were sure you would’ve mistook him for a ghost.

“T-the—“ he cleared his throat before his brown eyes bore into yours. They looked dead, it shook you to your core. “The logo, on your computer…I searched it up and…”

Your jaw dropped to the floor when you digested the content on his phone. Hydra. Your new clients were Hydra and you’d accidentally seen all their files.

—

You jumped from your dreamless sleep at the sound of your landline. Checking your clock lets you know it was well past midnight, who on earth would be calling at this time?

“H-hello?” You rasped, eyes shutting by the second.

The frantic voice spoke your name. It was Jim and by his tone, he was panicking.

“Jim? Jim, are you alright?” You pressed, holding the phone closer to your ear.

“T-they’re here, listen to me whatever you do, do not open your door. Find a weapon and hide…oh god…Do not op—“ BANG!!

You let out a shriek at the sound, Jim’s side turning eerily quiet. Then your door knocked.

Once.

Twice.

Your door was gone before it could be knocked for a third time. Kicked so hard it hit the opposite wall, you screamed, dropping the phone from your ear and falling to the ground like you were made of jelly.

Tears flowed freely down your face as the huge body stalked forth, his arm glistening under the dim light you kept on at all times. A mask sat upon his face obscuring his emotions from you but you were certain he was enjoying the torture he was putting you through.

His heavy boots stopped just in front of your knees, his metal hand grasped at your throat squeezing until your vision spotted, until you garbled pleas up at him. Only then did he pull you up, your toes pointing to reach the floor, you were trying desperately to relieve some of the pressure around your throat.

You should’ve died a long time ago, his brain screamed at him to fulfil his mission, put a bullet in your skull and be done. But the more he looked at you the more he wanted.

The spaghetti straps of your nightgown had slipped down off your shoulders, catching in the crooks of your elbows but not before giving him a delicious tease of your bust.

He wanted more.

He raised his flesh hand, hooking a long thick index finger into the material before ripping it from your body in one fell swoop. You yelled and struggled against his grasp but a harsh squeeze of your trachea had any fight dying quickly.

He let his knuckles trace the swell of your tits, pinching a nipple in between his fingers, smirking darkly under the mask as you squirmed.

You look cute all scared of him; wide-eyed and chest heaving, your tummy sucking in to get away from his hand as it trailed down to your cotton panties.

A dark chuckle escaped him as he felt along your gusset.

“You’re wet”

You shook your head, eyes darting anywhere but him, your thighs squeezing his hand and keeping it pressed firmly against your mound.

He ripped the panties from your body as well, running two fingers through your folds and bringing them up to your face. Absolutely soaked.

“Wet” he spoke matter-of-factly before pushing his hand back down there; fingers plucking your hard little clit effortlessly until you were crying out.

“W-why are you doing this” you moaned, head hitting off the wall with a bang as you sucked in air greedily.

“You’re my mission” he growled back, fingers stretching you out until your brain turned to mush.

He coaxed four orgasms out of you that night. His mask, thrown to the floor so he could kiss you sloppily before leaving.

He returned night after night, Hydra sending him to complete his task but he’d do the same again, play with you, eat you out until you were a writhing mess—all dumb and thinking of nothing but him.

You were his mission. For days, months, years. You were his.

—

I pulled this outta my ass but I hope it was up to your standard nonnie 🤭🤭

Also thank you so much, it’s nice to know some people enjoy reading the poo I write.

Likes, Reblogs and Asks are always appreciated ❤️❤️

[d0rothydraws]

Reader gets attacked on the way home from work late at night.

content: f!reader, violence, possessiveness, murder, blood, after care, fingering, sweet talk, sex.

w/c: 2.2k

Ao3: Here

a/n: I have like 3 other fics im working on, one being where he helps you on your period but apparently thats too soft for my brain because it told me that I needed to write something where Sylus kills for you because I wanted to feel something. Please read the content descriptions, If you aren't comfortable with violence, you can skip to after the break.

It was late, work went longer than expected and you were exhausted. Usually, Sylus would pick you up when it was this late but he had what he called a "non negotiable meeting". He offered to have Luke or Kieran pick you up or order a ride but you refused, stubborn as ever. You were a capable hunter, and besides you've done this walk hundreds of times before. Though, even yet, if Sylus couldn't be there, he did everything in his power to make sure you were safe.

The sound of the mechanical bird's wings was loud in your ears as Mephisto landed on your shoulder, Its eyes shining in the dark, almost like Sylus' himself. "You were waiting." You mumbled as you turned the corner to set off on your journey. Mephisto just turned its head slightly, ruffling its feathers.

