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simsiddy · 10 days ago

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—-- windchill

john walker x ex-avenger!ex-widow!reader

—- summary: walker doesn't seem too excited about the fact that captain america just saved your life. arguing ensues. and then making out follows. —- wc: 5.4k —- warnings: no use of y/n, john walker is an asshole, canon-typical violence, reader is also a bit of an asshole, actually everyone is kind of an asshole, jealous john walker, arguing, making out, spontaneous confessions, everybody lives in the tower because i said so —- notes: thunderbolts made me want walker and i will make it everyone's problem. first time writing this freak so hopefully you guys like it lmao.

[тётушка (tyot-oosh-ka) - auntie]

"lost visual on the fourth, anyone got him?"

walker's voice comes through your earpiece, the only sound beside the thrum of the wind in your ears. you shift to look down at him from your vantage point, perched on the roof of a nearby building.

"nothing from up here," you respond, giving the streets another quick once-over through your scope, but between the overturned cars, the only movement on the street is from your team. "must've ducked into an alley somewhere."

he huffs, and you watch him run a hand through his hair. "copy that."

"copy this, copy that, lost visual– you can just say you let him get away, you know that right?" ava's grumbling earns a quiet chuckle from you which you're careful not to broadcast over the radio, but yelena isn't so considerate.

naturally, the three of them start to bicker. as entertaining as it is to listen to them go back and forth, you tune them out as best you can while you continue to watch for the last target. or, that's what you intended to do, but despite your efforts your gaze seems to naturally gravitate to john no matter where you look.

his helmet had been lost a while ago, and you have to admit, he looks good with his hair a mess like that. the blood smeared on his face, the dirt and grime marring his skin – in the back of your mind, you're glad everyone else is too busy to notice you ogling him through your scope.

it crept up on you, how quickly you came to like walker. you weren't expecting to care for him any more than you did when you were chasing the flag smashers, but he's a lot more tolerable when he's not being an egomaniac. lately, though, just being near him is enough to distract you. and when you're twenty stories up and still can't seem to focus? you realise it might have become a problem.

there's a crunch behind you, the unmistakable sound of gravel under heavy boots, but your reaction is too slow. the moment you twist around to face your assailant, you're met with a hard strike to the temple.

your vision blurs from the impact, a trail of warm blood falling down your face, a yelp passing your lips before you can stop it. the blow knocks you onto your back, dangerously close to the ledge, and sends your rifle clattering to the ground below.

you grunt, your fingers immediately reach for the pistol at your thigh, pointing it at him the best you can through the disorientation, but he grabs the barrel and forces it upwards.

there's a struggle, an agonising moment where you fight for the upper hand with him on top of you. voices in your earpiece are white noise in the background, your team no doubt having noticed your situation by now.

your assailant shifts his weight, and you take the split-second opportunity to swipe his legs from under him. the gun slips from both of your hands, sliding just out of reach as he hits the ground next to you.

you lunge for it, and so does he, your breathing ragged. the trigger, taut under your finger, the barrel flush to his chest, the blood roaring in your ears, a hard pressure against your stomach.

a single shot rings through the air, and then you're falling.

the weightless feeling makes your stomach turn, the ground is coming up fast, too fast to think – it all happens quicker than you can react.

you vaguely hear a shout of your name, multiple voices, though one is louder than the rest, but it falls on deaf ears.

then, the air is forced from your lungs by a solid force colliding with your ribs, and suddenly you're not falling anymore. you blink through your dizzy confusion, finding what caught you isn't just a force, but a person – and not just any person, it's sam wilson.

with the wind whipping around you, you can just about discern his voice as he calls out, "happy to see me?"

he'd swooped in and plucked you out of the air, holding you close as he cuts through the air with a speed that makes your head spin.

"holy shit!" you cry, holding the back of his suit with a vice grip. the skyscrapers fly by, and, yes, you've known sam a long time, but you've never been in the sky with him before.

you feel his laugh rather than hear it, the vibrations under your palms as he gradually banks back around to where the other (new) avengers were. and honestly, now that you're not in immediate danger, the feeling of the wind in your hair is actually quite pleasant.

when your feet are finally back on the ground, you're not prepared for how your knees give out from under you. sam catches you, again, his arms winding around your waist to steady you, an amused grin on his face.

"woah, you okay?" he asks, the wings of his suit retracting into themselves, and you nod.

"yeah, i'm good – nice catch, by the way." you grin up at him, breathless. a hand still rests over the star on his chest as you find your balance, and the other cradles the new ache in your side, "even if you did break all my ribs in the process."

he chuckles, finding the humour in your words and returning it easily. "hey, i don't accept responsibility for injuries sustained while i'm saving your life, and you're more than welcome for that, by the way."

you're still reeling from the shock of almost falling to your demise, but you can't help the breathless laugh that escapes you. it's slightly delirious and adrenaline fueled, a reflex of sorts. near-death experiences weren't uncommon for you, but you have to admit, this was one of the more fun occasions.

steady enough now to stand on your own, you take a step back and meet sam's eyes once more with a sincere expression. "seriously though, thanks."

"any time." he smiles again, softer, and releases your waist, sliding one arm up to rest around your shoulders instead. "just don't make a habit of falling off buildings, okay?"

you chuckle, patting his chest as you take notice of the rest of your team rushing over, "alright, if you insist."

yelena calls your name as she skids to a stop in front of you, taking your face in both her hands and thoroughly checking you over for cuts and bruises.

"тётушка, you okay? you don't have a concussion?" she frowns, tilting your head to meet her concerned gaze. she brushes away the blood at your brow, and the incredulous look she sends sam, as if it was his fault, almost has you laughing again.

you manage to hold back your amusement though, mostly for her sake, and reassure her, "i'm fine, lena, i promise."

her eyes dart to the way you're holding your ribs as you shift uncomfortably in place, and clicks her tongue at you. "no, you're not fine, look at you – you're more injured than before he got to you!"

"ah, captain america, a rookie mistake!" alexei's voice echoes through the empty street, and he's still yelling even as he lands a hand on sam's shoulder. "you are not very good at whole saving people business, eh? that's okay, red guardian forgives you!"

