#so to continue from what i WAS saying with:

[kingkaisen]

HII I know your reqs are closed rn but I just want to send this now because I know im going to forget😭 I was thinking maybe an alternate version of your latest dad!gojo series with sick reader, but more angst as reader actually has a terminal illness? can be a sad or bittersweet ending, whichever you prefer!!

“I CAN’T LOSE HER.”

♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Over two years ago, you & your husband, Satoru, adopted two of his teenage students, Yuji & Megumi. You also have a biological six-year-old girl and two boy-girl twin babies.

What happens when, suddenly, you start to cough up blood?

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: HEAVY angst, fluff, fem reader, canonverse, throwing up, mentions of blood, happy ending. No one can stand the idea of losing you, especially Gojo!

♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6K

♡ — 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: this fic is part of my dad!gojo series, but reading the other parts isn't necessary. also, the reader doesn’t technically have a terminal illness!

“I must warn you,” the doctor stared into the reddened, tear-filled eyes of Yuji, then at Megumi’s trembling fist, and lastly, at the handmade Get Well Soon! card covered in doodles in the hands of the crying six-year-old girl by their side. “Seeing her this way could be traumatizing. I urge you to consider if this is the last memory you want to have of your mother.”

—

SEVERAL HOURS EARLIER

It began with the coughing.

The evening was fine, in the beginning. Just fine.

Your two adopted teenagers, Megumi and Yuji, could be heard moving around the house as they prepared themselves for bed, taking hot showers and switching into random pairs of shorts and t-shirts. Your biological twin babies, Kaia and Kenji, along with your young daughter, Maya, were fast asleep.

Everything was going fine. Just fine.

Satoru Gojo’s blue eyes flickered up at you as you emerged from the master bathroom, a swirl of steam flooding the bedroom once the door opened.

A robe clung around your body. There was a smile, albeit a tired one, but a smile nevertheless, gracing your clay mask-covered face, and you approached Satoru — who relaxed on the enormous bed — with the little jar of that gray concoction in your hand.

“You know the drill, honey, come here.” You said, sitting on the side of the bed.

He leaned forward with a little smile.

“Will this stuff make me even prettier?” Satoru grinned.

“I don’t think you can get any prettier,” you joked, and a small giggle escaped you, one that made Satoru’s smile brighten as his heart skipped a beat.

Dipping the applicator into the clay mask, you then brought it to Satoru’s face and smeared it across his cheek.

“So, what do you rank that movie? Scale of one to ten.” Your husband’s words sounded rather funny, seeing as he was trying his hardest not to move his face too much amidst your little spa session.

“Hmm . . . I give it a . . . I give it an eight. The ending was a little predictable, but I enjoyed it,” you paused, dragging the application across his chin. “It’s hard finding films that everyone might enjoy. Yuji kinda likes everything, but Megumi likes movies that aren’t appropriate for Maya. And I think you just like bad movies.”

Satoru laughed then — he couldn’t help it.

“Says the woman who has seen Titanic, what, fifteen times in the last year or so and still gets upset when the ship hits the iceberg.” Satoru paused. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but the movie isn’t gonna change.”

“It could, you never know!” You laughed and continued to apply the face mask to his skin. “And you’re exaggerating. I haven’t seen it that much. It just seems that way to you because you roll your eyes whenever I watch it. Don’t tell me you’re jealous of 90’s Leonardo DiCaprio.”

“Jealous? Honey, didn’t you just say I couldn’t get any prettier?” Satoru playfully rolled his eyes at you. “Besides, I just don’t like it ‘cause it’s too depressing.”

“That’s kinda the whole point.”

“Yeah, but those tragic romance movies are always even more depressing to watch when you’re in love with someone. I can’t help but imagine what it would be like if I were stuck in that same situation with you. Ya know, if I weren’t as brilliant as I am in real life. And I can’t stand the idea of one of us dying on the other.”

Your smile faded then. There was a shimmer of something within your gaze — a gaze that now failed to lock with Satoru’s.

“What’s wrong?” The corners of his lips fell into a frown.

“Nothing,” you mumbled, putting the jar that held your clay down. Then, suddenly, you smiled and poked his chest. “Leave it to you to make the conversation sappy and depressing all of a sudden. Anyway, don’t forget to wash off that mask in fifteen to twenty minutes.”

—

Water dripped off of his face and splattered the sink as Satoru washed off the last of the gray product on his skin.

“Don’t forget to moisturize!” You rushed into the bathroom as he patted his face dry with a towel.

As soon as he turned his head in your direction, white cream was suddenly smeared across his face. You rubbed it into his skin, all while he groaned in protest.

“Is this moisturizer or sour cream? Why is it so cold?”

“Oh hush, you big baby.” The last bit of moisturizer had seeped into his skin, and you closed your container and set it on the bathroom counter. “The world's strongest sorcerer can’t handle a little cold moisturizer, huh?”

“Oh? I’m the one who can’t handle things?” Satoru’s hands found your waist, and he pulled you against him, right before his fingers started to gently dig into your flesh, tickling you. “Look at you, you can’t even handle being tickled.”

“Stop it, I’m not one of the kids,” you laughed, trying to push his hand away, but they found your hips, and held you close.

“I’ll stop once you-”

Satoru was interrupted by you suddenly breaking out into a fit of coughs.

He stepped away then, still grinning. He assumed that your coughing was the result of laughing too much.

But you weren’t stopping.

Your coughs grew louder. More forceful. You frowned in panic.

“Baby?” Satoru approached you, placing a hand on your back as you leaned against one of the bathroom sinks, covering your mouth with your hand.

“‘Toru-” you couldn’t speak. You could only cough.

Satoru leaned down, attempting to look at your face, and he saw it then.

The blood seeping from between your fingers.

“Oh my god,” His eyes widened. “Baby, you’re . . . that’s fucking blood.”

—

He didn’t drive you to the hospital.

He didn’t call for an ambulance.

Satoru Gojo carried you in his arms, warping the distance between your home and the nearest emergency room, and teleported right outside of their see-through doors.

He rushed inside.

Medical staff noticed you, the coughing woman with blood spraying out of your mouth, decorating the front of your robe, and the shirt of the man who carried you.

“My wife . . . she-she won’t stop coughing,” Satoru’s eyes were wide with panic. “She’s coughing up blood.”

He passed your body to the doctor in front of him, who then laid you on a gurney that a handful of nurses rushed over with.

“Will she be alright? Will she . . . what’s wrong with her? What’s wrong with her?”

“Sir,” the doctor placed a hand on Satoru’s shoulder. “I need you to calm down so we can get some information from you. I promise you we’ll do everything we can to help her.”

—

It was around two hours before midnight when Yuji slowly opened the door to Megumi’s dark bedroom. The light from the hallway filtered into his room, and Yuji could slightly see the lumpy figure that was his body hidden underneath his covers.

“Psst . . . psst . . . Megumi,” Yuji loudly whispered.

“I’m asleep,” Megumi mumbled back.

“No, you’re not.” Yuji stepped into his room then. “Megumi, c’mon, this is serious! I heard someone come through the front door! I think we’re getting robbed!”

“You’re a sorcerer who can punch through walls. You can handle it,” Megumi yawned. “Please don’t bother me unless they’re trying to take our coffee maker.”

Yuji heard footsteps.

He dashed into Megumi’s room and shut the door behind him.

“Yuji,” Megumi said, sitting up. He looked at the alarm clock on his nightstand. “Yuji, you are seventeen years old. Seventeen. You’ve eaten the fingers of the king of curses, killed plenty of curses yourself, and you possess some weird superhuman strength. If you don’t get out of my room by the count of three, I will summon every shikigami of mine to drag you out of here.”

“You don’t get it. Mom and Dad are missing!”

Before Megumi could respond, someone knocked at his bedroom door.

“Megumi? It’s Kento. There’s . . . been an emergency. I’m here to drive you and your siblings to the hospital.”

—

“Dad? What’s going on?”

Yuji rushed over to the slumped-over white-haired man with great urgency. Maya rushed over as well, wrapping a blanket around herself even tighter as she crawled into the open seat next to her dad, and let her eyes close.

Kento and Megumi held the two sleeping twins in their arms.

The waiting room was a spacious brown and white area that smelled of coffee and Clorox wipes. A television hung upon the wall played reruns of a home-improvement show.

“Dad?” Yuji called out yet again. “What’s wrong with Mom? What happened?”

“I don’t-I don’t know,” Satoru looked at the ground. He ran his large hand across his face, utterly exhausted. “The doctors don’t know. No one knows. I was just . . . we were just in the bathroom, messing around when she started . . . coughing up blood.”

Megumi’s eyes widened.

“She just started coughing up blood,” Satoru repeated softly.

—

Two hours had passed.

Two.

The waiting room was slowly filling with people who cared about you, despite the time of night. Maya was wide awake by now, excited to see so many familiar faces, but brokenhearted once someone told her you weren’t feeling well. Therefore, the young girl occupied herself by lying across the waiting room floor and creating a card for you with paper and crayons.

Everyone sat around, waiting for news, and after what felt like forever, a few medical staff members started to gather outside the waiting room.

Satoru and Kento rushed over to meet them.

Yuji couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he saw it.

He saw the look on Kento’s face. The pale skin. The wide, surprised eyes.

The blonde-haired man stepped back into the waiting room, but Satoru didn’t move.

Yuji and Megumi rushed up to Kento. He couldn’t look them in the eye as he spoke.

“She might go in two hours.”

There was a part of Yuji that wanted to laugh. Part of him thought that, surely, his dear Uncle Kento was joking.

Yuji smiled as a tear rolled down his cheek. “No . . . No, this isn’t true. You’re joking, right? This-This is just some kinda sick prank?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry to all of you.”

“Go where?” Maya, who walked over with the Get Well Soon! card she made for you in hand, darted her eyes between Kento and Yuji. “Where is mommy going?”

Megumi’s stomach churned then. A wave of nausea washed over him, droplets of sweat decorating his pale forehead, but Kento’s words had paralyzed him. He knew he needed to make a break for the bathroom, but his limbs were made of stone.

“She’s going to die. Another person I care for is going to leave me. She’s . . . My mom is going to die.”

It started to come up; the tiny bouts of soup he forced down thirty minutes prior to this nightmare.

Suddenly, Toge, who had arrived an hour ago, pressed a tiny garbage can filled with tear-covered tissue and snack wrappers against Megumi’s chest.

It caught the vomit just in time. He had felt hands on his back and arm as someone guided him to a nearby seat, his head slung over the garbage can within his grip now, and he stayed that way, puking up his insides even well after there was nothing left.

Yuji couldn’t recall when he found his way to the floor. But there he was. His back was pressed against a wall or a door — he didn’t fucking know or care. And his legs were bent upwards as if he wanted to pull his knees to his chest, but lost the desire to do so completely.

Nobara got down on her knees beside him. Her hand touched his shoulder, her face frowned with both enormous sympathy and a great deal of her own grief.

“I was talking to her the other day, Yuji. When she was talking about you, she went on and on about how proud she was . . . is. She was planning something special for you and-”

“Stop it. You’re not helping.” Though he spoke through a clenched jaw and gritted teeth, his words held no anger.

He only sounded broken.

It was something Nobara hadn’t heard before, and that terrified her, made her eyes go wide as the tears finally started to fall.

Kento didn’t mean to let Satoru leave his line of sight.

After he delivered the news, after he was burdened with telling your family that you only had two hours left to live, his worried eyes went to a vomiting Megumi, a collapsing Yuji, and a confused Maya, tugging on his clothes as she asked questions and didn’t quite understand the answers.

But Toge was helping Megumi, Nobara was doing her best to comfort Yuji, and two other people held your unknowledgeable babies while Maya’s cousin distracted her until . . . until someone could properly tell her that she would never see her mommy alive again.

That left Satoru. Who was comforting the husband? Surely everyone in the crowded waiting room had rushed out to be by his side, but as Kento darted his eyes across hugging figures and crying faces, he didn’t see him.

“Where’s Satoru?” Kento asked.

“He went down the hall,” a croaking voice that belonged to a relative with eyes like yours replied before dotting said eyes with a piece of tissue.

And no one went after him? Kento thought. Shit . . . damn it.

You were coming closer and closer to crossing the line between life and death with every second Kento spent searching for Satoru.

He asked several staff members if they had seen a white-haired man walk by, and finally — finally — someone pointed him in the direction of an empty hospital room.

Kento released a shaky breath, adjusting his tie as he gripped the door handle.

He turned it, opening the door slowly.

And there he was.

The hospital room, void of patients or anyone aside from Satoru himself, was dark. Clean.

Satoru was pacing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He didn’t halt his footsteps when Kento walked in — the blonde-haired man had no clue if Satoru even knew of his presence — as Satoru only faced the ground as he continued to walk.

“Satoru,” Kento called out, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him.

“Get out.”

“Satoru-”

“Get out.” His unsteady voice was barely above a whisper. But then, Satoru suddenly stopped walking, glared at Kento with bloodshot eyes and a face full of tears, and shouted at him. “Get the hell out!”

“No.” Kento approached the trembling man. “I’m not leaving you alone right now, Satoru.”

Satoru’s hands were lost in his messy hair. He gripped the white strands, darting his blue eyes around at every corner of the room as if he were searching for something.

“Get out. Please, please get out. I can’t do this. I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this. I’m not the- I’m not the fucking strongest. I’m not strong enough for this. I can’t fucking do this. I can’t lose her. Not her.” He was crying. Sinking to the floor. He would have fallen if Kento hadn’t caught him, sat on the hospital bed, and held the other man against him as best as he could. And Satoru continued to sob harder than he ever had throughout his entire life. “Oh god, I can’t lose her. I can’t lose her, I can’t, I can’t lose her.”

“Satoru, you need to go see your wife, right now. You need to be there.”

Satoru couldn’t speak. The next, brewing sob was stuck in his chest. It took his breath away — he couldn’t fucking breathe — it took everything away until there was nothing, nothing except for silent, dead air as he trembled, his eyes squeezed shut, and then, there it was.

That ear-piercing sob. That screaming cry.

Staff members gathered at the nurses’ station down the hallway could hear it, and even the nurses who had witnessed people grieve every single day for decades couldn’t help but let a tear fall.

Kento held him even tighter. His ears rang, and he couldn’t help but flinch, but his large hand was wrapped around Satoru’s head, fingers softly gripping his messy white hair, and he held him against his chest. Kento’s own tears splattered against Satoru’s head. From where he held Satoru against him, he couldn’t help but wonder if the sobbing man could hear his own heart breaking as well.

Satoru clenched his teeth, his breathing erratic. It came out in waves of hisses, gasps, wheezing . . . noises that sounded almost inhuman. Then, the sobs returned. He was sobbing, sobbing, and sobbing, soaking Kento’s shirt.

His body trembled violently, forcing Kento to adjust his grip on him as meaningless comforts spilled from between his lips: “It’s okay . . . It’ll be okay . . .”

That was when Satoru clenched his shaking fist. His nails dug into the flesh of his palm until a line of cuts formed, and blood seeped out and spilled onto the marble floor.

“You need to see her, Satoru. You need to see her before she goes.”

He wasn’t listening, and Kento couldn’t exactly blame him for that. But he knew Satoru would never forgive himself if he missed his chance to say goodbye.

“I can’t lose her . . . I can’t lose her . . . I can’t lose her . . . I can’t lose her . . .”

—

There were an endless number of cords, tubes, and wires running along the floor, being tended to by busy doctors and nurses, who were quiet out of respect — out of knowing — hooked both to the several machines that surrounded you, and hooked to your unconscious body as well.

Yuji was sitting on the side of your bed. His body was across yours, his shoulders rising and falling as he cried.

“It’s not fair,” his muffled voice filled the room. “Please don’t die, Momma. Please don’t die. I’m begging you . . . I’m begging!”

Maya crawled onto your bed then. The wires scared her a bit, and her fear led to her being mindful enough to avoid them as she made her way to your side.

Yuji pulled away from you at the sight of her.

“Maya . . .” his brown eyes were wide with tears, but the young girl ignored him.

She put her hand on your shoulder, her little face twisting into a frown when her touch did nothing.

“Mommy?” She called out, shaking you. “Wake up, mommy.”

Megumi couldn’t take it any longer.

He was standing by your side, holding your hand — which no longer felt like your hand, but something cold and swollen from the IV needles within your veins — but he let it go, rushing out of your hospital room, ignoring the calls of his name from people he didn’t bother looking up at. Not that he could. Not when his tears blurred his vision until everything before him was a mesh of disoriented shapes and colors.

There was a wheelchair being rolled down the eerie hospital hallway that squeaked every half-second. Megumi didn’t notice the person being pushed as he made his way to the nearest exit, and that person didn’t notice him.

The wheelchair was loud. Uncomfortably loud. Especially because, now, Satoru’s ear-piercing sobs had vanished, and silent shock came next.

He couldn’t speak. He didn’t blink. He could barely move.

That was the reason Kento put him in a wheelchair, and wheeled him into your hospital room.

It was crowded in there. Crowded with presents, cards, flowers, balloons, and snacks. Crowded with your relatives, friends, Satoru’s students, your sons, and your daughters.

Shoko was the first to notice Satoru being wheeled through the door. Kenji was resting in her arms, leaning against her shoulder, while Yuta held Kaia. He was the next to notice Satoru. The student’s face betrayed how he felt on the inside as tears quietly streamed down his reddened cheeks, and he held on to his teacher’s baby just a bit tighter.

With every push of his wheelchair, with every step made in the direction of your hospital bed, everyone stepped out of the way, almost one by one, clearing a path.

When Yuji turned around and saw his father, he got off your bed then.

Oh, Yuji was struggling, struggling to keep his sobs as quiet as possible, struggling to keep his shaking to a minimum, and once he stepped away from your hospital bed so Satoru could have his chance to say goodbye before it was too late, several pairs of arms wrapped around Yuji. He didn’t know who it was — he couldn’t see thanks to the tears — but he hugged back one of the people who hugged him while rubbing his back soothingly.

He could tell based on the softness of their body that it was a woman. It could have been his girlfriend, Yuko. Maybe Maki. Perhaps, Aunt Jane. Or his grandma. He didn’t know. He didn’t care.

When your unconscious body came into Satoru’s line of sight, his body started to shake more violently, but . . . but he used the little strength he had to pull himself out of that wheelchair and sit by your side.

His hand graced your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin like he had done a thousand times before, and the thought of this being the last time made him wish he were dying with you.

Satoru leaned down.

Sometimes, Satoru would wander into the master bedroom and notice that you were fast asleep. A mischievous smirk would appear on his face at the sight of his cute wife and her gentle snores, and he’d sneakily approach your bedside, lean down, and kiss your lips.

Now, he pressed his lips against yours, and much like during your slumber, your lips didn’t move against his. However, during those times, they were still plump. Still warm with life.

But now? Now, it felt like he was kissing a corpse.

Your body jolted.

For a moment, Maya thought she was witnessing one of her favorite fairytales come to life! The prince kisses the sleeping princess, she awakens, and they live happily ever after!

But though you were moving, your eyes were still closed.

Your body rapidly jerked, the nearby machines started beeping with great urgency, and she was being pulled off the bed by Uncle Kento, meanwhile, her father was calling for you as he too was pulled away.

Maya was being rushed out of the room, but she saw the strange people in those blue clothes surround you, and heard a word being repeated over and over again: seizure.

—

Two hours had passed.

You hadn’t yet passed on. Not yet. That surprised no one, as you wouldn’t be you if you weren’t fighting like hell to stay alive.

But there was no suffering worse than the waiting.

Two hours turned to three, then four. During which, people filtered in and out of both your hospital room and the waiting room.

Satoru, however, didn’t leave your side. His head didn’t so much as flinch in a different direction. His hand never let go of yours.

“I couldn’t convince him to come back inside. I’m sorry.”

That voice belonged to Maki.

She had been outside for the last fifteen minutes, trying her hardest to convince Megumi to return to your hospital room.

Yuji, who was sitting on the edge of your bed, turned his head to the side to glance at Satoru. His father was in his own world, though.

“I’ll try,” Yuji mumbled weakly.

“Yuji, are you sure?” Kento, who had now taken off his jacket and had one of the twins in his arms, raised his eyebrows. Everyone knew what his four worlds really meant. Are you sure you want to risk not being by her side when she goes?

“I won’t be long.” Yuji was on his feet.

He reached out, touching Satoru’s shoulder.

The man didn’t react to his touch. That world of his was all-consuming.

And with that, Yuji sought out the nearest exit and stepped into the fading darkness.

Megumi was sitting on a bench right outside the hospital doors. The distant streetlights did little to illuminate him or the path Yuji took to the bench. The teenager sat down beside his brother, and for a moment, they were silent.

“You need to be there,” Yuji said softly. “She’d want you to be there.”

“You’re wrong. She’d want us as far away as possible so we don’t have to see her this way.” Megumi’s voice was barely above a whisper. “You forget, I’ve known her since I was seven.”

“Don’t do this now, Megumi.”

“Do what? Tell you that I was right? That something bad was bound to happen soon enough?”

“Hey,” Yuji’s jaw trembled. “She’s still alive. She could still-”

“She won’t. You’re thinking like a goddamn child.” “You’re just like Maya. You think she’ll magically wake up. You’re the one who needs to wake up, Yuji. Nothing good ever lasts long. I told you that. Repeatedly. If you had listened to me, then you would’ve been prepared for . . . prepared for this.”

Megumi leaned over, his elbow pressing into his knee. There was some sort of odd noise that escaped him. Yuji couldn’t quite tell if it was a cry or if he was on the verge of puking again.

“Satoru won’t recover from this. He won’t. None of you will. But me? I’ll be . . . just fine. I knew better than to think that our happy family would . . . that our . . .”

Yuji was quite certain now that he was crying. As his shoulders trembled, his nails dug into the skin of his hands.

Yuji leaned forward and wrapped an arm around his brother. Yuji was, once again, crying as well; it surprised him, as he was certain that, by now, he would have run out of tears.

“Come back inside, okay? You need us and we need you. You might be right about her not wanting us to witness this, I don’t know. But we both know that, deep down, she needs us.”

—

Night turned to day.

As time drifted on and became one, long, miserable existence, Satoru could hear voices around him, speaking to you, speaking to him, speaking to others.

“Momma? It’s Yuji, again. The day I met you was one of the best days of my life. We had only known each other for forty minutes, and already, I knew what it felt like to be loved by a mother, ya know? Thank you for adopting me. Thank you for taking care of me. Thank you for . . . for everything. I love you, Momma.”

“I’m here too, Mom. I’m sorry I left earlier, but I’m here now. I just wanted to say that . . . I regret not letting you hug me more often. I regret taking so long to acknowledge you as my mother. I hope you know I appreciate everything you’ve ever done for me. I hope it’s not too late for me to finally tell you that I love you. But I’ll always regret not saying it sooner. I’m sorry.”

“Mrs. Gojo, it’s Nobara. Thank you for everything. All of the meals, shopping sprees, fixing holes in my uniform so I didn’t have to buy a new one . . . you’re an amazing woman. I wish you were my mom too, if I’m being honest here.”

“It’s Kento. Thank you for almost fifteen years of friendship. Thank you for making me a member of your family. I promise I’ll watch over them.”

The goodbyes were endless. Satoru heard every single one as he sat by your side, his eyes studying your face, his hand stroking your cheek.

Then, people started speaking to him.

“Satoru, you should try to eat something.”

“I’m going to set this water down right here, Mr. Gojo. We can bring food from the cafeteria up to your family.”

“Satoru, do you need to stretch, or use the bathroom?”

“Satoru?”

—

Day turned to night.

There was this dangerous amount of hope trying to sneak its way into the hearts of everyone waiting for what might have been the inevitable end.

After all, it had been almost twenty-four hours since the doctor inaccurately predicted your impending demise, and you were still hanging on. Still breathing. Still fighting.

The doctor informed everyone that there had been a slight improvement in your overall health, but he chose his words carefully — the last thing he wanted was to spread misplaced optimism. But he was confident that you weren’t going to cross the line from this world and into the afterlife tonight.

A lot of people went home then to tend to their needs. To shower, to sleep, to eat. The twins and Maya were taken to your house, being watched over by their aunt, but Yuji, Megumi, and Satoru refused to leave your side for longer than five minutes.

“Here,” Kento passed the two boys sitting in the chairs of your hospital room two sandwiches wrapped in foil.

They didn’t take it at first.

“Please, try to eat,” Kento said urgently, yet gently. “You need to eat something. You need to try.”

They took the sandwiches with great hesitation then.

Kento then approached Satoru.

“Satoru, you need to let us help you. You haven’t moved in a long, long time.”

There was a noise so quiet, Satoru wasn’t certain if it was a machine beeping or Satoru saying, “No.”

“Satoru-”

“No.” His voice was raspy. “Told her I’ll be right here. I’m not moving.”

“You can stay right here and still eat or drink something.”

“My wife is dying, Kento. I don’t give a damn about myself right now. I’m not doing anything. I don’t fucking care about what I might need.” Satoru took hold of your hand.

Kento sighed. He couldn’t help it. But even so, he stepped away. If it came down to it, he’d force some broth down Satoru’s throat later on, somehow, someway.

“Baby,” he croaked out. “I’m right here . . . I’m right here, baby. You’re not alone. I know you’re tired, sweetheart . . . I know. If-If you need to rest, it’s okay. I won’t . . . I . . . I love you so much, sweetheart. I’m not leaving your side.”

Aside from saying that he loved you, aside from promising to never leave your side, there was not one part of Satoru’s soul that believed what he was saying. He didn’t want you to leave him. He didn’t want to say goodbye. But, he also didn’t want you to die with the guilt and burden of knowing he was begging you to stay, and you couldn’t.

“I always say that . . . that we’re soulmates in every lifetime, remember?” His tears splattered onto your oxygen tube. “Wait for me. You’ll wait for me, won’t you, sweetheart?”

Satoru had been sitting still without any substantial food, water to quench his thirst, or decent amounts of sleep for quite some time. Therefore, he was certain he was hallucinating when he felt you squeeze his hand.

Your dry lips parted.

“‘Toru . . . ‘Toru . . . Sa . . . ‘Toru . . . eat.”

“Oh my god,” Satoru brought his ear to your lips, trembling as his tears started to slide sideways across his face. He was right. He was right! You were trying to speak. “Oh my god. Baby, can you hear me? Can you? Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“No, no, no. What’s wrong? What happened?” Yuji asked, his nibbled sandwich hitting the floor and spewing lettuce across it, and he rushed over with Megumi.