A few minutes passed and you heard footsteps behind you. Your shoulders tensed as you put a hand on your gun. You weren't sure what happened, it happened so fast as the steps grew louder, faster. More steps than you could count. An ambush. Your body moved on its own as you turned to try and shoot at one of the men, at any of them. Your gun going off as your body hit the ground. Mephisto flew at them, his razor sharp beak aiming at their eyes. While he did manage to harm one of the attackers, the other two were still surrounding you as the third slapped the crow away.

"What's a pretty little thing doing out this late." One of the men said, pulling a knife out as they watched you try to reach your gun that was just out of arm's reach. Before you could grab your backup plan, the smaller gun Sylus had given you for emergencies, the second man stepped on your hand, making you scream in pain as you were immobilized.

"Eat shit." You hissed, not giving up the fight as you squirmed under them, trying to throw them off of you as the one holding the knife straddled your hips. You spit at him, and in return, he grabbed your jaw. His other hand held the knife against your throat. You refused to show the fear in your eyes as you felt the steel kiss your skin.

"You're too pretty to be using words like that, princess." The man spit. You tried to throw him off of you but the knife pressed harder into your neck. "Keep going and you won't be saying anything soon."

"That fuckin bird got my eye boss! Can't see shit." The third man said, trying to cover his eye to stop the bleeding. The second man spoke up in a mocking tone. "Suck it up, you got another one don't ya? Anyways, ya won't need to see in order to hear the sounds she's gonna make when we-"

The alley filled with black and red smoke. Your heart raced as you heard the sound of Mephisto, and then- "You should know better than to touch what isn't yours." Sylus said calmly, appearing through the smoke as the red and black coils snaked around the men's necks, lifting them in the air. You couldn't move, your body felt paralyzed from the attack. You could only lay there as you watched Sylus approach as the men were raised higher and higher. He looked calm but there was an anger behind those eyes, a fury. Your heart raced, the sounds of the three men that attacked you background noise as your eyes locked with Sylus. Slowly he leaned down to help you up, his touch gentle yet you could feel how tense he was.

One by one the men fell from the sky, each tendril releasing them one by one. As each of the bodies fell from extreme heights, their cries were silenced on impact. Falling to their death efficiently. You didn't see the bodies, barely heard the sound, as Sylus pulled you into his chest, blinding you from the event. You could hear his heart racing, his lips against your ear to cover the sound behind you. "I'm sorry I took so long, sweetie." He said, his voice tense as he rubbed your back slowly as if checking for injuries. "Let's get you cleaned up." He muttered as the coils wrapped around the both of you. It felt surprisingly warm, like a warm gust of summer air. In moments it was as if you were flying, being guided across the city and through the N109 Zone back to his home.

▬ ♦ ▬ ♦ ▬ ♦ ▬

The night was a blur, you felt numb, mentally and physically. Sylus didn't say too much, there was a look in his eye that you have never seen before. His touches were soft as he helped bathe you, cleaning the grime and dirt off of you, paying extra attention to the areas that the men touched as if to replace the memory.

After you were clean, he helped change you. A fresh set of soft pajamas, your favorite cozy fluffy socks to add to it. Slowly, he lead you to the bed. The smell of him filling your senses as you laid down. The images of tonight filled your mind, the faces of the men. How fast everything happened. The feeling of that knife against your throat. Your heart started beating faster as your body tensed slightly.

Strong arms wrapped around you, settling behind you on the bed as he pulled you close against him. He tangled his legs with yours as his hands gently rubbed circles against your skin. His lips against your ear as his words cleared your mind like a prayer.

"It's ok. Nobody will ever touch you again, you're mine. And I'll make sure of that." He whispered, his words sincere as he kissed your ear. "I'll make you forget everything that happened today." He said as his hand dipped under the band of your pajama pants trailing the curve of your hip.

You felt your mind start to melt as you focused on his words, his touch. The smell of sandalwood and bourbon against your nose as the feeling of his hand made you shiver. You felt like you were in his embrace for hours as he whispered into your ear, his hand teasing and grazing your skin gently but with purpose.

His other hand moved under your shirt, trailing up until he reached your chest. Slowly, he rolled one of your nipples between his fingers. His lips moved to your neck, kissing the skin softly before nipping, leaving small red marks down to your shoulder. His hand dipped under the band of your underwear, pads of his fingers brushing against the wetness between your thighs. You gasped softly, a hand moving around to curl into his hair, pulling his lips closer into your skin where he purred in approval.

"That's it kitten, feel every bit of what I do to you." He whispered, voice hot from the feeling of your hand in his hair. "You're doing so well, I love how you shiver when I touch you like this." He said as a finger pushed inside you slowly. Your eyes rolled back as you arched against the hand, moving your hips slightly only for his legs to tighten more, still tangled in yours. "Shh, relax. Don't rush, just enjoy it sweetie."

