#trailin

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[rinneverse]

free from work means free to thirst for blade <33333

[zenniefox]

yote trailin'

commission from twitter!

[whiskeyandwant]

Whiskey and Want |dbf!Joel x f!reader|

| 18+ MINORS DNI | {series masterlist} {last chapter}

Chapter 8: Tomorrows Problem | wordcount |3.8k| {TLOU AU, modern-ish, no outbreak, Sarah lives!}

| a/n | we're picking up from the bar fight and shit is about to get even more real, messier, tell me if you like it so I have motivation to keep this thang going plz.

“I’m not scared of much, but I’m fuckin’ terrified of this, of loving you. I don’t want to fuck this up.”

Warnings/tags: 18+ only, minors DNI, SMUT, fighting, slow burn, forbidden romance, angst, yearning, intoxication, strong language, emotional vulnerability, age gap dynamics, possessive sex, guilt, mentions of grief, cum play, spit, grinding. series warnings after the fic. reader uses she/her pronouns and has hair. no major physical descriptions of the reader. no use of y/n but has the nickname Bird, Birdie, etc. reader has a backstory

Your voice cuts through, hoarse and jagged. Joel and Tommy don’t budge. Joel’s got Tommy’s collar twisted in his fist, knuckles white, gaze scorching under the cap’s brim. Tommy’s smirking, taunting, chest puffed like a rooster. The bar’s dead quiet. Neon hums louder than the crowd, every drunk asshole staring, waiting for blood.

This is humiliating.

Joel’s jaw grinds, grip tightening. “You’re done, Tommy. Back the fuck off.”

Tommy laughs, low and nasty, shoving Joel’s hand away. “Done?” he pulls out his cellphone, holding it up to Joel, “Maybe I’ll call him now.”

Joel’s stare flares, pain and rage cracking. He throws a hook, catching Tommy’s jaw, sending him staggering into a stool, his phone sliding across the floor. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” Joel snarls, voice snapping.

Tommy, spitting blood, shakes it off and then swings a punch, gloating still. “Why not? You’re fallin’ apart over her, sad old bastard. Sarah’d be real proud, her dad droolin’ over her little playmate, bet she’d puke.”

Oh, shit.

Your gut twists, breath catching. You lunge, shoving Tommy hard. “Leave her out of this!” Your voice cracks, hands slamming Joel’s chest next. “And you, back the fuck off!” Joel’s rigid, glaring past you, ready to snap.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Tommy leers, wiping his lip. “Ask him, Bird. Ask why he’s trailin’ you like a lost dog. Your daddy picked him to watch you, not fuck you. Ain’t that a twist?”

Joel’s eyes lock on you, fierce and wild, desperation spilling out. Jesus Christ. You glare back. 

Tommy keeps taunting him, “What, Joel? Spit it out or get out.” Tommy’s on him again, shoving harder.

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy. Stop,” you snarl, pushing him again. “Don’t drag them into your bullshit.” Joel just stands there, shaking his head. You can’t quite tell if he’s giving up or if he’s just restraining himself at this point. Either way, seeing him act calm all of a sudden is even scarier.

The bouncer’s moving, big guy with a shaved head, pushing through. “Break it up, now!” he barks, grabbing Tommy’s shoulder. You put your hands on Joel's chest, heart slamming. “Enough, Joel, go!” He stumbles back, pushing your hands off of him.

“Get off me,” Tommy snaps, shrugging the bouncer off, still sneering. “He started it, fuckin’ has-been.”

Joel’s breath’s ragged, hands shaking. “You’re a goddamn punk,” he mutters, turning away.

Damn liar.

The bouncer glares. “Another fucking word and I call the cops.”

Tommy laughs, bitter. “Run, Joel. Let Kev sort you out, bullet’s got your name on it.”

Joel doesn’t even look at you, storms toward the door, shoving through. You’re stuck, legs locked, pulse racing, Tommy’s arm brushing yours like nothing happened.

“Get the fuck away from me,” you snap, pushing him off. The bar buzzes again, band kicking in, voices rising, but you can’t drink this away.

//

You’re left standing there, whiskey sour in your gut, Joel’s shadow gone but thick. Tommy slings an arm around you, pulling you back to the table. “Fuck him,” he says, grinning, blood on his lip. “Can’t believe he thinks he’s got a chance. let’s drink.”

Fuck.

You sit, numb, as he waves down more shots. Whiskey glints neon-red, you knock one back, throat burning, head spinning. Tommy’s hand’s on your knee, heavier, sliding up. “Told ya I’d fix you, Bird,” he murmurs, leaning in, breath hot.

You force a laugh, but it’s hollow. Joel’s wild stare flashes. I’m fuckin’ haunted by you. You shove it down, grab another shot, down it fast. Tommy matches, grinning like he’s winning, but you’re vibrating. His touch feels wrong, too light against Joel’s.

“See?” Tommy says, wiping his mouth. “He’s outta your hair, my turn now.”

I think the fuck not.

You lean back, trying to ignore it,let the buzz take over instead. It’s not working, Joel’s words   echoing with every pulse, flashbacks of him desperate on top of you last night playing in your head. Tommy pulls you to the dance floor, even gruffer this time, off beat. You sway, half-there, his hands tugging close, whiskey and sweat, no fire. The crowd blurs, but you’re sinking, not burning Joel out.

What the fuck am I doing?

Tommy’s lips graze your neck. You tense. “You’re mine tonight,” he murmurs, like it’s settled. You laugh, bitter, pushing him back a fraction. He doesn’t let go.

“Chill, Bird,” he says, smirking. “Ain’t no old man here to cockblock me now.”

Screw you too.

You’re dizzy, booze, tension, Joel’s snarl. Tommy’s hands feel like chains. You shove harder and stumble back, catching your breath. He laughs, grabbing your wrist, pulling you in. “Where ya goin’?”

“Let go,” you snap, voice low, yanking free. His grin falters, eyes narrowing.

“What’s your deal? Do you want me, or you plannin’ on fuckin’ him instead?”

Is there a third option? Can I have that?

You’re spiraling, Joel’s “I can’t stop,” Tommy’s “she’s mine,” Dad’s trust, Sarah, all crashing in. You turn, headed for the bar, needing air, something. Tommy follows, slower, muttering, “Fuckin’ tease.”

You lean on the counter, order water. The bartender slides it over, eyeing you up and down. “Rough night?” he grunts.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you mutter, gulping it down, head pounding. Tommy’s back, arm brushing yours, but you’re done. Joel’s weight’s too loud, Tommy’s too shallow.

Your phone buzzes in your bag, cutting the haze. You fish it out, hands unsteady. Screen glows, two new texts.

(10:15 PM) Sarah: Hey babe, u free tomorrow? You ghosted me—need to catch up, miss u xo

Fuck.

(10:40 PM) You: sorry sarbear, been busy. Facetime me in the am? We can do video brunch lol

Your gut twists, her laugh, Joel’s mouth crashing together. You swipe to the next.

(10:35 PM) Dad: Where u at, Tweety? Heard there’s trouble at Sam’s—u ok? Okay Austin ain’t that fuckin’ small, who’s calling him from here? Actually, who cares, not doing this tonight

(10:42 PM) You: I’m just leaving everythings fine, call you tomorrow. Love u most xo

Tommy’s behind you, hand on your shoulder, leaning in. “Who’s that?” he says, smirking. You’re frozen. Joel’s gone, Tommy’s here, Dad’s voice creeping in. You're overwhelmed, overstimulated, over it.

Fuck this noise.

You shove the phone into your pocket, and turn to Tommy. His grin fades. “I’m leaving,” you mutter, voice flat, pushing past. He just stares, eyes narrowed like he’s pissed, like he really thought you’d end up staying after that stunt earlier. You turn, headed for the door, letting his “Fuckin’ tease” trail you out. The crowds parting too slow. You shove through it, crashing through the double doors into the night air, sharp and biting. bar noise fading behind you, you stop short. Joel’s still here, leaning against his truck, cap off now, staring down. His head lifts, his gaze locking yours, loaded.

Of course he’s still here.

“Are you fuckin’ waiting for me?” you snap, voice slicing the quiet lot. He straightens, jaw tight.

“Get in,” he says, low, nodding to the passenger side.

“Piss off,” you fire back, stepping closer. “I’m not your damn kid to drag home, cowboy.”

“You’re drunk,” he mutters, steady. “Ain’t leavin’ you with him.”

You laugh, bitter. “What, gonna find somewhere else to embarrass me? Always fuckin’ there, just go already.” He doesn’t respond, just walks around to the passenger side and opens up the door. “You guys are fucking crazy, making a scene like that, pathetic.”

His stare narrows, a possessive edge flickering. Tommy’s hands burn in his glare. “Get in,” he repeats, voice firm, sober as stone. You glare, fists clenching, buzz fading but blood hot. Tommy’s “Who’s that?” bites. Fucking whatever, you stomp over, climb in, slamming the door hard.

Bullshit.

Joel gets in, starts the engine, and pulls out slow. The cab’s silent, just the rumble and faint country static. His knuckles whiten on the wheel, focused. Streetlights blur past, clock ticking toward 11. You stare out, his weight from earlier pressing your mind. You clamp your thighs together, hating yourself for the ache.

“Whats your deal?” you mutter, venom seeping. “Why can’t you stay away?  Fuckin’ shadow.”

He keeps his eyes on the road, jaw ticking. “Ain’t about stayin’ away,” he says, clipped. “You’re pullin’ me back, Bird, every damn time, told you that.”

“Then stop comin’,” you say, turning. “All talk, ‘mistake’ this, look at the stunt you pulled. What’s that say?”

He glances, stare searing, then ahead. “Says I’m fucked,” he mutters, low and gruff, leaving it there. The silence stretches, your pulse loud, his presence a furnace you can’t dodge.

Yeah, right there with you, pal.

The truck rolls up to your place, dark and empty, Dad’s in Dallas, no one to stop this. You stumble out, head clearing, even more pissed, even more brave. Joel follows you like a stupid puppy. You turn on him under the porch light, shadows sharp.

“Go to bed, Joel,” He’s at the steps, pulling a flask from his jacket, cracking it open, taking a slow pull, whiskey in the air.

“Ain’t leavin’ you like this,” he says, stepping closer, eyes locked. “Not after that.” Your phone buzzes in your bag, a sharp jolt cutting through the haze—Dad or Sarah, you’d bet, someone sniffing out the mess Tommy’s probably already spilling. Who cares.

You laugh. “Like what? Done with your games? After Tommy? Fuck, you are a jealous old man. Go break someone else. Just leave.”

He grabs your arms, pulling you close, breath hot against your face. “Just listen to me,” he says, voice breaking, raw and low. “I don’t wanna ruin this—ruin you. But I’m runnin’ scared, ‘cause if I don’t, I’ll hurt everyone, it’s what I do, Bird.” You wrench free, stepping back, tears stinging your eyes. “So you kiss me, fuck me, then vanish—think that’s fair, Joel? You think I don’t understand the risks here? What even am I to you, an Itch you can’t scratch?” You shake your head, choking back the tears, angry. “Why are you even here.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and then drags a hand through his hair. “Cause I want you, Bird. I see you with him—Tommy, anyone—and it’s like a knife in my gut.” He walks back over to you, grabbing your wrists now, gentle and says  “I’m not scared of much, but I’m fuckin’ terrified of this, of loving you. I don’t want to fuck this up.”

Oh. Did he? I mean he did but he didn’t, but he… You freeze, the words sinking in, chest tight with a sob you won’t let out. “Stop fighting it, that’s what's fucking this up, Joel,” you whisper, grabbing his shirt, yanking him inside. “Stop runnin’ and show me that you want this.” You stumble down the hall, his boots thudding behind. He kicks the door shut, flask hits the floor—spilling, tomorrow’s problem. You stumble up the stairs, no need to think about the creaky step.