"wh–" sam pulls a face, half offended, half confused, "you didn't see me catch her mid-air two minutes ago?"

"bah! child's play!" alexei dismisses him with a wave of his giant hand, and he's about to continue until he's interrupted by another one of your team arriving.

"yeah, we all saw you wilson, jesus christ…" walker huffs, rolling his eyes as he comes to a stop a little ways from where you stand.

the air instantly thickens. his jaw is clenched hard, the death glare he's sending sam unsettling in a way that's not like him.

"what's the problem now, walker?" there's annoyance in sam's voice, but you can't shake the way john is locked onto sam; like a predator to prey, he hasn't taken his eyes off him once, and it worries you.

something about the way his eyes graze sam's arm, still around you, sticks in the back of your mind. the way his jaw clenches and his fists tighten at his sides, it unearths something more to his anger.

john scoffs, and rolls his eyes again. "my problem is we're the avengers, and yet for some reason you're always right there whenever we're trying to do our jobs!" he throws his arms out to the sides, his breathing fast and heavy. a moment passes where no one moves, just watching him in stunned silence. "look– we get it, you think you're better than us, but you're not, okay?"

"walker, you need to calm down." yelena leaves your side to get between them, but the staredown just continues over her head.

sam drops his arm from your shoulders, holding his hands out as he takes a step towards walker, an attempt to placate him that has little effect. "hold on, i don't think I'm better than you guys–"

"but you do think you're better than me, don't you wilson?" he's shouting, invading sam's space now, his fists twitching with the effort of holding back. the way his voice cracks, subtle but clear as day to you, sends a twinge through your heart.

you hesitate to break the thick silence that follows. part of you wants to shut him up, to defend your friend – but a larger part, the part of you that cares about john, says that this isn't like him.

"walker." you murmur, a low warning just loud enough to catch his attention.

his glare snaps to you, an undertone of something undeniably hurt beneath his burning anger, but then it's gone just as fast as it appeared. "what? you're on his side now?"

there's a deep sting in your chest when he meets your eye with that same piercing scowl. "i'm not on anyone's side–"

"really? 'cause you're supposed to be on ours– your team's!" he spits, "but i guess it's just whatever you feel like in the moment, right widow?"

if he notices the way your face falls, he doesn't show it.

"alright enough!" bucky yells. he gets in-between the two of them, next to yelena, and puts his metal hand sternly on john's chest. "walker, go back to the car."

john scoffs again. "right. i'm the bad guy – as per usual." he spits, the energy fading from his voice with every word until he just sounds defeated. "why is he even here?"

"just shut up and start walking." bucky growls, pushing him away with the hand on his chest. walker huffs, hesitating like he's debating if he should argue, but eventually spins on his heel and marches off. bucky looks over his shoulder at you, sending sam a somewhat apologetic look, before wordlessly following behind him with alexei in tow.

"sorry." you sigh, massaging the furrow from your brow, and offer sam a regretful look of your own. "he's not always that much of an asshole."

"why do i find that hard to believe?" sam grumbles, watching walker's form retreat. he looks back at you, his expression softening, and shakes his head. "you don't have to apologise."

"sorry anyway." because you are. yelena is waiting for you, her hands on her hips. you pat sam's arm, that guilty feeling still lingering. "i'll see you around?"

he gives you a nod, already starting to walk away. "of course. take care of yourself, alright?"

and with that, his wings extend and he's in the sky before you can blink.

you watch him go a moment longer, before turning back to yelena and gesturing for the two of you to get moving. the others have already turned the corner up ahead, leaving just you and her walking side by side.

"you want to talk about that?" she broaches, looking at you from the corner of her eye with a certain delicate tone that really doesn't make you feel any better.

a grimace crosses your face. no, you wanted to say, not particularly, especially since you're shouldering most of the blame for it. "...what is there to say? i think it might've been my fault anyway."

"don't say that." yelena scolds, her brows pulling into a frown, but you shake your head.

"if i'd been paying attention, then that guy wouldn't have snuck up on me, and then sam wouldn't have had to come and save me, and we could've avoided this whole thing." you release a deep breath, ignoring the sting that radiates from your ribs. "now the energy's all… weird."

she clicks her tongue, and lays a comforting hand on your back. "it's not your fault walker is an asshole, тётушка, nothing we can do about that."

you catch her smile and huff, a weak attempt at a laugh, but it falls flat.

it was more than that, you could tell. more than just walker's typical asshole shtick, but, again, you were hesitant to think about it. he always toed the line, pushed his luck with comments and insults, but that was malicious, meant to wound. you really thought walker had moved past his feud with sam – he didn't seem to harbour the same animosity for you, or even bucky, though maybe you were wrong about that too, since you'd just gotten the same treatment. you shake your head to rid yourself of that train of thought; that's not an idea you want to confront.

so you settle for something vague, a plausible deniability you hoped she would let you keep. "did he seem… off to you?"

yelena lets out a sharp laugh, "oh, so you noticed this time, thank god for that."

"what's that supposed to mean?" you shoot her a puzzled look, your eyes narrowing. she holds herself like she knows something you don't, and it's unsettling.

she chuckles to herself again, a knowing glint in her eye. "it's not all about that shield with him, you know that, right?"