You felt your body tingle at each touch, each word he spoke into your ear. Your moans became louder, a second finger, and then a third thrusting into you at a slow, deep pace. You gasped his name softly, feeling your core tighten as his thumb brushed against your clit. "That's it sweetie, say my name." His voice practically vibrated in his chest, the praise making you clench around the fingers, earning a soft sound of his own pleasure from him. You could feel how this was affecting him against your back. His pants tight from his cock straining the seam.

You couldn't take it anymore, the feeling of him overwhelmed you. Your body clenched around his hand harder, pulling him closer as his thumb pressed against your clit, the friction much needed as your body tensed, a soft cry of pleasure erupting from your throat as you arched back against his chest.

Gently he pulled his fingers from you and to his lips as he tasted you. A low sound rumbled in his throat at your taste. "You always taste incredible, kitten." He said, his hands wrapping around you again, pulling you close as he nuzzled into your neck.

Your heart pounded, body craving more. You figured he didn't want to push you, considering tonight's events, wanting to focus on what you needed. But what you needed was him. You moved a hand behind you, finding the bulge that had been growing against your back since his touches began. He inhaled a sharp breath, slightly tensing before a soft chuckle tickled your ear. "Are you sure you aren't too tired? Tonight is about you." He said but didn't pull your hand away as you palmed him through his pants making him groan. You turned your body, facing him as you kept one hand on him, feeling him twitch under your hand and the other curled in his hair again. Your lips brushed against his.

"The only thing I want tonight is you." You breathed against his lips before kissing him. In an instant his hands were on you again, his body over you as he returned the kiss. It was slow, passionate. Usually his kisses were rough, fast. But tonight was different. Tonight he could have lost you. And it would have been his fault. He felt emotions he had never felt before as he moved your hands gently away from him, holding your wrists loosely with one hand as he pulled your pants down with the other. You helped kick them off once they got low enough. Pulling back from the kiss as you looked up at him.

After a few more minutes, touches and kisses, his own pants were discarded. He moved your legs onto his shoulders as your body was pulled down the bed, closer to him as he teased your entrance with his cock. You both moaned, shivering at the feeling as you looked up at him. You didn't need to beg, not tonight. He needed it just as much as you.

You felt him enter you, inch by inch as he stretched you. You felt every nerve in your body shoot with that sweet feeling. The stretch of his cock made your mouth open in a needy cry. His eyes watching your face, your reaction to him. It never grew old, seeing you shake in pleasure before he even began. He turned his head, leaving kisses on your calf and knee as his grip tightened around your thighs.

As he began to move your eyes closed, consumed by the pleasure of him. "I wish I could stay like this forever." You moaned, not even thinking as you said it. You didn't care, he felt too good and honestly, your words held truth. He chuckled slightly, the sound strained as he groaned in pleasure as you clenched around him. You felt him twitch inside you at your words, his thrusts getting slightly rougher.

"Keep talking like that kitten and I just might." He said, his voice rough as he lifted your hips slightly, thrusting down into you deeper. You cried out, hands moving to claw the bedsheets. "Seeing you moan under me, all needy. So wet and desperate for me. All mine." He purred as his thrusts got more irregular. Your heart pounded as you heard his words, your mind racing with thoughts and imagery that nearly pushed you over the edge.

His hand moved between your thighs, brushing against your clit again as he kissed your leg again, looking down at you. A thin layer of sweat was on his forehead, his hair clinging to the area. His face was blushed, his eyes glossy and lips parted and swollen. You looked up at him, taking in the sight of him.

You felt him release deep inside you, the feeling sent you over the edge as he fucked you through both of your orgasms. The sound of heavy breath filled the room as he slowly pulled out, your legs feeling numb as he gently laid them down as he climbed back beside you, pulling you into his arms.

His kisses peppered your skin, his hands held you close as he felt you relax against his chest. After a while he would help clean you up again, but for now he wanted to cherish this time with you. There was no rush. And tomorrow? Tomorrow was reserved for him to pamper you no matter what you wanted. He felt guilty for letting what happened happen tonight. He would never tell you, he knew you would know from the extra displays of gifts and affection. But nonetheless, he vowed to never let anything like that happen ever again.

No matter what. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Your phone wakes you. The room tilts as you open your eyes. A dull hammering thrums in your temples. The morning light makes your brain rough as sand paper. 

Dregs of vodka stick to your dry tongue. The hangover weighs you down like an anchor. Just the thought of moving hurts. 

You reach blindly for your jittering phone. Bubbly music tinkles from the speaker. Shit. It's Barrett. What did he forget this time? 

You answer and put your clammy palm to your forehead. You squint at the ceiling then your eyes slowly round. Where the fuck are you?  

"Hey, babe. You at Wendy's?" Your husband asks. 

You gulp and peel your tongue off the roof of your mouth. This isn't Wendy's house. 