The boys feared the worst.

Naturally.

But when they made their way to your bedside as nurses started to flood in, they saw it.

The slight flutter of your eyelids.

They heard it.

The barely audible mumbles.

“Eat, ‘Toru . . . eat.”

—

The recovery of your mind, body, and soul was a miracle.

There was no other word to describe the event in which a person walks away from death itself.

When your eyes opened fully, Satoru fainted. Your two boys sobbed — this time, it was tears of joy — and they watched as the excited, albeit confused, medical staff tended to your needs.

Two hours later, Satoru had been unhooked from the IV the nurses had to force into his veins due to his severe dehydration and shock, and you had started to regain the ability to fully talk, open your eyes, and grasp the situation before you.

You blinked away your blurry vision as a nurse raised your bed a bit. Right before you was Satoru’s tear-soaked face.

“You’re alive,” he smiled tearfully, cupping your face. He smashed his wet lips against yours. They were warm with life yet again. “You’re alive. You lived. My baby fucking lived. I love you so much, do you understand me? I can’t believe it. I can’t.”

“Did . . . did you eat . . . did you eat something?” You asked weakly, your sunken eyes filled with concern.

Satoru shook his head in disbelief. “Sweetheart, please worry about yourself for once. I almost lost you, baby. I . . . oh my god. I almost lost you.”

Yuji and Megumi couldn’t wait any longer.

Yuji slung himself across you, rougher than he intended to, hugging you tight with his shaking limbs.

“Momma . . . thank goodness,” he cried.

“Be careful with her, Yuji,” Kento warned, but he couldn't help but let a couple of tears fall. “I’m going to call everyone and let them know.”

Megumi had to practically grip Yuji’s shoulders and pull him off of you, but not necessarily because he was practically crushing your weak body, but because Megumi needed to do something he hated himself for not doing enough. He needed to hug you.

Seeing that crying teenager take over Yuji’s spot, lean forward, and wrap his arms around you truly helped you grasp the reality of your situation.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I love you, Mom. I do. I swear I do.”

“I wasn’t done hugging her, Megumi!” Yuji tried to pull his brother away, but the dark-haired boy fought to keep his spot, ignoring him.

“‘m sorry for . . . scaring . . . scaring all of . . . you,” you mumbled, gently rubbing Megumi’s back. “Where’s . . . my little girl? . . . My babies?”

“They’re on the way,” Kento walked over, his phone in hand. He gave you a warm smile. “You are truly a fighter, Mrs. Gojo.”

Satoru had suddenly kissed you again, taking you by surprise, so much so that your oxygen tube almost fell out of your nose, and his tears started to wet your cheeks as well. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours and pressed a quick kiss against your cheek. “I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

—

You had to be transferred to a bigger hospital room with an enormous hospital bed. It was all because your sons, your husband, and Maya all wanted to cling to your side and never let you go, and your relatives, friends, and Satoru’s students practically camped out in your room over the next several days.

Kaia was lying on your chest, babbling as she placed her hand on your cheek. Meanwhile, Kenji was gripping your hair, falling against you as he tried to bite it.

“Mrs. Gojo?” Yuta called out, approaching your bedside with Toge by his side.

“Hm?” You gave them a tired smile.

“The other students and I were wondering if, well, whenever you had the energy, if we could-”

“If we could treat you and Satoru to the best dinner of your lives!” Nobara interrupted, practically bouncing with excitement as she reached for your hand.

“No, no, you guys don’t have to do that.”

“You almost died. We’re not taking no for an answer,” Maki said, standing near the foot of your bed. “Let us do something nice for you for once.”

You gave them a little nod, and the students cheered, though in truth, they had much more than a dinner planned. A dinner was part of it, yes, but they would also buy you tickets to a play you’ve been wanting to see according to Satoru, along with whatever else they could brainstorm and afford after adding up their money.

—

There was a party that began early in the day and lasted well into the night once you returned home.

There was more food than your refrigerator could hold, more gifts than you had room for despite the massive size of your home, and more love and affection than your heart could handle.

After everyone left, urging you to rest, you found yourself tucking Maya into her bed.

“Teeth brushed?” You asked.

“Uh-huh!”

“All clean?”

“Yep!”

“Tummy full?”

“Yep! Yep!”

“Stuffed animals kissed?”

“Uh-huh!”

“Ready to sleep?”

“No, nuh-uh,” the young girl shook her head. “I wanna stay up some more.”

“No, it’s well past your bedtime, honey.” You planted a kiss on her forehead. “Good night.”

“Night night, mommy. I love you very, very, very much.”

“I love you very, very, very, very much as well.”

You rose to your feet and left her room, but you didn’t make it far. Your two boys were standing in the hallway. Yuji approached first, wrapping his arms around you.

“Goodnight, momma. Love you,” he smiled softly.

“Goodnight, I love you more.”

It was Megumi’s turn then. His hug was more gentle than Yuji’s, but it lasted just as long.

“Goodnight Megumi. I love you,” you rubbed his back.

“I love you too, Mom,” Megumi mumbled. Pulling away, he said, “Goodnight.”

Your boys started to head to their rooms. Suddenly, Yuji paused.

“Oh! Uh, Dad asked for you to meet him in the living room,” Yuji said with a small smile.

—

You noticed the dancing flames across the walls before you fully stepped into the living room and noticed all of the candles.

The couches had been moved, and softly, gentle romance music played from a speaker — loud enough for you to hear it, but low enough for it not to disturb the children.

Satoru extended his hand to you, a gentle smile upon his face. “If you aren’t too tired, I’d love to dance with you.”

“Lucky for you, I feel just fine.” You placed your hand into his, your smile matching his own.

Your husband pulled you close, and slowly, you both began to spin and sway around the living room.

“Satoru?”

“Hm?”

“Be honest with me. Does a small part of you regret marrying someone who has done nothing except cause you grief and make you worry?” You looked into his eyes, searching his blue ones for answers to the question you asked with great hesitance. “I survived, but . . .”

“And that’s all that matters. You survived. You mean everything to me, so yeah, I get worried sick when something happens to you, but I think it’s an amazing privilege to love someone this much. It’s all too rare in this world.” Satoru kissed the top of your head. “There isn’t any part of me that regrets falling in love with you, marrying you, and having kids with you, and I never will.”

“I must admit, it’s kinda nice to be spoiled like this,” you said.

“Yeah? Well, I’ll even watch Titanic with you again. How does that sound?” Satoru made you twirl, and jokingly, he twirled as well, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of your laughter as he pulled you closer yet again.

“No thanks, we just went through our own tragic romance for a minute there,” gazing up at him, you continued, “I’ll settle for your awful movie picks for now.”

“What about my taste in music? Do you like this song?”

You listened to the beautiful melody for a moment. The song itself was rather familiar, and you smiled wholeheartedly as sweet memories of your wedding came flooding back to you.

“You know I do. It’s from our wedding.”

“I still can’t believe I actually married you sometimes. I love you more than you know.” Satoru grinned with satisfaction. He then captured your lips in a long, soft, and passionate kiss.

And as the song came to an end, you rested your head against your husband, and he held you, the love of his life, letting your warm body serve as a reminder that you were still alive.

You were still with him.

🏷️: @marvel-girl3 @goldenglow149 @luaqsv @sstoru @pinkfemdolly @satorusgummies @therealmrsgojo @leehriie @iminlovewqr0w @odessa-is-my-queen @melodycelos @stoneaf @dreamypirate @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @starlightanyaaa @arrozyfrijoles23 @yukiyaaaa @thaisszz55

[okwonyo]

JUST KISS ME ， 𝗉𝗌𝗁

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐕 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗎𝗉𝗍𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌

𝟏𝐎𝟓𝟕𝒾──── superman!sunghoon 𝗑 f!rea ✿ fluff 𓂋 kissing skinship ❞ 𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆 ｡

reblog for ！ ✶ 𝗔 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦 ◜ ᴗ ◝

not everyone can say that they got superman — the strongest, most admired, most famous hero in the world — wrapped around their finger.

yet, sunghoon is there, in your apartment. with a huge, cheek–hurting smile plastered on his face and his white button up. all giddy as you enter the kitchen to ask what he is making for dinner, claiming how much he knows you like breakfast for dinner.

“no,” you retort, emphasizing on the two letters word with a grin that shakes sunghoon’s world. to be honest, he forgot about dinner the moment you walked in. “i like breakfast, you like breakfast for dinner.”

sunghoon doesn’t dare to reply. instead, he decided to step toward you, until he is close enough to make you tilt your head completely to look at him.

he likes this view from above. you wide eyes staring at his own, your face close enough for a peck as he leans in and your lips presenting themselves to him.

yeah, he dives in without hesitating.

seriously, the whole concept of super–strength doesn’t exist when you kiss him back. your palm finding his neck makes a little weak in the knees — but he still got strength to pick you up without any efforts.

he makes you sit on the kitchen counter so he can stand between your legs, your knees pressing against his hips as his tongue explores your mouth, right where he belongs.

sunghoon has been thinking about it all day. the moment where he could have your fingers running through his hair, your lips smashed against his.

it’s you. it’s always you. when he is not fighting villains or writing articles, it’s your hands on him that are his main thoughts.

and even when he has it, you cupping his face and letting his tongue get a taste of yours, he wants more. he hugs your waist and presses you closer against his body. your lips are full, perfectly shaped, gliding over his own with a tenderness that makes his heart race.

there is the specific, continuous movement of your hand that makes sunghoon go a little insane. your palm slides from his hair to his neck, caressing his silky smooth hair. then, for a split second there is nothing before you are back to top of his head.

it’s like a pat, a silent praise, a way of telling him to keep going. sunghoon likes it. so much it makes him smile against your lips, until your teeth are smashing together, both of you giggling.

when he is happy like that, it reminds him of all the moments you spent together. like today, back at work.

“what?” you laugh quietly against his mouth.

sunghoon’s smile is bright enough to light up the whole city, “that was very funny today,” you pat his hair again, he feels his stomach turn with pure

love. “it’s hilarious the little back and forth we had going.”

sunghoon kisses you again, barely able to talk with the sight of your lips so near.

“you giving me guff for my article,” he can’t help it. he kisses you one more time before finishing what he had to say. “jay was eating it up.”

it’s your turn to talk. sunghoon tries to hold it in — he can lift cars, yet is unable to control his impulses.

he plants a lingering kiss on your neck, barely hearing your words, “i wasn’t acting, sunghoon.” you have to push him off your neck to get him to listen.

his eyes follow your mouth’s movements attentively, as he does when he uses his x–ray vision.

even the gentle scolding you give him makes him want to kiss you, “if you keep interviewing yourself, people are going to find out eventually.”

“put the glasses,” he answers stupidly.

“they won’t fool people forever,” you tell him.

he hums. but really, sunghoon doesn’t care about people finding out that he is superman. seeing how worried you get about others finding out his secrets makes him feel some kind of way. he just wants to kiss you.

sunghoon is superman, yes, he is very lucky to be so. however, when he is with you, he is just sunghoon. enamored and vulnerable sunghoon who loves to kiss the love of his life.

you kiss him back, but don’t stop talking, though.

“and,” kiss, he misses the warmth of your lips everytime he pulls away. “ethically,” kiss, they feel too good on his own.

“these interviews are hugely problematic,” sunghoon can’t stop thinking about how hot you are when you talk about ethics. “i mean, you literally know the questions in advance.”

a beat. a few seconds where superman does nothing but stare at your lips. all the words you just spoke were heard — spoken with a voice too gentle to not make him crave another little smooch.

“okay,” sunghoon slurs. drunk, perhaps, in love. “why don’t you interview me, then?”

he knows his proposal is stupid. it’s a way to end the conversation, allowing him to dive in and kiss you again. that is exactly what he does.

you give up for a bit. melting into the tenderness of his kiss, holding onto his broad shoulders as your lips fall open — inviting.

you can’t help but add a little something, though. “sure, you wouldn’t like that.”

sunghoon only hums, smirks against your lips, embracing your waist even more than before. he kisses you even harder, ensuring himself you won’t start talking again any time soon.

not because he doesn’t like to hear you talk, rather because he’d rather have your mouth do something else right now.

he kisses you so hard. your grip tightens a little in his hair and a soft little noise slips from his mouth. sunghoon kisses you desperately that his entire wide body curves in yours.

he holds you close as his tongue explores your mouth. there is a sense of completeness when your lips meet, as if sunghoon is solving a puzzle that was missing a piece all along.

he is so into it, his thick eyebrows furrow, his large hand grabs your neck tenderly, tilts his head to the side to kiss you better.

he is slightly amazed when you find a way to get away from his lips a tad and speak again, “what about breakfast?”

“i’ll make one in the morning.”

분지 ܃ for tammie and essie 🫶

taglist open 。

[starrymarie]

listening in | c. kent

Pairing: Clark Kent x reader! 18+ Tags/warnings: nsfw!!!, grinding, finishing in pants, fluffy smut if that can be a thing, misunderstanding, use of y/n, not proofread :( Clark Kent felt like a pervert. He didn't mean to, and he knew his ma would chastise him, but he couldn't stop. If he knew that this is what he would be reduced to, he wouldn't have become your roommate. Your disgusting, perverted roommate who can't stop listening to you masturbate. The first time wasn't intentional, he blames his supersonic hearing. He tried to tune you out, but your whines and muffled whimpers found home in his mind, replaying over and over. It felt like an intrusion of privacy to overhear, especially because you were trying to mask it with your hand clamped over your mouth. And yet here he was, hand wrapped around himself as he listened to you writhe in bed. Clark kept the pace slow, not wanting to rush into it. You set the pace, always, and he made sure you finished first.

But then he heard you moan his name, and suddenly he was cumming.

Instinctively his head fell back as a guttural, low groan started in the back of his throat. Finishing all over his stomach, the feeling curling his toes and clenching his stomach. When he came too he was out of breath and slightly dizzy. While you were still masturbating, blissfully unaware of what you've just done to your roommate, Clark was trying to wrap his head around what happened. A part of him felt embarrassed that he came just from that when he wasn't even close. His chest filled with want and need as he continued to listen, half hard even after the orgasm. Your gasps of pleasure that used to sound so sweet now sounded like torture to him.

He can't just go into your room, right? He tried rationalizing with himself, how could he justify telling you that he heard you? And on top of that he would be bursting into an intimate moment, it was unthinkable.

So Clark just laid there, listening to you get closer and closer to your peak. Maybe he will gather the courage to try to talk to you tomorrow and ask you out.

---

Your feet hit softly on the floor of your apartment as you headed to the bathroom. As you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, you felt slight embarrassment over last night. That was the first time you had moaned your roommates name out loud, and a deep embarrassment sat in your chest. Of course you had thought of your handsome roommate before, but to actually moan his name out loud? At the thought of it, you felt your face get red.

You know you were quiet, but you worried you may have been too loud with the way Clark was avoiding you. When he saw you he turned on his heel, murmuring about something he left in his room, or scurrying out the door for work or an “appointment”. It wasn't until a few days later that you confronted him.

3 short raps at his bedroom door shocked Clark out of his thoughts. When he opened the door, you stood there sweetly with a tub of ice cream and two spoons.

“Do you want to continue watching Love House with me?”

He wanted to say no. He wanted to tell you that it's hard to be around you without getting a hard on or hearing your moans in his mind. How much his body longed to pull you into his and satisfy you in ways you couldn't.

“Um…I don't…I think I have too…” he trailed off.

“Is something wrong?” You asked Clark, trying to meet his eyes.

“What? No! N-nothing, just super busy.” he let out a weak laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Have I done something wrong, Clark?” Your hands dropped as your shoulders slump. “It seems like I have, you've been ignoring me lately.”

“No! God's no, that’s not-” “It’s okay,” you interrupted, “we don’t have to hangout any more, I didn’t mean to push it.” You backed away from his door as you spoke, prompting him to open the door a little wider.

“No, y/n you haven’t done anything! I just, I just wanted some alone time.” He didn’t meet your eyes, the floor suddenly looking much more interesting.

Your mind raced to a million different places, too many that you couldn’t sort through them to find why he might be avoiding you. You thought out loud to try to organize your thoughts and get a reaction.

“Is it work? Maybe you have a big assignment coming up. Or maybe your parents, are they doing okay? Is it your health, or are you going through a big life change? Do you have a girlfriend-”

At this Clark’s head snapped up to meet yours, and your stomach dropped.

“O-oh! Of course, of course.” You let out a pathetic laugh as you backed down the hallway “right, of course I knew that one day you would. I’m so-” the spoons you were holding clattered to the ground “oh geez, um. I’m happy for you, you deserve someone in your life.”

“Y/n” Clark said your name like it pained him as he went towards you.

“Just make sure to let me know when you want the apartment to yourself and I’ll stay somewhere else for the night.” You said with a fake smile, even though you know you would have nowhere else to go. Clark knew that too.

“Y/n, just stop for just a second!” Clark quickly covered the ground between you two and grabbed your arms, forcing you to turn your body to his. “I don’t have a girlfriend!”

“It’s okay if you do, really I don’t ca-”

Your protest died in your throat as Clark kissed you, pressing his lips to yours to silence you. Your eyes stared at his closed ones, still in shock. Clark Kent was kissing you. Your roommate. Your handsome, talented, clumsy roommate who you have a massive crush on.

He pulled away but remained close to your face, eyes fluttering open to look into your shocked ones.

“How could I ever leave you?” He said with such sincerity it made your heart heart.

“What?” You whispered, unsure this is real life. You wish he would let go of your arms so you could pinch yourself.

“All I’ve wanted is you. Since I practically moved in. Maybe all I’ve ever wanted has always been you, even before I knew you. I must have been made for you.” Clark whispers. “I wish I could think of something more romantic to say” he smiles.

“You like me?” You whisper back, still in disbelief.

“So much so that I think I’m going crazy.” His eyes glance at your lips before meeting your eyes again. It washes over you in a second: lust, want, need, and love. You close the gap between the two of you, dropping the long forgotten ice cream. They hit the floor as your arms wrap around his neck, standing on your toes. His arms wrap around your waist and pull you up slightly, a groan escaping his throat.

Clark walks backwards, never disconnecting from you, and leads you back into his room. You let him lead you, trusting him and becoming totally engrossed in the moment. One hand wanders to his hair, feeling the curls weave their way through your fingertips. A desperate moan leaves his mouth at your motion, you feel heat in your stomach at the sound. Your other hand trails down his neck to his chest, feeling the hardness there before going to his shoulder and down his arm. You loved his arms, how they were strong but not overly muscular. They still looked warm and inviting, and on the many few times you accidentally slept on them, very comfortable.

Once inside the bedroom and near the bed, Clark spun you around and laid you on the bed. He stood between your open legs, looking down at you. He admired your red, swollen lips and your glossy eyes.

“You said I drive you crazy?” You teased, sitting up. Your hand reached up to his stomach where you felt him clench at your touch. He moaned as he watched you drag your hand up his body, as if you were staking your claim, touching all that is yours. And it is yours, he would tell you, it always has been. You grip the collar of his shirt and tug him down so he is laying on top of you. The motion causes him to press against your center, causing the both of you to moan at the contact.

“Yes, fuck, you drive me crazy.” He kissed your jaw gently, trailing kisses down your neck. “The way you laugh at my stupid jokes, the way you tease me for not buttoning my shirt correctly. How you never let me have the final say, how you walk around in those skimpy shorts.” Clark moans the last sentence, his hand finding its way to the hem of your shirt. He tugs on it, as if asking for permission, and you moan, lifting your torso up as you silently ask for more.

Clark’s large hand feels warm against your stomach. It moves slowly, reverently, as if he is afraid that sudden movement will cause you to spook. When he finally makes his way towards your bare chest he groans at the contact, grabbing a handful of your breast.

“You always walk around with no bra on, tempting me.” His voice rough “I always try to make you cold so I can see your perky nipples”

You whimper at his admission, heat pooling in your stomach. It felt like too much and still not enough as you tried to get closer to him. He pressed himself into you and grinded. He felt like a horny teenager, and yet he couldn’t pull away. He needed this friction, his cock straining to nestle between your legs.

“These walls are not thick enough for me to get away from you.” He pulled his head back to look at you, watch your face contort in pleasure. “I can hear it when you touch yourself, and - fuck” his hips stuttered against yours as he shivered. “I could hear when you moaned my name. Had me cumming in my hand.”

“Clark” you whine, grabbing his broad shoulders as his hips pick up the pace.

“D-don’t do that, you’ll make me…” His movements speed up, chasing more and more pleasure.

“Clark, don’t stop. Please Clark, I’m so close.” The idea of him listening in to you, of touching himself just to your noises has your toes curling as you think of the effect you have on your tall handsome roommate.

“Oh gosh, don’t - fuck, one more time sunshine, come on let go” his hands desperately grab at your hip, holding you into the bed as he continues to grind against you. The pressure of his covered cock against your thin sleep shorts has you dizzy as you can feel the size of him, the idea of taking all of that has you tipping over the edge.

“Clark!” You moan as your orgasm hits, chanting his name like a prayer. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you can feel him shake above you.

“Yes yes, fuck y/n, just like that.” You can feel his orgasm hit him by the warmth that blossoms between your legs. The more he rides out the orgasm, the more you can feel the wetness. You look down and almost moan at the sight. You, his roommate, just made him cum in his pants, and goddam is it a lot. You look up at him with a lopsided smile, energy exhausted.

“You really like me moaning your name?” You tease “Clark?” An almost painful sound comes from his throat as he stands back up, looking down at the both of you.

“Don’t think we are finished here sunshine. I want the whole apartment building to know my name.”

[iamasaddie]

rumors, inches

Harry Castillo x f!Reader

summary: you should know better than to talk with your friend on the phone while you're at work. and you should know better than to discuss your handsome employer's dick. he might just come home early and hear you. warnings: PWP duh, reader is a part time cleaner so power imbalance due to Harry being the employer and reader the employee, reader is a student but her age is not specified, massive dick appreciation, handjob, not edited wc: 2,5k a/n: i was making gifs and heard that phrase so of course my mind went into the gutter. i might write a continuation at some point. i will overuse the fuck out of that gif btw. read on ao3

The smell of lavender detergent pleasantly filled your lungs as you finished wiping down the massive marble counter tops in your employer’s kitchen. This was the last thing for you to do today, your arms felt heavy after a few hours of scrubbing, mopping and sweeping. Still, the job was a gold mine for you, paying more than you’d dream of and giving you a schedule that allowed you to study.

Life in New York was not cheap and there were too many young people willing to do anything to stay, so finding a job turned to be a challenge. That’s why when the opportunity presented itself with your friend deciding to leave the Big Apple and giving you her job, you felt sad but also deeply grateful.

Your employer being the richest most sought after New York bachelor also didn’t hurt. He was also hot. The fact that your friend (now bored to death in rural Wyoming) never failed to bring up.

At first, you thought the girl had a crush on him, but when you finally confronted her she laughed so genuinely that you were forced to believe.

“What is it, then?”

Your friend's voice was distorted by your phone's speaker, even though you could still hear the familiar quirks that made Rose herself. Every time she felt anxious, she started chewing on something, whether it was apple slices or a corner of her pillowcase. And now you could hea a telling slightly muffled sound. “Ugh, I dunno, I guess it’s just because of that rumor… It just doesn’t leave my brain and I always think about it when you say you’re working.”

“Rumor? What rumor?”

“That the man’s hung like a fucking elephant.”

The rag you were using fell from your hand with a wet sound, creating a small puddle on the counter. You rarely ever managed to hear the latest gossip, most often they found you last, but you were still surprised that you hadn't heard anything of the sort in half a year of working for Mr. Castillo. It's not like you were hiding your place of work.

“What?” Your heart started racing and you wanted to open up the windows. The room began to feel stuffy.

“Yeah, there was this whole rumor going around that it was the reason he couldn’t keep a relationship. Like he was perfect but too much to handle, y’know?” 

Rose sounded distant, as if she was contemplating about what she had just said out loud. Something unpleasant curled in your chest. Harry Castillo was one of the nicest people you've ever met. Especially for a man who owned almost all of New York. You'd always admired the fact that he managed to preserve his humanity while increasing his wealth. He was kind, courteous, and always seemed to be in a good mood. You'd rarely seen him without a smile. The idea that someone would end a relationship with a man like him based on a physical fact—whatever that fact was—triggered an inexplicable anger in your chest.

“This is dumb.”

“I dunno, girl.” You could almost see Rose shrugging her shoulders, her mind already wandering to the next topic. “I saw him in sweatpants once and I think that shit’s true. The guy is definitely got a killer whale down there. Maybe you should try and Moby-Dick that dick.”

You furriwed your brows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, conquer that whale? For the team?”

“Moby-Dick was the whale.” For a woman so passionate about literature, Rose was surprisingly neglectful of the classics.

“Who cares, girl, I’m dying to know.” You wiped away the puddle that had spread onto the sparkling surface. A bunch of obsceneties were swarming in your head and you were ready to cuss your friend out for opening this Pandora's box. Now you were stuck trying to remember every time you'd seen the tall, smiling man. You always looked into his eyes, occasionally letting your gaze slide over his firm buttocks when he wasn't looking. Rose's voice took you out of it. “You’re silent. Tell me are you thinking about what‘s in them Tom Ford pants?”

“Rose, stop it!” You hissed at her, bringing the phone to your mouth. “How am I supposed to look him in the eye when I see him?”

“Don’t look him in the eye, dummy, look lower and then you can confirm or deny the rumors.”

“You’re so stupid.” You shook your head, ready to change the subject, but the thought of your employer's gossip-worthy huge dick penetrated your brain and stayed there. You thought you’d have to drink bleach to get rid of it. “Do you think it’s more than 8 inches?”

You really wished you hadn’t said that last phrase when you heard a cough behind your back and dropped the rag again. You hurried to end the phone call, your wet gloved fingers missing the button until you turned the phone off completely.

The man you’d been shamelessly discussing was standing in the doorway, barely able to contain a smile. The phone fell out of your hand and landed on the table with a loud thud. The sound brought you out of your terrified stupor and you hurried to fold and put the rag under the sink along with your gloves.