"uh…" you swallow hard, vaguely remembering that odd flash of emotion you'd noticed in john earlier, but you're still confused. "no?"

she doesn't elaborate any further, simply holding your gaze with an expression that reveals absolutely nothing. there's no time to interrogate her further, though, bucky's call of your names from just ahead cutting your conversation short. one last attempt to meet yelena's eye before you climb into the back of the truck, which she shoots down, and you're left with only the rumble of the engine as bucky pulls away.

the drive home is eerily quiet. even ava – who usually jumps at the chance to make a sly comment, at john's expense especially – refrains from speaking.

despite what yelena said, and despite knowing she's right, it still feels like you could've avoided this. you all knew john wasn't really a fan of sam, but he was a good friend of yours, you weren't going to drop him just because one member of your team didn't like him; even if it was the same teammate that held your heart in his hands.

and speaking of walker, he has yet to acknowledge any of the rest of you, taking instead to boring holes in the wall opposite him with his red hot glare. you've been trying to meet his eye the whole ride home, but he fails to notice, like he's somewhere else entirely. with every minute that passes in uncomfortable silence, you're less and less sure that it's not you he's angry at.

when bucky finally pulls into the tower's basement garage, after fifteen minutes that could have easily been hours, he's the first to move. the car has barely even rolled to a stop before walker's standing, hunched over awkwardly as he crosses the length of the truck and throws open the back doors.

the heavy sound of his footsteps echos through the garage, and he's gone before the rest of you can clamber out. the urge to follow him is strong, but you hold off. you're not even sure what you'd say if you caught up to him.

"what crawled up his arse and died?" ava grumbles, sending you a sideways glance as she passes you. "thought i was about to suffocate in that tension…"

you frown, watching the door to the stairwell slowly fall shut, the only indication that john was even there at all.

"just give him some space." you follow her towards the elevator, and she cranes her neck to roll her eyes at you over her shoulder.

"right. like i was planning on spending the rest of my evening in his glowing company…"

a few paces behind you yelena snorts, ignoring the warning look you give her as the rest of you load into the elevator. it's a squeeze with alexei and bucky taking up most of the space, leaving you and yelena facing each other from opposite sides of the box.

"don't worry, тётушка will talk to him," she begins, leaning back against the cool steel and crossing her arms over her chest.

"i will?" you quirk a brow at her as the doors slide shut and the elevator begins to rise. you're not sure if the way your stomach sinks is because of the elevator, or the thought of having to face walker after what happened earlier. "i don't know if that's a good idea."

"yes, it is. seeing as this whole thing is kind of your fault, i think that's fair." she continues, shrugging in response to the look of betrayal you send her. "what? you said it yourself!"

you throw your hands out to the sides, as emphatically as you can in the confined elevator. "you weren't supposed to agree with me!"

"she's got a point, though." ava chimes in, then leans back to hide from your glare behind alexei's arm. "you did let your guard down, quite critically if you ask me."

"hey!"

"you were distracted, yes?" alexei now grins down at you, a gesture you pointedly do not return, and continues, "too busy watching red guardian's heroic moves, i understand, it happens."

you bring a hand up to cover your face, massaging the bridge of your nose, and mutter a quiet, "oh my god…"

a nudge against your foot draws your attention, and you look up to find bucky looking at you too. "it's not a bad idea."

you stare at him, an image appearing in your mind of the fury in walker's eyes earlier, but then bucky tilts his head at you and you really can't resist that sad puppy look he puts on. you breathe a deep sigh, rolling your eyes at all of them, "...fine. i'll talk to him. but if it backfires and he just yells at me again, it's your fault."

"thank fuck," ava replies, a subtle smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth, and as the elevator dings she's already phasing through the doors with a call over her shoulder, "spare the rest of us from his terrible mood."

the conversation dies there. one by one, the others filter out on their respective floors, until you're left standing by yourself in the elevator which suddenly seems far too big.

you press the button for walker's floor, and the doors slide shut again.

he was angry at you, even if you didn't fully understand why, he made that abundantly clear. that scathing omment directed at you – you know he's referring to the sokovia accords, the fight in germany, and even though you know he was just lashing out, a defence mechanism you're accustomed to from him, it was a low blow.

and it stung that little bit more coming from him, because you trusted him. it had come up, late one night when you had bumped into each other in the kitchen during a bout of insomnia, the topic of the previous avengers. in the early hours of that morning you'd confided in him your worries about being part of a team again, how you couldn't handle losing another family like that. and he had reassured you, that the new avengers wouldn't be like that – only to use it against you in a petty argument.

the elevator dings. the doors slide open.

the hallway feels unusually cold when you step over the threshold. something within you tells you this is a bad idea, that you're only going to get hurt again, but you can't walk away.

your hand is poised to knock, hovering centimetres from his door and staying frozen there. no light seeps through the cracks from his room, making the cool fluorescent lights in the hall seem that much more suffocating. you're still not sure what exactly you're here to say.

as if the universe could sense your indecisiveness, the door abruptly swings open, revealing john with a look on his face that sends a shiver down your spine.

but when his eyes land on you, he pauses, his expression going blank. your name falls from his mouth in a whisper. he'd shed the top half of his suit, leaving him in that skin-tight undershirt that does absolutely nothing to help your already scrambling mind. you blink at him, trying to find something to say, but you draw a blank.

and then he goes to shut the door on you. you manage to wedge your foot in the gap before he can fully close it, a small frown taking over your features.

"john," you begin, your tone something almost pleading. "i want to talk."

hesitation dances across his face, and you briefly wonder if hes just going to jist the door on you again. but, to your surprise, he lets the door falls back open, screwing his eyes shut as you move to lean in the doorway.

"about what?" he avoids your gaze as he mumbles, a distinctly defeated feel to his voice. he looks so tired, even more so than he did when you last saw him not even an half an hour ago.

you frown, and answer in a murmur, "you know what."

"yeah, i screwed up, okay? i know that!" he snaps, still dutifully avoiding your gaze as he lets go of the door and turns back into his room. "you don't have to rub it in!"

"i'm not– what's going on with you?" you follow him in, leaving the door ajar behind you, and stare at his back a few steps away, "and don't try and give me the 'i'm just tired' excuse, because i know it's more than that."

he sighs sharply, running a hand over the back of his head, but doesn't turn to face you when he answers, "you wouldn't get it."

it's a lame excuse, and he knows it – it's why he refuses to look you in the eye – but you're not discouraged by his attempt to brush you off.

"oh, come on, john." you roll your eyes, your concern quickly morphing into frustration the more indignant he becomes. "it's something to do with sam, right? i know he's my friend, but if you have something to say, or–"

finally he whips around to face you, his eyes wide with the same kind of anger as before. "right– everything's always about sam! you can't even stop for five seconds to back me up when you know I'm right!"