"Yep," you croak. Your eyes ping side to side. 

"Look, I'm sorry about last night. Things got heated and I know I was an ass--" 

You cough as you sit up in the strange bed. "Yeah, you were." 

"So why don't you come home and we can talk it out." 

You peer around the room and your lips curve in a frown. Where the hell would you go besides home your loyal best friend's? You scratch you scalp and turn your legs over the edge of the bed, "let me get myself together." 

"Babe. Please. I'm sorry." 

"When I get home." You hang up.  

It was a hell of fight. The minute he started yelling, you bailed. He knows better. You're not doing a ten hour day and coming home his nagging. So you left out your coffee mug. Big deal. You didn't say anything about the garbage bag he left out to be torn apart by raccoons. 

Whatever. Fighting over dishes. Not of it matters right now. 

Your clothes are on the floor. Someone's floor. Who it is is far from the point. You stand and stagger. You catch yourself on the nightstand. Your hand moves instinctively between your legs. 

You're naked and tender. Did you have sex? 

Think! You ran out with your purse. You went to Wendy's. She was up for a night out. A night to forget and body did you. First drink, second, third, then it gets blurry.  

Fuck! You didn't. You wouldn't. You're pissed at your husband but you wouldn't cheat on him. You're not that type of person. Right? 

You don't have time for that. You have to get out of here.  

You dress as you search the room. It's tidy. Half the bed is mad and the other half messed from your drunken slumber. 

You shake out your hands trying to shoo away the flurry of guilt and denial. Just get out. You'll think better with some coffee in your system.  

You push down the door handle slowly. You listen to the silence of the hall. You tiptoe out warily, checking left and right as you advance. It's a nice place. A condo. Much nicer than your cramped one bedroom. 

Not important! 

You come out into the spacious front room. It's as empry as the rest of the place. The kitchen too. The bathroom. No one. 

Your purse is by the door. Your shoes too. You grab both and let yourself out. You'd rather not face your mistake. 

No, you didn't do anything. You wouldn't. 

You hurry down the hallway to the elevators. You don't look back, just keep going. You don't think, just go. 

It isn't until you're outside the familiar cafe marquee that your let your mind settle. You enter and join the queue. Your order a black coffee and drink it at a stool by the window.  

You lean your elbows on the high table that stands inside the pane. You take a slow, savouring swig of coffee and let it trickle down your throat. You shield your face from the New York morning and put your hands over your ears. 

You can't remember anything but Wendy. Your anger had you ordering round after round, trying to drown out the bile. The thought makes your stomach lurch and you gulp thickly. 

You shake your head and groan. Your phone chirps. It's probably Barrett. Several messages from him and missed calls. All through the night. It's bad enough you betrayed him, you had him up worrying. 

No, you didn't! 

It can't have happened if you don't remember it. A generous stranger took you home so you didn't wake up on the curb. That's it. 

That's the story. Nothing happened. And you'll let Barret believe you were with Wendy. It won't make a difference. 

Your mind is set. Nothing happened. 

Nothing. Happened. 

Because you don't remember. Because you were too drunk to do that. Because you're married and it can't happen. 

You're going to finish your coffee and go home. Everything will be just like it was before... after you tell Barrett where to put that coffee mug if it's such a big deal. 

[oceantornadoo]

lavender haze (price x f!reader, explicit use of weed/smoking mention)

it was the happiest day of your life. john was on one knee, smiling and holding a ring box up to you. your smile was too big for your face. as you reached forward for him, the ground shook, causing you to look up. that wasn’t right - you were in a hellscape. the air clogged your lungs, buildings were burning and screams rang out. the cries of innocents permeated the air. john was still on his knee, smiling. a popping sound surrounded you, then he wasn’t smiling anymore. the ring lay in a pool of blood as your captain’s eyes glazed over…

“wake up, lieutenant.”

you couldn’t stop looking into john’s eyes. and where was his hat? he never went to battle without it.

“c’mon, you need to wake up.”

you could hear them coming for you. the same footsteps that killed john. they were right behind you and-

“baby please, wake up.”

you woke up with a gasp, the room pitch black around you. a lamp flicked on, casting the motel room in an eerie glow, illuminating the man next to you. your captain, decidedly and platonically just that, was a bit flustered, his hand on your back to track your breathing. “y’ were having’ a nightmare.” you nodded, sucking in greedy amounts of air into your lungs as you calmed down your body. it was routine now, waking up in the middle of the night and walking yourself off the ledge of a panic attack. unfortunately, this time had to be when you shared a bed with your captain. platonically. for the mission.