//

You’re on him in the bedroom, hands clawing at his flannel, tearing it off his shoulders as the hat falls somewhere behind him, leaving his curls a wild mess. His shirt snags on his arms, and he yanks it free, chest bare, skin flushed from the night. You rip your tank over your head—no bra tonight—and the air hits your skin, cool against the heat rolling off him. The room’s dim, shadows dancing from the moonlight through the window, and he’s on you, hands roaming your torso, calloused palms rough against your ribs, thumbs grazing your nipples until they harden under his touch.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout you all damn day,” he growls, voice thick with need, mouth crashing into your neck. His lips are hot, teeth scraping as he sucks a mark on your collar, the sting blooming into a bruise you’ll feel tomorrow. You gasp, shoving at his chest, but your fingers dig into his shoulders, pulling him closer, nails biting his skin. He steers you toward the bed, your legs hitting the edge, and you stumble back, springs creaking under your weight as he looms over you.

The air’s heavy, thick with sweat and anticipation, his broad frame casting a shadow that swallows you whole. He smirks, breath teasing your ear, hot and uneven. “You’re squirmin’ already,” he murmurs, voice a low rumble that sinks into your bones, sending shivers racing down your spine. His fingers trail along your inner thigh, feather-light at first, teasing the sensitive skin beneath your jeans. You squirm, hips twitching up, and he presses harder, palm flat against you, rubbing through the denim with a slow, maddening precision that lights up every nerve.

He’s over you now, deft hands unbuttoning your jeans, tugging the zipper down with a scrape that echoes in the quiet. He peels them off, slow and deliberate, denim dragging against your thighs, leaving faint red trails on your skin. His fingers hook into your panties next, lace catching on your slick, peeling off wet, leaving you bare beneath him. The cool A/C kicks on, hitting you, sharp against the heat pooling low, and you’re already trembling, exposed. “Fuck, look at you,” he mutters, voice rough with awe, kneeling between your legs, spreading them wide with his hands. “This all f’me?” He asks, then his mouth trails your thigh, sucking a soft bruise into your skin, then shifts to the other, teeth grazing, a gentle nip that makes you jolt. “Somethin’ bout you nearly breakin’ someone's jaw over me did that I think,” you reply with a laugh. You feel his lips twitch into a smirk on your skin, moving higher, brushing the crease of your hip, and sucking lightly. He continues up to your stomach, leaving a trail of faint red marks, each one a claim that sears into you.

You’re impatient, hips lifting, desperate for more, but he pins them down with a firm grip, bruising and steady. “Hold still,” he growls, voice a warning, and you whine, the ache between your legs growing unbearable. He shifts, getting up and lying back on the bed, propping himself up with two pillows. He grabs you, coaxing you to turn around and then pulls you over him with a rough tug. “C’mere, Bird,” he says, guiding your hips up, positioning you straddling his chest, knees on either side of him, you look back meeting his eyes; dark with hunger.

You’re buzzing, hands fumbling with his jeans, yanking them down with his boxers in one impatient pull. His cock springs free—thick, girthy, veins pulsing under the skin, the head glistening with precum—and you can’t wait, wrapping your lips around the tip, tasting salt and heat. The weight of him fills your mouth, heavy and warm, and you moan around it, the sound vibrating through him.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he groans, hand fisting your hair, gentle but firm, his hips twitching up as you work him slow. His other hand slides between your legs, fingers brushing your slick folds, teasing your entrance before pressing one inside. You gasp around his cock, the stretch sharp and sudden, and he adds another, pumping steady, matching the rhythm of your mouth. Your tongue swirls along the underside, tracing every ridge, savoring the way he fills your jaw as his fingers fill you, hitting that spot that makes you shudder.

You tease the tip, licking slow circles around the head, tasting the bead of precum there, and he growls low, a sound that rumbles through his chest. You dive back, taking him deep again, nose brushing the coarse hair at his base, throat full, humming around him. The vibration makes him buck, a sharp hiss escaping his lips, and his fingers speed up, fucking you harder, slick dripping down his hand. You’re trembling, thighs shaking, you feel him tense, fighting to hold back. You pull off slow, spit stringing from your lips to his tip, panting, wrecked. You turn around, your eyes flicking up to meet his—black, blown wide, staring back at you like you’re a goddamn vision.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he pants, jaw slack, voice thick with awe and want. He grabs you under your arms, pulling you up his body with a rough yank, then flipping you onto your back beneath him. The bed creaks under his weight as he settles over you, pinning your hips with his thighs, his cock hard and heavy against your stomach. “Can’t stop wantin’ you,” he mutters, mouth crashing into yours, kissing you deep and sloppy, tasting himself on your tongue.

His hands grip your thighs, spreading them wide, and he shifts lower, pressing himself against you—his shaft slick with your spit and your own heat, sliding through your folds, the head brushing your clit with every slow rock of his hips. You gasp into his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist, the friction raw and electric. He’s not inside you, but the weight of him, the thick slide of his cock, feels like a tease that’s lighting you up from the inside out.

“Fuck, Joel,” you moan, nails raking down his back, leaving red trails he’ll feel later. He’s relentless, grinding against you, the slick heat of him dragging over your clit, building a slow, burning pressure that’s got you trembling beneath him. His breath’s hot on your neck, ragged and uneven, and he’s muttering your name, low and broken, lips brushing your skin as he moves. You arch up, hips meeting his, chasing the heat, the ache, every thrust of his cock against you stoking the fire in your gut.

He shifts his angle, pressing harder, the underside of his shaft rubbing you just right, and you whimper, the sensation sharp and overwhelming. Your hands slide down his sides, nails digging into his hips, urging him faster, and he obliges, his hips snapping with a rhythm that’s desperate, needy. The wet sound of skin on skin fills the room, his cock gliding through your slick, teasing your entrance but never slipping in, and it’s driving you wild—every nerve alight, every touch a jolt that’s pushing you closer.

You’re panting, sweat beading on your chest, dripping behind your knees, and he’s no better—his forehead’s slick, breath coming in short, rough bursts against your ear. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he growls, voice cracking, kissing you again, teeth clashing as he presses himself closer, the heat of his body searing into yours. Your hand slides down, finding his cock between you, wrapping over the top of it, fingers curling over the shaft as he grinds. The added pressure, your grip guiding him, makes him shudder, a low groan tearing from his throat.

“Goddamn, Bird,” he rasps, hips stuttering as your hand tightens, the friction intensifying with every rock against your clit. You’re guiding him now, stroking him through your slick, the head of his cock catching on you over and over, and it’s incredible—the slide of him against you so perfect it’s dizzying. Your clit’s throbbing under the pressure, each pass of him sending sparks up your spine, and you’re climbing fast, the heat coiling tight in your gut. It’s not enough, though; he’s so close, brushing your entrance but not filling you, and it’s agonizing—your walls clench around nothing, desperate for more, the pleasure so sharp it’s almost pain.

You’re trembling, thighs shaking around his hips, and he’s muttering filth into your ear “Fuckin’ mine,” his voice wrecked, pushing you higher. He pulls back just enough to spit, a hot, wet line landing where his cock slides against you, adding more slick, more heat, and it’s filthy, primal, sending a jolt straight through you. Your hand moves faster, slick with your own heat and his spit, guiding him harder against you, and you’re there, right on the edge. It hits you sudden and fierce—a white-hot wave crashing through you, your hips bucking up, a broken cry spilling out as you cum. It’s overwhelming, the lack of him inside you making it sharper, wilder, your body pulsing with an ache that’s equal parts bliss and torment.

He feels it, your shudder, the way you tighten—and his rhythm falters, hips jerking harder, more erratic. “Fuck, Bird—” he groans, voice breaking, and you don’t let go, jerking him faster, your hand slick with you both, guiding him over your pussy. He comes hard, a guttural growl ripping from his chest, thick ropes spilling hot and messy across your folds, coating your clit, dripping down your thighs. You keep stroking him through it, hand tight and steady, milking every shudder, his breath ragged against your lips as he kisses you, riding out the last waves.

In your head, it’s a goddamn storm—his cock against you, your hand on him, the wet heat of his cum mixing with yours—it’s so fucking good, a raw, primal thrill that lights you up, better than anything without him inside you should be. But it’s torture too, the absence of him filling you a screaming ache, your walls fluttering, begging for what he won’t give. It’s overwhelming, incredible, and agonizing, all tangled together. It’s driving you wild, the edge of it lingering, sharp and insatiable even as you come down.

Fuck. He rolls onto his side, hand dipping between you, fingers slipping through the mess—his cum, yours—and he brings them up, pressing them to your lips, then sliding them into your mouth. You taste him, salty and sharp, mixed with your own slick, and he pulls them free, slipping them back down to your pussy, pushing them inside you. “Ride it out,” he mutters, voice broken and gravelly, and you do, hips rocking against his hand, the last tremors of your orgasm pulsing around his fingers, drawing it out longer, sweeter, until you’re gasping, spent.

He slumps beside you, panting, sweat slicking his chest, his cock softening against his thigh. You’re sharp now, buzz gone, wrecked in a different way, the heat of him still lingering on your skin, his cum sticky where it’s smeared across you. He reaches beside the bed, grabs his shirt, and wipes you clean, slow and careful, the fabric dragging soft over your pussy, catching every drop. He tosses it aside, then pulls you into him, arm locking around your waist, lips brushing your hair—tender but firm.

“All mine,” he mutters, softer, holding you close, skin on skin grounding you. “So fuckin’ pretty.”

You’re spent, boneless, no strength left to argue, just a nod and a shaky whimper against his chest. The room’s quiet again, A/C humming faint, but your pulse thunders. His breath slows, chest rising steady beneath you.

After a few minutes, woven together, the haze settling, you murmur, “Joel.”

He tilts his head down, voice thick with sleep. “What is it, Birdie?” He presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“Stay.”

“I’m not goin’ nowhere,” he mumbles, drawl slurring, hand resting heavy on your back. “Not tonight.”

“Whatever you say, cowboy,” you breathe, a half-laugh slipping out.

Your phone buzzes somewhere.

Sarah, Dad, Tommy, ignored for now—you’re stuck there, spent, his hold a promise of more.

series warnings!!! fluff, smut, angst,unprotected p-in-v (please wrap it up), f/m masturbation, fingering, large but legal age-gap (joel is in 40's reader is in mid 20's), size kink?, choking, pervy!obsessive!joel, pervy!mean!Tommy, grinding, spit, cumplay, possessive/rough sex, praise, sex on the phone, drinking/smoking, strong language, sneakin around, lowkey obsessive and reckless Joel, blackmail, competency kink, risky sex, infidelity/implied, semi-public sex, breeding kink lowkey, overstimulation, a tiny bit of coercion, dirty talk, oops its a creampie, brief mentions of grief and implied suicide, Tommy is a jerk in this one, guilt and betrayal, bar-fights @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @brittmb115 @mystickittytaco @your-nightmaredoll @leenieweenie12 @orodaeh @jokesonthem

[rheeblogs]

★ — ON THE ROCKS

★ — pairing : maggie rhee x fem!reader

★ — being a bartender had it’s good days, and it’s bad days too. but one of your regulars always seemed to turn your night around—and turn you on.

★ — warnings : alcohol consumption, sexual content, bartender reader, men

🔖 : @thaatdigitaldiary @rosemariiaa

the nights were quieter than they used to be. the sound of a jukebox playing old country songs filled the bar as you wiped down the counter, stealing a glance at the regular perched at the far end. maggie rhee. she wasn't a loud drinker, nor was she particularly outgoing with the other patrons, but she had a way of commanding the room with just her presence.

and then there was her smile—sharp, teasing, and unmistakably directed at you.