"why the hell would i back you up when you're being a complete asshole to the guy who just saved my life?" you retort, standing your ground against him despite the way it prickles the hairs on the back of your neck. "he's my friend, i'm not gonna let you, or anyone, talk to him like that!"

"it's not about him– it's about none of you guys ever having my back like i have yours!"

"so i'm the problem? seriously, what did i ever do to you? and bringing up the accords thing, really john?" you glare at him with a scoff, exasperation bleeding into your expression. he goes to turn his back to you again, but you grab his arm before he can, forcing him to hold your gaze. "you're lashing out, you're pissed at me, i know you are, so just tell me what i did!"

he groans, a deep rumble of frustration in his chest as he presses the ball of his hand into his eye. "you didn't do anything!"

"so it is sam?" you press him further, but he just grits his teeth. "i thought we were over this, why do you have such a problem with him?"

a beat passes, a fleeting second where he seems to hold himself back, but the words spill from his mouth against his better judgment.

"because it should've been me!"

you don't say anything. something changes in the air as he catches his breath, feeling thicker than before with the weight of everything still unsaid. he takes your wrist in his hand and brings it between you, taking a tiny step forward.

"...because i could've saved you! he's not–" his voice catches, breaking in a way that squeezes your heart, and his gaze is just short of desperate. "...i could've saved you, and then maybe you would've looked at me the way you looked at him!"

his eyes gloss over, you catch a glimpse just as he drops his head to hide it from you. it's hard to find a single word to say.

"...how did i look at him?" you whisper, hesitant to disturb the fragile air between you.

against your skin, john's fingers twitch, a barely noticeable tremble. there's another oppressive pause where he doesn't speak, just holds you there in unbearable silence. you can almost feel the embarrassment, the shame, radiating from him, see it in the way his shoulders are bunched up.

"like he was your hero. like– like he was everything…" he finally answers. he tilts his head back up, his eyes darting between yours and looking beyond you.

"john…" you murmur.

it seems so obvious now, what all of this has been about – the weird feeling about him you got earlier, yelena's cryptic remarks, you're embarrassed it took you this long to realise.

warmth rushes to your face as you come to the conclusion; john was jealous of sam, not because of the shield, but because of you.

"...how is it fair? that he gets the shield, the fame, the life, the legacy…" the hand on your wrist moves up to grasp your own, his thumb pressing into your palm. his voice is low and raspy, a jarring contrast to his usual blunt confidence. "he already has everything, how is it fair that he gets you too?"

your mouth falls open, confusion replacing the surprise from his confession. "i don't…"

"it doesn't matter." he mumbles quickly, releasing your hand and taking a step back from you. his eyes are still glassy as he turns away, a strain to his voice when he continues, "it doesn't fucking matter, you don't see me that way."

you step forward with him, reaching for his hand that drags through his hair. "you don't need–"

"no, don't do that. don't try to make me feel better." he pulls away from your touch, back to avoiding eye contact, his brows pulling tightly together.

he's spiralling, that much is clear, but you can't manage to get a word in without him interrupting you. "i–"

"just get out, okay? i need to be alone!"

"will you listen to me!" you yell, taking the front of his shirt in your fist to force his gaze back on you. he freezes, his jaw clenched tight, but he stays quiet. "you don't need to save my life in some grand gesture for me to look at you like that!"

he opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but the words get stuck in his throat. the way the light from the hall catches in his eye, you can't bring yourself to look away, even when the vulnerability feels too much.

"you don't need to be the hero, john, i don't care about any of that. is it so hard for you to understand that i might just like you how you are?" your voice is quiet again now, the room closing in around you as if you're the only two people in the world – and in this moment, you might be.

the air is warm, bordering on stifling, but your skin prickles under the ghost of his touch on your waist. he lets it hover there for a moment, as if he was afraid you'd change your mind. you don't, though, and a shiver rolls through you as he plants his hand firmly there. the bruising is just a distant ache under his touch, all but forgotten as you gaze deep into his eyes.

"i like you how you are." you utter. the words are little more than a whisper, reverence in the miniscule space left between you.

he walks you backwards – one, two, three large strides, until his hand can reach to shut the door and crowd you against it, plunging his room into total darkness.

"you shouldn't…" he mumbles, his breath fanning over your lips, tantalisingly close but still much too far, "...i'm not a good person, everything i touch… just…"

you huff, bringing a hand up to curl around the back of his neck, grazing your nails over his skin. "don't care."

the press of his lips to yours is hungry, and it steals the air from your lungs. the force knocks your head against the door, earning a muffled groan into his mouth.

"sorry," he breathes against you, a hint of a smirk in his voice that you can picture even without the light. you click your tongue, fighting a smile of your own, sliding your hand up through his hair and use it to pull him back in. he doesn't resist, following your unspoken command with the diligence of soldier.

then he's on you again, gentler this time but no less desperate. he brushes his fingers over your cheek, moving to cup your jaw and tilt your head to close whatever distance was left between you. the feel of him is overwhelming; the maddening scratch of his beard, how his broad shoulders box you in and his arm snakes around you to pull your body flush to his, it's so much but still not enough at the same time. his skin under your hands is hot, and you absently wonder if he always runs this hot, or if it's just for you.

he sighs against your lips, rough and needy, barely moving away to draw in ragged breaths. your other hand flattens across his chest to feel the rapid pace of his heart, pounding out of control beneath his sternum just like your own.

there's nothing else, in this moment, just him and you. the argument from before is long forgotten, replaced with the feeling of his mouth on yours, his hands all over you, seared into your mind even after he finally leans back.

you can't help the bashful smile that spreads across your face as you catch your breath. you're thankful the room is dark enough to hide it, though you're not sure it matters with his super soldier eyesight.

"i'm…" john murmurs lowly, feeling the vibrations from his voice under your hand as he continues, "...i'm sorry, i shouldn't have yelled at you, earlier. you didn't deserve that."

you sigh, resting your head in the crook of his neck. "i wish you'd just talk to me."