“i find a smoke helps when i can’t sleep.” he’s still here, rubbing your back in small circles. your heart jumps and you kill it with a reminder of how he fist bumps and shoulder taps the men on your team. it means nothing, he’s just being a good captain. “don’t have anything on me.” your voice is gravel, hoarse from the phantom screams in your dreams. “‘s ok. i could use a smoke too.” he drops his hand, moving to get out of the rickety mattress this establishment calls a bed. you avert your eyes at the sight of him in a casual t-shirt and boxers, willing your overactive imagination to go away. the imagination that thinks about how he’d look after a one-night stand or a casual lie-in with his lover. the one that inserts you into the fantasy.

“c’mere.” the room has a small balcony, barely enough room for two, but he gestures to you anyways as he unlocks the door. there is something in his hand, but your sleepy brain tells you it’s too small to be a cigar. odd. when you walk outside, you’re immediately met with the edge of the balcony. it’s truly standing room only. a glance to your left reveals your captain looking for threats in the night sky, finally satisfied when his shoulders drop an inch. he takes out a lighter, something with the image of a santa claus that you can imagine gaz gave him as part of his old man jokes. john raises something to his mouth. the smell is odd, not that of his regular cigars, and it takes you a second to process as you wrack your brain. “is that…weed?” he exhales in a partial laugh, restraining a cough since you ruined his proper exhale. “surprised, lieutenant?” you scoff, reaching for the joint. his fingers brush yours, the joint really too long for that to be necessary, calluses on calluses setting your body aflame. you take a hit, trying to remember how to inhale correctly as it’s been a while since you’ve smoked weed on a balcony with someone. not to mention, your captain. “big inhale, lieutenant. not just a mouth breath.” you hum as you exhale, satisfied you’re able to follow his instructions. “good girl.” he is too, apparently. you shake off any underlying message.

“can’t believe my captain smokes weed.” he takes the joint back wordlessly, fingers brushing yours again. “rarely. jus’ for nightmare occasions. never on a mission.” funny, since you're both waiting for exfil the next morning. a bit closer to a mission than you imagined he usually did. “technically, we’re still on a mission.” you were on your third hit now, time going fast when it was just you and john on this lonely balcony. “necessary exception. can’t have my best lieutenant runnin’ on an empty tank.”

you bit back a smile at his compliment. “i won’t tell ghost if you won’t.” john rewarded you with a chuckle, a deep belly laugh you’d only heard once or twice. so this is what he was like high - a man who allowed himself to have fun. you could work with that. “won’t matter. y’ve got him wrapped ‘round your finger.” a jilted gasp escaped you as you refrained from stomping your feet. “no way! if anything it’s soap since ghost calls him johnny. i couldn't get away with half of the things soap does.” the joint was almost finished and you hadn’t even realized. he offered you one last hit before putting it out on the railing. disappointment sank heavy in your stomach, a feeling that the moment was almost gone.

your captain turned to you, a string pulling you closer until you were standing under him. his eyes were red, smile lines fresh. “you look good. sorry, relaxed. i see why you smoke now.” you murmured. his hand reached out into the space between you, then dropped back down. weird for him of all people to make an uncertain move. “think soap is to ghost what you are t’ me.” this had to be a cruel trick the universe was playing on you. “you mean you’re wrapped around my finger?” he nodded slow, the weed sinking its claws into him. “you’re just high, captain.” he frowned unexpectedly. “‘s john.” oh. oh. you nodded silently. the next steps were fuzzy, a dance you’d never learned.

“what was your nightmare about?” that was not what you thought he would ask. “um. the usual. the battlefield and dying and…yeah.” this time, his hand had a direction. it raised to your hairline, tracing the skin gently as his thumb led the way down to the curve of your ear. he felt that too, seemingly enamored with the softness of your earlobe before dropping his hand completely, like it never happened.

“you said my name, before you woke up. screamed it, practically gave me a heart attack.” his eyes were questioning, burning into yours like an interrogation. “oh. yeah, it was, um. youwereinmydreamandyoudied.” you practically spit the last part out, turning your head to study the skyline instead of finding whatever was on his face. unexpectedly, the weed made you both talkative and shy, a combination you didn’t expect. maybe it was sativa. “what happened before i died?” it was like he knew what happened, even though there was no way. right? you couldn’t resist a sideways glance, tracking the open earnestness of his face. “you were…proposing.” the last word was a whisper. “which is crazy, obviously. just a stupid dream.” you cut in before he could open his mouth. there was that frown again, one he rarely directed towards you. before tonight, that was.

“like this?” there was a yearning in his voice and when you blinked, he was on one knee. somber, not smiling like in your dream. he was realer, a wrinkle here and a gray hair there. your feet took you closer until his view was your thighs. that’s when you remembered you’d gone to bed in only a t-shirt and underwear, not having packed for an extra night in a motel. the triangle of your panties peeked out from your shirt and embarrassment creeped up your skin.