----

"y'know," maggie drawled as she swirled the amber liquid in her glass, her eyes pinned on you, "if i didn't know better, i'd think you were ignoring me."

you rolled your eyes but couldn't help the grin tugging at your lips. "i'm working, maggie. some of us have to make a living."

"oh i don't doubt it," she said, leaning over the counter just enough to close the distance. her voice dropped, soft and low. "but don't think i didn't notice your eyes trailin' every now nd' then. it's cute."

your cheeks flushed, but you played it cool. "must be my bartender instincts, keepin' an eye on all my customers."

maggie's smirk widened as she moved a strand of hair out of her face. "mmm. is that what you're callin' it?"

you couldn't suppress the laugh that escaped you. maggie had been coming here for weeks, and every time, her flirtation grew bolder. part of you loved the attention; the other part worried about what she was trying to get out of it.

"well," you said, sliding another pour of whiskey, "if you're gonna keep me on my toes, at least tip well."

"oh, darlin', i always pay what's due," she murmured, the double meaning lingering in the air between you.

----

it wasn't always easy working at the bar, especially when the crowd got rowdy. tonight, you were dealing with just that. a group of men had stumbled in, drunk and loud, and one of them, in particular, had taken a keen interest in you.

"hey, sweetheart," the man slurred, leaning over the counter. "why don't you let me take you outta' here, huh? bet you'd look real good on my arm."

you stiffened, forcing a polite but firm smile. "not interested, buddy. just here to pour drinks nd' get my check."

"oh, come on," he pressed, his tone turning darker. "don't be like that."

before you could respond, maggie's voice cut through the din like a blade.

"she said she wasn’t interested, right?" maggie said, her southern drawl carrying an edge that made the man pause.

the drunk turned to her, clearly sizing her up. "and who the hell are you?"

maggie stood, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp and dangerous. "someone who doesn't take kindly to men who can't take no for an answer."

the man laughed, but it was uneasy. "you got a problem?"

"yeah," maggie replied, stepping closer, her hand resting casually on the hilt of her knife. "my problem is you. now, i'd appreciate if you'd apologize to her, nd' go about your night."

the room went quiet, all eyes on the confrontation. the man, clearly was outmatched, raised his hands in mock surrender. "fine, fine. didn't mean no harm."

"good," maggie said, her tone final. she watched him retreat back to his table before turning to you. "you alright, darlin'?"

you nodded, your heart pounding. "thanks for that."

"anytime," she said, her voice softening. "but next time, don't wait for me. you've got more fight in you than you think.”

----

the night had finally slowed down, and maggie was still sitting at her usual, nursing her drink. the two of you had exchanged glances all night, the tension building to an almost unbearable degree.

you were wiping down the counter when she stood and made her way toward you, her eyes locked on yours. "you got a minute?"

you nodded, swallowing hard as she led you to the back hallway where the restrooms were.

the second the door closed, she was on you. her lips crashed against yours, and you gasped, gripping her jacket to steady yourself. she pulled back enough just enough to murmur, "been wantin' to do that for weeks."

your breath hitched. "you don't waste time, do you?"

she grinned, her hands sliding to your waist. "when it comes to you, no, i don't."

her lips found yours again, and this time, the kiss deepened, all-consuming and hungry. the bathroom was small, but neither of you seemed to care as she backed you against the wall, her hands exploring with a mix of confidence and restraint.

"tell me to stop, darlin'," she whispered, her voice hoarse, her forehead resting against yours.

you shook your head, your hands tangling in her hair. "never."

she gives your hips a squeeze, starting to grind you against her. you can feel the roughness of her fingertips gliding across your bare thigh, the lowrise jeans under your apron discarded on the tile of the bathroom floor.

you were left in soaked panties and the black fitted shirt you were required to wear for work, the low cut vline leaving almost too much to maggie’s imagination, the thoughts of bending you over, pressing you against the hardwood of the bar counter, and absolutely taking in your body, swarming her mind.

you whimper at her touch, making a light switch in maggie’s mind. she slithers a hand down to the bottom of your shirt, and swiftly pulls it over your head. your hair falls back into place, as she snakes her hand down your stomach.

“look at you…” maggie says, as her fingers work their way to your panties, moving them to the side slightly. “you’re soaked, honey.”

“maggie, please.” you managed to moan, as her rough hands circled your clit. she was gentle, and she took her sweet time with you.

“please, what? huh honey?” she teased, curling her fingers inside you, catching you off guard completely. “got you all worked up, yeah?” she says, letting out a low laugh.

“fuck, maggie—,” her fingers are deep. you’d never been this wet for many people before, but the way maggie carried herself, the confidence and edge in her persona, the way she took down walkers with ease, and most of all, the way she looked at you. like she needed you.

just you.

“buryin’ my fingers in this pussy, yeah, baby?” she was pumping her digits in and out of you with ease, the slick slowly leaving you, making things so much easier for her to take control.

“i’m so close, maggie—so fuckin’ close.” she speeds up, her pace overstimulating you. the sly grin on her face appears when she realizes how fucked up you are, because of her. she wanted you all to herself.

“you wanna cum, don’t you, darlin’?” she says, getting close to your ear to mess you up more than she already has.

“please…” you cried out, feeling that warm sensation slowly overriding your stomach, signaling you were bound to snap soon.

“such a good girl, baby,” her praise made you whimper, the way she made you feel, complimenting your ever move made your knees damn near give out.

“all over my fingers, honey. let it all out for me.” and with that, moans spill from your lips, the attempt to catch your breath being incredibly difficult.

“fuck…you make me crazy, honey.” maggie said, looking down at the mouth watering sight, the substance adorn on her palms and fingers—all from you. she takes her hand in her mouth, cleaning up the mess you made.

[doumadono]

Warnings: smut w/o plot - oral (m receiving), missionary, a bit of fingering, unprotected & rough p in v, f!Reader Synopsis: Geto and you can't help but get all fired up for each other

MASTERLIST

You stood there in silence, waiting for the elevator. Suguru still had a hold of your hand, though that tender gesture did little to mask your insatiable desire to get up to his room and let him blow your mind by fucking your cunt. You would have to remedy that.

As the elevator doors slid open, you quickly realized your earlier assessment of the hand-holding had been off the mark. Before you could react, Suguru had you pinned against the wall. No kisses this time; instead, his mouth claimed your neck with teasing nips that sent shivers racing through your body. You could swear he felt the effect it had on you as your nipples hardened against his chest. Suguru pressed even closer, emitting a low groan. His cock was hard, and he pressed his bulge against you as his lips continued their fervent exploration of your neck.

Your heart raced as his hands roamed your curves, grazing the side of your breast and then boldly cupping your ass, pulling you tightly against him. The desire was unbearable, and you were only moments away from shedding your dress and crying out for him to take you when the elevator abruptly halted.

Suguru retreated, catching his breath and grinning with a hint of apology as the doors opened. "I couldn't resist," he claimed. He clasped your hand once more, and together, you both hastened down the hallway. Or rather, he moved quickly, while you stumbled in your eagerness to dive into his desires. Suguru retrieved his key from his pocket, briefly fumbling with it before successfully unlocking the door. His hand rested gently on the small of your back, guiding you into the room ahead of him. You stepped inside, turned to face Suguru, and with the door barely closed behind you, your hungry lips met his.

His lips were velvety soft, a stark contrast to the rough, calloused hands that were caressing your arms. His mouth opened, and his tongue sensually brushed against your lower lip before gently nipping at it. A moan of longing escaped your lips. He couldn't move fast enough for your liking. Your desire pulsed within you, and you yearned for him.

Your fingers found their way between you both, coaxing his jacket from his shoulders. Suguru nonchalantly shrugged it off and swiftly divested himself of the vest. Then, he reached around you, his touch deliberate, and started the tantalizingly slow process of unzipping your dress. The gradual reveal of your back to the cool air sent shivers coursing through you. Every nerve, every cell in your body hummed with a relentless craving, making your skin feel like it was aflame from the heat of desire.

As your trembling fingers continued their journey, loosening Suguru's tie and undoing his shirt buttons, you were only halfway through when his powerful hands guided your dress off your shoulders. You paused briefly, lowering your arms to slip them out of the sleeves, and then resumed your endeavor with his shirt. Meanwhile, your dress cascaded down your legs and pooled around your feet, leaving you only in your lacy lingerie.

A soft groan escaped Suguru's lips, and you were brought back to the moment. His eyes were fixed on you, trailing over your body, particularly lingering on your breasts. Suddenly, self-consciousness gripped you, and you felt uncertain about what to do with your hands or how to express your thoughts. When you met his gaze after a few moments, an unspoken connection passed between you.

"You're so fucking hot," he whispered, and in one swift motion, his tie and shirt were discarded. He pulled you close, and your lips met in a heated kiss as you both gravitated toward the bed positioned in the room's center. Just before you reached the bed, you kicked off your high heels. Moments later, you found yourself lying on your back with Suguru hovering over you, his kisses trailing from your jaw down to your cleavage.

Arching your arms behind your back, you deftly unhooked your bra, and within seconds, it joined the growing pile of discarded clothing. 

Suguru's mouth descended onto the top of your left breast while his hand gently fondled the other one, expertly tweaking your erect nipple, causing you to gasp. He kissed and licked the sensitive area between your breasts, teasingly nipping underneath, nearly driving you to climax right then and there. Then, he took your nipple into his mouth, applying a gentle suction.

Your gasps and writhing beneath him seemed to amuse Geto, and he alternated between your nipples, lavishing equal attention on each with his mouth. 

"Fuck, Suguru, please..." you panted, your desire evident, "I don't want you to tease me right now, I need ya to fuck me."

"And I think you do," he chuckled, his laughter dripping with desire. One of his hands began its journey southward, gradually reaching your throbbing pussy. A loud moan escaped your lips as he slipped his hand into your tiny, lacy panties, easing the ache by running his fingers along your drenched slit. He skillfully avoided direct contact with your clit, lightly grazing it as he traced the outline of your wetness.

The teasing was pushing you to your limits, and you realized that there would be time for that later. At that very moment, what you craved was his dick.

"Suguru, I need you," you pleaded again. 

He looked up at you. 

"Please, please, fuck me..."

Without uttering a word, he moved your panties to the side. In that brief moment when he gazed at your exposed body, your hands were already on his pants' waist, undoing the buttons and working hastily to slide them down his legs. His laughter filled the air as he stood up, shedding the remainder of his clothing. For a fleeting moment, you momentarily forgot what you had been eagerly anticipating.

His body was truly remarkable. His chest, broad, toned, and exquisitely defined, didn't possess the exaggerated bulk but rather reflected the strength and authenticity of a real man. A flat stomach hinted at well-defined abs, sculpted through hard work in a physically demanding environment. Your gaze then descended to his erect, robust dick, glistening with precum oozing from the slit of his tip.

You moistened your lips, and almost instinctively, you found yourself sitting up and inching closer to him. 

His eyes remained locked on you, and he remained still until you were on your knees at the edge of the bed. Gently, you wrapped your fingers around his throbbing member and swirled your tongue around the tantalizing tip, savoring his essence with a loud moan. His deep groan reverberated through the room, and you felt his knees slightly waver as his hands found purchase on your shoulders, steadying himself.

You thoroughly explored every inch of his pulsating ick with your tongue before slowly taking it into your mouth and applying a gentle, deliberate suction. 

Suguru couldn't hold back a deep groan, and one of his hands found its place in your hair, tenderly resting there as you initiated a rhythmic motion along his length. 

You endeavored to accommodate as much of him as you could, feeling the fiery pulsations of his member fill your mouth. Suguru's grip on your hair tightened slightly, and you could hear his ragged gasps as you expertly worked your mouth on his shaft, relishing the taste of his precum as it oozed onto your tongue.