"i will." his hand comes to cradle the back of your head, and he presses a soft kiss to your hairline. "i'll try. i promise."

"then i'll hold you to that." you grin against his neck, placing a kiss of your own against the barest stubble there. "...so, are you gonna apologise to sam, too?"

john scoffs. "what? no, i stand by what i said." you tighten your grip in his hair, drawing a sharp breath from him before he begrudgingly continues, "...but i guess i could thank him, y'know, for not letting you die?"

an airy laugh escapes you, not surprised by his stubbornness. "y'know what? just don't talk to him."

"probably for the best."

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simsiddy · 11 days ago

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Poker Face 2.03 "Whack-a-Mole"

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simsiddy · 11 days ago

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Natasha Lyonne as Charlie Cale in Hometown Hero (S02E05) Poker Face (2023-present)

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simsiddy · 11 days ago

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YEAHHHHHHH this is itttt!!!! you’ve given captain crashout a whole new meaning here 🙏🙏🙏 love it so much bby

Come right on me … I mean camaraderie - John Walker x reader

━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━

Word count: 3.5k

Description: You can't help the inappropriate thoughts that come out of your mouth during a mission, and John has to teach you a lesson, or multiple, about it.

“Holy shit, come right on me” You mumbled under your breath. His head snapped at you. No. There’s no way his hearing caught that.

Tags/warnings: smut, fem!reader is a horny menace, dominant John, long buildup, sex, overstimulation.

Note: This has Sabrina Carpenter levels of bluntness about being horny that's how I feel about this man. Kicked my feet while writing this. Enjoy 🫶🏼

Masterlist

It wasn’t your fault, really.

It wasn’t your fault that John Walker was a goddamn idiot. Or that he was also so painfully hot you’d been waking up to drenched panties after dreams where he made you his in the most filthy ways you could imagine.

It wasn’t your fault your brain crafted entire scenarios while you slept, where he was all over you, handsy, desperate, soaked in sweat.

And it really wasn’t your fault that Bucky kept pairing you up with him for missions. You were sure Yelena had something to do with that targeted sabotage.

You were down so bad for him, all the man had to do was exist. The way he lead in front of you, the way he threw around orders under pressure, the particular way he had to shove targets against walls … your mind didn’t even try to behave anymore.

This morning, you’d woken up panting, sheets damp in a sweaty mess, mind adjusting to the fact that his head was between your legs only in your dream and not in reality.

How sad.

And now here you were, paired with him again in some random warehouse lab, Yelena and Bucky waiting back on the jet while you did your part of the mission.

“Did you get it?” His voice came in a growl through your comm, you could hear his grunts as he cleared your extraction route, and holy shit, why did that do things to you?

It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault.

You tucked the vial into your pocket, trying to focus. You cleared your throat before speaking.

“Package secured. I’m on my way to you.”

But before you could turn, a yelp went through the comm when a rough hand grabbed your shoulder and slammed you to the floor. You barely had time to gasp before a body pinned you down, heavy and aggressive, and a cold blade pressed against your throat.

You barely caught the attacker’s fist mid air, fighting the strength he was pushing down with, when a gloved hand stopped him. The man cried in pain when John twisted his arm away from your face. The next thing you knew, he went flying across room.

John had yanked him off you, throwing him away with a snarl that made your blood burn. He let his shield fall to the ground, before he stomped towards the guy, grabbed him by the collar, and smashed his fist into his face.

“So you like hitting pretty girls, huh?” He barked, punching again.

You watched from your spot on the floor, thoughts detailing from the moment he spoke. You bit your lip as he lifted the man to shove him into the wall. Those arms, those grunts … god.

Why on earth was that so hot?

"Holy shit, come right on me." You mumbled under your breath, weren’t even thinking as the words came out of your mouth.

His head snapped at you, dropping the body of the man.

Your eyes go wide. No. There's no fucking way his hearing caught that.

He started at you with furrowed brows and a hint of disbelief. Sweat clung to his hairline, making disheveled strands stick to his forehead, chest rising and falling under the weight of adrenaline.

That image wasn't helping at all.

"What?” He asked, voice coming out rougher than he intended.

Shit.

“I mean ... camaraderie! Y-yeah. Thanks for that" You blurted, pointing awkwardly at the half conscious guy on the floor like that explained anything.

He nodded hesitantly, squinting at you like he was trying to decide whether you were insane or he was.

In three long strides he walked over, standing over you offering his gloved hand. You took it, and in one swift motion he pulled you up, straight into him. His other hand landed firmly on the curve of your back, pressing you tightly against him.

Your uneven breathing hit his neck, barely reaching his jawline.

"That can be arranged" He mumbled, eyes dropping, just for a second, to your lips.

You were sure your brain just short circuited. Of course he heard your horny ass.

"John–"

Before you could say anything to defend whatever was left of your dignity, voices echoed from the hallway, and in a second, he spun you both behind a column, pressing you harshly against the wall. His palm instinctively covered your mouth, eyes locked on the entrance.

“Shh” he whispered, breath warm against your forehead. “Be quiet.”

The agents continued their way down the hall without noticing you were in the room, and John's posture relaxed slightly.

Yours didn't.

Being pinned against a wall, trapped by his larger frame of broad shoulders, feeling every ridge of his suit on your chest and something very solid pressing against your belt.

This. This is what dreams are made of.

You instinctively raised your knee, just enough to rub softly against the bulge in his suit. He sucked in a sharp breath, head jerking in your direction, hand still covering your mouth.

You notice the way his entire body tensed up again.

You brought your knee back down, slowly, and he looked like it physically pained him not to grab it back and rub against him one more time. His hand dropped from your mouth, and the smirk on your lips said everything.

You rose up on your toes, drawing your lips close to his ear.

"I bet it's even better than in my head." You teased, barely nibbling the edge of his ear.

You gasped when he pushed you tighter into the wall, jaw clenching with his fingers digging deeper onto your waist.

He was so so done for.

"Walker? Walker, come in." The comms static pierced through the tension, Yelena's voice breaking the silence. "Did you get it? We need to go. Now."