“i’m sorry, this is inappropriate. i shouldn’t be dressed like this, i'm sorry, captain.” his gaze hadn’t moved. “john.” a low exhale escaped him, like you saying his name had lifted a weight from him. unlikely, but a nice visual.

“‘ve never heard you say my name.” he was still on his knees, but he moved his head until he made eye contact. “guess i never had a reason.” he tilted his head to the side. “what’s your reason now?” you were scrambling off the edge of something you couldn’t see. you didn’t know this game you were playing. “you- you told me to.” he nodded, raising back to his full height off his knee. for some reason, you were disappointed. “you’d do anything i ask you?” it was the weed, surely, that made you nod vigorously. “get on the bed, then.”

you got on the bed. could feel him vibrating behind you as you walked towards it. turning, you sat on the very edge, legs tightly pressed together. “you’re high.” he shook his head. “barely. bein’ high doesn’t make me lie, sweetheart. quite the opposite, in fact.” you had no mental energy to get into the word sweetheart. it had already warmed your belly and turned you inside out.

“i’m high.” he said nothing. “barely.” you added with a whisper. “out of excuses yet?” you spread your legs instead of answering, letting him step in between them. he bent down slowly, turning your chin to him like you were something precious, something to take his time with. the kiss was slow, both of you tasting bitter because of the weed, and it was magical. you wrapped your legs behind him until he got the message, pushing you down. he grinded into you, hard and wanting.

“i’d propose to you now, y’know. jus’ don’t carry the ring with me on missions.” it took a second for the message to get through, especially since his lips moved to your neck, biting and sucking. “there’s a, fuck john, there’s a ring?” he was leaving hickies, surely. the weed had turned him into a teenager, and you giggled at the thought. he misinterpreted your laugh, pulling back until his eyes met yours.

“you got a problem with a ring?” you whined at the loss of him on you. “no. no. c’mere.” he leaned down for a kiss and you flipped the both of you over, straddling him with ease. his hands landed on your ass, pushing you closer until you could feel his hardness. he was such a possessive kisser, biting you when you drew back for a millisecond. his scruff scratched you pleasantly and you hummed like a cat in the sun. his neck felt so delicious under your fingers and you decided to explore it, small kisses and kitten licks until he was growling.

“you wet f’ me, baby?” his tone unlocked a memory. “you called me baby earlier. when i was sleeping.” john didn’t give you an answer, staring at you expressionless. “and?” it sent you sputtering. “you can’t call women baby when they’re asleep.” there was that frown again. “‘m not callin’ women baby. ‘m callin’ you baby. because you’re mine. got a problem with that?” you shut him up with a kiss. he was infuriating.

the wetness between your thighs was concerning. your hips were grinding of their own accord, the feeling of his clothed cock between your folds addicting. the weed supplied you with confidence, fingers reaching down to move your panties to the side. he let out a groan at the feel of your bare cunt against his boxers, soaking them through.

“not fuckin’ you like this, baby. not here.” you nodded against his skin, tongue darting out to lick at the beads of sweat that hard formed. “still want to come, though.” if weed made him laugh like this, you were determined to get him high every day. his hands tightened on your hips, pulling you harder and faster against him. the angle was perfect, the contours of his body catching your clit with every grind. his eyes were open, tracking your every movement.

“john,” and he understood you completely, catching your mouth with his lips again. he tasted like yours. pressure coiled in your stomach at the thought. john was yours. “captain,” you groaned against his lips, reveling in the strained sound he let out. “gonna make me come before you do, sweetheart.” his mouth left yours, instead biting your breast over your shirt. it was too much: the sweat, the grinding, the bites he delivered with vigor. he pushed you down harder, the motion brushing your clit and sending you over the edge.

“fuck, baby.” it sounded like you both said it at the feeling of his cock leaking cum beneath his boxers, the fabric soaked both ways. time stopped as you both looked down, taking a second to take in the sight. it was absolutely carnal, the grinding without fucking. a claiming.

“‘m tired.” you whispered. neither of you had a change of clothes so you both stripped them off, reveling in the sight of your naked bodies together. he pulled you into him, tucking you under his chin as you wrapped yourself in his body heat. so strong, so capable. your hands traced his chest, tangling in his body hair, until sleep overtook you. finally, a nightmare-free sleep.

--

i have no idea what made me write this since i haven't smoked in like over a year. if my depictions of being high are inaccurate, welp. also yes i headcanon price as a smoker but very occasionally just when he's stressed

[littlemelanintales]

Just One More

WARNING: Overstimulation, crying reader, language, fingering

“No, no, no, no!”

There you are, 4 orgasms in and writhing wildly in Bucky’s arms as he continues to rub circles around your clit. You’re trembling with tears streaming down your face while you desperately try to get away from the torturous manipulation of his hands. All he could do was smile as he keeps the cold, heavy metal of his left arm tight around you middle.