Sucking cock had never been a particular source of enjoyment for you in the past. It often felt one-sided, lacking in reciprocal pleasure. However, with Suguru, the experience was entirely different. There was something delectable about his dick, and his reactions sent electrifying waves of desire through your being. Although his fingers intertwined with your hair on the left side, he didn't pull - instead, he allowed his hand to rest against your head. His right hand traced a delicate path from the top of your head, down your cheek, along your jawline, and then to your neck, where his fingertips teased your skin before journeying to your shoulder. Soft, guttural sounds escaped from his throat as he gently guided his hips, syncing with the rhythm of your oral ministrations.

You were becoming so deeply immersed in the act that you were almost disappointed when Suguru withdrew his cock out of your eager mouth. It was then that you noticed his rapid panting and the reddened, swollen state of his lips from his own fervent biting.

"You are going to make me cum way too soon," he said, frowning.

"That would be bad," you replied with a mischievous grin. "You promised me a hard fucking."

He chuckled softly. "I made no promises, but it's clear you want to be pleased, so..." His words trailed off as he gracefully climbed onto the bed, positioning himself over you and gently compelling you to lie on your back. His lips were on yours in an instant, delivering a passionate kiss. You allowed your teeth to graze his lower lip, prompting a low, guttural groan from him. His hand descended down your body, finding its way into your panties once more. 

A sigh of relief escaped your lips as his fingers finally made contact with your throbbing clit. Within moments, his fingers were slick with your juices. Afterward, he guided them further down, collecting the slickness along your slit and then gradually easing one finger into your dripping cunny. A moan escaped your lips, and your hips eagerly rose to meet his hand as he expertly stimulated you, his palm rhythmically stimulating your clit with each slow motion. His skillful, calloused fingers deftly parted your folds, tracing a tantalizing path back and forth while his passionate kisses continued. It wasn't long before those digits were completely drenched in your arousal, a testament to your undeniable desire. The burgeoning pleasure in your body was pushing you toward the precipice of an orgasm when, to your frustration, Suguru abruptly halted.

You let out a nearly exasperated scream, a small whimper escaping your lips. 

Suguru's chuckle washed over you. "I've got something even better in mind for you," he whispered, his hands firmly gripping your hips, and with a deliberate motion, he slid your panties down your legs. The moment they cleared your ankles, Suguru flung them across the room and gently urged your legs apart. Eagerly, you complied, reaching down to guide his rigid dick toward your entrance. Your hand dropped when you felt the tip of his hardness nudging at your entrance, and a simultaneous moan escaped both of you as he slowly, almost fluidly, pushed into your dripping core. In an instant, he was fully engulfed in your pussy, and there was a moment of stillness as both of you savored the sensation of his cock buried deep within your warmth for the first time. With more self-control than you could have expected, Suguru began to move, each thrust driving you wild with desire. You craved more.

Squirming beneath him and attempting to find the perfect angle to stimulate your clit, you glanced up at Geto. "Would you just fuck me, Suguru?" you gasped. 

He slowed his pace even further, a sly grin on his face. "Ask nicely, Y/N," he demanded, a note of teasing in his voice. 

Your whimper of frustration hung in the air. "Please. Please, please, please, please, please fuck me right now!" you pleaded desperately. “I want you to abuse my pussy, please!”

Whether it was your fervent begging or Suguru's own resolve crumbling under your desire, he obliged. He thrust into you with a passionate intensity, his body pressed against yours, your hardened nipples grazing his well-defined chest. Your arms enveloped him, clutching his back as he reached between you to stimulate your clit at the same furious rhythm of his thrusts. You panted, gasped, and moaned as he penetrated your pussy, your core pulsating with his throbbing cock buried within.

He deftly hoisted one of your legs, draping it over his shoulder, altering the angle in a way that made his cock expertly caress all those delectable, sensitive spots within your moist cunny. A guttural moan escaped him, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he intensified his rhythm.

Suguru's mouth was insatiable, trailing along your neck, a mix of sucking and nipping, and leaving its fiery mark behind. His breath, hot and heavy, caressed your skin, his moist lips pressed against you. A throaty moan escaped him as he feasted on your neck, his fervor unabated. 

The only sounds that enveloped the room were the rhythmic symphony of flesh slapping against flesh, the chorus of sultry moans, and the tantalizing melody of heavy panting.

You took your leg off his shoulder and wrapped both of your legs around his waist, resulting in a shared moan as his cock delved even deeper into your dripping core. His mouth continued to work wonders on your neck, and deep within you, the crescendo of an impending orgasm was undeniable.

“I’m about to cum!” You gasped out this revelation to Suguru, who offered a whispered response against your neck, though his words remained unheard amidst the symphony of pleasure. 

His balls smacked against the curve of your ass with every powerful thrust, and the tip of his hard cock delved so deep that it seemed to plant sweet kisses upon your cervix with each forward motion Suguru was delivering. 

In mere moments, your body ignited like a wildfire, a blazing climax engulfing you. Your legs clamped around Suguru's waist, your hips uncontrollably bucked, and your back arched so intensely that it felt as though you might black out. Only as you gradually descended from the heights of ecstasy, feeling returning to your toes, and a profound sense of sated pleasure washing over you, did you become aware that Geto was approaching his own climax. His heated, thick cum surged deep within your satiated pussy.

Suguru's mouth descended on yours, kissing you fervently.

You both remained entwined for a lingering moment, sharing tender kisses as his softened member remained nestled inside you, his warm body enveloping yours. When he finally broke the kiss, you opened your eyes, realizing they had been closed, and observed as he shifted to lie beside you on the bed. Uncertainty flickered for a brief moment — did he expect you to leave? Yet, that concern proved fleeting, as Suguru turned to look at you and extended his arms, gesturing for you to come closer. You eagerly moved to him, and he pulled a blanket over the two of you, all the while wrapping his arms around your form. "That was amazing," you sighed contentedly.

"Yeah," Suguru replied sleepily, "I've been wanting that for a while."

"Really?" You couldn't have guessed that. "Me too, Suguru..."

You sensed the soft, tender press of his lips against the crown of your head, and after a few minutes, the gentle sound of his snores filled the room. With your eyes closed, you relished in the comforting warmth of his presence beside you. You understood that there would be much to sort out in the coming day, but in that moment, you embraced the joy of the present, content with where you were and the company you shared.

[testingthewatersss]

Panic Trigger warnings for PTSD and torture, wintersolider flashbacks etc.(&bad russain) Bucky Barnes x F Reader (ft. Steve Rodgers) Oneshot 3550 words Angst, comfort. 18+ MDNI The first time a Code White is called is also the last.

The siren that has been splitting the air in the tower is quieter, here. In the common room, with the thick white carpets and furniture to muffle the sound.

Steve is frantic. He’s frozen in position, breathing shallow as his brain fights to come up with any way to respond to the situation he’s facing.

He’s facing Bucky.

Bucky, who, until 2 minutes ago had been doing just fine.

But now he’s not fine, now he’s hysterical.

FRIDAY had set off the code white alarms, helpfully alerting the other residents that something wasn’t right, and all Steve had been able to do is back pace, horror in his eyes as he’d watched the infamous Winter Solider curl up into a ball on the floor.

“Lets cut that noise”

Y/N’s instruction has an instant effect. The shrill ringing is gone as quickly as it’d started.

The door locks behind her with a dull click, and now she’s pacing towards the scene.

Unlike Steve, she doesn’t look afraid at all.

If anything, she looks curious.

“Hey boys” she greets mildly, coming up on Steve’s flank, “What’s goin’ on in here?”

“We” Steve gulps, trying to gather himself, “We were just talking and then…”

“And then?”

He blinks at her prompting, mouth suddenly dry.

“He started freakin' out- speakin' Russain” he explains, looking urgently at the man on the floor, “and then- I- I don’t know what happened, he just—“

Y/N tilts her head.

“He didn’t collapse or anything” he says, “He just—“

“Sat down on the ground?”

He’s hardly sitting, but he doesn’t know think there’d be another way of explaining the situation without making him feel sick.

He nods, and so does she.

She looks understanding, now, rather than curious.

“Hey, Buck” she calls, taking a slow step towards him, “You doin' okay?”

He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t look at her. He just stays still, burying his face in his knees, arms looped protectively across his brow.

“Y/N” Steve cautions, “I don’t know if he can hear us”

“Sure he can” she replies, almost with humour, “even if what your thinkin’ is right— which I don’t think it is, by the way — Do you think he magically goes deaf?”

He blinks at her dumbly, brain working overtime.

That does sound a little ridiculous, but he’s not an expert on the effects of brain washing, so he decides to forgive himself for that, at least.

“You said he started speaking Russian” Y/N says, “That’s why you called a code white?”

Steve nods, guilt stirring inside of his chest.

Was I wrong? he thinks, did I make this worse?

“Lets try this, then” she says, taking a smaller step closer, “Baki, chto sluchilos’?”

The russian words pour easily from her lips. Steve blinks again, thinking about how strangely soft she’s managed to make them sound. He’s always thought the language was harsh, but her voice is gentle, even now.

Bucky seems to notice her question this time. Although he doesn’t move as much as he flinches in response to her words.

“What were you talking about?” She asks suddenly, head snapping back to Steve, “Before he swapped languages.”

His brow furrows, arms over his chest as he thinks back.

“I…” he says, “I’m not sure exactly… nothing serious, I mean, just— stuff”

“Stuff?”

“Yeah” he agrees, “Childhood stuff, yeah- Yeah that was it— He asked me if I remembered something, a store where he used to work on Tuesdays— and then we were talkin’ about the guy who owned it, and about how he used to go crazy at us for trailin’ mud into the front of the shop…”

“Right” she presses, “and then?”

“And then” Steve sighs, frustrated, “Uh, I said—“

He stops. Realising exactly what he’d said.

Y/N raises her brow, urging him to continue;

“I said” he gulps, looking suddenly ashamed, “I said “I guess we were lucky that he didn’t take us outside and beat us” for half the stuff we did”

Yeah, she thinks, That’d do it.

Steve opens his mouth to apologise, but she cuts him off,

“What did he say in Russian, do you remember?”

“No” he says quickly, remorse making him dizzy, “No, I— I didn’t really get it, it was so fast, he was just, mumbling and backing away and then…”

She nods, understanding.

“Darlin', I-”

“It’s fine” she says, closing the last few steps between her and where Barnes is still hiding on the floor.

It’s not fine. Steve knows it’s not, but he doesn’t know what else to say.

“I think he said insvinte?” he offers, desperate to be helpful, to right this wrong somehow, “Or something close-”

“Izvinite” she corrects quietly, dropping to a crouch.

Her tone is soft again, and Steve can’t help but wince a heavy ball of dread hits him square in the chest.

It must mean something, then. It wasn’t just incoherent rambling,

“What does it mean?” he hears himself ask, not really wanting to know.

“Sorry” she answers, voice barely audible, “It means I’m sorry”

“Jesus christ” he mumbles, backing away towards the arm of the couch. He leans on it, not trusting his legs to hold him up as he paws at his face in despair.

Y/N reaches out carefully, letting her fingers run over the folded metal plates of Bucky’s arm, before they finally reach his hair. It’s damp by his temples. His whole body is shaking so quickly it’s almost invisible.

“Tebe ne nuzhno izvinyat'sya, dorogaya…” she whispers soothingly “…ne togda, kogda ty ne sdelal nichego plokhogo.”

You don’t have to be sorry, Sweetheart… not when you haven’t done anything wrong.

The back of his shoulders jump with a concealed sob.

He’s terrified, plain and simple and the idea of him being so scared, being so, hopelessly afraid and then being hit by a terrible, loud siren is almost too much for her to bare.

No wonder he’s trying to hide.

No wonder he’s making himself as small as possible in the furthest corner of the room.