He hesitated for a second, hands twitching like he wasn’t ready to let your body go yet.

He wasn’t sure if he could trust his voice, and to be honest neither did you. He took a shaky breath, cleared his throat, and backed up a step.

"Y-yeah" He said, turning from you. His voice cracked slightly, so he cleared his throat again, and you bit your lip to keep from laughing."We got it. We’re heading to the jet now."

By the time he turned back around, you were already walking out, casually ahead of him like you hadn’t just driven him to the edge of self control.

The ride back to the watchtower was tense. You took the seat farthest from John, clearly not because you wanted to. No, you wanted to crawl into his lap and beg him to continue what you’d started, but self preservation said maybe don’t ride him in front of coworkers.

Considering Yelena and Bucky had been throwing knowing glances at you the whole time.

This was your fault after all.

Not being able to control your dirty thoughts, showing up all flustered and justifying it on almost getting sliced, pretending you could fool two polygraph detectors.

Whatever.

All you needed was a warm shower and to give yourself a little love to drown those inappropriate thoughts of yours about John.

Respectfully, of course.

You made your way across the hallway towards your room, thinking about getting that shower head as soon as you could between your thighs, when a door openned and hand grabbed you, shoving you inside that room.

The door to John's room slammed shut behind you with a solid thud. Before you could even turn around, he had you pressed up against it, hands holding his weight on the door, each placed next to your head.

"You don't get to do that shit, sweetheart" He groaned, standing close to your face. "You don't say those things to me in the middle of a mission and pretend I’ll just forget about it."

You breathe loudly, chest rising up and down, trying to wrap your head aground the fact that he had you caged in his room. You tilt your head to the side, might as well enjoy it.

"God forbid I have fantasies." You tease, without missing a bit.

Your knee went up to do the same thing you did earlier, but he took one hand off the door to stop it before it could reach his crotch, and let out a bitter laugh.

"You think you’re the only one who fantasizes? You think I don’t dream with that dirty pretty mouth of yours?"

Your breath hitched. His hands traveled to your waist, rough and possessive, thumbs digging into your hips like he was grounding himself, like the last part of him was barely holding back.

His lips brushed your neck, not kissing, just hovering. Teasingly . He pulled back, just enough to make you chase the contact, and that smug little smirk flickered on his lips.

He began guiding you away from the door, never splitting your bodies apart.

"You've been distracting me since day one" he muttered, backing you up until your legs hit the bed. "Wearing that tight suit and those damn lips. Always mouthing shit off, making me want to shut you up."

You whimpered, eyes dropping to the floor.

He tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at him.

"Oh, so now you're shy?" He teased, making a tsk tsk sound. "I want you to look at me now, when you talk like that."

His hands found the zipper of your suit, with a darkened look he stares at you for a moment, waiting for approval.

And fuck your heart was pounding. You needed someone to pinch you to make sure this wasn't a dream.

You nodded immediately, maybe a little too eager.

He chuckled at your desperation, taking his sweet time to take your one piece suit off, making sure he enjoyed every time your breath hitched when he grazed your skin. He dragged the fabric down, leaving you only in underwear.

As soon as the suit hit the floor, he pressed you down onto the mattress with one hand on your chest.

"You wanna tease me? Say filthy shit in the middle of a fight? Rub your knee against me like that?" His hand slid up your thigh, slowly claiming what’s always been his in your wildest dreams. "You don't get to walk away to find relief on your own."

Your breath stuttered, your hands instinctively went to the zipper of his suit, but he caught your wrists.

"John, come on–"

"No, you have to be patient like I’ve been" he said, dipping his head down to brush his lips across your collarbone. "I tried to be good. Tried to respect the mission."

He lifted his head, eyes locked on yours. "But you decided to be a brat and got me all worked up. Now I get to take my time with you."

He pulled himself back from your body, finally reaching for the top of his suit, messily dismantling it away to throw it off the bed.

You barely had time to breathe before he was on you again, kissing you hard, devouring you. His hands held your jaw, fingers rough and urgent, like he needed to keep you under him forever.

You gasped against his mouth, and that's when it slipped out.

"Been so wet all day since I woke up–“

He froze, immediately pulling back, eyes narrowed at you. "What was that?"

"N-nothing." You stuttered, too quick to be believable. He chuckled.

"No, go ahead sweetheart" he said, thumb dragging across your bottom lip. "Keep talking. You got so much to say, right?"

You opened your mouth but nothing more than a gasp came out when he pushed his hand between your thighs, grinding up against the wet spot on your panties.

"God dammit" he muttered, his fingers painfully grazing the fabric, barely touching it. "This all for me?"

You moaned, nodding. "Been saving it since the morning."

His cock twitched inside his pants at your confession. He softly slapped over your wet panties, making you jolt. "Always have something to say, don't you?" He slapped again when you nodded, harder this time, his fingers getting wet through the fabric.

He brought his fingers to his lips, and without hesitation, teased. "Tastes better than in my head."

"Fuck" you whined, head dropping to the bed. "This is so much worse now."

You were doomed. You were never coming back from this, from his touch.

From all of him.

He bitterly laughed. "You think this is hard for you?"

His hands found your hips, gripping tight. He rolled them up against his own, letting you feel how hard he was.

"I've had to walk around with this for weeks because of you. Every time you stretch, every time you bend over, every time you moan in your room–"

Your head snapped up to look at him, and his smirk deepened.

"Yeah, my room is next to yours. You think I don't hear you? Late at night, thinking you're being quiet?" He was so arrogantly casual about it, like it was something he'd wanted to confess for a long time.

That he heard you every time. A nasty little secret of yours he's kept locked for too long.

"You touch yourself thinking about me, sweetheart?" he asked, voice full of cockiness. "Bet you taste your own fingers after you're done, pretending it's me."

You wanted to yell at him and tell him he was so full of himself. But damn, he was right, all you wanted was to be full of him too.

Your hips jerked against him, your patience was running short. He hissed at your move, like the contact short circuited something in his brain.