He kept pulling you back into his chest when you couldn’t help but buck your hips and gasps for breath, “Bucky… please… no more, I can’t-”. He puts two fingers in your abused opening,

“Yes, you can,” he says sternly, mouth pressed to your ear. The bass in his voice vibrates the wires in your brain. He’s all you crave.

He lets out a deep breath when he slides a third finger into your hole. You were helpless and at his mercy. Your hands are trapped behind your back, between your torsos with a red Christmas ribbon he found. Your legs were trapped between his so when you tried to close them, he just had to spread his wider. There was absolutely nothing you could do to stop him from playing with your sensitive pussy.

“Ohhh, I’m not done yet, Baby. Not yet.” He pulled his fingers out and went back to the same speed on your clit.

“Oh my god, Sir… fuck, please, don’t stop,” you moan loudly, trashing in his grip when the tight coil in your abdomen comes undone. Wave after wave of pleasure crashing through you. You’re full on sobbing in blissful agony before going tractable in his arms. All your body could do was tremble from head to toe when he pressed his nose into your slick neck and finally slips his fingers out of you. He loosens his hold on your torso, allowing your legs to close a bit to give you a well deserved moment. You go to close them more when he cups his hand possessively around your pussy. He’s still not done.

You start to cry again; the combination of the tears and your whining making you sound so pathetic and helpless. He just eats it up.

“Noooo… Bucky, please, no more… stop, I- I can’t… please, no…”

“Shhh. You’re doing so well for me,” he says, pressing his lips against your temple. “What do you say to get me to stop?”

He laid a light tap to your swollen petals, “tell, y/n. Stay with me.”

“Brooklyn,” you said in the faintest whisper.

“Why?”

“It’s where we met…FUCK!”

He doesn’t wait another moment before slipping two fingers back inside your sopping pussy, making you cry out when they graze your ultra sensitive walls.

“James-FUCKKK!,” You drag out as you sit your head up to watch his attack on you,

“You want me to stop? Say it and I’ll stop.” He knew you wouldn’t and he reveled at the fact that he had complete control over you. The fact that he didn’t reprimand you for using his legal name meant that he was having way too much fun in this torture session to even care.

“No! Please don’t stop…” His fingers reached the spot that undoes it all and your eyes roll back as you place your head back on him, completely quiet.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Bucky watches, mesmerized that it’s him who’s making you cum like this.

You whimper in his arms, gulping in large breaths that pass right by his ear from where my head is resting on his shoulder. Your entire body is trembling. Your sweaty skin sliding along his own when you try to wiggle away from his touch.

You stay like that for a moment before he presses another kiss to your temple. By this time, your eyes are closed and you’re starting to come down. Your breathing stables until you feel a heavy, icy sensation start to travel back to your overused cunt.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me. I know you can give me another, Baby.”

seen this before? tumblr deleted my other account so i have to rebuild :/

[lurochar]

Well-Fed

It isn't wise to harass Alastor's assistant. A man learns this the hard way.

Human Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Violence, unknowing cannibalism

--

What a pleasant night.

“F-fuck, please – what do you want?! I’ll… I’ll do anything!” The man pleaded, sniveling as he tried to crawl back, “J-just don’t kill me!”

What lovely begging.

Alastor hummed, eyeing the fallen man as he wondered in which way he should slaughter him that would best satisfy him and his current needs.

Should he just blow the man’s brain out? It’s not like he needed his head for anything – nothing really too edible there. It always made such a mess.

Maybe cut the man’s throat and make it a quick one? It always did give him a thrill to watch the life fade from one’s eyes and the absolute terror on their faces when there was nothing to be done. 

Possibly chop the man’s limbs off and watch him slowly bleed to death? He would probably put up too much of a fight and ruin too much of his meat and it would take far too long.

“Do you remember me?” Alastor asked, causing the man’s eyes to finally look at his face rather than the rifle in hand, “Or actually, do you remember the woman at the radio station earlier today?”

“Y-yeah, ‘course I remember you!” The man simpered, as if sucking up would actually save his life, “You’re Alastor Hartfelt, right? That radio host who’s the talk of the town right now?” His face twitched, “So, why you doing this?! Don’t fucking tell me…!” His eyes widened when he finally figured it out.

He wasn’t getting out of here alive.

“I asked, ‘do you remember the woman at the radio station earlier today’?” Alastor didn’t flinch in the least as he pulled his axe from the holster at his hip, swinging it down in a smooth motion, and easily severing the man’s hand.

He was screaming now, of course, in complete shock at the brutal action and he tried to scramble to his feet to run for his life, but Alastor already had his rifle at the ready, easily shooting him in the foot before he could do anything.