“Hey” she soothes, hoping that he’ll respond to English now she’s touching him, “You’re okay…look at me… it’s just me, it’s okay…”

Steve watches, horror stricken as Bucky slowly edges his face up from behind the wall he’s made with his body.

His chin stays hidden behind his forearm, but his eyes are red and streaming.

Y/N shakes her head, hushing him as he starts to choke on air, suddenly feel obscenely exposed;

It’s clear from his expression that he’s too far gone. That scared doesn’t cover it anymore. She’s not fully confident that hysteria covers it, anymore.

His panicked gaze drops to the floor, and she watches as he chokes on a breath that seems to hurt him. Her head shakes, and she lets her hand fall away for a beat as she considers what might be best to say;

“Soldat” she murmurs, knowing he’ll take notice of that, “Glaza na moi”

…Solider…. eyes on me…

That does the trick.

The way his gaze snaps to hers is automatic. It’s instinctual and instant.

“Khoroshiy mal'chik” she soothes, knowing he needs her to be kind more than anything else, right now, “You’ve gotta slow your breathing down— In and out, with me now, okay?”

He blinks at the gentle Russian praise, and then he shivers.

Y/N doesn’t like using his conditioned submissive to her advantage. Not when she can help it, but he needs to stop dragging in aching bursts of air, he needs to calm down-

“In…” she instructs, “…and, out…”

He obeys instantly. Matching the rise and fall of his chest with hers even though he’s having to fight through every fibre of his body to do so.

His discomfort is obvious. She can see that he’s only following her commands because they’re commands. That it’s not a natural way for him to be breathing right now. That it’s hurting him to fight his reflexes so plainly.

“…Deep…” she whispers, trying to soften her voice again, “…Deeper, now, Soldier, and slow, you’re okay- you’re safe, right now, everything’s alright.”

Something flickers across his eyes as tears spill down his cheeks, again. Y/N tilts her head and moves her hands around to cup his jaw. He’s still half hidden, but she knows he won’t fight the contact. She smiles as she wipes her fingers across his face, and nods encouragingly as he changes his inhalation’s to match her new instructions.

Steve is watching from his perch across the room, fighting the urge to cry himself. This is torture, he thinks, though he feels guilty for the thought the second he has it. He hasn’t been tortured— He has, though and that’s why he’s curled up in a corner while Steve gets to watch. He hates the way he’s daring to feel badly. He hates this whole situation

“Can you tell me your name?”

Y/N’s voice snaps him out of his bout of self-deprecation.

He’s watching, desperately hoping for a reassuring response, for some sign that he’d been wrong after all—

“Hmmm?” she presses gently, “Teper' tvoye imya, dorogaya.”

Tell me your name now, sweetheart.

This time, her voice seems to confuse him. He draws in another wet breath before nodding a fraction.

“J-James Bu-channon B-Barnes”

She beams at him and watches his face relax a fraction when she doesn’t have an issue with his answer.

“And what’s my name?” she asks after a pause, “Teper' my govorim po-angliyski, soldat”

We’re speaking english now, Solider.

This time, he looks more nervous.

“Y/N?” he whispers uncertainly.

“Right” she agrees instantly, “Good”

That seems to settle him a fraction.

He inhales deeper, and doesn’t seem to suffer quite as much on the exhale.

“You’re safe” she promises next, swiping another set of tears away from his cheeks, “…Nothin’ bad’s coming…”

He looks at her for the first time since she’d arrived in the room, he really looks at her face, and she sees something behind his gaze give way.

“-I— I di-didn’t m-me-mean t—to d-do an-anythin— wrong” he stammers, frantically trying to tell her, “I- I’m s-sorry— I- I didn’t- I- I c-c-can't—”

“Shhhhhh” she soothes, shaking her head before leaning in to press a kiss against his brow, “We’re breathing right now” she says, smoothing his hair back, “That’s all you need to think about”

It’s a bit of a low blow, really, cutting him off like that, but she knows he’s too far gone to have a rational discussion about everything else right now. A panic attack worsened by the addition of an alarm which she’d wager had been just a touch too familiar is a whole lot of trauma to fight through at once.

He needs to focus. He needs to breathe. And she knows him well enough he won’t disobey something as close to a command as her words. Not given the circumstances.

She’s right. Just like before, his body takes over.

He reverts to mimicking her exaggerated breathing pattern and letting his eyes loose focus.

This time, she doesn’t interrupt him straight away. Not even to praise him. She just watches silently as he forces his chest to rise and fall in a mechanical rhythm that she’d curated to deliberately ease his most primal responses.

Steve paws at his eyes, pressing back his own tears now.

This is all my fault, he thinks, the reality of the situation hitting him now, There was no code white, he was just scared and I made things ten times worse—

Y/N just sits with him for a few more minutes, waiting until she notices him starting to shiver, before she reaches out to stroke his cheek again.

“Good” she whispers, affection heavy in her voice now, “That’s better, huh?”

“I-I’m t-t-trying” he stammers weakly.

“I know” she agrees, leaning in and pressing a kiss against his brow, “I know, Bucky, I know you’re doin’ good…”

He nods a fraction and that’s how she knows that he’s ready to take back control. To at least start deciding what he wants to do, again.

“Want some water?” she offers, beaming proudly when he shakes his head, “No? Okay… What do you want, huh?”

“C-can… C-can I… Can I- have… have a h-hug pl-please?”

“A hug?” she checks, “Sure… Sure you can, c’mere—”

And then, her arms are open, and Bucky feels himself moving, rocking onto his knees so that he can to cling onto her waist.

This is all he wants. He just wants to hide his face against her neck, and hold onto her and—

“Sweetheart” she murmurs, “You’re okay, it’s all okay, I promise…”

And then, he’s back to sobbing.

His adrenaline is crashing, and he feels dizzy and sick and he’s crying like a baby in her arms.

None of this feels right. He doesn’t understand how he’s ended up on the floor in the corner of the room. It’s all a blur of panic, and loud, shrill noises that always mean terrible things are coming and— and he remembers feeling useless, of not being able to be understood—

“We're sp-speaking English, now” he sniffs, “W-we’re sep-peaking, English now, I- I’m sorry I- c-couldn’t before.”

Steve’s heart breaks in his chest when he hears that. When he hears his best friend weeping and earnestly trying to convince them that he knows he’s meant to be speaking the same language as they are.

“…Shhhhh, now…” Y/N soothes, “…It’s okay… you can’t help it, it’s not your fault…”

“I- I t-tried” he bleats, upset making his Brooklyn drawl stronger somehow, “Doll, I— I tried b-but my head…”

“I know…” she promises, “…It’s alright, sweetheart— I’m sorry— I’m sorry ‘bout all that noise…”

He clings to her so tightly that her t-shirt tears under his metal thumb.

The memory of the skull splitting siren making his whole world spin for a moment;

“We won’t do that again” she promises, “I’ll get Tony to figure somethin’ out— even if there ever is a need for somethin’ like that, we can’t have it be so loud…”

“—I’ll be good-” he promises pathetically, “I- I s-swear, I— I- Please, I- I c-cant t-take that n-noise, again…”

That’s more than Steve can process. He pushes up and leaves the room in silence, hoping that the route back to his suit is deserted. He doesn’t think he can handle a run in with anyone. Not with how full his own eyes are now.

Y/N barely notices his departure. She’s too busy hushing the cowering man in her arms. Because he is cowering in her arms now. He’s shaking like a wounded stray, chest heaving with sobs.

He’s too big to hide against her, really, but some how he’s managing.

His entire face is angled downwards, obscured from view as he presses his brow into her shoulder.

All she can do is hold him. Hold him, and murmur out gentle streams of praise until he finally starts to settle down.

Until his body caves in and he drifts off into something that could almost pass for sleep.

Y/N thinks it might’ve been more convincing if his hands hadn’t stayed furled in the fabric of her top.

“C’mon, handsome” she sighs, “If you wanna’ try and get some rest we should get you a little more comfy”

She watches curiously as Bucky edges his face up, slowly revealing wide, blue eyes that look awfully sore.

His cheeks are red, and damp, and she can’t help but lean in and press a kiss against his chin starts to quiver.

“We’ll stay here” she promises him quietly, “We’ll stay right here, okay? but you can lie down—”

“W-wi-with you, right?”

Her chest aches as looks into his eyes and nods.

As she sees how terrified he still is.

“Yeah, Buck… we can lie down together, would you like that?”

He offers her a jerky little nod before sniffling sadly and averting his gaze.

She nods, too and starts to adjust her position, carefully rearranging their bodies so that she is the one curled up, with Bucky against her flank. He keeps both arms locked around her waist, and lets out a sad series of gulps as he fights the urge to tuck his legs into his chest.

It’s hard. He wants to protect himself, to bring his knees tight into his front, but he also wants to be held. To let Y/N protect him, while he really, really needs her too.

“Shhhh” she soothes, eager to ease the quiet little whimpers that are suddenly vibrating against her jaw, “Baby boy, you’re alright…”

Bucky is nuzzling into her throat, nose bumping against her temple in his not so subtle bid to earn more attention from her.

“What do you want, huh?” she asks, tone playful as she lets one hand thread through his hair, “You’re precious”

He lets his eyes close as he presses kiss against her cheek, and then another against her chin, and jaw, and the tender skin behind her ear���

“…Some fussin’?…” she guesses, stroking a line across the back of his ribs, “…We can do that… C’mere…”

She shifts again, rolling over a little more so that she can tuck him neatly between her legs. Her thighs box him in, and he folds instantly into the embrace, letting out a soft, hollow, sound of appreciation as his cheek meets her chest.

“You’re alright” she soothes, starting to stroke his back, “I know that scared you, but you’re okay… I promise”

He just clings to her tighter, screwing his eyes shut.

It did scare him. The sound, the not being able to speak English, the look on his oldest friends face—

“Hey” she inserts, feeling his back heave, “Hey, I’m here, I’m right here…”

“…He— H-e was mad…”

“He?” she asks, “You mean Steve?”

He nods, nose brushing her jaw.

“Baby, why would you think that?”

“..I…” he gulps, “..I couldn’t sp-speak english and th-then he… he started that noise..”

Her heart cracks down the middle as she puts it all together. As she pieces together the way it must’ve felt to him.

“Oh, Bucky” she whispers, “Bucky, no— It wasn’t like that”

“Will- W-will you tell him I’m sorry, d-doll?”

“No- Not when you haven’t done anythin’ to him that warrants an apology.”

He doesn’t reply to that. She assumes he stopped listening after the no.

“…Baby…” she murmurs, trying to soothe him, “…Steve isn’t angry, it wasn’t a punishment, it was the security system, that’s all…”

“It… it sounded like… it sounded like w-what t-they…”

“—I know” she cuts in, “I know it did, I’m sorry— We won’t do that again.”

This time, she doesn’t want to break the silence he settles into. It doesn’t feel as upset as the last time.

Her fingers roll across his temple, stroking his hair as he works at calming himself down. At letting his body adjust to the sudden lack of adrenaline;

and then, he’s sleeping.

His whole body is a deadweight, chest rising and falling in a natural rhythm that betrays how vulnerable he is.

Y/N feels herself relaxing too. He’s too warm and soft for her to stay tense, besides, the only thing she was trying to guard is him, and he’s not going anywhere.

That’s when she lets her mind drift back to Steve.

To her friend who’d fled the scene in horror whilst she’d been unable to comfort him.

She sighs, looking at her sleeping lover with sheer adoration. She’s glad he’s sleeping, because her own remorse is more than enough for her to deal with;

“What do we do about that, huh, Buck?”

Y/N knows he can’t answer. He does seem to smile in response to her voice though. She thinks that it’s probably a trick of the light, but, the idea of being able to make him feel better regardless of his consciousness is nice, so she doesn’t over think it.