"No shame either, didn't even try to deny it." He continued.

"That’s nothing" You shake your head teasingly. "You should hear the things that go through my head. You'd never look at me the same again."

He shook his head amused.

"Poor thing, can't even shut up about how bad she wants it."

You whined, the pool between your thighs starting to ache by the lack of his touch.

You tugged at his tactical pants. "Take them off, right now."

"Impatient" he scolded.

"I've been patient for months" you snapped, squirming under him. "You just never listened."

"Oh, I’m listening now" he growled. "I just have to be sure you can take it."

You reached up to run your hands across his chest, fingers tracing down his abdomen.

“I'll take it" you blurted, fingers dipping low enough to make him groan. "All of it."

He grinned, before fumbling with his pants, cursing when they got slightly stuck, ripping them down fast enough to make you laugh, until your eyes landed on him. On him.

"Oh my god." you breathed.

Shit. It was better than in your head.

Thick, swollen. Absolutely perfect.

He grinned. This is a sight he had only seen in dreams before. You laying on his bed, mouth parted open at the sight of his cock, ready to let him ruin you.

His mouth was on yours again, rough and needy this time, hands everywhere, yanking off the last pieces of fabric from your body like he'd earned it.

And boy, he had.

He lined himself up, dragging the hard tip through your slick entrance, teasing. But you saw it in his face, the way his jaw was clenched, like he was barely holding on.

"You sure, baby?" he asked. "I need you to say it."

You prompted yourself up by your shoulders, grabbing his face, beard tickling your fingers. "Make my fantasies come true, John."

That was all it took for him to push himself in, teasingly slow, beautifully thick, stretching you in the most delicious, overwhelming way. You moaned his name, head falling back on the mattress.

"Shit, so tight" he groaned, barely moving as your walls got used to him. "You're perfect. Fuck, you're perfect"

He couldn’t wait any longer. With no warning he was pounding into you like he meant it. Like a man who’d been dreaming about it for too long and finally got permission to ruin you.

He caged you against his body, his large hands gripped your hips so tight you'd definitely have marks.

You couldn't stop moaning, couldn't even form words. You were just a string of gasps, whimpers, and his name over and over like it was the only thing left in your brain.

"Fucking hell," he groaned, watching your face contort with every thrust. "Such a pretty little mess aren’t you?."

Your nails dragged down his back, trying to keep yourself grounded. But he was hitting that sweet spot with every thrust.

"Harder" you begged in the haze. "Please –fuck, please don't stop."

He growled. Like full on growled. He increased his speed, abusing of his enhanced strength. Your mouth dropped open in a cry, so perfectly wrecked he couldn't help the grin on his face.

"You gonna come for me, baby?" He grunted, feeling that familiar clench around his cock.

You just nodded, biting your lip. But he wasn't having that, he wanted to hear you. He leaned down, teeth grazing your ear.

"Then say it. Say what you say when you think I'm not listening"

Your brain scrambled. "W-what?"

"You know what, say it" he demanded. "Come right on me, wasn't it?"

You gasped, eyes wide as he continued to rearrange your entire system.

"Say it, sweetheart. Or I stop." He threatened, but you shook your head immediately.

You whined, thighs shaking around his waist. "Come ...fuck ... come right on you–"

You got the words mixed up, your brain completely fogged by the pleasure.

"There she is" he groaned, dragging your hips up for a better angle. "There's my filthy girl."

His praise sent your body over the edge, coming so hard it punched the air out of your lungs. And hell, he felt it. Every spasm. Every clench. He swore loud and shoved in deeper, chasing his own high.

"Where did you say you want it, baby? Say it one more time for me.” He panted, losing his rhythm, hips jerking erratically.

"Cum right on m-me" you blurted the right words this time, even while still trembling under him.

He slammed into you once, twice, before pulling out to spill all over your stomach you with a ragged growl, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, hips twitching as he emptied himself on your skin.

For a moment there was just your ragged breathing, and that slick, milky warmth dripping down your abdomen. Half his body weight rested on you, as he breathed on your neck.

"Holy shit" You mumbled, gasping, when he placed a kiss on your shoulder.

Only a few seconds passed.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was moving up again, feeling his hard dick against your stomach like he didn't just fill you up.

Your eyes fluttered open, confusion clouding your post orgasm haze.

"Wait, John" you panted, "you're still...?"

"Oh, baby" he chucked, flipping you over to press your chest to the mattress. He dragged your ass back to him, slow and possessive. "We're not done yet."

You gasped as he slid back in with one deep thrust, your body was too sensitive, walls fluttering around him as he groaned, gripping your hips tight to steady himself.

"You don't get to talk like that" he said, something darker in his voice now. "Say that filthy shit. Look at me the way you do, like you're ready to drop to your knees in the middle of a mission–"

"J-John" you whimpered, he felt even bigger than before.

"–and expect me to stop after one round?"

He started to move. Long, slow strokes that made your toes curl. Your face pressed to the sheets, moaning like you didn't care if your teammates heard.

"John … it's too good, too much..."

By this point you weren’t thinking clearly anymore, words coming out slurred.

"You can take it" He pushed himself harder. "You told me you could, sweetheart."

You whimpered into the pillow, your body trembling. Every thrust hit deeper, harder, somehow better than before. Pleasure curling up your spine, threatening to drag you over the edge again.

“You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me” he muttered, leaning in closer, his voice brushing the back of your neck. “Or maybe you do. Maybe that’s the whole fucking point.”

You were so close. The overstimulation was making you see stars, enough to make you cry out his name again and again.

"So good for me. Could stay inside you all night." He praised, grunting, his hands roaming your back.

Your body crashed out again, louder this time, absolutely zero control over it, your orgasm ripping through you so hard your vision went white.

He lost it.

You cried out his name one last time as you felt him come again, body twitching while this time he filled you up, muttering curses into your back like he was trying to bury them in your skin.

He stayed like that for a moment, buried deep with uneven breathing, chest on your back. You don’t know how long passed, until he pulled out slowly, a hiss catching in his throat as you whimpered softly under him.