“Mr. Castillo, hello, sorry! You’re early! I’m already done here I’ll be on mu way out! Sorry again, bye!” You chattered rapidly, the words leaving your mouth faster than your brain could come up with excuses. Your chest burned with embarrassment and you did your best to avoid his brown eyes glinting with merriment. 

You scurried toward the exit, trying to circle around him and let the earth swallow you as soon as you close the door behind you, but his voice stopped you.

“Wait! You've left your phone, I recon you might need it,” you nodded. Unfortunately, you did need you phone and that's why you returned to the crime scene. You already thought that he would let you go and forget the embarrassing encounter, but you were wrong. “So, a rumor, huh?”

“Fuck,” You cussed under your breath. He'd heard even more than you thought, and if you'd been working instead of talking with your friend, you'd have noticed that he came home earlier. And then you wouldn't have to babble pathetic apologies to the man who gave you a nice place to work and a more than fair salary. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Castillo. It was so incredibly inappropriate of me to discuss this, I cannot tell you how ashamed I am -“

“It’s not the worst rumor for a man to have being spread about him.” You looked up at him and saw him shrugging his shoulders casually, as if he wasn't even thinking about being angry, didn't feel disgusted.

“Yeah, I guess… Still.” You felt the tongue of shame caressing you from the tips of your heels to the tops of your cheekbones.

“Don't worry,” he walked further into the kitchen, closing the distance between you, “honestly? It’s flattering. I’m just surprised, I guess.”

“Why?” 

“Well, a young gorgeous woman like you thinking about my dick so much she discusses it with her friend. Can’t say that happens to me every day.”

You were shocked that a man like Harry had insecurities. He was the dream of every sane woman, but here he was, baring his doubts in front of a pervert like yourself. It made you want to open up, at least a little bit, to tell him what you'd thought of him, what hundreds of other women of New York had thought of him.

“I don’t think you know how many people find you attractive and often wonder about… stuff.”

“Do you?” He tilted his head, trying to catch your gaze. And you let him, sinking into the depths of his eyes.

“What?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“Find me attractive and often wonder about stuff?”

“I..”

And then he asked the question that divided your life into before and after. Again, he asked it casually, as if he was inquiring about your coffee order. “You wanna know how many inches?”

And maybe the spirit of your still-living friend took over your body, but you could swear you'd seen your body from the outside. Your own soul watched your lips wrapping around a simple answer with a disturbingly exciting horror. “Yeah.”

“Then look.”

Your movements were slow, wary, as if you expected him to laugh or call you an idiot, but Harry didn't do any of that. The man waited patiently for you to come up on him. His large, broad body was leaning against the edge of the marble countertop that you were polishing moments ago. A breath stuck in your throat and your hand trembled, touching the visibly strained bulge of his cock, hidden behind his perfectly tailored Tom Ford trousers. 

It was hotter than you expected. The heat of his skin burned your palm through the material of his pants as you soaked in the courage inspired by playful gaze and squeezed his hard flesh. 

His breathing faltered and a grunt stuck in his throat.

“Come on,” he whispered into your face, fanning your lips with his warm breath, “there's no turning back.” 

It took you no more than thirty seconds to process his words, the man was right, you'd already felt his hard cock in your soft grip, it was unlikely that you could just forget it, might as well go all out.

Slowly, you ran your hand down and up, following the slight curve of his length. Your panties were stuck to your pussy, but your own discomfort didn't matter right now. On the contrary, it added the situation a special flavor. You kept your eyes on Harry's parted lips, and his tongue slid over the bottom one, lingering on the thin crack in the middle.

“Go on.”

You knew what he meant. You let go of his bulge, and both of you almost groaned in frustration, but soon enough you were trying to push your hand under the waistband of his pants. For the first time, he stopped you by grabbing your wrist.

“Let me do this.” 

You swallowed audibly and looked down at his big hands, his thick fingers surprisingly deftly handling the leather belt.

“Will you take it from here?”

You didn't return his smile, you simply forgot, instead falling to your knees in front of the man and reaching for his unbuttoned pants. You pulled them down, grabbing the soft-to-the-touch boxers along with them. When it appeared before you in all its glory, it took your breath away.

Big. Yeah, sure, he was enormously fucking big. Bigger than anything you'd seen during your somewhat active sex life. Bigger than anything you Googled with a vibrator in your hand. The most memorable cock of your life, without a doubt.

Eight inches, more or less, and a little thinner than your wrist. Damn, it was a fucking anaconda, how did that song go? If it weren't for the frightening size, you were sure you would have already pounced on the dark pink head that was already glistening with a drop of precum, making your mouth water.

His thick shaft was slightly curved to the right, and you noticed one fat vein running from the base to the tip. Your tongue twitched in your mouth, begging you to trace it, feel it pulse under your caress.

Well-groomed short dark hairs dusted around the base and you followed his thinning happy trail from the bottom up until it disappeared right under his belly button. 

Your knees were burning, but you resisted the urge to change your position. Instead, you touched his head with the tip of your index finger, smearing a drop of his stickiness and, as if hypnotized, brought it to your lips. It was salty and slightly bitter.

“Fuck,” Harry groaned, watching you suck your fingertip clean and then bringing it back to his cock. This time you traced the pulsing vein and his cock bobbed in front of your face, making you gasp.

“So pretty,” you whispered it more to yourself than to him, not even a compliment, just a fact.

“He likes you, too,” the man chuckled and when you raised a smile at him, he gave you a playful wink. “So, you think the rumors are true?”

“Just the part about you being fucking hung.” You admit, and he let out that deep, throaty laugh that made his belly jiggle and his cock sway harder in front of your face. You were mesmerized, and affected by this you licked your palm, making sure you generously lather it in your spit.

You wrapped your hand around his shaft, the tip of your thumb and your middle finger barely touching, that’s when his laugh became a moan. “And what are you doing now, hm?” Not an ounce of concern in his voice, encouragement, rather. Hope.

“Wanna see if it can grow any bigger.” You tease him. By the feel of his hardness you knew it was impossible. Still, you couldn’t not touch him now, it was almost painful.

Slowly, you moved your hand up and down, watching intently the way your palm slid along his shaft, making the man’s legs shake. You squeezed him experimentally, and he let out the prettiest moan that you had ever heard. With every movement up you swiped your thumb over his leaking head smearing more and more of his own arousal, mixing it with your spit as you pushed the man closer to the edge.

You didn't see his pearly white teeth biting the inside of his cheek until it bled in an attempt to hold back his orgasm. Harry dug his hands into the edge of the counter, his knuckles white with tension. Your little hand was jerking his cock with stunning confidence, and he thought that if he came now, then thick streams of his sperm would fall on your face in a pathetic parody of Pollock's paintings. That thought made him pull your hand away from his cock, no matter how painful it was.

“Sorry, sweetheart, ten more seconds and I’d ruin your makeup.”Harry was breathing heavily, and the surprise in your eyes was replaced by a devilish sneer. All your modesty and innocence have long since gone to hell, as if a demon pretending to be a virgin got tired of playing.

“I wouldn’t mind,” you said, and licked your lips like you wanted to taste him there already.

“But is that what you really want?” Your eyebrows shot up, your brain soaked in sexual desire feverishly tried to figure out the intention behind his words. Harry took pity, his palm cupped your chin forcing you to look away from his cock and into his eyes. “Or do you want to see if you can fit all that?” 

Your pussy pulsed at the prospect and you nodded, too eager, earning an affectionate chuckle from the man. You were anxious, true, but damn it if you wouldn’t work your hardest to feel all of it inside. 

"Well, then, what are you waiting for?"

------------------

PLEASE REBLOG AND LEAVE A COMMENT IF YOU LIKED THE STORY, IT MEANS THE WORLD AND INSPIRES ME TO WRITE MORE

[iamthatonefangirl]

help ~ nsfw bucky barnes

fatws bucky barnes x gf reader word count: 3.1k based on this ask from my loml, @starfly-nicole 🤍 disclaimer: dom, kind of mean Bucky, but then he's nice again! fully consensual smut. a/n: I mean, it was about time I changed my formatting, don't you agree...

~~~

you should have known better. 

calling him on repeat all day, recording explicit voicemails, sending revealing photos…

you should have known you’d only get yourself in trouble. 

when you hear the front door slam shut, you’re already there, on him in an instant. 

your hands immediately find their way to his shoulders, and your eyes roam over the broad expanse of his chest. your fingers hold on so tightly, digging into him through the thick leather jacket he’s wearing. you can feel the flesh of his skin giving way under one hand, hard vibranium under the other. 

“I missed you, baby, I need you,” you tell him, moving your hands to his chest and skimming underneath his jacket with the intent of discarding it, of watching the reveal of his thick arms underneath. the view always warms your whole body; you’re expecting the same vision to appear before you now, for that lightheaded sensation to run through your whole body as it happens. 

except next thing you know, his vibranium fingers are around your neck, finding your throat and holding you firmly, just enough to grab your attention.

the abrupt action makes you freeze in place, and you still the movement of your hands. you finally direct your eyeline up to meet his. 

you haven’t even made eye contact with him since he set foot inside the door, until now. 

his gaze is pointed, glaring down at you with an intensity you rarely see–typically only in those moments when he’s losing himself in you, fucking you like it is his life’s mission to make you see stars. 

his breath is calm, and his posture fixed. his grip on your neck doesn’t relent even as he feels you gulp under his touch. 

“what do you think you’re doing?” he questions, so calmly that it scares you. you can’t help the way your thighs press together at his inquiry. 

you’ve been waiting all day for him to come home, trying and failing to achieve that whole body satisfaction you get from him fucking you, when he’s the one to give you the release you crave. you need him to give it to you, and you need it now.

“I need you,” you repeat, your voice nothing more than a pleading whimper as you stand there, entirely at his mercy. your whole body feels like a live wire, but you force yourself to stay still, to not disobey him. to not continue jumping his bones as you’d begun to the second he walked in the door. 

“I know,” he says mockingly, his expression not once betraying the neutrality plastered on his face. “you’ve been reminding me of it all goddamn day.” 

yes. you have been. 

and you should really know better than to push his buttons right now. under this facade of ignorance he’s portraying right now, you know he’s pissed. 

but on top of that, you know he’s just as amped as you are. you can’t stop yourself from pushing. 

“didn’t appreciate my pictures?” you ask him, keeping your tone innocent. his hand squeezes just a fraction tighter around your neck, the only sign of his true feelings seeping through his false demeanor. 

your heart races faster when you feel the change, and you subconsciously lean further into his touch. 

“I did, babydoll,” he continues with that condescending tone that always riles you up, “but you know better than to bother me when I’m working.” 

you do. 

“I just needed you so bad, Bucky,” you plead with him, pulling both of your hands from his shoulders and gently wrapping them around his wrist where he holds your throat. 

“no. no more of that,” he says casually. but you see the way his lip twitches as he says it, another slip of his simmering energy breaking through. “I already know what you think you need. you haven’t let me forget it once today.” 

your eyes almost roll back in your head, your jaw stalling. his grip tightens, ever so slightly, for a second time. 

he looks over your face as though analyzing, evaluating. considering what he plans on doing with you.

“you’ve been so fuckin’ needy for your daddy that you’ve forgotten how to act.” 

he pauses. 

you don’t dare let out the moan that’s threatening to fall from your lips.

“I guess I’ll have to remind you.”

if he wasn’t holding you up, you’re sure your whole body would crumble, your knees giving out on you as you fell to a puddle on the floor. 

his metal fingers fall away from your throat and he takes a step forward, head tilting ever so slightly, not breaking eye contact with you as he gets closer. the action is so imposing, and you’re once again reminded of how big he is. how he towers over you without even trying.

the thought derails into a million others in your head, about how strong he is, how he could break you without even trying…

he might, based on the look in his eyes right now. 

he finally looks away from you, harshly grabbing at the backs of your thighs and picking you up off the ground. as you wrap your legs around him, you’re tempted to grind against him, to do anything to relieve the insane ache between your legs. 

you refrain from doing so out of fear you’ll find yourself in a lot worse predicament than you’re in now. 

as he walks you down the hall and to the bed, you hear him begin to mumble under his breath, yet intentionally loud enough for you to hear. 

“I fuck you every morning and night and it’s still not enough for you… so greedy…” he tuts.

as you approach the bedroom, he kicks the door open just to slam it shut behind you, the noise echoing through the room. it heightens every one of your senses, already on high alert for each of his touches. 

“you wanna beg for it so badly? I’ll give you a reason to beg,” he mumbles in your ear as he sits on the edge of the bed, gently gripping your arms and pulling you to stand in front of him.

you watch his every motion as he reaches for the hem of your shorts, slipping his fingers underneath the fabric and pulling them from your hips until they fall to the floor.

“can’t believe you even call those things clothes. they don’t even cover your ass, baby,” he says, not yet bothering to look up at your face as he grabs your waist and begins to reposition you once more. 

he moves you until you’re standing awkwardly over his thigh, each of your legs on either side of his leg. his gaze, still narrowed as before, reaches your eyes again. 

“sit down,” he orders you. 

you slowly bring your hands to his shoulders as you begin sit yourself down on his thigh as instructed. except he’s always one step ahead of you, unhappy how slowly you’re moving, proceeding to harshly pull you down, forcing you to seat yourself on him. 

a whine escapes your lips as he moves you. 

“thought about putting you over my knee, but where’s the fun in that?” he begins to mock, lightly slapping your ass as he says it, carefully observing the way you squirm with each smack. “you’ve been dying for me to make you come, but I think I’d rather make you work for it instead. you need to earn it.”

his hands fall away from your ass, trailing over your hips as a last taunt while you mourn the loss of his touch. 

“go on, sweetie. you want it so bad, do it yourself,” he goads, pressing his leg upwards against you for just a moment as encouragement. 

it feels like heaven, but this isn’t what you wanted. it’s not enough, it’s not–

“Bucky,” you begin to complain, but he’s not having it.

“no. I told you no more of that,” he says flatly, forcefully. “you know what to do. you know what to call me.”

you want to rebel, to yell at him to just fuck you stupid. 

“daddy, please,” you whine out, lolling your head back in frustration as you say it, one last plea. 

“let’s go,” he responds, sounding bored in his exasperation with your disobedience.

it shouldn’t turn you on. 

it does. 

“fuck,” you mumble as your hands dig into his shoulders, clad in leather. he’s still wearing his black jeans, and he purposefully didn’t take off your panties when he discarded your shorts. 

you’ve been trying to get yourself off all day, you want to remind him. you need him to do it, you want to urge him. 

whatever you say to him, any way you try to convince him, is going to be a fruitless effort. it's proven to have been thus far. 

you finally decide to do as you’re told, beginning to move your hips against him, grinding down on the hard muscle of his thigh. the fabric between the two of you shifts, just barely enough to rub against your clit. 

it’s not enough. 

“damnit, would you–” you begin, but you’re quickly silenced by two flesh fingers being pushed into your mouth. 

“I shouldn’t even let you come,” he hisses, “thought you’d be grateful I’m giving you anything at all. you want me to leave you here all by yourself? tie you up so you’re whining and desperate for me all night?” 

no, no, that’s not what you want. 

you shake your head as best you can while eagerly sucking his fingers into your mouth to appease him. 

“try again,” he says, withdrawing them from your mouth for just a moment and gripping your jaw. 

you keep your mouth shut this time, moving your hips against his thigh more fervently. 

“that’s what I thought,” he says, and then he’s shoving his fingers back down your throat. 

you work diligently to move against him, rutting yourself on his thigh as you chase an orgasm you’ve failed to find all day. your nails dig into the leather under your hands as you cling to him for dear life, eyes cinching shut as you try to focus. 

“finally shut you up, didn’t I?” he comments. “yeah. I like you better this way.” 

you whine around his fingers buried in your mouth, roughly pressing against your tongue as yet another show of his power over you. you’re drooling by this point, dripping down your chin and all over him, you’re sure. 

“that’s right, keep going,” he says, poking further down the back of your throat for just a second, enough to make tears spring from your eyes. he’s not paying attention, too busy staring down at where your hips begin to move slower as you tire yourself out.

“poor thing really does need my help,” he mocks, and his other hand comes to your lower back, helping to ease you back and forth. “come on. give me at least one, babydoll.”

at least one? how much longer does he think you can keep doing this? 

your moans grow more desperate as you bear down and try to give him what he wants, trying to make yourself come for him. 

but you don’t have the strength to keep going. 

your tears fall faster as the pleasure evades you, and he pulls his fingers free of your mouth. he can sense your exhaustion and he pulls a complete one-eighty on you, finally deciding to have mercy on you. 

“did so good, sweetheart,” he tells you sweetly, stilling your hips against him. “you really do need daddy’s help, don’t you?” 

you nod, and he picks you up from his lap, making you cry out at the sudden loss of contact between your thighs.

“you’re okay,” he tells you, laying you on the bed and crawling over you, pressing his knee back in its place against you. your hands come to his shoulders once more, gently tugging at the leather.

“want me to take my jacket off, hmm?” he asks you, to which you immediately respond with a soft “please?” 

he leans back, and you’re able to watch as he reveals his arms to you, finally. this might be one of your favorite things: watching his skin and vibranium be exposed to you, your eyes catching on that beautiful vein that trails all the way up his forearm to high on his bicep. 

“you like that?” he asks with a smile on his face, leaning back down and pressing his lips to yours. he knows you do, how much you love his arms. you relax as he kisses you, reaching to trail your thumb up the vein where it pops from underneath his skin. 

his knee gently moves between your legs, providing you with a delicious pleasure you couldn’t find yourself. 

“there you go,” he whispers against your lips when you begin to whine again. “just let it happen, sweetheart.” 

you turn into a moaning, squirming mess underneath him, all from nothing but the pressure of his knee up against your cunt. the fabric of your underwear finally rubs up against your clit, the way you tried but couldn’t manage to find before. 

“think you can come like this?” he whispers to you.“I think you can.”

you let out an incomprehensible whine in response.

“use your words,” he instructs you. 

“yes, daddy,” you say, finally on the precipice of letting go. 

he kisses you once more, his hands holding onto your hips as he guides you with each and every one of his motions. you let yourself fully relax into the bed, finally getting exactly what you wanted: his help. 

when your body begins to let go, you pull back from his kiss to sharply inhale. it’s a soft, gentle release of only a fraction of the pent-up energy that’s been broiling under your skin all day. 

it’s not nearly enough to satisfy you. 

“Bucky,” you whisper, beginning to paw at his chest, nails catching on the fabric of his t-shirt.

“I know, I know,” he says, shushing you. “c’mon, bet your pussy is all nice and wet for me now, though, isn’t she? hmm?” 

as he speaks, he pulls away from you just enough to hook his fingers inside the fabric of your underwear. he pushes them down your thighs, past your knees, until they’re discarded somewhere on the ground and immediately forgotten.

he keeps his eyes on your face as he brings his flesh hand between your legs, tracing up from where you’re leaking for him all the way to your clit, ever so slowly. it drives you absolutely mad, wishing he’d unbuckle his belt and stretch you out on his cock the way you’ve been craving for hours. 

your eyes are glassy, but he holds eye contact with you as he brings his hand up to his mouth, sucking the taste of you from his finger.

“fuck, you’re so good,” he says breathily, in disbelief of how perfect you are. he diverts his gaze and uses two fingers this time, dipping inside you so quickly you barely even register it before he’s licking them clean again. 

“Bucky, daddy, please? please, fuck me, please…” you beg of him, beginning to squirm underneath him.

he doesn’t have it in him to tease you anymore. 

if he’s honest, every naughty voicemail you left, every scandalous picture you sent him…

he’s been dying to come home and give you the help you’ve been begging for. 

“yeah, okay, I’ve got you,” he assures you as he races to unbuckle his belt, your own impatient hands reaching to yank at the button and zipper of his jeans. 

you’re only half aware of what you’re doing, your mind so distracted with wanting to feel him. you feel hazy, in and out of it as you await the sensation of him spreading your thighs apart, fitting himself between them, lining himself up with your dripping hole…

you’re jolted back into reality when you feel him press in, making you cry out his name repetitively as he slowly sheathes himself inside you. 

“feels so good,” you tell him, your voice breathy and high-pitched. 

this is the moment you’ve been thinking of, waiting for since he left your bed this morning. 

his lips find your neck, sucking soft bruises into your skin as he begins to fuck you open. every thrust hits so deep inside you and pushes another moan of his name from your throat. your legs wrap themselves around the back of his thighs, using what little strength you have left to meet his thrusts. 

“fuck, baby, you don’t even know what you do to me,” he tells you. his teeth nip softly at your ear, and you can hear each and every one of his breaths as they come. you hear the tiny whimpers he lets out when he’s like this, buried inside you. he’s focused, working diligently to bring you both to the high you’re chasing. 

as though on cue, his fingers find your clit, overly sensitive and begging for him to give you the explosive orgasm you have yet to reach. 

“want you to come with me,” he mumbles to you quietly, and you’re left wondering where the demanding version of him from earlier went. 

“yeah, yes,” is all you can manage, bringing both your hands to the back of his head and threading through his hair. you bring his face to yours, touching your foreheads together and nodding against him. “‘m ready.”

his vibranium hand finds your hip as a means of grounding himself, simultaneously gritting his teeth. his thrusts begin to feel sloppy and less coordinated as he gets closer to the edge. 

“give it to me,” he says, and his voice breaks as he succumbs to his own release.

your whole body tightens up for only a matter of seconds before you come with one last cry of his name, your muscles going lax when you feel the drop finally hit. 

you’re both panting, the both of you a sweaty mess against each other. he collapses on top of you, and as you count your breaths, you laugh a little to yourself at the realization that you’re both still half-clothed. 

after a few minutes, his weight becomes too much for you to bear. when you tell him as much, he simply rolls onto his back, taking you with him and resting you on his chest. 

“I really needed that,” is all you say to him, a slight smirk on your face. 

“don’t I know it,” he laughs back, and you can’t help but giggle into the crook of his neck. 

“maybe I’ll send you more pictures next time. with even less clothes on,” you taunt him. 

“yeah, and I’ll follow through on my promise of smacking your ass red.” 

“I like the sound of that.” 

~~~

✦ masterlist ~ join my tag list ✦

[isoobie]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ TIMID , psh

LIBRARY─── classmate!sunghoon & fem!rea ✶ fluff, skinship, kissing ᵕ ᵕ 6OO 。

“truth or dare?”, jake smirks, kicking sunghoon’s chair just enough to make him lose focus.

sunghoon had barely registered the question, it was nine in the morning and his gaze was fixed on you, again. the way the sun hit your face just right as you were busy taking notes pulled at his heartstrings in a way he’d never admit out loud.

“um … dare,” sunghoon says absentmindedly, before realising what he’d just agreed too.

the corners of jake’s mouth curled up in excitement as he heard what his friend said and before sunghoon could argue with him, jake had already made his mind, “i dare you to kiss yn, now.”

“you want me to, what?”, the poor boy was startled, how could he possibly do that?

“you heard me,” jake said, far too casually. “go kiss her.”

his last three words had turned sunghoon’s pale complexion into the colour of a peach as he feels his mouth go dry and his hands turn sweaty.

well, it wasn’t like this was sunghoon’s first time interacting with you. he had asked you for math notes, passed the ball to you in pe and even voted for you to be part of the student council team.

but this time sunghoon had no lame excuse, it was just him, this stupid dare and jake watching over him.

“c’mon hurry up”, he nudged sunghoon just enough for him to stumble in front of you.

sunghoon thinks his heart is going to explode — literally. he can hear his heart pounding, faster by the second and the view of your pretty face isn’t helping him either.

“please forgive me in advance, it was a dare,” unknowingly, the words spilled from his mouth and before you could react his lips melted into yours in the softest peck ever.

sunghoon’s mind blanks, he can’t believe what he just did. but when he lets go he wishes he never did because his lips on yours might have been the best thing he’s experienced.

all of a sudden, sunghoon feels the similar sensation again, your hands wrapped around his neck and this time you’re kissing him back harder.

he can hear jake’s gasp in the background and the shocked reactions from his classmates but he doesn’t care. he puts a hand on your jaw, holding you gently like a porcelain doll. sunghoon kisses you deep and full of warmth, engulfing you so you can never leave him.

he moans when you pull away, the absence of your lips drives him crazy but slowly moves back, embarrassed of what he has just done.

“w-what did i jus—”, he panics, thinking about the worst situations that could happen until he feels a hand over his.

“sunghoon, it’s okay,” you let a out chuckle, thinking about how cute he is when he’s shy.

your words calm him down but the pounding of his heart doesn’t stop, he wonders how someone could be as perfect as you.

“hoon, let’s continue this next time,” the nickname gets sunghoon out from his trance, and he does a double take hoping he heard you right.

“next time? there’s gonna be a next time? are you sur—” he can’t believe his ears.

“meet me after this class, don’t forget,” you give him a smile, trying to hold in your laughter at his flustered look.

unconsciously, sunghoon nods at your request and turns back to see jake’s mouth agape, just as stunned at him.

“no way you just bagged your crush,” jake nudges sunghoon’s shoulder, teasing him, “so you guys gonna go on a date or something?”

“trust me jake, it’s something even better.”

ㅋㅋ for my beloved meowchi

[loverofoldsadlosers]

STRUTTER!

summary: against joel’s best intentions, he decides that yeah; he’ll have to be the one to teach you a thing or two.

(smut—the whole shabang, corruption kink?, daddy is always a guarantee, morally righteous joel until he isn’t!) a/n: i actually hate writing smut lol i love every bit before it but this idea was gnawing at me so i had to get it out. she’s a long one. hope you enjoy! my titles are always songs and i highly recommend listening along:)

Joel didn’t want to take you home.