“Baby” she whispers, “Shall I call him? Tell him to come back up, see that you’re okay?”

This time, he stirs.

He nuzzles into her, letting out a sigh.

“I’m taking that as a yes—“ she decides, knowing that she has to do something, “—Friday, get Steve up here please.”

The AI replies with a polite ‘Yes, boss’ and Y/N settles back against the wall, trying to arrange their bodies into a position that looks a little less intimate without rousing her partner.

It’s easy enough. Bucky is pliant, and all he really wants is to stay close. She realises pretty quickly that as long as he’s able to keep his arms around her, he goes along with the adjustment.

She strokes his hair to soothe him once she’s satisfied.

His face is hidden against her stomach. His legs are tucked into his own chest, again, but it seems a lot less sad now.

And then, she hears footsteps.

She looks up with a smile that almost falters when she sees the expression on Steve’s face.

He’s clearly been crying. His nose is red, cheeks blotchy, and his eyes look terribly sore.

“Come sit, you’re as bad as him” For a second it looks like he's going to fight her on it, but then, with a sigh and a bashful smile, he nods. Pacing silently towards Y/N before settling himself beside her on the ground, not bothering to speak deciding to just put his arm around her shoulders instead.

Masterlist

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

hey y'all!! little story brought to you by @outsiders-gift-exchanges that I had an absolutely DELIGHTFUL time bein' a part of!! My giftee was @kaiskornerart 'n the prompt I went with was the Curtis brothers!! Hope y'all enjoy!! This was SO much fun!! fic under the cut!!

Darry wakes up with an ache in his chest. The kind he crawled into bed with every night with 'n woke up in the company of every mornin'. The kind he spent his days too busy to think about though it was always there. Just out of view. Which is to say, nothin' new.

The sun ain't up yet, street lamp light crawlin' under the curtains too short in the windows like Pony's jeans even uncuffed 'n low on his hips 'n God when did they stop growin'? If someone would send him a memo with the time 'n date he'd wait to go buy new clothes til then. Even Soda's hand-me-downs ended high around his ankles. 'N Pony was nothin' if not vain in that way kids always were 'n in firm denial of. It wasn't tuff for your jeans to not be long enough. 'N he wants to roll his eyes but he remembers bein' fourteen. It wasn't so long ago.

Darry sighs, rolls over to touch the picture of their parents on the end table, brushin' calloused fingers over their mama's cheek 'n across the strong plains of their father's face like he does every mornin'. He squeezes his eyes shut. Remembers the sound of their daddy's laugh, their mama hummin' to herself absently as she helps Soda pick out a new recipe, their-

A pan crashes to the counter 'n Darry's eyes snap back open. A pair of hushed giggles, smothered behind hands. Darry sighs, runs a finger along their parents' joined hands.

Glory, how did y'all do it?

He should get up 'n see what those boys were up to. He should. But no one cries 'n nothin' shatters so he gives himself just enough grace to pull his knees up to his chest, drop his forehead down.

He's got a naggin' feelin' he's forgettin' somethin'. A friday. Pony's got a track meetin' 'n Darry had ironed his uniform last night. Soda's got off tonight but only 'cause he's got a double tomorrow. Dallas' got a race tomorrow 'n he's down at the stables tonight. Steve 'n Johnny workin'. Two's at his mama's.

There's more rustlin' around in the kitchen 'n Darry sighs, twists to put his feet on the cold floor. His bedroom door whisper swishes open, big eyes blinkin' around the corner 'n Darry has to press his palms into his eyes 'n rub the sleep from 'em 'cause he swears for a second Pony is seven again, hair stickin' up in every direction 'n grin missin' his two front teeth. "Dar, you awake?"

"Yeah, kiddo. I'm up." When he sticks his head in 'n finds Darry already lookin' back, hair fallin' in his eyes 'n a plaintive raised brow he drops the charade of sneakin' 'n instead ducks in, pressin' back on Darry's shoulders to get him back in bed.

"No, you're not." Darry catches him by the wrists 'n Pony giggles. He stops, studies his kid brother. God, he couldn't remember the last time Pony giggled.

"Fine, I'm not." Darry easily grabs Pony around the waist 'n manhandles him up onto the bed. "But you aren't either." Pony shrieks, wiggles fruitlessly for another moment before Darry jabs him in the ribs 'n he hollers 'n presses against Darry's chest.

"Asshole." He huffs, but his voice is all slow 'n quiet 'n tired 'n Darry glances to the end table at the clock. Glory, it wasn't even six am yet.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, kid." Pony scoffs but curls up closer. His sweats, too big, trailin' down over his feet, were once Darry's, 'n his shirt one stolen from a supply closest at the DX, a tee that used to be part of the uniform. He makes a low noise, presses his ear to Darry's chest 'n Darry knows his listenin' for his heartbeat.

God, it felt like a hundred years ago their mama had taught Soda that. When he was real little. If you could listen to the steady bump bump bump then that meant everythin' was just fine. You didn't need to worry. Everyone was ok.

She'd taught it to Pony too. When he was younger 'n used to get those nightmares no one knew what to do with. You could always tell who he'd been dreamin' about by who woke up with Pony tangled against them, his head smashed to their chest.

Darry's forgettin' somethin'. Right down there next to the ache.

He turns, looks back over at their mama. She's smilin' a real smile in that picture. Her eyes bright 'n shinin', the dimple she would give both Pony 'n Soda etched into her cheeks. Their daddy's laughin'. Wide 'n sincere 'cause their Daddy was real 'n true 'n honest all the way down to his soul.

Pony shifts 'n Darry subconcously brings his arms up tighter around his kid brother. But he's not tryin' to wriggle away. Instead he just turns to see what Darry was lookin' at. He sighs when he sees the picture 'n for a moment, neither of them say anythin'.

"Hey, Dar?" Darry runs a hand absently over the scar on Pony's shoulder he got when he was nine, jumpin' off the swings 'cause he 'n Soda had convinced him he could fly.

"Hmm, Pone?"

"Do you know... when they took that picture?" Darry picks it up, brushes his fingers against the frame, hands it to Pony.

"Had to be sometime after they were married. But not long." The way they're holdin' each other 'n grinnin' they looked like newlyweds. But they never stopped lookin' at each other like that. They had the realest kinda love any of them had ever seen. The kind that made you hope you could one day find someone like that. That looked at you like you hung the stars.

Their Mama was bundled up, that big fur jacket their Daddy had bought for her as a weddin' gift that still hung in the closet. Their Daddy wrapped around her like if she was warm it was enough for the both of them.

"They were married in January, remember?" Pony frowns for a moment, touches the picture in a way that gives Darry deja vu, nods.

That forgettin' nags at him. Presses right up beside him.

"So I figure it was around the same time. Maybe a month or two later." He gently eases the frame from Pony's hands, pops the back off with tender, slow movements.

Their Daddy's handwritin' is scrawled on the back 'n it twists in Darry's chest.

Feb 14, 1948 Valentine's xxx

Oh God. Friday, February, the fourteenth. Jesus. He'd forgotten.

The door to the bedroom bangs open 'n Soda tetters wildly back 'n forth, tryin' vainly to balance a makeshift tray. The smell of pancakes wafts in, a bowl flipped over 'n coverin' them, three glasses of orange juice slide from one end to the other, a fork breaks free 'n bounces to the ground.

Pony dives off the bed, grabs Soda by the elbow 'n quickly begins unloadin' food 'n silverware 'n cups. "Glory, Soda! Good thing you were never a waiter!"

Pony rolls his eyes, elbows Soda for room 'n crowds up beside him. "Stick to the entertainment staff, Soda."

Soda grins, drops the tray down to the bed 'n clambors up. "Pony, you wound me! I would have done damn good in a restaurant."

'N then they're both wrestlin', fallin' to the floor 'n howlin', a mess of elbows, 'n too big t-shirts, 'n flour stained hands.

'N Darry wants to grin. He wants to laugh 'n holler at them that is was too early to be actin' a fool 'n not mean it at all but he can't. 'Cause he forgot.

He forgot that they would always get up early with their Daddy on Valentine's Day to make their mama breakfast in bed 'n he would help hold the bowl steady with Pony so he could make the pancakes into lil' hearts. He forgot to help Soda find the food colorin' so they could make them blue 'cause that was their mama's favorite. He forgot to pick a flower from the garden 'n to hush shush them all so they could sneak down to their parent's room where their mama would always be pretendin' to still be asleep like they hadn't made enough racket to wake the dead.

He'd forgot.

"Dar?"

But Soda 'n Pony hadn't.

"Darry? What is it?" They're both on their knees, chins restin' on hands at the edge of the bed 'n God they look two feet tall. When had they gotten so big? When had they all grown up so much?

The hot press of tears is against the back of Darry's throat 'n Soda 'n Pony exchange a wide-eyed glance.

"C'mon, Dar. Tell us." Soda climbs up, slots himself against Darry's side, drops his mess of blonde waves down to Darry's shoulder. Pony's right behind him, blinkin' at Darry with those wide, storm-green eyes he hates so much.

He scrubs his palms over his eyes, drops a hand to each of his kid brother's shoulders 'n pulls them against his chest. Over Soda's shoulder, he can see the tray still sittin' hodge-podge on the tangled-up covers. The bowls' been knocked off the pile of pancakes 'n Darry chuckles, low 'n keenin'.

They're heart-shaped. 'N blue. His favorite. 'N his mama's. 'N the picture rests near his knee. His Daddy grinnin' up at him.

"Nothin's wrong, hon. I just love you both is all." More than you'll ever know.

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Sweeter Than Candy - Bob Floyd x Reader

pairing: Bob Floyd x reader

warnings/content: hotel room sex (p in v), oral (f receiving), cursing

word count: 2.2k

You pressed your back against the stone exterior of the hotel, the cool breeze hitting your face as you turned to look up the street. You pulled out a compact mirror from your purse - waiting always made you nervous, and you knew you’d have to touch up your lipstick from biting your lip so often as you watched for him. Your blonde curls framed your face perfectly, the sexy, tousled look suiting you for this occasion. Your ruby coloured lips pursed as you tossed the compact back into your bag before turning to face the glass window to your left. You used the reflection to adjust your outfit - your tight black jeggings hugging your waistline, the low neckline of your lace bodysuit teasing just a little peek of your bra, while your dark blue denim jacket left the rest to the imagination. Your red-bottomed heels completed the look, giving you that sexy-in-charge kind of feel that drove Bob completely wild.

He wasn’t outspokenly sexual, on the outside he was sugary sweet, his always sunny disposition was what he was known for, but he reminded you of one of those candies that were sweet to start, until you managed to suck the sugary coating off and reveal a sour centre. It took time, but normally whenever the two of you met now, just the sight of you was enough to get him going.

He’d been wanting to keep your meetings secret - a way of keeping you entirely to himself. He lived life under a magnifying glass for the most part, but his love life was something he preferred to keep under wraps this time around. For all intents and purposes, you were entangled in a romantic relationship with one another - he’d send you flowers, take you out, but everything was done so quietly that really, sometimes you wondered yourself if you were really dating.

Finally, you got the signal, a text message disclosing his room number and where to meet him. You quickly slipped inside, heading straight for the elevator like you’d done this a thousand times before. You extended a manicured finger to press the button, gently chewing the inside of your mouth as it turned a bright white colour. The few seconds you had to wait for it to reach the lobby felt agonizing as you thought about Bob - his touch on your skin, his blue eyes staring hungrily at you as he kissed your lips, his voice soft and low as he told you how badly he wanted you right then and there.