“I’d rather not repeat myself for a third time,” Alastor looked on in a bit of distaste when the man vomited, heaving and twitching around in agony. “It is why you are here, after all.”

The man didn’t answer or didn’t even hear him as he curled up into a sad little ball, causing Alastor to sigh in slight disappointment that his hunt was already over, but preparing meat took time and he had already invited you over to dinner the next night, so it was fine.

“Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?” Alastor knew he was talking to himself at this point as he knelt down as he reached for his knife from his belt, “I’d rather you not treat women like objects that you can use whenever you feel like it. Far too many men are like this. Imagine how Y/N felt when you cornered her in my radio station and groped her like a mindless animal? Perhaps as helpless as you are now? In any case, I do not tolerate any disrespect of such kind, especially with my lovely little assistant.”

He was rambling, he knew, he always did get like this when it came to you and your wellbeing.

“I’ve spent too much time on you,” Alastor tightened his grip on his knife, “I have a meal to prepare. I do hope you taste better than you look, my good chum.”

He hoped you liked Jambalaya.

–

“This is amazing!”

Alastor smiled, feeling absolutely pleased at your joyful expression as you took a bite of his cooking, clearly delighting in the flavour, “It’s my mother’s recipe, you see.” His eyes flashed, a dark satisfaction building up in him, “I’m glad you like it. I thought the meat might have been of too low quality.”

“No, no!” You went to reassure him, “I’m nothing fancy!” You eagerly took another bite. “You are a very good cook. Your mother must have taught you well. She must be very proud.”

“I would like to think so.” Alastor’s smile softened briefly at the thought, “I do try to be nothing less than a true gentleman. I believe my mother would have liked you very much so. I would like to share more of her recipes with you, if I may be so bold to ask?”

You flushed, looking down at your food before peering back up to Alastor with a shy smile, “I would like that too.” You did not recognize the mania behind Alastor’s eyes as you continued to eat his cooking.

“I’ll keep you well-fed, my dear.”

[revelboo]

Gah, the swindle fic was so, so good!!! I feel so bad for saying it, but I was talkin’ about Swerve, the lil dork that runs the bar in Lost Light!!! I’m so sorry!!! 😭

This little bozo!!! :)

Yes, you were xD I was working on the next Scavengers when I saw it and my brain just went: Swindle. Ignore me, it’s cold and I’m struggling

Lose Control

IDW Swerve x Reader

• Placing a clean glass back where it goes, Swerve surveys his kingdom. Aside from Trailbreaker sprawled across the bar top making a low rumbling sound as he recharges, the bar is empty and quiet. It’s something he never thought he’d have, a space to call his own. Where he’s in charge and listened to. “Third last call, big guy,” he says, reaching out to nudge Trailbreaker with a servo. “You know you can’t keep sleeping in here.” Mostly because when he wakes up, he’ll start drinking again and he can’t open if Breaker drinks all the inventory. Again.

• “Seriously? Don’t make me drag you,” he groans, knowing it’s an empty threat. Trailbreaker is as big as two of him and then some. There’s no budging him short of going and asking Magnus for help. And listening to the complaints about his bar and Magnus’s love language- rule violations. No, he’d rather take his chances with one very over energized mech. Which means babysitting all night to protect the bar. Frag.

• After kicking Trailbreaker’s stool again, he wanders around the bar. Bored and tired. “I don’t care if you’re my best customer,” he mutters, dragging a table slightly away from a wall. And there’s a sharp cry and a tiny shape darting from the shadows. Somehow that manages to wake up Breaker. Everything seems to slow as he sees the small form running alongside the bottom of the bar, sees Breaker shift and slide out of his stool, a ped coming down. And he’s running, diving with his hands outstretched. Feels that soft body hit his palms as Breaker steps on him instead and comes down on him.

• Flung off balance, you roll end over end and go sliding. Realizing that the big monster had almost stepped on you without even noticing and the smaller one had pushed you out of the way to take the brunt of the impact himself. Your confused brain is screaming at you to run, but as your rescuer groans, you can’t. “What happened?” The bigger one complains as the red one hits him, flailing to get free.

• “You’re crushing me,” Swerve snarls, venting raggedly as he gets loose, head turning to find the human still there, eyes wide as you stare up at him. Tensed to bolt, but waiting instead. “Hey, tiny.” Wiggling his fingers at you only makes you back up a step, expression uncertain. “I wouldn’t run. I at least see you,” he tries, as Trailbreaker gets to his feet and staggers away, gawking. Of course he’d heard the rumors of Brainstorm’s screwup, but the machine was destroyed. Right? And you glance from him to Breaker and back, and take a tentative step forward. A human that shouldn’t be here, doesn’t belong. Too small to survive, and he gets being smaller than every other bot except maybe Tailgate. He’s short, but you can be stepped on. “Little things need to stick together.”

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