He had a rule; one strictly enforced and well maintained far into his fifties. Of course, that didn’t mean he couldn’t talk to girls your age. Not that there were many seeking him out — or any he was even interested in, thinking them too young and naive — but he was allowed to talk, if need be. And you talked a lot. Joel noticed when you entered the dive bar that night. You were college-aged, he assumed — too young for him — but beautiful, sure. With a friend dressed in a similar too-short-skirt-get-up with a boyfriend groping at her behind. College kids. He payed you no further thought as he drank his beer clean to the bottom of the glass, instead watching the band play tunes he was happily familiar with until he was interested by a screech. The empty stool beside him scraping across the floor; you sitting beside him. You smiled at him in polite acknowledgment and he hummed. A polite college kid. He forgets you’re even there — too enthralled in his drink and the band and the peace before he hears a small cough. You. You’re smiling at him again before asking, “hi, what’s your name?” He replies in a curt ‘Joel.’ Short. Polite. Uninterested. You tell him your name and he seems unbothered. But then you continue. “So. What are you doing sat all by yourself, Joel?” And then, with a sigh and shake of his head, Joel was forced to reconsider your respectful stature and study the long expanse of your legs and lousy attempt of cleavage — not demure or classy at all, and he had no a idea why a girl your age you would be trying to chat up the oldest man at the bar. You could’ve been able to play it off as making friendly conversation if not for the grin splayed on your tilted face, held by your hand rested below your chin. You’re peering up at Joel with a look he can only describe as trouble. Of course a girl your age couldn’t hide her emotions well. But he could. “Lookin’ for some peace and quiet.” You snort. “At Smokey’s dive bar? On live-music-special-Saturday?” Joel nods and turns away from you, instead facing back toward the bustle. “C’mon. You aren’t bored?” You speak to him again and he only spares you a quick glance before staring back out toward the performance. “Go back to your friends, kid.” He can see your smile widen in his peripheral and he hates to give in to your cheek, but you were right; he was bored. “Can’t. It’s kind of hard to ‘hang out’ with people only interested in grinding on eachother all night, y’know.” “Ain’t that so. Well. That’s when you’re supposed to take your cue to find someone else to…dance with, or whatever you call it. Easy out.” Look at him, handing free advice to a young girl, and he almost feels accomplished with just that; slightly hoping you’ll take it and go and dance with a frat boy that is surely hiding within the sea of bouncing heads. But then, of course, knee high boots and flirty smile you — he should’ve known better when the toe of your shoe began to graze his — says “and you don’t think I’m doing that already?”

Trouble. He was right, you are trouble. Hah, he laughs at your gall. “I’m old enough to be your father, sweetheart. I ain’t gonna be dancin’ with you.” Ridiculous. You’re ridiculous. He scoffs into his drink. “You’re trying to tell me you’re only here for a bad cover band and cheap beer?” And now you’re the one laughing, inching closer than before and he can smell lingers of your perfume. Sweet, sugary, syrupy, like sticky caramel and if he had smelt it on you anywhere else, he would’ve thought you to be the same; sweet. “I’m sure as hell not here for the same reason you are, that’s for sure.” “And what do you think that is?” He meets you in the middle. Leaning on the wooden bar and being the one to move even closer to your face. He watches your sultry expression falter for a second so quick he almost missed it; your eyes widening when he plays you at your own game. If he knew any better, he might think you intimidated. “Well, you ain’t old enough to know half of these songs. And you ain’t exactly dressed like you’re here just to network, so a man can put two and two together, kid.” “Ouch.” But you bite on the straw of your drink with a sly smirk still in tow and Joel finds you so irritatingly cheeky. Talking to him like this, flirting with him like this. Where is your father? “So not only are you calling me a slut, but you’re saying I have bad music taste? Thanks a lot.” “Hey, I didn’t say anythin’. That’s all you.” You have the nerve to bridge the already little gap between you and Joel, positioning yourself to whisper in his ear and he should have half the mind to pull away, but he doesn’t. He can feel the graze of your lips when you whisper,

“Well, neither are true.” You murmur it out in a punch like it’s a venomous secret. Like your admission is something dirty, something so volatile that even the hedonistic crowd behind you would frown. “So you regularly listen to,” he hears the rumble of the band playing a song he had on his walkman when he was around your age “Kiss?Okay. Cool.”

Your previous unbothered complexion now starts to flush in embarrassment and you move back to an appropriate distance between you and the grown adult across from you. “No. I mean yes, but no. No, i’m trying to say—“ “That you ain’t no slut?” You nod and he smirks. He wants to say prove it, he knows what the youth do in college (he was worse in his day) but you’ve turned so suddenly meek and quiet that it just spurs him further. “Well that’s nice sweetheart. Real nice.” You aren’t stupid. He’s being plainly sarcastic and you want to wipe that arrogant smirk off his face. “No, I mean it Joel.” “Oh, so you mean it?” His smirk twists deeper. But then you say something he didn’t expect from you. “Yeah, I mean it. I’m a virgin.” He’s not sure if you’re playing at some weird college-girl fantasy he thinks you think he has, or if the new constant of your jolting leg is a tell that you’re revealing a coaxed truth that came from you actually taking offense at his jeer. His brow lifts all the same. “That’s…well, okay. Good for you.” “I’ve only ever, um— I’ve only ever kissed before, too.”

Now he finds that hard to believe. You appeared so promiscuous. But now that he’s really looking at you; scrutinizing your wide-eyed gaze, your neatly manicured nails and pretty pout, he supposes maybe he was wrong about you. Examining you, he’s not really sure you’re even old enough to be in this bar. He doesn’t know how to reply anymore because this isn’t the same harmless flirting like before, it’s something…else. “You don’t gotta…you don’t gotta tell me more, kid, I believe you.” “Joel you’re not— you’re not understanding, okay?” “Enlighten me. What’s there to understand?” You look frozen. So opposite to the fox who approached him like a predator on the prowl, a girl so confident and proud in your presence. Now, he thinks you resemble something closer to a baby fawn; frozen in headlights and staring at him so clearly unsure of yourself or what your move is here. He’s finally seeing through you, past that big girl facade you greeted him with and he’s thrilled. “I want you to…” You start but nervously pause, biting at the flesh inside your cheek. “I wanna…you know.”

Oh he knows what you want. He suspected it when you first sat beside him, but now he knows what exactly you’re seeking from him. “You wanna what? You look flustered. You’re fidgeting with your hair and just blinking at him, silently. And he likes it. He likes that you’re nervous— good, you should be. Shit, he needs to be teaching you a lesson. What if you had come up to any other degenerate geriatric man? What if you had encountered Joel’s own delinquent brother? There’s no telling what they’d do to you and now Joel’s getting furious. So irritatingly agitated at you for your stupid naivety like all girls your age, and this is why he doesn’t like to go younger. The father in him is worrying that it’s your father’s fault — maybe it’s the reason you’re seeking male validation from a man like him, and he hopes he did a good enough job with his own daughters that they’ll never carry that same burden he pities you for. It’s sad, really. Now he’s just feeling sad for you. And angry for you. And at you.

Well what would you know, damn, maybe even a little paternal for you. And if you’re really lucky, maybe Joel will give that satisfaction to you.

Maybe. He hasn’t decided yet. You’re still staring at him wordlessly with your mouth parted like you’re trying to think of what to say, starting to form a word but instead choosing just to gape at him. “I think it’s time you go home, kid. I ain’t giving you what you want. It ain’t right, you hear me?” He can’t help but put on the same stern voice he uses when he lectures his own children or the men working for him (children in their own right) and you go still. “You got a ride home?” You nod. “Now don’t go tellin’ me it’s those idiots over there.” You don’t reply and he sighs. “C’mon. Be smarter than that. They’re halfway from blacked out. What’dya supposed to do now, smart girl?” He’s shaking his head and standing up off of the bar stool with a low groan, mumbling swears as he fishes his wallet out of his jean pocket. He takes out a size-able guess of both your totals. “I’ll give you a fuckin’ ride. C’mon. Let’s go.” He knows you’re scared at his annoyance, his gruff tone and constant shaking of his head, but he’s glad. Again, you should be. He’s selfishly hoping you’ll say yes to his offer so he can lecture you even more. Stranger danger and all that. If your old man won’t, he will. He’s not scared to be a surrogate.

You’re still just looking at him with this shocked expression on your face and he could laugh at how much your demeanor has changed. You were way out of your league here and now you know it, this is what you get for trying to act grown when you’re just the naive little girl he saw enter the bar. “Um…” “I ain’t waitin’ all day.”

You don’t hesitate. You get up and follow him out the bar. He’s hoping the cold air from outside the disgusting heat of the room will shaken you up. Make you reckon with the fact that you’re about to get into a strangers car all by your own stupid mission. He unlocks the passenger seat of his truck for you to get in. “Nice truck,” you say, and it’s the first normal thing you’ve said to him all night. You sound so young, with your voice shaking a bit, and maybe you truly are as sweet as the sugary scent of you that mixes with the ash-littered smell of his car.

“Thanks. Buckle your seatbelt.” The ignition starts and now he’s driving. You haven’t even told him where you live yet. Are you that naive? “You get in the car of every old man who offers you a ride?” “No.” “Well you’re in my car. What’s that about? You better not be accepting any more rides from strangers, you hear me?” He glances over at you and meets your gaze in the middle; you’re already watching him with an expression he can’t quite discern. “What were you thinkin’ tonight, huh? No — actually, you weren’t thinkin’ at all, were you? Tryna sleep with a man old enough to be your father…fuckin’ hell.” He hears you gulp. “I just…I just wanna do it already. Get it over with. Everyone else in college has.” So childish. Of course you’re falling victim to inadvertent peer pressure. He should be taking you over his knee. He sighs low and disappointed. “Get it over with? If you’re tryna ‘get it over with’ you go find a nice little frat boy your age. Not a grown man, damn it.” “But I don’t want some frat boy! I wanted, someone…you know.” He peers over at you again with his eyebrow raised. “Someone…experienced. Like you.” You’re looking at him with a brazened look of lust. That is what he couldn’t read on your face. It’s not outward like your previous persona, it’s a timid, reserved doe-eyed ogle that in any other circumstance he wouldn’t have picked up. “You’ve gotta be shittin’ me. You’re still tryin’ this bullshit? I—“ You’ve rendered him speechless. He doesn’t have a clue on what to do with you. On how to get it through to you that this is wrong. He swears lowly to himself again. “You are way out of line here kid. Where’dya live. I’m takin’ you straight home.” He’s so close to raising his voice at you. You’re testing his patience now. “No, Joel, listen, can we just maybe…please?” Please?

You say it so quietly and reserved that it nearly causes him to fucking crash. Please?

He’s infuriatingly sober and yet he can feel himself start to think illogically. He’s thinking about taking you home. He’s beginning to realize that maybe he’s going to have to scare you a bit. Really show you how out of your depths you are. Give you the chance to chicken-out. Please? Or if it comes to it, if it really has to come to it, maybe he has to be the one to take initiative. Teach you what you’re at this point begging him for, to ensure that you will never, ever, have to ask some other stranger again. For your safety. He turns the car around. He doesn’t say a word, and he swears he can hear your heart beating. Make out the dull thump of it in the silence. “Where are we going?” He lets you figure it out yourself, pulling into the drive of his suburban home five minutes later and turning off the ignition of his truck. “Let’s go.” You follow him right inside without even hesitating and he can’t tell if he wants to laugh or shout at you. Inside, Joel’s home is exactly what you expected from him. Homely. Typical suburbia interior. There’s a fire place and picture frames of two girls, only a few years younger than you, plastered on every wall of the house — his daughters, you presume — and you’re slightly jealous. Jealous of the respect he must have for them. The care he must have for them. Enviously wishing it was you in those photos, making Joel proud, standing in the family gallery. You don’t even know him. When Joel tells you to ‘take a seat’ you can feel your heart leap into your throat. You’re nervous, of course. You don’t know what he’s deciding to do with you and truly, aside from the nerves, you’re excited. You’re beginning to think he’ll just lecture you. Give you a practiced speech you’re sure his own daughters have received and you don’t know what to do with the rush it sends down your spine. You sit on his leather couch, sinking into it as you watch him light a cigarette. He drags a kitchen chair from the dining table, lifting it until it’s positioned in front of you. He sits down, right across from you, leaning back and spreading his legs with a stoic expression. He doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you. Resting his arm on the back off the chair. Waiting. You aren’t sure what you’re supposed to do here. You wait a little longer for him to do…anything, but he just takes a slow drag of his cigarette, making direct eye contact with you as he blows the smoke right into your face. “Well?” He’s got you cornered now. You’re in his house, the balls in your court, but he knows you haven’t figured that out quite yet. Still waiting on him to make a move that he never plans on making. You shrink into the seat, picking at the fabric of your skirt nervously. “Are we gonna…?” He shrugs. Taking another drag of his cigarette. “You’re a big girl. You tell me.” If you want to play grown ups with Joel, you’re going to have to do it yourself.

He thinks he watches the moment it clicks for you. You blink once, twice, three times, and he watches your throat bop again in a gulp. And then, he can’t fucking believe it, but you slowly begin to move off the couch, sinking both your knees onto the carpet below you, kneeling in front of him. He chokes on the smoke he’s inhaling. “Well, shit.” You’ve got gall, he’ll give you that. He can visibly see your hands shaking on your lap as you peer up at him, tucking your bottom lip behind your teeth. If Tommy could see him now. Having a girl probably more than thirty years his junior — fuck — on her knees in front of him. Unsure of what to do because she’s never even done this before. So innocent. Pure. What better is he than Tommy? He’s got a company. He’s a father. Yet he’s here defiling you. Another man’s daughter. Taking this from you and no, he isn’t any better than Tommy at all. In this moment? Maybe even worse. ‘I’ve only ever kissed.’ “What are you doin’?” “I don’t…I don’t know. I just—“ His pinches the bridge of his nose with a sharp exhale, closing his eyes briefly before cupping his mouth and jaw with a shake of his head. He shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t be here. You’re a fucking baby. So young, so disgustingly trusting, chaste yet so dirty. He can’t believe that he’s about to tell you to,

“Lay down on the couch.” “What?” “Lay down.” He sighs. “C’mon.” His eyes are still closed like he can’t even watch what’s about to happen. When he opens them, you’re still on your knees. “What did I say?”

“No, Joel, I wanna—“

“That ain’t happening.” “I wanna learn. Please. I don’t need you to—“ You sound petulant. Almost whining at him and he pinches the bridge of his nose again, this time harder, with his eyes shut tightly like it’ll snap him out of allowing this to continue. “If we do this, you gotta promise me you ain’t gonna be askin’ no more fuckin’ strangers for shit like this. Okay? I’ll…fuck, I’ll teach ‘ya a thing or two, but you’ve gotta behave now. Okay?” You nod slowly, and he can tell it’s hit you that this is happening. “Okay, okay I swear Joel—” “Good. Unbuckle my belt, then.” It’s only now that you realize he’s hard. Really hard. Like so visible through his jeans you’re sure you can make out exactly where…everything is. You’re staring so blatantly at it and you don’t even know it but Joel’s been hard since your little ‘please?’ He laughs at you. “What? You ain’t ever even see a hard on before?” You shake your head ‘no’ and he smirks. “Forgot you’ve only ever kissed before, shit. No wonder you’re so fuckin’ desperate. C’mon. You know how to unbuckle a belt, big girl?”

“Yes, Joel, I know how to unbuckle a fucking belt.” You scoff at him and move your trembling fingers toward his leather belt. He’s about to tell you off for your potty mouth, teach you a lesson in respect, but instead watches as you fumble with the notch of his belt with a huff. Your hands are so clammy and shaking so aggressively that you can’t even do it. He laughs again.

“Y’sure about that?” “Yes! I’m— fuck, just wait, let me—” he shoves your hands away, holding both your wrists in one hand as he unbuckles his belt with the other in one clean move. “I gotta do everythin’ around here?” He tuts and his hand moves toward the zipper of his ratted jeans and your breath hitches. “Thought I was supposed to be teachin’ you, how am I meant to do that when you can’t even unbuckle a belt, sweetheart?” He sighs and shakes his head like he always does, and his condescending attitude would get to you if he wasn’t so intoxicatingly handsome. Greying hair, broad shoulders, so much bigger than you and stronger than you and older than you; you feel it in the tight grip he has on your wrists, you know if he wanted to he could snap both your wrists in his one palm, and you’re reminded all over again that he’s old. He’s got children. Close to your age. He’s wrinkled with arms more muscular than any other boy you’ve ever seen on your college campus, built from years of labor. He pulls both his jeans and boxers down in one movement. You gasp. “So. This is male genetalia, meant for repr—” He’s smirking at the pure look of disbelief on your face and he chuckles when your brows furrow in an annoyed pout. “Shut up Joel!” “Well? What’dya think? You gulp. “You’re…you’re really um…” “Big?” He says it through that same cocky smirk he’s developed. You nod. He’s not just big, he’s long — thick, graying even down there, and you feel clueless on what to do next. “He ain’t gonna bite. You can touch him.” You hate that he’s called his… parts him, but you’re too focused to say anything about it. He thinks maybe you’ll freak out. Smarten up. Wondering if the brazen size of him will send you spiraling to your senses. Instead, your quivering hand reaches out toward his solid heft. You give him one nervous tug and he groans. You stop. “Keep goin’.” You do it again, this time a bit more slowly, and he cups his large hand over yours, gripping your hold over him and squeezing, tugging down harder than you would’ve yourself and you gape at him. You don’t know anything. “I ain’t fragile. You can use a bit of your muscle, baby.” His gruff laugh morphs into a short groan when your thumb nervously grazes the tip of him as he moves your hand back down. “It look how you expect it to look?” “Yeah you’re just really…” you can’t even think straight because you’re so focused on watching your hands move together. Watching as the tip of him leaks a pearly white and notice how your hand has to stretch around him, your fingers not even close to closing around the thick of him. “Big.” You squeak and he breaths out half a laugh and half a hiss. “Wait, Joel, I wanna…” You shake your hand out his tight grip and hold him yourself now. Scooting closer and gently kissing the pink tip of him.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He groans above you and you look up, batting your eyes and his hips twitch towards you. “Yeah, yeah, okay, you can, shit, you can try that, honey.” Look at you, playing adult so fast. You do it again and he hisses. This time, you use your tongue. Running it from the base of him all the way to the tip just to gauge how he tastes and he groans deeper than you’ve heard before. “Am I doing okay?” He peers down at you through hooded eyes and grabs a tight fist of your hair. “Yeah, yes, you are sweetheart. You’re a—” you try take him deeper into your mouth. Opening your jaw wider to try and make it fit. “Fuck, yeah, you’re bein’ a good girl for me.”

Joel is trying to keep his cool composure, but he’s not sure how that’s possible when you’re mouthing at him like that. So innocent and curious. You sometimes knick him with your canines but he doesn’t even mind it, he’s just staring at how you force yourself deeper and grabs your hair even harder when you start to gag. “Y’can…take it slow, don’t—” he’s almost all the way down your throat. He can feel it convulse around him. “Don’t hurt yourself, kid.” And then he’s all the way. You’ve taken him all the way into your tiny throat. He’s the first to ever be in there, and he almost cums on the spot. You gag and sputter over him, trying to get away when he selfishly holds you there for a second longer than you would’ve allowed yourself. Tightly gripping your hair with an unintentional thrust of his hips before letting you pull off him with a muffled choke. You open your mouth in a gasp for air and if he was any more gone he would’ve used it as a way to shove himself back deep. “Well, shit. You’re a natural, honey.”

“Was that okay?” There’s a bead of sweat on your forehead from how hard you worked and he wants to lick it clean.

“You did great, kid.” You smile up at him with a toothy grin, reaching out to take him again and he tuts. Acting so brave when you were just choking on him. “C’mon. On the couch now.” You hold him by the base and try again, but he grips you by your forearm and tugs you up — shoving you onto the couch and groaning when he gets a quick peek of your panties. “Joel…” You’re shaking now and he smirks. “I can’t leave you high and dry, can I? That would be a very bad lesson, wouldn’t it?” You nod meekly and his hand comes to squeeze your thigh. “Take off your skirt.” You freeze and he cups your jaw in his hand. “C’mon, little girl. I don’t like repeatin’ myself. Take it off.” Begrudgingly, you bring your trembling fingers toward the waistband of your skirt and pull it off. Revealing your best pair of panties — a lacy white thong — and you hear him grind his teeth. Your laid out like a lamb for the slaughter. In white lace nobody but he knows you wear. Pure. Virgin. Thirty-so-years his junior. He wants to make some sort of comment but he’s so hard he can’t even think. He grips your jaw firmly and wastes no time pulling off your panties. You gasp and shut your knees tightly but Joel pry’s them open anyways, fighting you when you try again. “Y’wanna make it hard for me, huh? What happened to your cute please? C’mon. Open.” You kick, and he tuts, manhandling you with a strong latch as he sits against the armrest of the chair. He pulls you by your nape and uses it as leverage to position you with your back against his chest, using his legs to force yours open by bracketing your knees. “Fuckin’ hell.” You’ve stopped thrashing now, and instead, he feels your legs shivering. He holds your jaw once again, hoping he’ll be able to soften you out by bringing your mouth to his and closing the gap; kissing you and using your cute gasp to meet your tongue with his. You whine and he holds you tight enough you think you’ll bruise. He looks at where you’re spread for him and hisses. You’re wet already. So inexperienced that just a little touching does it for you. “Shit. You ain’t ever been touched here?” You shake your head and try to close your legs again but his legs hold yours in place. “Poor baby. Waitin’ for so long. So desperate, ain’t ya. Wantin’ someone with experience. Y’just wanna feel good.”

The hand on your jaw comes to rest on your throat, with the other begin to venture down your torso. He squeezes at your chest rudely and your hips twitch up. Responsive. Cute. He doesn’t wait for your approval before pulling your top off and doing it again. Laughing when you whine at him. You can feel him behind you still hard, the weight of him pressed against your back. And then, he touches you. His hand brushing where you’re most sensitive and you gasp, jolting in surprise but his solid legs keep yours in place. “Gonna make you feel good, honey.” You feel his stubble graze roughly against your jaw and try to kiss him again, but get interrupted by the feel of his fingers beginning to move. You whimper, hiding your head in the crook of his neck, taking in the musk of a man so much older than you, remembering he’s old enough to be your father, he’s touching you with the experience to prove it. He inserts one finger and you cry. “Joel!” Even his one finger feels thick. And then he moves it. In, and out, and you cry out again. You don’t even recognize yourself yelping and he just laughs at you.

“That feels good, huh? I bet.” You feel his mouth moving against your cheek and the burn of his stubble and the feel of his finger moving inside of you is too much. You just feel him. His strong body behind you, still in his jeans and white t-shirt. His deft hand that’s brought countless others to completion just like this. “Poor little girl, waitin’ for so long. Bet you’re just aching, honey.” “Y-yes!” you moan and he adds a second finger. All you feel is pressure and Joel. He’s thrusting them now and you wail, your entire body convulsing and twitching and you can’t even stop the high-pitched whimpers coming from you. You’re so wet you can feel it dripping onto your thighs. Hear it making a mess. “Shit. You’re soaking me, little girl. Fuck, tell me how it feels. Use your words.” He groans when you move your hips against his hand, fucking back against his curling fingers and you yowl.

“Feels…oh!” his hand moves even faster now and you can hear him against your ear groaning in short breaths at the exertion. “Feels so…feels really—ah! Full. Joel. Joel!” He fits a third finger inside you and you cum on the spot. Your entire body seizes up into a ball of pleasure and you scream. But he doesn’t let up.

He keeps thrusting his fingers up into you, curling where you’re most sensitive and you can feel yourself physically crying. He almost wants to punish you a bit. Force you to come until you can’t. Or maybe edge you onto the cusp of another and tell you he’s driving you home. But then you mewl, “Joel! I want you inside, please. Please. Please.” He’s abstenmindenly thrusting his hips against the small of your back and you keen, trying to reach for him from behind you. “Fuck. Are you sure?” “Yes! Please, please, p-please, just put it in!” He groans with you when he pulls his fingers out, using the hold on your nape to pull you off him and onto your back. He grabs his base with the hand you’ve soaked and greets your seam with his thick tip. Dragging it through your folds and you push your hips against him. “Please.” “You want it that bad, huh?” “Yes! P-please,” he teasingly breaches the first inch into you before stopping, sneering when you cry out and try to move him further into you. “Hm. Don’t think it’s gonna fit, honey. You’re too small. Fuck baby, ain’t nobody’s been in here. Should be with someone your own age—“ he groans when you hold him by the base, trying to make him go in all by yourself and he catches your wrists in his large hand.

“—you’ll make it fit, please!” “Don’t fuckin’ interrupt me. Bad girl.” He slaps your clit with the head of him and you cry. “Cryin’ cause you want it so bad. Look at you. What a pretty sight. Pretty little virgin, ain’t you? You want it? You want it bad?” “Yes! Please. Please.” “You want it bad enough you’ll let me in raw?” You nod so fast that he can’t help but laugh at you. At your pure eagerness. “You even know what that means, virgin? Tell me how much you want it. C’mon.” “I want it so bad. Even raw, Joel. Even raw— please, please. Please. Please,” you have a nickname burning at the tip of your tongue. You want to squeal it when his mean grip on your wrists gets tighter. You can’t think of anything but saying it when you see his stern look and hear his strict, gravelly tone. Daddy. Daddy. “Please, daddy.” He can’t nearly fucking believe it.

Daddy. So fucking immoral. He’s a real daddy, and you want him to be your daddy. He just stares at you like he can’t believe his ears. You’re dirty. He grumbles a fuck, ramming the full fat weight of him into you so fast you keen. “Oh!” He thrusts the entire length of him into you in one, swift punch. He feels bad, he’s sure it hurts, he wanted to make a big fuss of your deflowering, but his ears are ringing and he can’t think of anything but fucking you. Not when he hears you crying for him to be your “daddy.” “Yeah, fucking ‘oh.’ Shit. You feel—“

“Too full, daddy! You’re too. Big—“

He pulls out all the way before plunging right back in, thrusting in a deep succession and your high-pitched whimpering is doing his head in. He’s not sure how he hasn’t come yet, not with your hips twitching beneath him or at the sight of you being so much smaller than him. You’re so tiny beneath him. He thrusts again and you moan, “daddy!” “Yeah. That’s what you need, huh? Y’need,” he groans and you bite the junction of his neck with a sharp cry. “Y’need me to be your daddy don’t you? Fuck. You’re fuckin’ squeezing me. Such a,” he feels you pulse around him and he collapses onto you, the full weight of him now crushing you as his pubic bone grinds against your clit. “Such a naughty girl for daddy, who knew.”