The elevator was empty when it arrived, and you breathed a sigh of relief as you stepped on, pressing the button for his floor. Just as the doors were closing, a hand reached between them, prompting them to open once again. Bob grinned slightly at you as he walked on between the doors. His navy blue suit was perfectly tailored to his frame, the open jacket showing his tight, white dress shirt that hugged his body. His navy blue tie was loose as it hung around his neck, and all you could think about was how badly you wanted to tug on it and pull him in towards you.

“Mind if I come along?” he said, flashing you a wink.

“Of course not,” you smirked, biting your lip as the doors shut behind him.

“You didn’t think I’d let you get all the way up there by yourself, did you?” he whispered as he stood beside you.

The smell of his cologne encircled you as he rested a hand on the wall beside your head. He turned your face towards his, his lips pressing to yours with a sense of urgency, like he needed your kiss in the way he needed oxygen. You slid your tongue over his lower lip tauntingly, and Bob let out a groan.

“Darlin’, don’t tease me,” he growled.

You whined as his hands began wandering over your body, grasping for your breast as he slipped beneath the thin layer of lace that rested on your skin. He mumbled something into your sensitive skin, his lips leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses along your neck. He squeezed your breast in his hand as he groaned, trailing his mouth to the sweet spot of skin just above your collarbone. He knew that kissing you there drove you wild, and he loved how you reacted when he did it - your toes curled in your pumps, your head tilted to the side as your hair flowed down the left side of your neck. You felt his fingers pinching at your nipple as his lips worked at your collarbone, a soft groan escaping your lips as you heard the bell inside the elevator, signaling that you’d arrived at your floor.

Bob took your hand, leading you down the corridor quickly. You felt like it was partly because of the secrecy surrounding you relationship - the need for him to have something, anything that felt normal in his life, but you could tell by the look in his eyes that there was more to it than that. He hurriedly shoved his keycard into the slot, the door opening as a row of green light flashed above the handle, an automated beeping notifying the two of you that the door had unlocked.

Bob practically dragged you inside, shutting the door quickly behind him. He slid the deadbolt into place quickly so that no one could disturb you, before turning back to face you. His blue eyes were dark, filled with lust as he shoved your body down on to the bed. You giggled as he did, taken aback by how he was taking control. Normally he was pretty laid-back about sex - he always enjoyed it, but usually it resulted in a mild mishap or two that would interrupt your actions with a small outburst of laughter. Tonight however, was totally different.

He leaned over your body, resting two hands either side of your head to hold himself up above you. His signature grin formed on his lips as he ducked his head down to kiss you. He sat up, his legs either side of your waist as he worked at removing your jacket. He threw it into the dark void of the hotel room, God knows where.

“Fuck,” he groaned, taking in the sight of your lace covered torso.

“You like it?” you teased, running your hand up his thigh.

“Like it would be an understatement, darlin’,” he grinned as he slid his slender fingertips along your the delicate fabric covering you.

Bob rested his hands on the waistband of your jeggings, fiddling with the button that currently kept him from having you right then and there. He bit down on his lip as it popped open before tugging them down off your legs. You could hear his breath catch in his throat as his eyes ran over you.

“Jesus.”

He shook his head quickly before pushing the fabric that covered your slit off to the side, gently running his fingertip in circles over your sensitive nub. He grinned as you squirmed in pleasure, your toes curling as he traced shapes over your skin. His eyes watched your face intently, looking for the reaction he was hoping to get from you. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as you moaned his name, your hands gripping fistfuls of the bed linens beneath you.

He ducked his head down between your legs, going to work at your clit with his tongue. Fuck, he was good at that.

He knew exactly how to make you scream, but you could tell that tonight he wanted to tease you more than anything else, and after a few open mouthed kisses and a couple of flicks of his tongue, he pulled his mouth away, giving your clit a soft, passionate kiss as he did, making you moan out his name as he pulled off of you.

Bob quickly unbelted his dress pants, dropping them to the floor as he stood up at the foot of the bed. Unbuttoning his shirt, he grinned at you as you lay there, waiting for him. Your teeth sunk into your scarlet coloured lips, your eyes trailing down his body, resting on the now tight, elastic fabric of his boxers, appearing as though it were about to burst if he didn’t get them off soon.

He shoved his boxers down off his waist, his hardened member springing forward as it came free from the restricting fabric. He tugged his hand along himself a couple of times, enjoying the view he was currently getting. He knelt back down on the bed, his fingers working at unclipping the bodysuit from where it fastened at your centre. He grunted as he tried, unable at first to get them undone.

“How the fuck do I get this off?” he laughed, “I can undo a bra in under three seconds, why can’t I figure this shit out?”

“Five, maybe,” you teased before erupting into a fit of giggles at his failed attempts to remove your bodysuit, “here,” you nodded your head once before reaching your hand down to the row of fasteners. You carefully popped them open, smirking at Bob as you did so.

“See, Lieutenant?” you teased, “it’s easy.”

You didn’t know why, but calling him by his full rank seemed to turn him on more than any amount of dirty talk you could use. It was like he craved being in control, and calling him Lieutenant gave him that authoritative feeling he so badly desired.

He signalled for you to get on all fours, and you did so obediently, your centre absolutely aching for him by this point. His hand rested on your back as he stood up at the foot of the bed once again, giving himself the perfect angle. He gave your ass a playful tap before giving it a tight squeeze.

“Look at how beautiful you are,” he said, his voice in a low growl, “I love seeing you like this.”

“I bet you do,” you quipped back, your voice soft and seductive as you spoke.

You felt a shiver down your spine as he gently ran his hand along your slit, your wetness soaking his fingers. You could practically hear him smirking, you knew exactly by the soft, grunting sounds coming from behind you what he was doing.

“Fuck, I love how you taste” he said softly as you felt him lining his cock up with your slit.

He guided his tip along your wetness, a soft grunt escaping his mouth as he pushed himself into you, just barely allowing his tip in. You whined in pleasure as you felt him, but you wanted more.

“Bobby,” you whined, “I need you.”

“Mhmm, is that so?” he grinned as he gently thrust himself further in, taking his sweet time as he entered you, making it more agonizing than anything else.

“Please, Bobby,” you whined at him as he pulled himself out.

He grinned as he straightened himself up, wasting no time as he pushed himself into you at full force. You let out a soft yelp as your body tightened around him, tilting your head back. You felt him grab a handful of your perfectly tousled curls, gripping them with a gentle tug as he began to thrust into you, his movements sharp and quick as he built up a rhythm.

You braced yourself by grabbing onto the sheets, gripping them tightly, your knuckles turning pale as he thrusted hard into your centre. You could feel yourself getting close, the pleasure brewing in your stomach as Bob shoved himself sharply into your body. A scream escaped your lips, and you knew at that point you wouldn’t be able to hold it together much longer.

“Gonna cum for me, darlin’?” he teased as a sound escaped his lips, some kind of mix between a moan and a laugh, before reaching a hand down to play with your clit.

“Fuck,” you screamed out as you hit the breaking point.

Bob grunted, each thrust becoming sloppier and less calculated as he began to reach his own high, a loud groan coming from behind you. You could feel him fill you as he climaxed, breathing a loud sigh of ecstasy as he pulled out of you, before collapsing down on the bed, completely breathless.

You rolled onto your side as Bob cleaned himself up before laying down beside you on the covers. His arm draped over your naked curves as he buried his face into your hair, breathing in your scent as he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.

“So how did you get that thing undone?” he asked.

“The bodysuit?” you laughed, before realizing he was serious, “there’s little plastic snaps, you just grab each side of the snap and pull it apart.”

“Seriously?! That’s it?!”

Bob burst out laughing before shaking his head as he snuggled in close to you.

“Those things look hot and all, but next time I’ll let you undo it, because I can’t figure it out.”

[pangborns]

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS.

charlie walker x fem!reader.

in which your nerdy boyfriend lets his desire for bloodshed overshadow his love for you.

scream 4 spoilers, blood, violence, death, weapons, canon type gore.

I started this fic like 6 months ago lol, but I finally got the inspo to finish! sorry it’s kinda short and dark :(

You screamed as the killer turned toward you, dropping Robbie’s cold body to the pavement. He stood to his full height, flicking the warm blood off of his weapon and taking a heavy step toward your wide eyed stance.

“Robbie..?” You practically squeaked, tears squeezing through your squinted eyelids. “Get up.”

The demand was not granted. Salty trails now glistened on your paling face as Ghostface tilted his head at your behavior.

Your attention quickly hopped from the dead friend to the ever-advancing killer. “Please don’t hurt me.” You begged, hands shaking as you tried to hold yourself for comfort. “I-I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Ghostface simply continued his trek toward your small frame. The adrenaline kicked in as you turned to sprint, just barely out of reach from the murderer in the black cloak.

You quickly remembered your friends still inside the house. Your boyfriend. You had followed Robbie out to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid while on his drunk journey through the yard and now you regretted it. The picture of his dead body would forever overshadow the memories of your friendship.

You reached the back porch, running up the stairs two at a time. “Help! Let me in!” You pounded on the glass door, watching as Jill, Kirby, and Sidney all squinted at you, confused. Sidney quickly jumped into action, figuring right out what was happening.

You fell through the opening, quickly turning yourself over onto your back and trying to kick away from the glass door. “Close it, close the door! He’s out there!” You sobbed, struggling to catch your breath.

Jill was quick to kneel down beside you as Sidney and Kirby locked the door and peered through the window. “Who, (Y/N)?” She spoke gently.

“It’s him. The one that killed Liv. He got Robbie.” You hiccuped, rubbing at your sore knees from the fall. “Robbie’s dead.”

Kirby quickly joined your huddle on the cold tile floor and hugged you tight.

“We have to go,” Sid spoke up, voice shaking as she tried to keep calm for the group of young girls. Sidney grabbed you by the armpits and helped you up as Kirby and Jill led the way to the front door. “We can make a run for the car.” She concluded. You thought of Charlie. You hoped he was alright wherever he was hiding.

You panicked as the group of you approached the front door. “No, Robbie’s out there. Don’t-“

Kirby heaved open the door, greeted with the gory sight of Robbie’s corpse. Everybody screamed.

The black hooded figure emerged from behind a pillar on the porch, sprinting towards the door. Sidney slammed the oak door closed, ushering everybody upstairs hurriedly. The four girls ran up the wooden stairs as Ghostface kicked down the heavy door.

A hand wrapped around your ankle, pulling you off balance. You fell to the ground, hitting your chin on a step. Blood gushed from the spot on your face, but that wasn’t your biggest problem at the moment.

Being at the back of the pack, the others had gotten upstairs and barricaded separate doors without noticing your absence.

He flipped you onto your back, straddling you. You screamed, hitting the killer in the chest, trying to kick your feet to free yourself from his hold. Ghostface looked down at you eerily, raising a knife above his head, readying for the kill.

“Hey! Fuckface!” A voice screeched from up the stairs. Kirby waved her arms frantically, trying to catch the killer’s attention.

His posture tensed as he released you and made his way toward the blonde. “Kirby, no!” She ran down the hallway, being chased by the cloaked killer.

You wheezed out a whimper, struggling to get up. You’d need stitches on your chin for sure, the blood was trailing down your shirt at this point.

You had to help Kirby. You knew you’d stand no chance by yourself, and you were so worried for Charlie. You needed to find him, make sure he was okay, and he’d help.

“Charlie!” Your throat was sore, voice hoarse. You spent a few minutes stumbling around the first floor of the house looking for your boyfriend to no avail. He was nowhere to be seen.

“(Y/N)?” You turned toward the sound. Charlie. He was covered in blood and looked delirious. You limped toward him, enveloping him in a tight hug as your tears stained his white shirt. He seemed to be out of breath, as if he was in a hurry.

“I was so worried,” You cried. Letting go of him, you looked up. “We have to go help Kirby. He’s after her!”

“Kirby’s dead, (Y/N).” A simple statement.