“Oh my,” You can’t even think. Breathe. Move. Pinned under the weight of him and your legs kick out at the pure pleasure. “Too much daddy, It’s too much—“ He doesn’t even hear you. He just keeps thrusting so deep into you that you feel him in your stomach. “Poor little girl. Lookin’ for a daddy. I knew it. Should’ve just told me. I’ll be your daddy, honey—“ He hisses when your hips try pull away from his, hauling you back onto his length. “Where’ya runnin’ to baby? Huh?” He drives even harder into you, planting his knee beside your hip so that you can’t move and you scream. “Y’got what you wanted. Take it, c’mon.” “Can’t! I’m gonna…too much!” ”Fuck. Can’t believe I’m the first one to— shit, first man to fuck you. Fuck baby. Fuck. Feels so good for daddy. You’re mine, ain’t you? My little girl.” Your entire body convulses, you feel him so deep and you swear he’s impaling you. “Say it.” ”Y-yes.” He slams into you so hard you shriek, trying to shove at his hips with your hands to let up but you can barely move; paralyzed by him kissing your cervix deep inside with your arms pressed awkwardly under the manly weight of him. “I said say it, dumb little girl, fuck—“ “Yes, I’m yours! Joel. I’m gonna…” Your entire body tenses. You feel it in your legs, your toes, and Joel feels you clench around him so intensely it catalyses his own release. You’re so incandescently tight around him, his vision is blurring and he can’t even get the words out to ask you if he can come in you; he just does. You’re stuffed full now, feeling a wet, hot heat infiltrate you and you whine with him, barely handling the aggressive pummel of his hips before he finally gives finishes. He’s still inside of you when he lays beside you with a groan so loud it startles you. “Shit. So much for gettin’ it out the way, hm?”

[vitoriadior]

SHE'S THAT GIRL

Clark Kent x Model!Reader

(Synopsis) Where your boyfriend takes you to meet his parents, but they already know you. Of course, you're the girl from TV!

Request <3. Masterlist— Model!Reader series. REQUESTS OPEN

Your only expectation was that they wouldn't hate you. That they wouldn't think you were a shallow girl like most people did when you said you were a model. That they could see that you really, really love Clark.

"Stop biting your nail." Clark takes your hand from between your teeth with a chuckle. His other hand is on top of yours, squeezing it lightly as another way of telling you—for the tenth time today—that everything will be okay. "I don't know why you worry so much, everyone loves you."

The problem is, his parents aren't everyone. They're your boyfriend's parents. Probably the most important people in his life. From now on, your relationship with Clark changes. Everyone knows that a relationship isn't the same before and after family visits.

"Honey, Clark's here!" Clark and his father share a hug before Jonathan notices your presence. He sees Clark as if telepathically asking a question, and Clark nods. The man smiles at you within seconds. "Nice to meet you, dear. Come on in."

Okay. His dad seemed kind. He even offered to hang up your coat in a sweet gesture. Jonathan Kent can't help but raise his eyebrows at the texture of your fur coat—it definitely didn't feel cheap.

You were standing in the living room, looking at the pictures the Kents had all over their house—Clark in a baseball uniform at what looked like six years old, Clark on his first day of school, newspaper clipping about Superman. You were smiling at a specific picture of your boyfriend with a cow before you heard a female voice join the conversation between Clark Kent and Jonathan Kent.

Martha Kent. "Here I am, here I am." You put the picture back immediately, almost as if you'd been doing something wrong. "Where's my boy?" Martha's voice is that of a mother overjoyed to have her son home. She hugs Clark like he's still a toddler; you guess that's what being a mother is all about.

"Honey, we have a guest," Jonathan nods gently at you as his wife separates from their son. Clark rushes to your side, taking the hand you were about to tuck back between your teeth.

Clark says your name with a smile, putting his arm around your waist. "She's my girlfriend." You hope your smile isn't too big—you're trying to put on the expression you wear when runway directors tell you to be natural. You're being natural.

Martha Kent frowns, and you feel like you've been kicked in the stomach. God, now you want to throw up. "You—" Martha puts a couple of fingers to her lips, as if she's trying really hard to remember something. Your legs feel weak; you knew it, she hates you! She probably thinks you're not good enough for her son, and that you don't have a real job and—

"You're the girl from the perfume commercial!" Clark's mother smiles almost excitedly. "Yes! Yes, it's you! From TV! What are you doing here in my house?" Ma Kent's smile is from ear to ear, while you remain confused.

Perfume commercial? Perfume commercial! "Oh, yes," you let out a slightly embarrassed giggle. "I'm the girl from that commercial. I'm the face of the brand, so—" Martha Kent is already hugging you before you can continue.

"Oh my god, you're even prettier in person." She gives her son a withering look. "Clark Joseph Kent, why didn't you ever tell me you were dating the girl from the TV?"

"I told you she was a model" Clark defends himself, already pleased to see his mother likes you. He knew she would like you.

"Yes, but you didn't say she was the girl from the perfume commercials." Martha Kent slowly pulls away from you, apologizing in advance. "I love that perfume. Jon gave it to me on our anniversary. Look. I always wear it." She brings her wrist closer to you so you can smell it: yep, it's your perfume.

For the rest of the day, Martha treats you practically like her daughter. Besides being the girl from TV, you're her son's girlfriend—so she tries to make sure you're comfortable at all times. She even asks you what your favorite food is, so she can make sure she make it when Clark brings you home again.

"I told you she was going to love you." Clark is brushing your hair behind your ears. You're lying in bed with him, just relaxing, crammed into the single bed in his old bedroom. "You're the girl from the perfume commercials"

"Yeah, make fun of it all you want," you roll your eyes as Clark laughs. "I get paid a fortune for those commercials, I want you to know"

"Well, it clearly works," he nods, acknowledging the power of marketing. "Look at my mom. Wearing your perfume. Who would have thought her son was dating that gorgeous girl in the commercial"

The next time you go to the Kent farm, you give Martha the latest collection of females's perfumes that the perfume brand released, while Martha gives you the best casserole you have ever tasted.

Here to ad u to my permanent taglist!

Taglist: @starincarnated @angelicp0etry @yeonalie @lator-gators @starssfall @moomumu @chamorunsmiles @urlittleangelbaby @americanboz0 @mysticdinosaurpirate @spiidergwenn @sugarbutterbailey @pestoluvr8 @ilovemangoes444 @kaiparkerwife @qardasngan @animegamerfox @helloimamistake @rinapomu @chaoticroaddreamerpasta @ryomku @dreamlesssleepsaga @yzuposts @mickey-mouse-crackhouse1902 @j07lvrg @khxna @1wannab3inaband @wintersoldierenthusiastt @yyiikes @rosie-hao @psiiconic @httpstoyosi @lettucel0ver @scorpio-echo @iveofficiallylostmymarbles @aratakiittooo @angelicprincess12 @pinkluv29

@shine101

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Still So Full of Me

Warnings: Soft dom Clark, breeding kink (emotional, not degrading), ovulation mention, sleepy/morning sex, deep intimacy, possessive but loving, overstimulation (gentle), aftercare woven in, you never leave his arms

💕💕💕💕

You don’t remember falling asleep. Just the way Clark held you.

Still buried inside you, arms wrapped around you like a cocoon, whispering soft, sweet things against your damp skin until your body finally gave out.

He didn’t pull out. He never does during your fertile week. Not when every cell in his body is hardwired to stay inside you. To fill you. To make you his in every possible way.

You wake to the slow rise and fall of his chest against your back. A gentle brush of lips against your neck. His hand low on your belly.

And the stretch. Still thick inside you. Still warm. Still there.

You blink against the sunlight trickling through the curtains and feel him slowly, so slowly, rock into you--barely an inch, but enough to send a soft gasp fluttering from your lips.

Clark’s voice is low. Raspy. Wrecked. "I’m sorry, sweetheart. I tried to wait. Tried so hard…” He kisses behind your ear, nuzzles into the crook of your neck like he can’t get close enough. “But you’re still so warm around me. So soft. I-I just couldn’t help it.”

You exhale shakily, legs already trembling from just a few careful thrusts. You’re still sore. Still sensitive. And still somehow aching for more. “Clark…”

“I know,” he whispers, kissing your shoulder. “You don’t have to do anything. Just let me love you like this.”

He’s so careful.

Every thrust is slow. Deep. Timed with the soft inhale and exhale of your breath. Like he’s syncing with you. Reading your body like it’s gospel and he’s been memorizing the verses his whole life.

His arm tightens around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he moves inside you again, gentle and slow.

“I can feel it,” he murmurs, hand splayed over your stomach. “How full you are. Took every drop last night like such a good girl.”

You gasp. Your hand slides over his, fingers tangling.

“You want more, don’t you?” he asks, voice breaking slightly. “You want me to fill you again?”

You nod, helpless. He groans softly, mouth pressed to your shoulder, losing himself in the way your body pulses around him. “You’re made for this,” he breathes. “For me. You were made to be loved like this.”

You whimper, and he kisses your cheek, soothing and slow. “Shh, I’ve got you. We’ll go nice and easy. Just like last night. Just like you need.”

The orgasm sneaks up on you.

It’s not fast or wild--it builds like a tide, deep and slow, until your body’s trembling in his arms, gasping his name like a lifeline.

“That’s it,” he coos, “that’s it, sweetheart. Just let go. Let me take care of everything.”

Your walls clench around him and that’s what finally undoes him.

His hips jerk forward with a guttural groan, one arm cradling you tight while the other grips your thigh. He spills inside you with a shaking breath, burying his face into the crook of your neck like he’s trying to hold you and hide in you all at once.

“Oh Gosh, baby it--it so much-sorry, I couldn’t--”

“Don’t be sorry,” you whisper, tears slipping down your cheeks, overwhelmed and soft and full. “Don’t you dare be sorry.”

Clark kisses your temple. “You feel like home,” he says brokenly. “I just wanted to keep you like this. Just for a little longer.”

💕💕💕💕

Afterwards, he doesn’t move. Not even a little. His hands rub soothing circles into your hips. He murmurs your name like it’s the only word he knows. "Do you know how much I love you?”

You nod. Sleepy. Content.

He stays inside you as long as you’ll let him--kissing your shoulder, smoothing your hair, whispering the same phrase like a mantra: “Still so full of me.” “Still mine.” “Always mine.”

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed <3 if you did please let me know by liking, commenting, and reblogging its an easy way to show support and keep me motivated to continue posting on here :)

[siddyyyyyyyy]

⁛ Teach Me How To Scream

Jason Todd x fem!Reader

MDNI

wc: 1 K warnings: 18+, established relationship, yapper!reader, missionary, slightly mean but soft Jason summary: You talk too much and Jason is too tired. a/n: first time writing smut for Jason, kinda excited. have fun, i felt silly while writing this one!! so sorry for the many delays, i was really busy, but it's here now!

Flap, flap, flap

Heavy breaths leave the both of you as Jason continues to thrust all the way in and out, grip tight on your hips to keep you as still as possible.

He‘s been aching to let it out and finally get the burning pleasure, after being fed up at patrol with everyone else, and you suggested to solve it this way.

»Jay— ngh, I—« You can‘t even get out what you are trying to say, his thrusts being so deep, it feels like he is drilling a new way into your stomach.

Jason‘s eyes lock on your face, flushed, eyes glazed over already, tears collecting in the corner of your eye. His pace stutters and he slows down, building a slower pace that‘s more gentle than before. Your moans get mixed together with how you clench on him, your jaw going slack for a momen.

»So good… Jay... I forgot to tell you about— about the new game I got, « you groan lightly with every slower thrust, now being able to feel how girthy he is. Jason takes a moment before he pauses and scoffs softly, gazing down at you with furrowed brows.

»Really? Now?« He comes to a stop, burried deep to the hilt, faces close that your breaths mingle together. He adjusts your thighs at his sides, hands holding them up now instead resting on your hips. The silence stretches for a moment before you finally speak up again, breathing more normally than before.

»Yeah, the… it‘s so cool, Jay,« you manage out again, meeting his eyes as he stays hovering above you, »actually, I wanna play it now—«

A sharp thrust cuts you off, gaining a small whimper from your lips.

»No, no games now, sweetheart, « Jason was so happy to have you as a mess under him finally, but turns out he was wrong about that. You are still talking and yapping about something so mundane, even in a situation like this. His hips pick up a pace again, grinding into you before lifting them up again and again.

Your face contors sweetly under him, a sight he loves when he hovers over you, pinned down and just giving yourself over to him.

»But it‘s so cool, s-so many levels,« you pant out as his pace grows faster now, grip landing back on your hips to keep you pinned down.

»P-please, just,« Jason gasps, feeling you clench hard again. »not now,« He tries again, not wanting to outwardly tell you to shut up, but it is getting difficult like this.

It‘s useless, even now that he picked up his pace, making you both pant heavily, you manage to get a few bits out about the video game. And it… certainly kills the mood for Jason. He can‘t and won‘t cum like that, while you yap his ears off about some silly game. He did warn you a couple of times before, panting out a weak warning or scold through heavy breaths. But it‘s all to no use.

Finally, he decides to do something about it. It‘s been about ten minutes as he‘s fucking you, and stilll no one came over the edge yet. He slips one hand between your bodies, drawing tight circles around your clit, watching your reaction closely. He doesn‘t need to, feeling how tight you squeeze around him and let out a soft whine.

»That‘s it...« He growls out before leaning into the side of your neck, planting messy kisses against his skin before nipping down softly.

It‘s ridiculous how easily you fall apart, soon starting to grow close, and get reduced to a few moans and whines. Your legs start to twitch lightly at his sides, signaling that you are growing closer and overwhelmed.

But he won‘t let up and keeps the fast pace, fingers drawing quick circles against your clit, tongue laping at your neck. He adjusts the angle to drill deeper into you, earning light whimpers from you. The room grows quiet before you grow even closer and eventually let the pleasure snap in your stomach, mind going blank. White static fills your ears, briefly making you go silent before gasps and whimpers fall from your kips into the hot air. Jason keeps up his pace and feels how good you seem to feel under him, definitely growing overwhelmed, but he needs his release too. Soon enough, his hips stutter when you mewl his name out again, managing to make him come apart. A low groan leaves him before he collapses on you, heavy pants against your neck while he spills his hot release into you.

The room falls into silence, filled with heavy breaths as you both catch it and calm down. Jason finally leans off of you to give you some space, his arms resting on either side of you on the mattress.

»Wanted to make me scream, Todd? You gotta try harder, y‘know?« You mutter out with a lazy smile, hazy eyes focused on him above you.

He knows it‘s bait for him to get worked up again and take you another time. He knows and he tries to resist so bad, but your sheer smugness is getting to him. Jason exhales lightly before adjusting his grip on your hips, leaning back to get a better angle.

»Watch it, sweetheart… you might regret saying that.«

You know you won‘t, and he hopes he won‘t be too rough, although he‘s never rough with you. Soon, he starts up a new pace, hand tenderly closing around your throat to keep you quiet. He makes sure to stay gentle, although his pace is more desperate and quicker than before. Still, despite his slight annoyance towards your earlier yapping, he keeps his touch as light as possible, only squeezing around you when you dare to speak up about the game one more time.

←MASTERLIST

taglist₊‧.°.⋆˚₊‧⋆. @143637-hrrm @dollyure @ibreathesmut @dreamzaremyrealityy @deadbeatphobos @lettucel0ver @salvatt1

[hearts4johnwick]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ Accidental Blessing. / Johnny Storm.

SUMMARY. 𝜗𝜚 johnny comes to your house one day inciting you to a mission to outer space, which reed gave permission to invite anyone he would like—who else would he invite if not you? but, what you thought would be a great adventure with your boyfriend, took a turn for the worse.

CW. 𝜗𝜚 4.4K words. fluff, angst. established relationship, make outs, radiation storm incident, johnny loves you more than anything.

A/N. 𝜗𝜚 YES, reader after the incident is a DIRECT copy of jean grey from dark phoenix after the solar flare incident because im extremely unoriginal and her powers look so cool in dark phoenix <33. since the movie doesn’t show them getting their powers, i took the scene from the 2005 one (but this is joseph quinn’s johnny)

You yawn as your elevator doors open, the ding waking you up slightly. You walk out and head to your apartment, 224. You see your neighbor going inside theirs, but they stop to speak to you.

“Hey, sweetheart, it seems you left your door open when you left to go downstairs…” your kind neighbor says, your eyes travel to her feet, where her cat was rubbing itself on her leg.

“Thank you, Candice. Have a good night.” You say with a smile.

“You too baby.” She giggles and shuts the door. You look at the door, and you see it’s open by inches, your eyebrows furrow.

As you approach your door, you pull out the pepper spray in your purse. You open the door and you press your lips together when it creaks, groaning softly to yourself.

You mumble incoherently as you continue to hear stuff coming from the kitchen. Your eyebrows remained furrowed, but they rose when you entered the kitchen.

“Johnny?!” You exclaim. He turns around quickly and groans.

“Oh Goddammit! You weren’t supposed to be here until later.” He says as he places his fingers between the bridge of his nose.

“What are you doing here?” You question and he tilts his head.

“You gave me a spare, don’t you remember?” You close your eyes and rub your forehead, then nod.

“Yeah, I do.” You exhale. Johnny approaches you and rubs your arms gently.

“You okay?” He asks, your eyes still shut, you lean into his arms and press your face to his chest, listening as his heart begins to race. “Oh.”

“I’m just tired.” You mumble and he hums.

“Well, I made charcuterie, and I just opened a bottle of wine, don’t let it go to waste. Let’s rest on the couch and eat it.”

“Johnny.” You call out his name in a whimper, as if you were about to cry. His eyebrows raised. “I would love that.” You jump and wrap your arms around his torso, urging him to take you to the couch without another word. He places you down on the couch softly and then he brings the wine and charcuterie.

When he sat down, you sat closer to him, wrapping your arms around his and resting your head comfortably onto his shoulder, he chuckled and placed a kiss on your head.

“What did you do today?” Taking in his mouth some cheese and a strawberry.

“Woke up at 5. Went to the gym. Then brunch with the girls, then we went to the mall, then later we went for dinner, until finally I’m home.” You say, a bit mumbly since you were tired out of your mind. “And you?”

“Was at the Baxter building with Sue and Reed.” He says and you hum.

“All day? You texted me but I don’t remember what time it was.” You say and he nods.

“Yeah, all day.”

“What did you guys do?” You ask him and he stays silent for a split second.

“Reed found this massive storm of cosmic radiation traveling through Earth’s atmosphere.” He says, and your eyebrows raise.

“Woah—“ you exclaim, but Johnny cuts you off.

“That’s not all. Reed wants to study it further. He wants us to go and see it, too.” Johnny says, looking at you, grip firm on your hands.

“Wow, Johnny, that’s amazing but, I’m literally a veterinarian. I don’t think veterinarians belong in space.”

“Baby, please.” He says, cupping your cheeks softly, eyes begging for your company. “Everything is going to be okay. Look, all of us are gonna go—Reed, Sue, Ben, and me! Reed said I could invite you, because he knows everything will be alright.”

You and Johnny stay looking at each other in silence, minutes go by, you look away from him but he pulls your face for you to see him again. His fingers graze over your lips, eyes still begging for you.

“I’m too scared.” You didn’t want to sound like a wuss, but, you had to be honest.

“I will be too, if you don’t come with me.” His eyes glow, you can see your reflection in them. “I can call Reed, tell him to tell you that everything is going to be alri—“

“Okay, fine, I’ll go.” Johnny is cut off by those four words, and your hands on his cheek.

“S-seriously?!” He smiles widely and you return it, you nod and he exclaims. He raises his arms and then wraps you in a warm embrace. You laugh as he begins to smother you in kisses as he lays you back down.

Now, he’s hovering over you, his finger tracing the features in your face, thumb grazing your full lips. Your thumb caresses his cheekbone back and forth, and you share a smile as you lose yourself in each other’s eyes.

“God, I love you.” Johnny whispers. Your smile turns white, brightening the look on Johnny’s face.

“I love you more.” You reply and he now returns the toothiest smile. He leans down and places a soft peck on your lips, which quickly turns into something more.

“You know you’re wrong.” He says as he pulls away, his lips still brushing against yours as he speaks. You smile and scoff.

“We’re not having this discussion.” You pull him back into the kiss, your hands playing with his hair as his thumb caresses your hips.

𓂃

“Alright. Blasting off in 10…” Reed begins the countdown until the ship takes off, and you breathe in heavily and swallow the lump in your throat.

You look to your side and look at Johnny, who smiles at you then extends his hand, which you take. You hold it tightly as the ship begins to shake. “3…” as Reed approached the final number, you shut your eyes, your fist tightening its grip on your seatbelt and Johnny’s hand, you swore you could almost crush it.

When you open your eyes, you find yourself already leaving Earth’s atmosphere, and you gasp. It’s all happening too fast for you to take in, you begin to panic, but try your best not to show it.

It took you half an hour to arrive at the space station where you would be staying for studies of the radiation. Your ship rests above the station and all of you leave to go to your designated rooms.

“We’re so glad you could come, ___!” Sue says, you smile and dismiss her.

“I was forced, practically dragged out of the comforts of my own home by your lovely brother, but, I’m here to enjoy spending time with you, and seeing your work.” Both Reed and Sue nod in approval before they head to their room.

You head to your room and leave your things resting beside the bed. You take in a deep breath and give your neck a quick massage, you crack a few knuckles, and check yourself in the mirror before heading to Johnny’s room.

“First mission together…” you say excitedly as you go behind him, placing your arms on his shoulder, he smiles and turns around.

“And certainly not last.” He says, placing his hands on your hips. You grimace and exhale sharply.

“Hmm, don’t push your luck.” You now place your hand above his cheek, brushing his eyebrow.

“Oh come on, after this mission you’re going to love it so much you’re gonna wanna go on every single one! With or without me, preferably with me…” he says and you chuckle.

“Yeah, with you because if something happens, I don’t want to die alone.” You smile widely and he sputters.

“You’ll never be alone, you know that. Not as long as I’m living and breathing.” Your face softens and you see that familiar twinkle in his eye as he speaks to you.

“You better be right, Johnny.” You raise yourself on your tip-toes and place a soft kiss on his lips, breaking away quickly.

“Am I ever wrong, though?” You laugh sarcastically and meanly. Johnny furrows his eyebrows.

“Oh, Johnny. When are you not?” Your lips trail from his eyes to his lips, then his eyes again. Your hands are now traveling from his neck to his torso.

“That’s not true.” He says and you hum.

“You wanna test that theory?” You back off, crossing your arms.

“Try me.” He says and you scoff.

“Alright.” You look down, thinking of a question. “Let’s go simple. What’s my favorite col—“

“Purple.” He cuts you off, catching you off guard, and your face lights up. He hums, raising an eyebrow. “Favorite food is sushi, favorite date location is being home and painting, favorite flowers are orchids—“

“But those are easy ques—“ you cut him off, but then, he cuts you off.

“I’m not done.” He says, you recoil and smile. “Favorite animal is a whale shark, favorite movie is Downtown Beauty, the original one from the 50’s—“

“Aha! You’re wrong.”

“What?! No, it’s definitely Downtown Beauty, with Jennifer…what’s her name?”

“It’s actually the sequel… Downtown Baby.” Johnny furrows his eyebrows, crossing his arms and shaking his head.

“What the f…” you approach him and place a hand on his forearm.

“It’s okay baby, at least you know me well enough for basic stuff.” You shrug and he rolls his eyes playfully. “Alright, you want redemption? I’ll give you redemption.”

“I got this.”

“How old was I when my mother abandoned me?” Johnny stays silent, his ears getting red by the sudden change of mood. “Johnny.” You call him out, eyebrows knitted together, confused on whether he knows or not. “Serious—“

“7.” He as usual, gets it correct. You roll your eyes and he laughs. You cross your arms and turn around, but he grabs your forearm and pulls you to him. “I know you more than you know yourself.” You hum in annoyance but when he wraps his arms around you, you smile.

You place your chin on his chest, looking up at him. “I just remembered we’re in space right now.” Johnny traces the scar right below your right eye and he hums.

“Yeah, kind of crazy.”

“Kind of?” You chuckle. “I was kind of having a panic attack when we were taking off.”

“I know.” You tilt your head.

“Your lip quivers when you’re anxious or panicking, also, your right eye kind of twitches, especially around the scar area.” You look at him in pure awe, how had he been so watchful of these things you didn’t even know about yourself.

“Oh, Johnny.” You swear you kind of tear up, Johnny has always been laid back, he always showed his love for you, of course, but you never thought that he would be capable of loving you beyond kisses, hugs, and simple I love yous. “I love you.” He smiles and bends down slightly to kiss you, and you raise yourself on your tip-toes to kiss him back.

You grip his hair tightly, as the kiss goes further than just a peck, you feel his arms tighten their grip around your waist, but then you break apart to catch your breath. You lay your foreheads against each other and stay there in soft silence.

That was until you were rudely interrupted by Reed’s loud running footsteps. You both recoil, your heels now touch the ground normally, and a disturbed, Reed catching his breath stands on Johnny’s doorstep.

“What? What?” Johnny asks, you place a hand on his chest to calm him down.

“Reed, what’s wrong? Where’s Sue?” You ask as well, and Reed finally answers.

“The storm. It’s coming, and it’s coming now.” He says, in a terrified tone. You look at Johnny, concerned.

“What? I thought you said it wasn’t going to be here for another 7 hours!” Johnny asks, and Reed shakes his head.

“We need to abort, now!”

“What?!” You exclaim. Reed then leaves. “Johnny…” You look at him, your soft look weakening his heart.

“Stay here.” He caresses your hand and goes after Reed.

You look around and swallow the lump in your throat, your breath shaking. Of course, due to pure curiosity, you leave Johnny’s bedroom and walk to the nearest window, and see the massive storm, you gasp, but your fright doesn’t begin until you notice a familiar space suit on the railing outside, your eyes widen.

“Oh my God! Ben is still out there!” You grab an earpiece lying on a console right next to you and put it on. “Hello?! Hello?! Ben! Ben! You need to get out of there now!”

“But sweetheart, I ain’t done yet.”

“Ben, I don’t care! The s-storn is here! Come back!” You shout frantically into the microphone. You look out the window and see him making his way back, but the bright and colorful storm of pure cosmic radiation follows behind him. “Oh God!” You go over to a console which is made for the exit chamber, you pull a lever and the doors open. You see Ben inches away from entering.

“Ben!” You yell out for him, begging to God that he could somehow hear you as you bang your hand on the glass, because the cloud just got to the doorstep, but not him.

You hear footsteps behind you, but you’re too distracted by the storm you stay frozen, shock has taken over your body, paralyzing every bone.

“Get away from the doors!” Reed’s screams muffle as you get blinded by the storm.

“No, no!” Johnny couldn’t even get inches close to you before you were impacted by the storm.

The impact of the storm sends Ben flying into the exit, unconscious. While you were knocked off your feet, but not onto the ground. The radiation of the storm taking a whole of your whole body, and your body takes all the energy, even as you scream in agony.

Johnny attempted to extend his arm to you, to get a hold of you, but he couldn’t, his body was also taking the same energy yours was, same with Reed, and Sue.

You were a direct hit for the storm, the main target. Ben was the first to get hit, but you were the one who took all the radiation, slipping into your veins, bloodstream, and heart.

Johnny fought the storm with all his mind, as he crawled to you, just to get a hold of you. He called out your name, screamed out your name, but you had no response, not even after the storm had passed.

Your limp body drops to the ground. Johnny mutters a soft “no…” but that didn’t stop him from pushing himself, pushing his body by putting one arm in front of the other and dragging himself. He groans as he sits up.

He grabs your body and cradles you, you’re burning from the touch, but this doesn’t have an effect on Johnny. He moves the hair out of your face and rubs your cheek.

You force your eyes open, but with no success. Your vision is blurry, but you know the one holding you is who you love. “Johnny.” You call out, dragging your raspy voice, breathless.

You try to raise a hand but fail, but Johnny grabs it and places it on his cheek. While looking at you, Johnny caught a glance or something odd. Your eyes flashed orange, a fiery orange. His eyebrows raised, the more he looked at you, the more he saw. Your skin was cracking, as that of a broken porcelain doll, or cracked walls, again, glowing a fiery orange through the cracks.

“I-I’m here.” He says, but you close your eyes again and rest your eyes, and as for your breathing, it’s there, but barely noticeable, same as your heartbeat. “No…no…” Johnny whispers, holding you close to him, hugging you.

“Oh my God!” Reed and Sue enter, Reed is holding Sue by her arm around his shoulder. She places her hand in her mouth, as tears seep through.

“Is she…” Reed asks. Johnny looks up, tears rolling down.

“I don’t—I don’t know.” Reed approaches you, grabbing your face. He places his hand below your nose to check your breathing, and his ear on your chest, to check your heartbeat.

“She needs severe medical attention. Now. If she doesn’t…” Reed begins, Johnny’s expression changes.

“If she doesn’t, what? What will happen? Can’t you help her?!” Johnny questions angrily, and Sue puts her hand on his shoulder, caressing him and calming him down.

“Johnny. She needs help on Earth. We have a medical center here but… nothing compared to what they can do on earth.” Reed assures and Johnny turns back at you, once again bringing you closer, resting his forehead against your head.

“Let’s just go.”

“Where’s Ben?”

𓂃

“Ahh, hey Ben! How are you feeling?” Ben walks in, rubbing and cracking his neck as Reed slaps him on the back.

“I feel… drained. How long was I out?”

“3 days.” Ben’s eyebrows raised.

“Holy moly…” he exclaims and Reed chuckles, eyes going back to his computer. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve been running some tests every day since we landed back on Earth. It’s weird how all—“ Reed begins, but stops quickly to clear his throat. “Most of us survived perfectly fine.” Johnny shoots Reed an unpleasant look.

“Wait, most?” Ben looks around, Reed, check. Sue, check. Johnny, check. “Where’s ___?” He asks for you.

There’s a silence that fills the room, almost a grieving one. “She’s… she’s in critical condition.” Johnny looks down, shutting his eyes. “She was the one whose body absorbed the most energy—“

“But, I was the first one to get hit, and look at me.” Ben adds.

“Yes, you’re correct, but, since your body shut down almost immediately your body was rejecting the energy. ____ took it all, we took what was left. It’s like the storm was attracted to her, as if the target was her.” Johnny clenches his fists against the desk and breathes out. “She should be dead.” Reed adds, and Johnny raises.

“But she’s not. So can we stop pretending like she is?” Johnny speaks, loudly, making his point heard across the entire room.

“Johnny…” Sue calls him out softly, but he sighs.

“I’m gonna go…check up on her.” He informs and storms off.

Upon arriving in your medical room, Johnny sniffles, rubbing his nose. He looks at you from outside before he enters.

As he approaches you, he stands next to your bed, watching you rest. Then, he begins to feel every stage, Denial. Reed is just being exaggerated, you shouldn’t be dead, you’re fine, just like all of them.

He grabs a chair and sits down, grabbing your cold hand and kissing it. “Baby, please…” his hand moves up to your face, brushing an eyebrow, which then travels down to your cheek to caress your cheekbone.

As he begins to feel his anger come in, his blood boiling as he begins to think of everything he could’ve done to save you, or at least prevent you from getting as hurt as you did.

You swallow, your throat burns and you quickly sneer, but your face softens when you recognize the soft touch around your hands, but you can’t open your eyes just yet. The potent lights are hurting you, but you manage to utter his name, so soft he didn’t hear it the first time.

“Johnny.” Your eyes open by millimeters, blurry, but you can see his distinctive blonde hair.

You hear him gasp, then he stands up, hovering above you. “Baby, baby…” he caresses your hair and cups your cheeks. “Oh my, God.”

“Johnny.” Your voice cracks, and your eyes begin to pool with tears. You raise your weak arm and bring him close, hugging him and crying your eyes out.

You stay embraced in each other until the moment you tell him you need water, he quickly brings you a cup which you nearly chug down, but he tells you to drink slowly.

“What happened?” You question, and Johnny’s face lifts, his thumb caresses your hand.

“Baby…you don’t—remember?” He questions, and you look into his eyes, your soft, innocent look makes him sigh. He kisses your hand and begins to explain.

By the time he’s done explaining, it’s been almost 30 minutes, and you’re already feeling better—you think it must’ve been the nearly 4-day coma that made you feel weak and drained.

After your talk, you tell Johnny you want to see the rest of the family, and he demands you stay in bed, and that he’ll tell them to come to you, but you deny.

You change into some more comfortable clothes, and Johnny helps you with walking, since you still feel just a little bit weak, and also he’s scared, he sees you fragile now, and horrified of the moment when he turns around and you’ll no longer be there.

“Oh my, God!” Sue exclaims with a gasp, announcing your entrance. Reed and Ben smile and approach you, waiting for Sue to break the hug apart so they can hug you.

Ben immediately wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly, maybe a little too tightly.

Next was Reed, who kissed you on the cheek, and next was a hug. He rubs your arms and asks “How are you feeling?”

“A little weak, must be that nearly 4-day coma feeling, but other than that, I feel fine!” You say with a smile, Reed hums.

“Do you have any memory of the events that happened?” Reed questions and you hesitate.

“I didn’t. But, Johnny told me everything. I don’t know how I’m alive.”

“Neither do we.” Ben says and you chuckle, Johnny scoffs.

“Do you mind if I run some tests on you? Just to check to see if there’s nothing wrong…” Reed asks and you nod.

“Not at all. Go ahead.”

Reed runs your tests, analyzing your blood and DNA, and so far, nothing out of the ordinary, but he dismisses you after he collects these samples so he can analyze them with patience.

As you leave Reed’s lab, you come across Johnny and he tells you to head to the terrace for a little bonfire, just the two of you, to which you agree.

“Hey, where’s Ben?” You ask Sue and Johnny keeps pulling your hand.

“He went to bed, he said he doesn’t feel too good.” Sue replies and you hum. “I might go do the same, I feel exhausted.”

“Oh, yeah, of course! Goodnight.” You dismiss her and she blows you an air kiss before you go out to the terrace with Johnny.

He starts a fire with some branches and a lighter, and after three tries, it finally catches. The bright orange light makes you flinch, you don’t know why, but you just did. And you freeze, staring at it as if you were in awe.

Johnny sits down next to you and wraps his arms around you as you lie in them. He then places a blanket over you, and you stay watching the fire.

You’ve seen fire before, orange, bright—blinding, hot. Same thing. But God, this felt different. The fire was too specific—too familiar.

You feel the vibrations of Johnny speaking against your back, but you don’t hear him speak, it’s muffled—all muffled.

You stare deep into the fire, and you see it morph into something else. You groan and close your eyes. A bright flash, a colorful storm coming your way, taking control of your body. You groan again, your eyes roll back in pain.

“What the—baby?” Johnny puts his hands around your arms, shaking you awake, but you’re out, like something is happening to you, but you’re unconscious.

Johnny gets deja vu when he sees your fiery eyes, and you cracked fiery skin. “Oh my, God.”

You stand, but you can’t stand straight, it’s as if you’re drunk, and you have to hold yourself against every single thing close to you.

You continue to groan and moan in pain as you make your way into the kitchen, you hold your head as the flashes get brighter, and your screams replay in your mind, right there, in the kitchen, you drop to your knees, and now you’re groans turn into screams, you terrify Johnny, who’s standing beside you, watching you, feeling helpless.

“No, no…” Johnny mumbles as he approaches you. He calls you by your name, but you cry out.

“Stop! Johnny, no!” You extend a hand out, prohibiting him from getting closer, but he disobeys, and once you feel his gentle touch on your arm, you can’t control your “No!” Before you can even regret yelling at him like that, you see Johnny is now about 10 feet away from you, knocked on his back—because of you.

You hold yourself up with your hands smacking the cold floor. You hold your chest as you gasp for air, you look next to you and see Johnny still lying on the ground.

You make your way to him, kneeling as you help him up. “Johnny, Johnny, oh my, God I’m so sorry…” you say as he cups your cheek.

“It’s okay, it’s okay…” he winces as he grabs his side. “What…did you do?” You both look around, and see some chairs knocked down, cracked tv’s amongst fallen vases.

“I don’t—I don’t know…” you say when you look back at him.

“Reed needs to run those tests again.” He says and you nod.

Ben, Sue, and you got it the same day. Ben turned into a pile of rocks in the shape of a man, he remained Ben, just, different. Sue let out a scream when she went to the bathroom but didn’t see her reflection, and was even more impressed when she blocked a shard of glass coming her way.

Johnny got his the day after, when Reed was checking to see if he had broken something after you knocked him with one of your shockwaves. The thermometer was going through the roof, but that didn’t say much, not until he tried to do some “Get better” pancakes for you and nearly burned his hand on the oven, when you saw his entire body on fire you began to panic until you realized it wasn’t doing any damage.

Reed was testing out the millions of abilities he could have had. Laser vision, negative. Telekinesis, you and Sue already got dibs on that one. Telepathy, you. Shapeshifting, no-go. Super speed, no, slow as always. Elasticity, bingo. It was odd compared to the other four of you, but you were too deep into the euphoria of being superhuman, you didn’t pay much mind, not unless Johnny made fun of him for being the lamest.

The years after these discoveries were something else. Something your veterinarian ass could have never been prepared for—and all because of wanting to accompany your boyfriend. Though, if the opportunity presented itself once more, you would do it all over again.

[rosetintmyworld84]

Story time. In high school I went through my "I'm so edgy" teen phase, as you do. Also important context, Quills had come out, which is a movie about the Marquis De Sade while he was institutionalized after the revolution. The movie uses him and his continued writing, even though he was forbidden, to explore themes of censorship, to mixed results. Let's just say the movie version, played by Jeffrey Rush, is very kind to a figure in history that was a piece of shit predator.

Anyways, at the time, most of what I knew about De Sade and his works at the time came from that movie. So one day, at a garage sale, I saw his books Justine (which is recently published in the movie, and played as some scandalously sexy book) and Juliette, so I bought them. I wanted to see what the deal was with his writing. I read Justine first, it's a lot shorter, and it's probably his tamest book. It is similar to Candide by Voltaire, in that the title character suffers all kinds of abuse because she stubbornly refuses to give up her virtue. Spoiler alert, she gets struck by lightning in the end. It's not super subtle, but it also doesn't really go in depth in the abuses suffered.

The I tried Juliette. Oh boy. I noped out of that one pretty early and never looked back. Juliette is Justine's sister, who embraces a life of debauchery at a young age, and it is very detailed and GROTESQUE! It is not modern BDSM sadism, it is very much not 50 Shades of Grey, it is kidnapping, torture, rape, and murder. In VIVID detail. Bret Easton Ellis wishes.

It was gross, and I was probably too young and ill informed to be reading it, but I didn't continue to read it and got rid of them because I didn't like them and I wasn't going to read them again. I wasn't traumatized, and my life went on. It's become a funny story, especially for anyone interested in the kink that is named for the author.

It taught me an important lesson about what books I want to read and which books I don't. And it also taught me that highly fictionalized movies about real historical people are often very VERY inaccurate.

joining the war on kids reading any book they want on the side of kids reading any book they want. simply you will be fine. it's even good to be confronted with things you don't understand and even find upsetting, uncomfortable and difficult. it's a surprise tool that will help you later.

[firelilyfox]

are you flirting or starting a fight?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Summary: You and Bucky are always arguing about the smallest things. But everyone knows that fighting is just another word for foreplay.

Wordcount: 1.8k

Warnings: fluff. fight-flirting. heavy flirting, pet names. kissing. a little bit blood. slight angst. protective Bucky. teasing. idiots in love.

_____________________

"Don't you dare run away from me!"

Bucky's angry voice echoed through the corridors of the Thunderbolts Tower.

You kept on walking, unbothered and without turning back to him. "And what if I do? I have places to be”

When you enter the training room, the eyes of everyone present were already on you. Not that it would stop you. With a short nod in the crowd you continue your way. Behind you, a scolding Bucky.

"For fuck's sake, stop walking away!"

Yelena was the first to interfere. "What's wrong with you lovebirds?"

Bucky ignored her. But you don't.

"Mr. Super Soldier here is mad at me for getting myself a coffee."

Bob snorted. “Isn't that a bit exaggerated?”

Bucky gave him a warning look and Bob visibly pulled his head in and raised his hands defensively. "Sorry, buddy."

"What she forgot to mention," Bucky began, crossing his arms over his chest. "Is that she stole my motorcycle for it and didn't even wear a damn helmet."

Your gaze rested a little too long on his defined arms, which, despite his defensive posture, seemed like an invitation to you.

“Oh please! You sound like a father of four children. Don't make such a drama, Dad.” You teased him.

"Stop with that bullshit. You could have died, are you aware of that?”

You put your hands on your hips and look up at him defiantly. "Say’s the right one. You're such a hypocrite, Bucky! You're constantly driving without a helmet and you're not half as careful as I am.”

Yelena and Bob weren't the only ones watching the spectacle between you and Bucky. Ava and John had also joined quietly and looked more than just amused. Alexei had also gotten wind of the action and sneak up behind his daughter, which was absolutely pointless because of his height and also looked pretty stupid.

The team already knew your little bickering and they were used to you and Bucky constantly arguing about nearly everything. For them, it was as if they were turning on their daily soap opera and watching two idiots arguing.

"This is really the strangest flirting I've ever seen," Yelena said quietly to Bob.

He looked at her confused. “Is that supposed to be flirting? The two of them are constantly at each other's throats.”

"Believe me. If the two weren't so unbearably proud, they'd be ripping their clothes off here and now."

Bob frowned. "If that's attraction, then I've been doing it wrong all my life."

"That's not just attraction, Bob," Yelena murmured. "These are two idiots who love each other."

You don't hear anything from what the others said because you're way too busy stabbing Bucky with your eyes.

"My head doesn't burst like a fucking egg when it drops onto the street."

You laugh. "Yeah, because you have a way to thick skull. And you're so damn stubborn!”

You turn away from Bucky. But he didn't let you go. He ran after you and grabbed your wrist to keep you from escaping.

Upset, you swirl around to him. To your surprise, he was closer than expected and his face was only a few inches away from yours. Even if you had to look up at him.

"I'm not a hypocrite. I just don't want you to hurt yourself." His voice was now quieter, and sounded more like an insistent murmur than an instruction.

You swallow your snappy reply. "Nothing happened to me." You avoid his gaze for a second before you can scrape together your courage and look back at him again.

Bucky let go of your wrist and stepped back to bring some distance between you. “Next time you let me know in advance. Then I'll get you a coffee.”

With that, he turned to leave. Speechless you watched him walk away.

You thought Bucky was so angry because you took his motorcycle without asking. But apparently ... apparently he was worried about you. Strange.

For the rest of the day, there was no trace of Bucky. You wondered all the time if you hadn't been a little too hard on him. After all, he actually had a good point. He was the Super Soldier with the self-healing talent and the almost invulnerability. You were just a normal human being. No serum that made you particularly strong. And also no other superhuman force.

All you had to show off, was a training as a former widow. Which, of course, made you quite pain-resistant, but not invulnerable or even immortal.

The guilt moved into your chest at the moment you found Bucky in the kitchen by the evening. He looked pretty carried away. You could see that the whiskey bottle to his right was almost half empty.

"It's not healthy to drink alone, you know?"

Bucky looked up at you and leaned his forearms against the counter of the in-house bar. His gaze was clear and yet a shadow crossed his face. You couldn't quite interpret the expression.

"You should know that alcohol doesn't have the same effect on me as it does to others."

You roll your eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry. Bucky-I-am-so-different-than-all-the-other-boys-Barnes. Just because you can't get drunk, doesn't mean it's healthy.”

That made him grin grimly, which you label as a small victory. He didn't smile often, but when he did, it felt like the sun was rising. Within the team there was a secret competition about who managed to make Bucky laugh the most.

You're in the lead.

"You are truly special."

Your eyes widened in surprise. Was that a compliment? “Especially annoying? Irritating?”

Bucky just looked at you for a moment, then he smiled. "Just special."

A moment of silence lay over you, then you clear your throat and clap your hands with a wide smile. "I know what we need now!"

"We?" Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow.

You were already on your way to the kitchen counter, which was right next to the bar. "Yes, we. I won't let you drink the good stuff here alone, Barnes. And especially not without snacks.”

„Barnes?“ 

You look over your shoulder at him and catch him trying to hide a smile. "Isn't that your last name?"

"Yes, but you've never called me that."

You turn to the snacks again, but couldn’t force down a smirk. “There is a first time for everything. And I will continue to call you that. I don't care how you feel about it.”

You reach out for a glass from the top shelf and have to lean on the counter with one knee to reach it.

"I like it, doll."

The way he said the nickname, ignited a little firework in your chest and sent goosebumps down your spine. You felt your cheeks blush. Unfortunately, you lose your grip and try to stabilize yourself with both hands, whereby the glass on the kitchen surface bursts into a thousand pieces.

Your grip slips off and some splinters drilled into your hand and knee. A painful sound escaped your throat.

You almost tilted backwards, but instead you hit your back against something hard.

Bucky caught you and stabilized you so you didn't have to strain your injured knee.

„What the fuck, doll?“ 

You looked up at him and grimaced. "Now don't say it was my fault! That's clearly on you, Mister!”

He didn't answer. Instead, he hugged your hip and lifted you up to put you down on a free area of the kitchen counter. The sudden proximity to him accelerated your pulse immeasurably.

"Let me see," Bucky demanded grimly, looking first at your hand and then at your knee. He gripped your wrist with great care and held it under the running water, leaning even further towards you so that you could feel his breath on your skin.

Bucky turned off the water and grabbed some bandages, which he pulled out from under the sink. You let it happen and watch him. He stood between your legs and the sudden desire to wrap them around his waist made you blush even more.

But his angry expression kept you from such reckless actions.

"Bucky, it's not that bad. Just give me a band-aid and then...”

“Why do you keep doing this?” He barked. "Why do you keep making decisions that hurt you?"

You gasp indignantly. "Excuse me! It's not like I'm actively choosing to hurt myself.”

"And yet it happens again and again!"

“Why do you care, Barnes? You are not responsible for what happens to me!” You wanted to close your legs to push him away from you, but Bucky stopped you. His hands suddenly rested on your thighs, preventing you from moving with gentle pressure.

"But I care, doll. I care more than I should," he said. His gaze was agitated and his face was only a few inches away from yours.

Your eyes involuntarily slid to his lips at the thought of how they would feel on yours. "And why?"

Bucky didn't answer right away. His grip loosened and you feel his hands slowly gliding over the outside of your thighs, leaving a burning trail until they finally lay down and your hips. His touch triggered a wave of heat in you, which meant that you could not suppress a small sigh.

Bucky grinned knowingly, devilishly. "You know why."

Your hands rested on his broad shoulders, running slowly over the tense muscles under his red Henley shirt. A smile settled on your lips when you could see his reaction to your touch. His eyes widened and his lips parted. Desire was written all over his face.

„Show me how much you care.“ 

The words had not yet completely left your lips, when his crashed into them. Bucky conquered your mouth with such force that you would almost have tilted back if he hadn't held you.

Your hands found their way into his neck and finally buried in his hair, which made Bucky growle. He deepened the kiss and in response you wrap your legs around his hips. You held him tightly pressed against you so that he could not detach himself from you so easily.

That was the last thing Bucky wanted. He would never let you go. If it were up to him, he would repeat this moment for all eternity.

—————————

Thank you so much for reading! 💙 All interactions are highly appreciated (but please don’t copy my work)

BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST

[starrymarie]

Claiming the Prize | c. kent

Pairing: Princess!reader and Knight!Clark Kent 18+ Tags/warnings: nsfw!!!, female reader, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, finish inside, dom/switch Clark if you squint, slight hair pulling, no y/n Word count: 3.2k Note: I kinda got carried away from this one, but I’m a strong believer that Clark is a service top who worships you !! and looks at you like you created the world !!

“I’m so bored, Clark” you whine, stomping your foot and huffing. The knight barely spared a glance at you before keeping watch at his post as your personal bodyguard.

“There's plenty of books, princess. Would you like me to grab you one?” He asked.

“I told you to call me by my first name, we are close like that, Clark.” The name sounded like a purr out of your mouth and he fought back a chill.

Clark didn't respond after that. He took his job very seriously, as the only knight entrusted to protect the King’s most beloved daughter during this tumultuous period. With many enemies lurking outside and within the palace walls, the King couldn't take any chances. And as the best and strongest Knight, Clark was assigned you. While others didn’t know he possessed superhuman strength and abilities, he liked to serve the kingdom and act as protector when others threatened his home and the people in it. It felt like a stab to get assigned to be the babysitter, but he didn’t complain and tried to find the positive. It was hard with such an unruly princess.

You liked the look of Clark. You were upset when your father banished you to your room and with a bodyguard, but it all suddenly became okay when you saw who would be guarding you. A tall, broad man with kind eyes. You were excited at the possibilities, but the man was strict in his professionalism, not even entertaining much of your questions. A pretty face cannot blind me from facing what this is, you thought, a prison.

“I want to go out.” You pouted. After getting no response you straightened your back and put on your best strong, in-charge voice. “Take me outside.”

Clark continued to ignore you as he stayed at the window, overlooking the palace garden, which was busy with people walking too and fro. He envied them slightly. He was desperate to go far away and fly for a while, to stretch his muscles.

“Ugh! I never get anything, I must be the most unfortunate soul in the entire kingdom!” You threw your hands at him and pushed him, but the big Knight didn't even sway. A grunt of frustration led to you stomping towards the door. How dare they keep you locked away? You weren't a child anymore, and there was no real threat. You were about to the door when the Knight appeared in front of you.

“You can't leave this room, princess.” He said, his broad shoulders blocking the door.

“I can handle myself! There is no real danger, and even if there was then I could handle it!” You shouted at his stoic face.

“Princess,” he says calmly, “you wouldn't be able to fight someone who was coming to kill you.”

“Yes I can. I have sparred a few times with the knights and won!” You scoffed. Clearly he was unaware of your skill.

“That's because they let you win.” His eyes bore into yours with uninterest, making you more and more upset.

“Let's fight then, right now.” Your anger blurred the fact that he was much bigger than you, stronger than you. All you saw was a way to escape your room, and you were ready to take it.

“I won't fight a princess, I'll hurt you.” Clark's eyes were genuine then.

“Stop calling me princess and fight. Me.” you sneered, jabbing his chest plate with your finger. “If I win, I get to leave, unchaperoned. If you win, I'll give you anything you want.”

He looked you up and down slowly. Like his eyes were dragging, catching on every tug and fold of your fabric. It made you warm as you fought the urge to squirm under his gaze. After what felt like hours but was only seconds, he met your eyes. A dark look in them.

“Alright.”

You backed up, adrenaline starting to thrum under your skin. You got in a fighting position, or at least your best guess. Your feet firmly planted on the plush carpet of your room, your hands balled in front of your face.

Clark stood across from you in the same position, and it irritated you that he didn't move at all. His hands still hung by his side as his eyes tracked your movement.

“W-why are you looking at me like that?” You hated the way you stammered, but his gaze was warm on your skin.

“Just assessing my enemy.”

Clark removed his gear and took hard, purposeful steps towards you. You back up a few before deciding to go for it. Your instincts kick in, if you could call it that, and you swing at his head.

The Knight moves to the side and your momentum has you toppling slightly forward. His hand comes out to grip the collar on the back of your dress to pull you upright. You attack him again and again, but still he just sidesteps you.

“Is that the best you can do?”

“You're really pissing me off right now.” you growl, turning to face him.

“If you're mad, princess, why don't you use your anger.”

The comment made you see red, your freedom within your grasp. You swing your hand at his head.

His arm comes up and blocks it easily, gripping your forearm and not letting go. You pull back, your eyebrows furrowing at the strength. You couldn't budge even a little bit in his grasp.

No worries, you think, I have another hand. Your other hand comes to his head, but is again thwarted. You let out a frustrated sound before you start to kick, your dress limiting your movement. The Knight took your momentum and swung his leg underneath yours.

Down the two of you go, Clark is sure to soften your blow to the ground. With his hands on your wrists he pins you to the floor. You still try to swing your legs, but he shoves his knee between your legs, rendering your legs useless.

“Ugh! You're so infuriating!” You continue to struggle. The Knight presses his hands into your wrists and his hips to yours. Even when you try to wiggle out, you can't move.

Clark stares at you, looking over all your facial features. He's so close you can feel the heat of his breath fanning your face. His hands feel warm on your skin, and his hips pressing into yours. The sensation was new and it made you ache. From wanting more or less you weren't sure, but it made your hips buckle.

“You're…really close right now” you squirmed under his eye contact, avoiding his gaze. Clark could see your cheeks get redder and redder, and focused on your lips you were unconsciously biting.

“G-get off of me” you squirmed. Clark didn't realize he lifted off you slightly until you squirmed, your center pressing against his as you unintentionally grinded on him.

You're Knight groaned above you.