Your breath hitched. “What- why would you- what?” You stuttered.

“Never mind that, come here baby. I was so worried about you.” He opened his arms, expecting another hug.

In shock, you hesitantly moved toward him for comfort. Looking up to meet his eyes, you didn’t see any change in emotion as the knife pierced your stomach.

Your mouth fell open. Whimpers quickly escaped your bloody mouth as the blade nestled itself inside of you.

You grabbed his biceps, trying to find support as you slumped a bit in his arms.

“Shh, shh I know. I know.” It was as if Charlie was trying to comfort you as he delivered you closer and closer to death.

Blood trickled from your mouth and down your chin, falling onto his button up. “Charlie.” You gurgled.

“It’s okay. Just take your time.” He muttered, stroking your hair comfortingly.

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. The same ones you’d stare into lovingly. Your knuckles were white as you fisted his shirt.

“Doesn’t happen as quick as it does in the movies, huh?”

His words fell on deaf ears as your knees finally gave out. He kneeled down to help you lay on the ground. “Charlie?”

He closed his eyes, a few stray tears escaping as he heard you call his name. He pulled the knife from your abdomen, closing his eyes tighter as he heard the noise of the weapon leaving your skin. “I’m sorry.”

The blade punctured another part of your stomach. Charlie audibly cried as you grew weaker and weaker in his arms.

Sidney ran down the stairs, running a bloodied hand through her knotted hair. “Jill? Jill!” Her attention was turned to the sound of a thud as Charlie shoved your dying body to the ground.

Sidney covered her mouth with her hands in shock.

“Oh good,” Jill. “You dealt with her.”

Charlie let out a strangled cry, watching the light leave your eyes. Jill started monologuing to Sidney who could barely see through the tears that invaded her eyes.

Your head lolled to one side, eyes landing on Charlie’s figure, now even bloodier because of you. He tried so hard to ignore your gaze.

“Char-“ a weak arm stretched from your side and toward your boyfriend. With no more reason to hold on, your eyes glazed over and you succumbed to death’s call.

[bumblesimagines]

did i do something wrong?

this doesn't mean anything.

i'd really like to keep seeing you.

Uhtred of Bebbanburg

i'd really like to keep seeing you.

this doesn't mean anything.

did i do something wrong?

Pronouns: He/Him/His

Your coarse fingers rubbed against the dirt staining your arm, vainly brushing it away as you stood up from the forest floor. You'd been smart enough to wiggle your pants back on before falling asleep, unlike the man resting on the fur sprawled out on the ground. Uhtred had no shame, you'd learn that fairly quickly. Even as a boy when Earl Ragnar had yet to declare him as a son and his only title was slave, Uhtred had displayed a personality only a Dane could possess. He got lucky in the looks department otherwise, you were sure no woman would ever take him as a husband. 

"Enjoying the view?" He asked tiredly, pawing lazily at the fur coat covering his manhood from the world. 

"You should get up before Young Ragnar comes lookin', Uhtred." You kicked at his leg gently while awkwardly angling your arm to reach your back and swipe at some leaves still stuck on your skin. The forest had never been your preferred place but home hadn't been an option and Uhtred was the impaitent sort. 

"We'll be fine, (Y/N)." Uhtred sighed softly and turned to stare at the branches overhead. You shook your head at him and retrieved your undershirt from the floor, shaking it free of twigs and leaves before slipping it back on and tucking it into your pants. Uhtred's bright blues moved away from a chirping bird to watch you finish dressing, one hand shooting out to pin your coat onto the ground before you could pick it up. 

"Uhtred." You called warningly and arched a brow at him.

"I'd really like to keep seeing you." He murmured with that familiar boyish grin and you tugged your coat loose from his grip. You would've been free to take his offer. Earl Ragnar may have viewed him as a son but Young Ragnar had the claim to his lands and treasures. Uhtred was free to do as he pleased as long as he didn't bring shame to Earl Ragnar's name or proved loyal to his Saxon blood. But unlike Uhtred who was by all means a second-born son, you had the duties of a firstborn. 

You sighed. If he'd been born a woman instead of an infuriating man, perhaps you would've been more keen. "This doesn't mean anythin', Uhtred. You caught me in a good mood is all." 

"What- What do you mean?" His brows furrowed and he pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Did I do something wrong?"

"You did nothin' wrong. I just can't have you trailin' after me like a lovesick fool. Earl Ragnar would have my head or my father would have yours. I don't want problems between our families. Besides, Mother's been pesterin' me to pursue that friend of yours. Brida, was it?" Another slave turned friend, but she had an attitude your mother greatly respected and was beautiful enough to have your father's approval. Uhtred's face fell and he scoffed in disbelief. Dejection didn't look pretty on him. You crouched down in front of him and delicately cupped his face, bringing his lips to yours for a kiss before pulling away. 

"(Y/N)-"

"Leave it be, Uhtred." 

[vicenovirtues]

So I'm out here visitin the corner store for some snacks n new shoelaces

Normal, right ??

Well no !! There's some frickin guy followin me around now !!

He's wearin normal clothes but I dunno... He seems sus !!

He could be GCPS ?? T^T He's not wearin the badge tho...

Or am I bein paranoid ?? He keeps lookin at me over the aisles n trailin after me...

I'll ditch him no problem when I get outside tho

Ain't no one as fast as me when parkourin !!

...

Still... I'm a lil scared... What if they tryin to take me back to the home ??

[ember-owlet]

Could I pretty please request you write something self indulgent for yourself lil owlet? 🐇💕

a/c: aaa you're too kind bun, providing me with gold mines of asks?? thank you, i sincerely hope i can deliver ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ the context for these headcanons is because it's my birthday today and i would like some comfort from my fictional cgs. this is purely self-indulgent (per bun's request /lh /teasing) and will be handled so!

birthday headcanons w/ ember's fictional cgs

dynamic: cgs! donna beneviento and pamela isely x fem! regressor! reader

content warnings: mentions of birthday anxiety, light mentions of neglect, light mention of alcohol (in a celebratory context) ((stay safe little firelights, you can always come back to this when you're ready))

donna beneviento

donna would understand the anxiety that comes with birthdays. having an entire day centered around you would understandably have The Lady Beneviento nervous herself. she still finds ways throughout the day to spoil you, bringing you around the village with her to pick out a special outfit and fabrics for your gifts.

she'd tell you that despite what you have been through, that you are worthy of having your special days remembered, and that she would make sure that the rest of your birthdays would be celebrated with the people you love.

though she asked them first to make sure that a small celebration would be alright, donna would prepare a birthday dinner for her little one, inviting the other lords and Mother Miranda to honor her.

she'd have the house decorated (mostly with the help of the other dolls that angie bossed around but she said she did it so you'd have to let her) with streamers and an assortment of candles, the other lords waiting with their own specialized gifts

you come downstairs with the dimitrescu sisters phasing in and around you, chattering amongst each other to make sure your dinner attire fit perfectly for all to see.

salvatore bounces on his tippy toes; gift in hand he runs up to give you a tight embrace. "happy birthday minnow!!" he squeals, quickly placing the damp box into your hands before descending back to sitting with the other lords.

mother miranda would bring a crow held in a golden cage that was formed from one of her feathers. she had trained it to watch over you while you're out of the village, a reminder that you're never too far from home. the crow squawks as its beady eyes stare into yours, happy to see its newfound companion.

alcina would of course bring a bottle of her delicately aged wine to sample, congratulating you on another landmark of your life and that she's pleased to see how you've grown. she would look over to donna and remark about how well she'd been taking care of her little doll.

karl would gift you a mechanical rocking horse, built in with lifelike sounds with each motion. he would rustle your hair, wishing you a happy birthday while remarking the date itself isn't what matters, its how and when you'd like to acknowledge how far you've come.

salvatore's gift would include a set of tapes with videos of you and everyone, compiled together with a sweet message at the end telling you that today is about you and that he'd love to spend another day hanging out together so he can celebrate his favorite niece.

donna would create a special pair of plushies with interchangeable mechanisms so that with a pull of a string they could recite and reenact your favorite bedtime stories, complete with her and the other lords voices to bring your novels to life.

pulling the string the soft friend would spring to life, giving a short bow before opening its mouth. you hear the familiar voice of your caretaker.

"i hope you know how special you are to me dolcezza, happy birthday."

pamela isley

pamela holds you as you cry into her side, stroking your hair gently as she responds in whispers to your distress. "i'm here, i'm here. breathe, tulip. we aren't going anywhere you don't want to."

you could feel the vines trailing up from your back to cradle the both of you in a floral nest. as she rocked you you were overwhelmed by guilt. it's your birthday, and you're spending it with the one person who had been treating you so well while crying. you try to push out a sentence further than babbling but it frustrates you further, as past experiences with babbling or silence oftentimes had you punished.

pamela quickly shushes you, understanding your efforts and bringing you further into her arms as she rocked you. "i'm not going to let them take this day from you."

she stretched her hands outwards to summon a small white flower into your view.

"it's chamomile, it'll help to calm you. breathe it in kid. i've got you." the sweet and herbal scent wafts into your senses, pamela bringing her hand to your chest to let you feel the rising and falling of your chest.

there was so much that pammy wished she could do, and if she could do as she pleased she would give certain people a taste of her mind. a freshly picked bouquet of human flowers would do the trick for her. but here you were, and more than anything you needed for her to be there. so, instead of going on a rampage, that's what she'd do.

waiting for your body to come back to a steady rhythm she'd pull you away to dry the tears from your eyes. "you don't have to think about anything right now. just get some rest and we'll figure out what to do later on."

hours later you'd wake up to find a small terracotta pot filled with fertilizer sitting on your lap, written into the pot itself would have the words: "flower, meet me in the garden. bring a cup of water."

transitioning to the outside you see a blooming orchestra before your eyes, a beautiful symphony of various species of flora. in the center of the rings stood a hole in the patch of grass and a collection of uprooted violets outstretched to you beside it. as you counted them you realized that it equaled your new age.

scooping the lively bouquet you placed them into its new home, covering the exposed roots with the mixture of dirt and fertilizer.

you stood up to admire the violets as pammy crashed into you, bringing you into a squeeze from behind that nearly knocks the cup of water out of your hands.

twirling her hand through the slit of your side the violets began to grow in size and strength, perfectly aligned to resemble a row of birthday candles.

she snuggled you tight, walking together closer towards them as she placed a kiss to your cheek. "happy birthday flower. make a wish."

you shut your eyes tight, the feeling of tears beginning to well up in your throat before lightly blowing on the violets. they swayed in the wind joyously to mark the occasion.

opening your eyes a small homemade cake was held in front of you, pamela providing you with comfort in the form of a gentle smile. "flower, you were brought into a world that withered your very foundations with its weeds. today and every year thereafter will be a new uprooting, and i will nurture and care for you to thrive just the same. you deserve to bloom just like the rest, and be admired for your beauty and strength."

bringing her into another hug, you let out a sigh of relief as tears filled your eyes. being surrounded by the beauty of nature and a loving presence by your side, this was certainly a birthday you'd never forget.

[thechaoticcheese]

Daily spelling mistake: trailining

[codychristiantreasures]

Good LORD, Cody's trail be trailin' in that one picture.

just one lick, Cody, that's all I ask

Right!?! 🥵

[opheliajupiter99]

*The Baron, Ella, and Magnolia sat on a table outside, the table shrouded by a colorful umbrella. Magnolia was doodling in a coloring book, while Baron nursed an ice cold rum and Ella looked through various gothic fabric patterns. She picked up a black square trimmed with lace* "Do you think this will work for a veil, Sammy darling?" *Baron looks it over, then shrugs* "I was thinkin' ya could wear a top hat like mine, with like a veil trailin' down the front." *Ella coos, fanning herself* "Oh, that's a lovely idea!"