It paused your movements. It was a deep, manly groan that reminded you exactly what was on top of you. A fully grown male, on top of you, a weak and spoiled princess.

You realized what had happened in that moment. You were hunted, like prey. You didn't know if you would be killed or something else entirely, and your pulse was fast. He was watching the pulse on your neck, his eyes lasered in on the quickness of it. His eyes darkened. Maybe it was the thought of being prey, or some animal instinct kicking in, but you bared your neck slightly and shut your eyes.

Clark leans into your neck, but stops just shy of it. His breath tickles you and it makes you ache down there. Your chest heaves and he watches your chest rise and fall, your breasts pushed up from your corset.

“I think you've lost, princess.”

You whimper at that, the words hot against your skin. Your body presses into his, chasing an unfamiliar pleasure. It's overwhelming and yet not enough at the same time.

Your Knight looks down at you. You're shaking slightly, eyes screwed shut as if the sight of him was overwhelming. He watches your pulse point and fought the urge to bite it. Instead, he leans closer and gathers just a little of his powers and blows cold air on your neck. You whimper at the feeling, goosebumps spreading across your skin.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” His voice is strained. “I won't go any further than this. If you don't, then…” he trails off, moving from your neck to your collarbone. His hips press into your firmly, making you moan out loud.

“I will take my prize, princess.”

Waiting for your response felt like torture. You lay still for a moment before opening your eyes. They found his, hooded and with desire.

You crane your neck to meet your lips together. They clashed hard and fast in a desperate bid for connection. Your Knight groaned and bucked his hips at the feeling of the kiss.

You fought against his restraint and he dropped your arms, his resolve not allowing himself to deny you anything. They went around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. Clark bit your lip and you moaned, tangling your fingers in his curly hair.

While one hand kept himself up from crushing you, the other went to position himself better between your legs, which wrapped around him. Clark let out a strangled noise at the movement. He felt himself strain against his pants.

He broke the kiss and rose to his knees. He thought you looked beautiful then, hair tossed around you as you lay on your back, lips red and swollen as you looked up to him with need. You made a wounded sound at the loss of heat.

Your Knight took his two large hands and lay them flat on your chest, dragging them down your body slowly. Heat followed his fingertips as they trailed lower and lower. He found the hem of your dress and yanked it to your hips and moaned at the sight of you bare and wet.

“Princess,” he says with a strain as his fingers grip your thighs “why are you not wearing underwear?”

“Well, uh-” you stutter as you try to cover yourself. He stops your hands from moving your dress. “I’ve just been in my room, I didn’t see a point.”

Your Knight can’t seem to take his eyes away from your wet, dripping pussy, watching it clench around nothing. It causes a pained moan to leave him, the sight too much for him to bear. With a trembling hand he strokes the inside of your thigh, causing you to shift. You felt embarrassed being so much on display for him while he was still fully dressed.

“Clark” you moaned. “Yes, princess?” He purred, unable to draw his eyes away. You whined in response, not really sure what you are asking for. Your hips tilted up.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He cooed, moving his hand up to your center. He swipes the pad of his finger through your folds, collecting the wetness before putting it in his mouth. Clark moaned before he even tasted it, just the smell enough to set him off, but oh how divine you tasted.

“If it ever becomes too much or uncomfortable, just let me know, okay?”

You nod as he kept eye contact with you, a desperate look in his eyes. He lowered his face until it was level with your pussy, and without realizing it, you held your breath as you waited for what was to happen next. Clark’s hands bunched the fabric at your waist as he licked a stripe up your folds, collecting as much of your essence as he could. A wanton moan left your mouth as your back arched. Your hands found his hair as he continued. It wasn’t long until his mouth found your clit, and he gave a tentative suck to test the waters.

It was a sensation you had never felt before, and it was so overwhelmingly good and too much. Your fingernails dug into his scalp as you pulled him deeper, resulting in a moan from the man. He lapped from you like you were the fountain of life and he had an unquenchable thirst. You could do nothing but writhe, mercy to what he did to you.

You didn’t even notice when his finger prodded your entrance, too lost in the sensation of his tongue, and producing so much wetness that the tip of his finger slid in easily. However, past the first knuckle you started to feel the pressure.

“Wait, Clark, I’m not sure-” you cut yourself off with a moan as the finger went deeper.

“Shh, it’s okay, let me take care of you.”

His finger started slow, letting you get comfortable with the stretch. Once your moans got louder, he pushed another finger in. His cock was leaking from how tight you felt, barely even able to fit his fingers. He had to stop himself from imagining how you would suffocate his cock.

“Clark, I need -” you didn’t really know what you needed, but you needed something more.

“I know what you need princess, don’t you worry.” The next time his fingers pressed fully in, he curled them inside you, hitting the gummy spot at the top of your walls. He kept massaging that spot, making you feel a deep, building sensation. He kept a fast pace on your clit, licking it and moaning as you lost control. You could feel your stomach drop.

“Clark, it’s too much-”

“No it’s not, just let go. It’s supposed to feel like that.” He cooed. He ground his cock on the floor, providing some temporary relief to his aching cock.

The Knight’s words combined with his skillful fingers and tongue brought you to orgasm, and it hit you hard. Your thighs clenched around Clark’s head as your fingers pulled his hair to bring him closer to you. Your back arched as you threw your head back, seeing stars as you rode it out on his tongue. Clark was moaning too, as if your orgasm was his orgasm. The sight of you reaching your peak was overwhelming, but he couldn’t look away.

You eventually pushed him off, the attention too much on your poor clit. His face came away from your pussy and you saw him, looking like a starved man. His hair was in disarray, his chin covered in you, and a wild and hungry look in his eyes. He sat up and pulled you closer to him. His hard center connected with yours and your eyes widened. Looking down you could see the outline and the wet patch he created.

Clark didn’t waste any time taking off his pants. You watched in awe as he revealed himself, choking back your surprise at how big he is. Clark nestled himself between your thighs, laying his cock on the top of your pussy. He knows he will be able to see himself inside you, but he wanted you to see it. The sight of how deep he will be inside you made his dick twitch and leak pre-cum on your stomach.

“Tell me you want it, please” Your Knight begged, a soothing hand rubbing up and down your thigh. Clark positioned himself at your entrance, not yet pushing in. His hand gripped the base of his cock as he flicked his eyes up to you. You looked at the man before you, who looked ready to break down if he didn’t get inside you, and it made your stomach twist. You nodded, very slightly, but Clark saw it.

Slowly he pushed the tip of himself inside, whispering sweet encouragement to you. His eyes remain glued on where your two bodies met. When he popped his mushroom head inside he stilled, looking up to you to make sure you are adjusting well. He thrusts shallowly with the tip, letting you get adjusted.

You moan in discomfort at the adjustment. You had never had anything inside you, and you briefly wondered if this was ever supposed to feel good. The stretch was too much and you worked to catch your breath when Clark had stilled in you. With him now moving, the pain had transitioned without you even noticing, until your body started craving more. You moaned his name again, reaching out to him.

“You want more, princess? I can give you more, don’t you worry.” He pushed himself in deeper and deeper.

Once his hips met with yours, his head dropped to your shoulder. He fought the urge to finish right then, your pussy was gripping him so tightly. You were so tight it should be painful for him, and when he went to pull out, it was like you were trying to drag him back in.

“Fuck princess, you feel so good. You’re taking me so well. God I can feel you gripping me, like you’re trying to milk me.” This made your walls clench, which made him choke on his own breath. “Don’t do that, I don’t want to finish too fast.”

His thrusts were slow at first as he watched your face, waiting for you to fully give in to the pleasure. Once he was sure you were not in pain, he picked up the pace. Your moans were loud in his ears, a series of pants, his name, and gibberish as you became cock drunk. His big hand covered your mouth when he thrusted faster, his balls slapping your ass with each thrust. He was so deep it was like you could feel him in your stomach.

With his free hand, Clark gently pulled your hair so you could watch as he pistoned in and out of you. You moaned at the sight of him disappearing into you, watching your belly bulge when he was fully inside you. It had you feeling a certain way when he was deep inside you, it was like you needed more than your small body could take.

“Clark, please-”

“What do you need, princess. Anything in the world and it’s yours” He said, his voice full of devotion.

“Deeper”

A growl left his throat. He sat up a little and pushed your thighs down into your body, reaching even deeper into you. You could feel his cock bruising your cervix and kissing your womb. Having him this deep made you forget everything else, even your name. All you could think about was chasing that high.

“Clark, I’m close.” You manage to whimper, mouth hung open as you watch him. His eyebrows were knitted together as he watched your stomach bulge every time he fully entered. His hand left your thigh and came to your clit, rubbing quick and fast circles on it.

“You look so pretty, taking me so well. I was made for you, to make you feel this good all the time. Whenever you want to feel this good, you can take me, it’s all yours.” It sounded like he was worshiping you, like he was the one unworthy of your attention.

Your Knight’s words brought you to the edge and you toppled over it, your climax hitting you hard. Your pussy squeezed his cock, gushing cum onto his cock as he continued to chase his high. He thought about how his whole purpose is to serve you, and that he will do whatever you want him to do.

He buried himself deep inside you and came, the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix and his cum warm. He placed a hand on your stomach as he thrusted through his high, still remaining deep inside you. Your name was on his tongue like a prayer as he finished, his face buried in your neck. Your pussy milked him, as if it was determined to get every last drop, and Clark was happy to give it all to you.

You looked up at him, feeling full and warm, with a lazy smile. He looked at you with wonder in his eyes, as if he was seeing a legendary creature.

“Did you like your prize?” You asked, closing your eyes as exhaustion threatened to take over. Clark didn’t move, keeping you plugged full of his cum as he pet your hair.

[cowboybeepboop]

Bliss

"You’re mine. Mine to love, mine to cherish, mine forever."

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count:  3.3k

Summary: Teasing Clark about his ‘harem’ finally leads to your first fuck.

Warnings: Overstimulation, multiple orgasms, oral fem receiving, unprotected sex, p in v sex

You and Clark have been dating for 6 months, and he’s quite the gentleman. Which has its ups and downs… especially since you’re one horny mother fucker and he waited until your third date before even kissing you, so sex has been, well, off the table in his mind. 

As you hear the sound of the balcony door opening, your heart skips a beat, and your body stiffens with anticipation. Clark, your dashing boyfriend of six long, sexually frustrating months, steps into the room, looking as heroic as ever in his superhero attire.

His cape flutters slightly behind him, and his eyes, filled with a mischievous glint, lock onto yours. You respond with a roll of the eyes. “Don’t you look dashing, Superman?” The aroma of the gourmet dinner you've prepared for your anniversary fills the space between you.

Clark chuckles at your sarcastic tone, hanging his cape on a coat rack. He smiles as he looks you up and down, clearly pleased to be home and to see you.

"Don't I always?" He teases, walking over to you and gently pulling you towards him. He wraps his arms around your waist and gives you a sweet kiss on the forehead.

"I suppose you do," You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulls you into a tight hug. "Are you hungry after saving the city?"

He hugs you tighter, burying his face in the crook of your neck and sighing contentedly. "Starving," He mumbles against your skin, his breath warm on your neck. "What smells so good?"

"I made your favorite." You pat his back, pushing him away slightly so you can prepare the plates.

Kent reluctantly lets you go, but not before stealing a quick kiss from your cheek. He leans against the counter, watching you with a boyish grin. "You spoil me," He teases, admiring your every move as you skillfully plate the food.

"I know, I know." You grin, grabbing the plates and bringing them to the dining table. "I'm too good for you, Clark." After setting the dinner table, you pull him in for a kiss. 

Clark chuckles against your lips, his arms wrapping around you and holding you close. 

"You're absolutely right. You're way too good for me." He agrees in a teasing tone, pressing a series of light kisses along your jawline. He pulls back slightly, his arms still holding you, and gazes lovingly at you. "But I'm pretty sure you love me anyway."

"That I do," Your smile grows wider, as he admires you. "Now, let's eat." 

"Yes, ma'am." He replies with a mock salute, pulling out a chair for you before taking a seat himself. He looks at the meal before him, his eyes widening in excitement. "Oh, this looks incredible. You really outdid yourself."

He immediately digs into the food, humming in appreciation at the first bite. He looks up at you with a grateful smile. "You seriously are the best, you know that?"

"Thank you, my love." You bite down on your lip, watching as he devours his whole plate. "There's more in the kitchen if you're still hungry." You continue snacking on your plate. 

Clark chuckles at your comment, his appetite seemingly endless. "You're probably right. I could eat a horse right now." He stands up and heads to the kitchen to get seconds, returning a few moments later with an even more generous plate of food. 

He sits back down and digs in again, clearly savoring every bite. "I swear, you make the best food," He says between mouthfuls, his words slightly muffled. "I don't know how I survived before we started dating."

"I guess now you're going to need to hire me as a private chef," You tease with a laugh, "Or just move in already, since you swing by every night to steal some food." 

Clark chuckles at your tease, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "Guilty as charged," He admits, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "But can you blame me for coming over here when you cook like this?"

He takes another bite, savoring the flavor before continuing. "And about moving in... I have to say, I think it's starting to make more and more sense." 

"Yeah?" You stand from your seat, moving to sit on his lap instead, your arms wrapping around his neck. "You're considering living together?" Your eyes remain locked on his, fingers brushing over his cheekbones lovingly. 

Kent wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him as you settle on his lap. He gazes into your eyes, his expression soft and loving. "I am," He says quietly, his gaze never leaving yours. 

"To be honest, I've been thinking about it for a while now. It just makes sense, you know? I spend more time here than I do at my apartment anyway." He leans in and kisses your forehead, his hand moving to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face.

"Well, I can't say I wouldn't love that." You sit back on his thighs, hands cupping his face as your heart pounds against your chest. 

Clark's heart skips a beat as he looks up at you, your touch sending a shiver down his spine. He gazes at you adoringly, his eyes filled with desire and affection.

"Really?" He asks softly, his hands gently resting on your hips. "You're sure you're ready for me to invade your space full-time?" He teases with a grin, but his voice carries a hint of vulnerability.

"I'm more than ready, Clark." You lean in, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. Clark melts into the kiss, his arms winding tighter around your waist. He pulls you closer, deepening the kiss, his lips moving against yours in soft, sweet rhythm.

He reluctantly breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to look up at you with a tender expression. His eyes search yours for a moment before he breaks into a shy smile. 

"You know, there are some benefits to me moving in…" He says, his voice soft.

"Benefits?" You smirk, arms wrapping around his neck as you pull yourself even closer. "Like finally letting me join that harem of yours?" You tease, knowing the 'Superman harem' rumors are still bugging him. 

Clark groans dramatically at your comment, rolling his eyes playfully. "You're never going to let me live down that rumor, are you?" He huffs, but there's a hint of amusement in his expression. 

He then smirks, running his hand down your back, his touch deliberate and suggestive. "Besides, why would I need a harem when I have the best woman right here in my lap?"

"Yeah?" You adjust yourself on his lap, skirt pushing up your thighs. "We still haven't made it past second base yet." Grabbing his free hand, you guide it between your legs. Despite his obvious desire for you, he resists the movement slightly, his grip on your thigh tightening.

He looks up at you with a mixture of embarrassment and hesitation. "Love, we're...we're in the middle of dinner…" He protests weakly, his voice a little shaky.

You sigh, leaning in to kiss his nose before leaving his lap. "Okay, you're right." Giving him a reassuring smile, you settle back in your seat, looking down at the plate in front of you. 

Clark releases a breath he didn't even realize he was holding as you lift yourself off his lap, the heat from his red cheeks slowly subsiding. He watches you settle back in your seat, a mixture of disappointment and relief flooding through him.

He shifts uncomfortably in his own seat, his body still tingling from the closeness and the brief suggestion. He attempts to compose himself, clearing his throat and focusing on his plate once more.

You finish the dinner in silence; it would be a lie to say you're not frustrated. You're *very* sexually frustrated, but outside of that, your relationship has always been amazing, so you're not going to push him on this. 

You return to the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes and putting away leftovers, trying to clear your mind. Clark watches you as you tidy up the kitchen, his gaze following you around the room. 

He can sense your frustration and tension, his sensitive hearing picking up on the subtle changes in your breath and heart rate. He rises from his chair and pads silently into the kitchen, standing behind you as you wash the dishes. 

He gently places his hands on your hips, his touch feather-light. "Love…" He whispers, his voice soft but hesitant.

"Hmm?" You respond with a hum, leaning back into his gentle embrace. Clark wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to his chest. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent, a mix of the dinner you'd cooked and your natural pheromones that drive him wild.

His hands gently roam your body, tracing the curves of your waist and hips, but stopping short of going any further. "Can we talk?" He murmurs against your skin, his words punctuated by a soft kiss to your shoulder.

"Of course, we can." Your hand moves to his arm, slowly caressing the soft skin. 

His gaze flickers down to your hand on his arm, a mixture of desire and concern in his eyes. He takes a deep breath, trying to find the words. "You know…we're different, right?" He finally manages to say, his voice tentative.

"I know... You're not from Earth, and you're a lot stronger than me." You chew on your lip, head pressed against his chest. 

"Yes, exactly." He nods, his grip on you tightening slightly. "I've always been careful, trying to control my strength so I don't hurt you accidentally..."

He hesitates for a moment, his voice growing quieter. "But with intimacy... It’s even more important. I have to be even more careful… to make sure I don't... lose control. I don't ever want to risk hurting you, love."

Turning in his arms, you look up at him before speaking. "Clark, I know... But I've got needs and I have been aching for you, I crave your touch *so* much." You nearly whine at this point, your body desperate for release. 

“Clark, please.” Your voice is a whisper now, taking his hand once again, you place it between your thighs, feeling his fingers brush against your sensitive spot. You let out a needy moan, eyes fluttering shut at the contact. 

Clark lets out a shaky breath as you guide his hand between your thighs, his mind warring between his desire for you and his fear of hurting you. He can feel the damp heat of your core through your clothing, and the primal, possessive part of him that's been suppressed all night finally begins to surface. 

He moves his other hand to your hip, his fingers digging into your skin. "Love…" He groans, his voice thick with lust. "Are you sure you want this?"

"More than anything, Clark. More than anything..." You grind against his hand slightly. 

His breath catches in his chest as you grind against him, the last of his resistance crumbling away. In that moment, his desire for you outweighs all his hesitations, and he makes his decision.

In a swift, fluid motion, he lifts you into his arms, one arm under your thighs and the other supporting your back. "Hold on to me," He whispers, his voice low and gravelly. "I'm taking you to the bedroom."

Clark carries you to the bedroom with the same gentle yet firm strength that you've come to love about him, the anticipation building with every step he takes. He sets you down on the edge of the bed, his eyes burning with a fiery intensity that sends shivers down your spine. 

He takes a moment to simply look at you, drinking in every inch of your body, as if committing it to memory. He slowly pulls your dress over your head, exposing your curves to his eyes. He carefully removes your bra and panties, groaning at the sight. 

He slowly lowers himself to his knees, his eyes never leaving yours as he slides your legs apart. Kent kisses the inside of your thighs, moving closer and closer to the apex of your desire. 

His breath is hot against your skin, sending waves of need crashing through you as he lingers just shy of where you want him most, earning needy whines from you.

Finally, he reaches your cunt, his eyes darkening as he takes in the sight of you, wet and eager for him. He gently presses his lips to your clit, his tongue darting out to taste you. 

You gasp at the sensation, your hands flying to his hair to pull him closer. He doesn't need the encouragement; he's already lost in the sweetness of you, the way your body responds to his every touch. 

He licks and kisses you with a passion that's been building for months, his tongue swirling and flicking, teasing and coaxing you closer to the edge. Your hips buck against his face, and he holds your legs tight, his grip firm but not painful, keeping you in place as he explores you. 

He runs his tongue along the length of your labia, tasting your wetness, before delving into you, his tongue pushing deep inside, exploring every fold and curve of your pussy. 

You moan, your body trembling as he finds your G-spot and begins to flick it with unyielding precision. His other hand slides up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple, which pebbles under his touch.

Clark's eyes are on yours, watching as you lose yourself in the pleasure he's giving you. His eyes are dark with desire, and you can see the strain in his jaw as he tries to hold back, to give you everything you need without losing control. 

You're so close, so close to coming, and you whisper his name, begging him not to stop. He responds by increasing the pressure, his tongue moving faster, his mouth suckling at your clit as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

The first orgasm hits you like a meteor, your body convulsing as you cry out his name, your legs tightening around his head. But he doesn't stop, not even for a moment. 

He continues to lick and suck at your clit, his tongue now lapping up the proof of your pleasure as it floods from your body. You try to push him away, overwhelmed by the sensation, but his arms are like steel bars, holding you in place, refusing to let you escape.

You whine for him to stop, but your pleas are met with a low, determined growl, his mouth never leaving you as he takes you through another orgasm, then another, until you're nothing but a quivering mess of nerves and need. 

Your orgasms come in waves now, each one rolling into the next, stealing your breath and making your legs tremble and shake. You're so sensitive, so overwhelmed by the sensations that you're not sure how much more you can take.

But Clark doesn't stop, driven by his need to please you, to hear you scream his name as you come apart in his arms. He's relentless, his tongue and lips working you over with a skill that's both thrilling and terrifying. 

You're lost in a sea of pleasure, unable to do anything but cling to him as he pushes you further and further. Finally, you can't take it anymore. 

"Beg for me to fuck you," he whispers against your skin. And so you do, your voice hoarse and desperate, your body aching for the kind of release that only he can provide.

Clark's grip on your thighs tightens, his eyes flashing with triumph and desire as he stands, pulling you to the edge of the bed. He strips off his glasses, setting them aside, and then his shirt, revealing the sculpted chest and abs that make up the body of a superhero. 

“Fuck, Clark. You’re so sexy.” You lean forward, hand brushing over his muscles before your lips find purchase on his skin. 

With a primal growl, Clark's eyes burn with a fierce intensity that you've never seen before. He stands before you, his powerful body bared, his erection standing tall and proud between his legs. His muscles ripple and flex as he reaches down, his hand wrapping around his cock, stroking it once before positioning it at your entrance.

He leans over you, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers, "I've wanted this for so long, love." His hand moves to cradle your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "But I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

You nod, your breath coming in pants. "I trust you, Clark."

With that, he presses forward, his cock sliding into you inch by inch. You gasp at the sensation, the feel of him filling you up so completely, so perfectly. 

He's gentle at first, his movements slow and deliberate, allowing your body to adjust to his size. You can feel every vein, every ridge as he stretches you open, the sensation bordering on pain, but the pleasure quickly overwhelms any discomfort.

As he sinks deeper, he groans, his eyes rolling back in his head. "You're so tight," He says, his voice strained. "So wet." 

His hips begin to rock, his cock sliding in and out of you with increasing speed. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by your moans and whimpers.

His hand moves from your face to your hip, his grip firm as he starts to thrust into you harder, his movements more demanding. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him closer, needing more. You can feel your orgasm building, the tension coiling low in your belly.

Clark leans down, capturing your mouth in a deep, hungry kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in the same rhythm as his cock. His free hand roams your body, finding your breast and pinching your nipple, sending sparks of pleasure through your veins.

You arch your back, pushing your chest up to meet his touch, your nails digging into his shoulders as he fucks you with a passion that's been simmering beneath the surface for months. 

His strokes are long and deep, hitting that spot inside you that makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back.

He pulls out of your mouth with a gasp, panting against your neck as he nibbles and sucks on your earlobe. "You're mine," He murmurs, the words sending a shiver down your spine. "Mine to love, mine to cherish, mine forever."

You whimper in response, your body responding to his claim. You've never felt so owned, so claimed before, and it sends you spiraling over the edge. Your pussy clamps down on his cock as you cum, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm.

He groans, his movements becoming more erratic as he feels you tighten around him. His hips slam into yours, the headboard knocking against the wall with every thrust. The bed shakes beneath you, a testament to his power and the intensity of his need.

He moves his hand from your hip to your clit, rubbing it in slow circles as he continues to pound into you, gently yet forcefully.

You moan into his mouth, your hands sliding down to grip his ass, urging him deeper. You're so close, so close to cuming again. And then he hits that perfect spot, and you do, your pussy spasming around him as he drives into you, his cock hitting the back of your cervix.

Clark's orgasm follows swiftly, his cock pulsing inside you as he releases. He groans, his body shaking with the force of it, his cum filling you up.

[54nboo]

‘polaroid’ bob reynolds.

summary: the team asks about the polaroid in bob’s wallet, so he tells them about the girl he never even dated.

pairing: bob reynolds x fem!reader

insp by: we never even dated by sombr and also that one life is strange line about chloe in max’s wallet :P

notes: angsty, mentions of drug use, relapse, j*bs mentioned

word count: i don’t know but there’s a lot

a/n: okkkkkayyyy first fic on this blog lets goooo it had to be my man bobothy reynolds of course and only real ones know it had to be angst. let me know your thoughts!!!!

acknowledgements: @/cursed-carmine for the beautiful header!!! and also dedicated to @opheliabbarnes cuz who else could this be dedicated to

yelena knew she was in over her head asking bob if he wanted to go to the store with her.

don’t get her wrong— she likes bob. bob is fun, and she would have much rathered his company than john (annoying), her dad (even more annoying), ava (british) or bucky, who was tolerable, but unavailable. it was just that bob was bob, and he wasn’t exactly the most fun to be around either.

yelena fiddled with a box of dry spaghetti before humming and tossing it into the red basket hanging from her arm. it makes a loud crinkling sound as it lands on top of the other items, almost falling out from the side.

bob points awkwardly at the full basket, brows crinkling in worry, “should we get another basket?”

yelena glances down, then back up at bob. she pats him on the arm and gives a half-assed smile, “why don’t you put those muscles to use and carry some stuff?”

“oh—“ bob stutters, “okay.”

bob holds out his arms, expecting yelena to pass him the basket, but she ends up placing the pack of dry spaghetti, amongst other items, straight onto his arms.

“do we even need this much stuff?” he asks as he watches her pile three stalks of celery onto two boxes of cereal.

“no, but it’s valentina’s money, so i feel okay spending it.” yelena shrugs.

“oh, okay.” he’s silent for a moment, but then he perks up again, “do you think she’d be mad were spending her money on celery?”

this is like the hundredth question he’s asked in ten minutes.

“no, bob.”

“okay, cool.”

they continue shopping— or more like yelena shops and bob follows, acts like a second basket and asks questions every five seconds.

by the time they reach the cashier, bob is like the leaning tower of pisa. he’s juggling boxes upon boxes and every step he takes is another step closer to collapsing and spilling cereal and spice jars all over the store floor.

the cashier, a teenager, shoots a judgemental look towards bob, who only grins awkwardly behind the boxes. yelena gives the teenager a small ‘hello’ before she starts placing items onto the conveyor belt.

yelena reaches into her pocket for valentina’s card, but frowns when she realises it’s empty. she quickly reaches for her jacket pockets, but there’s nothing in there either.

“oh shit.” yelena groans, “i forgot the card.”

bob and yelena glance at each other with panicked eyes, bob more-so than yelena.

they hadn’t even scanned half of the groceries yet.

“how much is it?” yelena asks.

“$106.50.”

they hadn’t even scanned half of the groceries yet.

yelena scoffs, “geez.”

the cashier awkwardly points at the screen, “so did you want me to cancel that or…?”

yelena wants to answer, but she’s unsure of what she should even say. should she say yes and then leave this tiny teenager to put all of these groceries back by themselves? should she say no and be in debt to the store?

“i-i have fifty dollars.” bob mentions.

yelena shoots bob a confused look. bob has fifty dollars in cash when he has valentina’s money at his disposal? he basically has millions of dollars in his hands and chooses to keep a measly fifty dollars on him— but she respects it.

“here— it’s in my wallet.”

he tilts his hips towards yelena. in his right cargo pocket, there was an outline of his wallet. yelena raises her brows, but digs into his pocket and pulls it out.

“i’ll—um—“ bob leans over and grabs whatever bags he can and nods his head towards the aisles, “i’ll go put some stuff back.”

“okay, bob.”

bob scatters back towards the aisle and yelena gives a tightlipped smile to the cashier before observing the wallet.

it’s a decent wallet— one that valentina had given bob after he had pestered her for two weeks for a place to hold his subway coupons— and holds most of bob’s most cherished belongings.

yelena picks through it, flicking through the various receipts, coins, and subway coupons trying to find the fifty dollars bob mentioned— but then she spots something that catches her attention.

she pulls it out. in between her fingers was a polaroid of bob and… a girl? a very pretty girl, at that.

it’s worn— edges frayed and picture yellowed, but yelena can only focus on the girl. she’s smiling so wide that it’s almost contagious, and her eyes are full of life. yelena almost feels a smile appearing on her face.

the girl’s arm is wrapped around bob’s neck and her face is smushed against his. bob looks a little more put together than he is now. his hair is a touch shorter and he’s wearing a big button up shirt. he’s smiling too, but his eyes are looking at her. he looks happy.

yelena doesn’t know anything about this mystery girl, but she can see how much she matters to bob, and the thought makes her smile.

but before she can look any further, she hears bob walking back up to the counter. yelena shoves the polaroid back into his wallet and pulls out the crumpled fifty dollar note.

“a worker said she would handle it for me, so i think we’re all good.” bob grins with a weak thumbs up as he walks up, “you find the fifty yet?”

“yes, it’s right here.” yelena quickly replies as she hands it to the cashier, suddenly feeling quite nervous, “very smart keeping cash on you.”

bob tilts his head, “you don’t?”

“no. why would i? that’s stupid.”

“you… just said it was smart.”

“shush, bob.”

after paying and sliding the paper bags onto bob’s arms, the two made the short walk back to the tower. bob juggled with the paper bags, grunting whenever his knees knocked against the cans of tomato soup.

bob, as always, doesn’t complain. he adjusts his grip and walks onwards, trying to keep up with yelena.

“guess we don’t need to get groceries for another few months.” he tries to joke, but yelena doesn’t reply.

he glanced at her, confused. normally she’d have something snarky to say, or even something, but she doesn’t say anything. bob chalks it up to her being tired or annoyed at the random people sneaking photos of her, he doesn’t bother her any further.

not even an hour later, yelena finds herself beside bucky. they had just been called in by valentina for a debriefing for their next mission. it was just yelena and bucky, and in a way, yelena was thankful she wouldn’t have john, ava, or her dad calling for her every second.

it was quick and technical. yelena had nodded at all the right times and said all the right things, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the girl in bob’s wallet.

valentina’s voice still rings sharply in her head. the hallways are most empty as they walk towards the elevator. bucky’s boots thump against the tiled floor, not saying much as he walks with his hands in his pockets. his eyes are set forwards, but he glances at yelena as if he can sense that she’s about to say something.

so she cuts straight to the point.

“do you know if bob has a girlfriend?”

the question takes bucky back a little bit. yelena, who has never once worried about any of the team’s relationships, was suddenly asking about bob’s?

“why?” he quirks an eyebrow, “are you interested?”

“what? no. i just—” she sighs and squeezes the bridge of her nose. she slows down, and bucky does as well, “when i was going through his wallet, i found a picture of him and a girl. looked like an old girlfriend… or someone close. i didn’t ask.”

bucky tilts his head and narrows his eyes, “you went though his wallet?”

“i was looking for money.” yelena gestures to herself in defence, “we were getting groceries and i forgot val’s card.”

bucky nods once, but his expression is unreadable.

“so do you know if he’s seeing anyone or seen anyone?”

he shrugs, “i don’t know. i don’t think so. he hasn’t mentioned anything either. why don’t you just ask him?”

yelena scoffs, “what, and say ‘hey bob. i went through your wallet and saw that polaroid of you and this beautiful girl. who is she?’”

bucky looks at her as if that’s exactly what she should say, “…yeah.”

she glares at him, but it doesn’t exactly land the way she wants it to. bucky looks at her as if he’s known her for far too long to be intimidated.

“just… i don’t want bob to find out and get upset. let’s just keep this between us.” yelena shifts her weight, “promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

“i won’t.”

“promise it, bucky.”

“ok, fine—“ bucky exhales, “i promise.”

and bucky likes to think he can keep secrets. he likes to think he’s a good enough friend to keep his mouth shut— but somehow, he manages to let it slip.

bucky and john are in the training room, sweat already gathering at the collar of their shirts. they’ve been sparring for almost two hours, and neither of them were close to giving up.

he dodges another one of john’s punches with ease.

“come on, grandpa. stop going easy on me.” john grunts as he circles bucky, fists raised to his face.

bucky huffs, “stop running your mouth and then maybe you’d be able to land a few hits.”

they trade a few blows. bucky’s sharper, more controlled, but john’s strength keeps him from going down easily. the wraps in their hands are tearing at the seams with each hit, echoing throughout the gym, yet neither relent.

john ducks from a jab and counters it with a sharp twist and a palm to the shoulder, sending bucky stumbling back a few steps.

bucky’s off. not enough for most people to notice, but john does. his punches are just a little late and his reactions are slower. he keeps leaving his left side open— which he usually never does— and it’s the first thing john exploits.

“you’re getting sloppy.” john cocks his head as he readjusts his stance, “what’s got you so distracted?”

bucky shakes his head. he runs a hands against his jaw, wiping the sweat that had crawled down from his hairline, “nothing.”

but it wasn’t nothing. yelena’s voice ran rampant in his mind, and now all of a sudden, he was curious about the girl in bob’s wallet.

“you sure? because i just landed two hits on you that you normally would’ve blocked with your eyes closed.”

bucky swings. misses. grunts.

“this about yelena? she seemed real secretive about something this morning.” john circles him again.

and john can tell he’s hit gold as soon as bucky lunges forward, throwing a punch that john usually wouldn’t have been able to dodge— but bucky’s sloppy, so he does.

“oh, it is.” john smirks, “what, did she yell at you again?”

bucky really doesn’t want to tell john, but the guy would not have given up. he would have pressed and pressed until bucky beat the shit out of him, and he didn’t really feel like doing that right now.

“she—“ bucky groans, “she found a photo in bob’s wallet?

“a photo?” john blinks, “what, like a nude?”

“no, walker. it was picture of him and some girl.” bucky pinches the bridge of his nose, “she said it looked like a girlfriend or something. she also said she was pretty.”

john’s eyes light up like a kid on christmas, “so bobby has a girlfriend?”

bucky wants to slap himself. he let it slip, and to john of all people? that man wouldn’t have kept bob’s secret to save his life. god, he should’ve just lied.

“forget i said anything.” bucky grumbles as he starts unwinding his hand wraps.

“yeah, good luck with that.” john grins, “that’s the best thing i’ve heard all week!”

“i’m serious, walker. yelena told me not to tell anybody.”

“hey, don’t stress. i’m great with secrets.”

but he isn’t. john can keep secrets, but only if they involve his own personal business— otherwise, it’s free real estate. another thing about john is that he really, really doesn’t like awkward silences.

it’s late. the halls are dark and it’s almost silent in the tower, but john is really craving orange juice. thanks to yelena and bob’s earlier grocery trip, they now have four bottles that he decides he wants all to himself.

but ava beats him to it. she’s already sat down on the kitchen island, eyes glued to her phone, which seems to be playing some british news channel. beside her sit three bottles of orange juice, two empty and the other almost finished. with her other hand, she shovels dry lucky charms straight from the box into her mouth— no milk, just cereal.

“hey.” john grumbled as he eyes his orange juice.

“hey.” ava mumbles back, her eyes still focused on the news channel on her phone.

john walks over to the fridge and opens it, expecting the usual sad collection of condiments and energy drinks— but no, there’s actual groceries in there.

there’s even a pot of macaroni sitting behind a bundle of kale. it’s still warm, and there’s a pink post-it-note on top of the lid that just says ‘don’t touch. seriously. i’ll know’ in aggressive blue sharpie.

john pulls out the last bottle of orange juice and grabs a handful of grapes, tossing a few into his mouth as he shuts the fridge and leans against the counter. ava’s phone is loud enough that john can hear it— something about a diplomatic standoff in prague.

“big week for international diplomacy.” he half-jokes, nodding at the news report still playing on her phone.

ava hums, “it’s the third one this month. val’s sending yelena and bucky there. thought i’d research a little.”

john shifts slightly, the joke dying before it even really got the chance to land. “right. makes sense.”

the news anchor continues talking, something about increased military presence and growing tension within the country, but then it cuts out.

“shit.” ava grumbles, smacking her phone against her palm before tossing it onto the counter. she leans back in her seat like she doesn’t know what to do.

john takes a swig of his orange juice, “what?”

ava glances up at john, then grabs the lucky charms. she shovels a handful into her mouth, “my phone died.”

john hums.

but now it’s just so quiet and ava’s chewing is getting louder and more obnoxious, and he’s sure that if he doesn’t make conversation soon, his head might explode.

“the fridge is full.” he says suddenly.

ava finally glances up at him with one brow raised, “yeah?”

he nods, “like actual food. there’s spinach in there.”

“huh.” ava cocks her head in bewilderment. who would have expected them to buy spinach?

but then it’s quiet again. the crunching of lucky charms between ava’s teeth makes john want to scratch out his eyeballs. the fridge hums. a pipe creaks somewhere in the building.

you have to give him the benefit of the doubt— john has never done well in awkward silences.

“bob has a girlfriend.” he blurts out.

ava freezes mid-chew.

“what?”

john shrugs as if he hadn’t just dropped the biggest piece of team drama on ava at three in the morning. she’s so surprised that a lucky charm falls from her mouth and back into her hand.

it’s silent now. john actually misses the crunching.

ava swallows her chewed cereal— slow like her brain is trying to comprehend what he had just said. she places the box back onto the island and leans forwards, intertwining her fingers like she’s trying to run the idea of bob having a girlfriend through her mind.

john watches her, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that he’s squeezing his half-empty orange juice between his hands like a nervous child. the condensation is dripping down his thumb, but ava’s looking at him like she expects him to say something else,

“what?” he grimaces.

ava raises her brows, incredulous, “you can’t just say that and then shrug! give me some context!”

“i did give you context.” john says defensively, “bucky told me that yelena told him that bob has a photo of him and a pretty girl hidden in his wallet.”

ava rolls her eyes, “what you told me wasn’t context, you idiot. that was the headline.”

“okay winston churchill, i’m trying my hardest.” john snaps, vaguely gesturing to himself as if it’d help his point.

ava shook her head, deadpan, “just shut up and tell me exactly what bucky said.”

“well, we were sparring, he was distracted, i landed a couple hits, and then i said something like ‘what’s got you so distracted?’ and then he just blurts it out. said yelena found a photo of bob with some girl in his wallet. he didn’t give me a name or a backstory— just that she found it and it’s been messing with her.”

ava narrows her eyes, “messing with her how?”

“i don’t know, like… it’s bothering her that she doesn’t know who she is. seems to be bothering bucky too, the way he’s throwing punches.” john shrugs, but then points a finger to add another point, “which i get, by the way. a wallet photo? that’s pretty intimate. and apparently she’s real pretty.”

ava leans forward again, her attention piqued. john chugs the rest of his juice and shoots it into the open trash can, watching it as it hits the rim once, bounces, and then tumbles in.

he claps his hands in success and turns to gauge ava’s reaction, but she only looks unimpressed. she quickly gets back to the topic.

“so bob’s just… walking around completely unaware that the entire team knows about this girl?”

“well, everybody but alexei.” he stuffs the rest of the grapes into his mouth and looks ava up and down, “okay, now it looks like you’re spiraling.”

“i’m not.” ava replies too fast, “i’m just wondering who bob’s mystery girl is.”

“i hope someone asks soon,” john mutters, “because i swear to god, if i have to keep this secret for any longer, it’s going to eat me alive.”

so why not give the people what they want? ava thought why not go straight to the source? bob was literally within arms reach of her, so why not?

“who’s the girl in your wallet?”

unfortunately, she had gone straight to the source in the middle of the living room, where the team was strewn around on the couches, still trying to catch their breathes after five hours of mandatory training.

bob sits comfortably on the couch in his sweats, just happy he can talk to someone after five hours.

yelena freezes. and almost like she hadn’t just been beating a punching bag for five hours, she sits up and glares at ava. ava then shrugs and glances at john, who raises his brows and points at bucky, who gives yelena a tight lipped smile. alexei, as usual, was just confused.

yelena rolls her eyes and throws her head back in disbelief, “oh my goodness, people. it hasn’t even been a day!”

bob looks around the room, almost unaware of what was happening, but when he finally registers ava’s question and sees all of the eyes ogling him, his stomach sinks and he frowns.

he turns to yelena, “you snooped in my wallet?”

“i didn’t mean to.“ yelena sits up and shakes her head in defence, “it fell out when i was getting the money for the groceries— and i mean, it’s a picture of you and a very pretty girl, so i looked!”

“woah!” alexei exclaims, reaching over to grab bob by the shoulders and give him a firm shake, “bob has girlfriend?”

“she’s not—“ bob vigorously shakes his head. there’s a bitter taste growing in his mouth, “she’s not my girlfriend.”

“then who is she?” john asks, “you don’t carry a picture of someone in your wallet unless they’ve emotionally wrecked you or you’re planning to propose.”

bob opens his mouth to say something— anything— but nothing comes out. the problem isn’t that he has no words, it’s that he has too many. he can feel them writhing around in his throat, knotting together into a tight ball of word vomit.

he closes his mouth.

john licks his teeth, “okaaaaay… i’m guessing you don’t plan on proposing—“

“you don’t have to tell us, bob.” yelena cuts john off, “we were just wondering—“

“no, no, it’s okay. it just—“ bob quickly replies, waving his hand like he’s trying to swat away the lump in his throat, “caught me a little off guard.”

he’s aware of everyone staring at him like he’s been cracked open, but he remembers that this is his family now— his stupid girl troubles weren’t enough cause to start shaming him.

his brows furrow in thought, trying to think of what he could possibly say that would capture the two years he had known you. two years, and somehow, there still aren’t words big enough.

because how do you explain carrying a picture of someone you never got to love out loud? how do you admit that a part of you plays conversations that have never been had, like maybe there was a version of your life that had turned out different?

so he starts from the beginning.

“we were neighbour back in sarasota.” he says, the words slow, like he’s trying to recount everything perfectly, “we lived in a dingy apartment building that felt like a shoebox. i had only been living there for a few months before she moved in two doors down. i remember because she would always play music when she cooked— real loud, like she didn’t care who heard it. i used to complain about it in my head all the time. but then at some point… i started waiting for it.”

he runs a hand over his jaw, smiling faintly like the memory surprises him.

“everyone loved her. it was hard not to. but the kids in the apartment adored her. they’d knock at her door just to see what she was doing, or to ask if she wanted to play soccer with them, and she always did. she worked at the theatre, so sometimes she would bring them back boxes of popcorn.”

he glances down at his hands, flexing them like he’s trying to keep the memory from slipping away, “and then one day, i locked myself out of my apartment— no keys, no phone, nothing. i was just standing there like an idiot. but then she walked by and saw me sitting in the hallway and asked if i wanted her to call the superintendent. i said it was fine but she did it anyways.

and then… she invited me into her apartment. she made me peppermint tea, let me pick a movie… and then we just sat there watching twister.”

“she sounds kind.” yelena mumbles with a smile, her voice soft in a way she rarely lets it be.

bob laughs— a breathy laugh that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “she was the kindest. we started talking more after that. i helped her carry her groceries once, and she lent me a screwdriver when my cabinet door fell off. but it was always easy… like— like i didnt have to try so hard to be someone else.”

the team is silent as they watch bob. no one moves. even alexei has shut his mouth. it’s silent, but the air is thick— with love? reverence? admiration, definitely. the team is seeing another side of bob now, and they’re afraid even breathing too loud would throw it all out of the window.

bucky breaks the silence, his voice low but steady, “what was her name?”

there’s no demand in his tone. no pressure—

bob flinches.

your name sits in the back of his throat like bile. he doesn’t want to say it. he hasn’t said it for years. he’s afraid that if he does, you won’t be his anymore— that if your name leaves his mouth, you’d be gone forever, final and permanent.

but you weren’t here anymore, and you weren’t his anymore. you never really were.

so he lets it slip from his mouth, soft and subtle, but the way he says it— like it’s the last beautiful thing he has left to ruin— makes him feel sick.

bob reaches for his pocket, his fingers hovering for a second before he pulls open his wallet, the leather groaning like it knows what’s coming.

he slides the photo out gently, the edges worn and picture yellowed from all those years of being touched, looked at, and missed. he doesn’t look at it, just holds it inbetween his fingers for a moment, his thumb brushing over your face like he’s trying to recognise the way your skin felt.

and then he hands it to alexei.

just a quiet offering, like maybe if he let them see you— really see you— then they might understand why you still live in the space between his ribs.

“she is very beautiful, bob.” alexei almost congratulates, his voice warm and sincere as he passes it to ava, “very pretty girl.”

ava takes it into her hands carefully, like the slightest movement might turn it to ash. her eyes flick down as she scans the image, and something shifts in her face. softness, maybe, and sympathy.

bob clears his throat— once, then twice. his voice is quieter now, like the memory of you is all that’s keeping him going.

“we… we spent everyday together after that.” he says, “two years. just about.”

bob glances at the polaroid, now in john’s hands, and watched how the super soldier gently flips it over to observe it. “i’d bring her takeout after my shifts, and she would sneak me into the theatre whenever a new movie came out that she thought i’d like— and i always did.”

“and she could tell i was struggling. i think everyone did. but… she didn’t treat me like i was my addiction. she didnt tiptoe around it, or act like it wasn’t there— she just let me be a person. she made me want to get better. and i did for a while. i really did.” he confesses with a small smile, “she was good like that.”

“so,” john says as he leans over and hands the photo to bucky, “what happened to her?”

it’s a question they all tiptoed around. what if they had just resurrected the memory of someone who’s been six feet under for years? what if they had just tore another hole in bob’s chest?

the corners of bobs mouth tug down. he feels a familiar ache in his chest, and when he speaks, his voice is quiet— fragile. “she disappeared during the blip.”

there’s a shift in the air, the kind that only comes with that word— an event they all witnessed and lost so much to.

“we were fighting when she disappeared. we weren’t yelling, just… that quiet kind of fighting.” he admits, almost like he’s ashamed of it. he swallows hard as he fidgets with his sleeves, his gaze hitting the floor, “i had relapsed. just a little. that’s what i told her— just a little. but she knew it wasn’t just a little.

she was upset. disappointed, maybe, i— i don’t know.” bob shakes his head, “i told her i didn’t need help. she told me i did. and then i said something so… stupid— angry and scared and stupid— and she just stood there and looked at me like i had just broken her heart.”

his voice wavers, and something raw flashes across his face. bob blinks hard, like it’ll keep the sting in his eyes from turning into anything more.

then his hand drifts. its slow at first— just a subtle curve of his fingers over his chest— but then he presses down, his palm flat, like he’s trying to hold himself together.

“and then she vanished— right in front of my eyes.”

yelena leans over the couch, her expression softening as she places a gentle hand onto bob’s shoulder. it’s quiet, like she doesn’t need to say anything, because there isn’t anything to say that could make it easier.

“i waited so long for her to come back— but the worst part… was the look on her face before she disappeared. like she didn’t know if i loved her at all.”

bob doesn’t cry, but he looks like he might. but then he lets out a breath— half-laugh, half-sigh— and shakes his head, trying to blink the tears away.

“it’s so stupid… i mean— we never even dated.” he shrugs like he’s trying to be light-hearted, but it doesn’t work.

“just because you never dated the girl, it doesn’t mean you didn’t love her.” john adds.

and somehow, coming from john, it hits harder.

the polaroid makes its way back to bob. he holds it between his fingers, the feeling of the shiny polaroid calming him down already.

“did you ever go back to find her after everyone reappeared?” yelena asks.

bob sighs and shakes his head, “i couldn’t. i was already high out of my mind in malaysia. by the time i came to, i didn’t have any money to get back home.”

the room settles once again. bob’s looking down at the polaroid and nobody else dares to speak, not wanting to break the silent spell that’s settled over them.

and then—

“why don’t we just google her or something?” ava asks, furrowing her brows like she just had the most brilliant idea in the world, “i’m sure something would pop up.”

everyone blinks.

“wh—what?” bob lifts his head.

“you miss her, right?” ava asks, “so let’s just do a quick search. no harm done. it’s not like we’re gonna message her or anything.”

“no, no. that feels weird. i don’t want to invade her privacy or anything. i mean—“ bob awkwardly laughs, “it’s been years—“

but ava brushes him off and points to the table behind bob and alexei, “can you pass the laptop and bob’s photo?’

alexei cheers. he plucks the polaroid from bob’s fingers and slides her the laptop, “yes, finally someone with brains!”

ava wastes no time in opening it and opening google. the team crowds around, necks craning and shoulder bumping as they try to catch a glimpse of the screen.

bob shifts in his seat, slightly hesitant. nervousness bubbles deep within his stomach. he’s afraid.

ava types your name into the search bar, unsure what results would pop up with only your first name, but when she clicks the enter button, she’s slammed with links— social media profiles, media blogs, a couple of articles, and even a podcast episode.

“woah.” ava mumbles as she scrolls through the searches, “hey bob, if this is your girl, you’re gonna be so proud of her.”

bob’s so curious, but he’s also so scared.

she clicks on a wikipedia page, where a photo of your face pops up for the entire team to see. ava places the polaroid side-by-side, and the air shifts in realisation.

it’s definitely you.

ava scrolls down a little bit, the entire room silent as each person read— and there was so much to read.

“she’s got a whole resume here. look at all those credits.” yelena points to a list of projects you’ve been a part off, her eyes widening, “she worked on that space movie i cried during!”

“she’s a director.” john points out.

alexei gasps, “she makes the movies? oh wow, bob! you pick a good one!”

bob doesn’t even realise he’s started chewing on his thumbnail. she’s a director? that’s all she’s ever wanted to be.

he thinks, and then slowly, almost without thinking, he gets up. he crosses the room, and without speaking, he squeezes through and his eyes settle on the screen.

bob doesn’t speak, just stares at the picture of you. it’s a little more polished, and you look a little more grown, but it’s unmistakably you. you’re smiling, professional, and wearing a pair of heavy-looking headphones around your neck, probably caught between takes.

you look good. you look happy. you look like you’ve built a life, and for a second, all bob can think is god, i’m so glad she’s okay.

it finally sinks in that you’re real and not just a memory he keeps in his wallet. you exist somewhere out there, breathing the same air as him.

bob finds that he’s not sad anymore— he’s nervous.

“she’s based in los angeles.” ava reads a line of text aloud, her voice cutting through the silence.

bob’s eyes are still glued to the scene, barely registering ava’s words until they sink in a second later.

los angeles. not another country, or another planet— you’re across the country. just a flight away.

“really?” he mumbles.

“what?” yelena looks up at him with concerned eyes, “is that weird or something?”

“i mean, she’d always talked about wanting to do an apprenticeship or something in LA. i just didn’t think she’d—“

he trails off. didn’t think she’d actually do it? didn’t think she’s survive the blip? didn’t think she’d move on without him?

“oh shit.” ava laughs, her eyes widening.

“what?” alexei intently leans over her shoulder.

john raises an eyebrow, “is she married?”

bucky shoves him a little.

“no, no— just look at this.” ava points at a new press article highlighted in large red writing, “she’s solo-directing her first movie in new york. it says it’s shooting in brooklyn in a month.”

for a moment, bob thinks he’s misheard ava. you’re shooting a movie in brooklyn in a month? there’s no way the stars had aligned that perfectly.

but she said it, and it’s right there on the screen. you’re going to be in the same city as him— probably even a few blocks away from him.

“guess the universe wants a rematch.” john snickers with a smug grin.

bob lets out a shaky breath, “oh god.”

he doesnt know how to feel. relief that you’re okay? that you’re doing what you love? or panic? that new york city isn’t big enough to hide in anymore. fear? fear of what he might say if he sees you again, and afraid of what you might say back.

if you crossed each other on the street? i mean, he’s aged five years and you haven’t. would you even recognise him?

but underneath all of that fear and uncertainty, there’s something warmer— hope. and that’s what really guts bob, because hope is what hurt the most last time.

“she’s coming to new york.” bob says under his breath, more to himself than anyone else— like he’s trying to cement it into his brain, “god, she’s coming to new york.”

john reaches over and pats bob on the back, “so what are you gonna do about it, bobby?”

everyone is watching bob. they’re waiting, not saying a word, but they’re all hoping he says the same thing.

finally, bob straightens up. there’s a genuine smile on his face, his eyes wide with a burst of confidence—

“… i think i’m gonna go see her.”