"Sorry, sweetheart" he mumbled, his hand softly rubbing your back, "You okay?"

You nodded, completely blissed out. Couldn’t trust yourself to speak properly at this point.

He kissed the back of your neck, so soft, completely opposite to the way he just wrecked you. You couldn't hold your body up any longer, so he helped you flip around to rest your back on the mattress.

"Still breathing, baby?" he whispered, brushing your hair from your damp face.

You let out faint laugh, your vision finally coming back to normal. "Barely."

"Good, we were just getting started."

━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━

comments and reblogs save author’s lives, thank you so much for reading <3

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simsiddy · 12 days ago

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simsiddy · 12 days ago

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simsiddy · 12 days ago

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yeahhhhhhhhhhhh ur a hero to millions for this one. this stupid idiot had found his way into my heart and i’m glad to know im not the only one. loved this so much 🫡🫡🫡

⟡Guilty As Sin⟡

(John Walker x Reader)

Summary: You hate how attracted you are to Walker, and you pull away from him because of it. He notices.

Word Count: 3.8k

Notes: Post-Thunderbolts, reader is a New Avenger and is mentioned to have some kind of super abilites (not plot relevant but it's there), porn with some plot, just reader being horny and then getting to fuck this man, car sex!!!! p in v, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks) reader and John both bully each other during sex, John Walker's praise kink (when will it not make an appearance) Bucky and Bob appearance!

a/n: This one goes out to all my homies who hated John in TFATWS and feel conflicted about finding him really hot in Thunderbolts! I guess he's my boy now bc I was literally the second post on the Walker x Reader tag (????tf????) so here I am once again being horny on main with y'all.

Teasing Walker was practically a team bonding activity. Hell, even the man himself had grown used to it, took it as a show of affection from the other New Avengers. You were one of the main perpetrators of it. John had always pissed you off, from the minute you met in the vault. He’d grown on you significantly since then, although you’d never admit that, especially not to him.

You’d also never admit how down bad you were for him.

You weren’t really sure when it had started. He was an attractive guy, from an objective standpoint. They’d picked him to be Captain America for a reason, and one of those was that he looked damn good. Still, beyond the awareness he was handsome you’d never really thought of him in that way.

That is, until that day. You couldn’t find one of your knives, and you were sure Bucky had stolen it, so you’d ventured down to the training room to confront him. You opened the door, ready to start interrogating him when you were met with the sight of him and John, side by side, doing pull ups in the doorway to the equipment room. Bob stood next to them, counting off as they went.

You’ve known Bucky for a long time. He’s like an older brother figure to you, someone you couldn’t see romantically if you tried. Seeing him shirtless has no effect on you, other than an instinctual ew. You’ve never seen John shirtless before.

And here you are, speechless, gawking at the guy who you once referred to as ‘Captain Crashout’. His biceps flexed with each lift, the muscle sinewy but hard-earned, gleaming with sweat. Broad shoulders, dabbled with old scars and freckles from too long in the sun. Your eyes fell to his abs, not as clean cut as Bob’s, but still very much there, pulled taut as he raised himself over and over. He was clad in a pair of old gym shorts, which had fallen a little lower than they started out, revealing the beginnings of a sharp v-line, and what you thought was just a smattering of blond hair trailing down.

And the sounds. John has always had a tic of snorting during battle. You call it his gorilla call that he makes when shit gets serious. The way he grunted as he pulled himself up, exerted but determined, gave you goosebumps the more you heard it.

Jesus fucking Christ, when did John get so hot?

He’s a supersoldier, of course. You know he’s strong. You interact with him almost everyday. You’ve seen him carry a crate the size of Yelena with ease. Yet somehow you’d never considered him hot before this. Never once have you looked at John Walker and felt this hot and sweaty all of a sudden, something in your stomach twisting with equal parts nerves and arousal.

You think you’re going insane.

After what feels like an eternity, John dropped, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Fine, you win Barnes.”

Bucky dropped as well, a smug look on his face. “Told you.”

“Hey, well you’re shorter than me, you have less to pull up.”

“By what, 3 inches?”

“3 inches where it counts.” Walker joked. Shit, now you’re thinking about this dick. Don’t look at his crotch. Do not look at his crotch-

“When’d you get here?” you snapped out of it at the sound of Bob’s voice, turning your attention to the other man.

“Um, around 20?” you guessed, doing your best to keep your eyes off Walker. You blinked hard as you turned to Bucky. “Did you take my Bowie knife?”

He sighed as he toweled himself off. “Shit, yeah. It’s in my bag, I’ll get it.”

“Asshole.”

He just flipped you off as he walked off to the locker room. Bob trails behind him, announcing his need to pee, leaving you alone with Walker.

You did your best to avoid eye contact, or any visual of him as he lowered himself onto the nearby bench ,grabbing his water bottle. You knew he has a habit of manspreading, which you often tease him about, but now it’s more annoying in that you’re trying desperately not to ogle him.

“Pretty good, huh?”

“What?” you blinked, looking over at his confused face.

“60 pull ups. Maybe not as good as Barnes,” he threw a jilted look at the locker room door, “but still, impressive, huh?”

“Yeah, I uh, guess so.” you stared at the space above his head, arms crossed, praying Bucky finds his damn bag and brings you your knife soon.

“You okay?” John questioned, standing up to approach you. You instinctually took a step back, causing him to stop. “Did I do something?’

“No! No, I’m fine, you didn’t do anything. Just feeling a little off today, maybe I’m getting sick.”

John nodded, unconvinced. “Uh huh.” He took another sip of his water, drawing your eyes to his strong forearms, solid and firm, leading to his large hands gripping the bottle. Were his hands always that big? It’s ridiculous. You wonder what they would feel like gripping your hips.

“Got it.” Thankfully, Bucky reentered, holding out your knife. You swiftly snatched it, stuttering out a thank you and goodbye before you practically ran out the door. John and Bucky just stood there, confused.

After that, you ran to your room, locked the door and screamed into a pillow like a middle school girl.

You know there’s nothing wrong with liking Walker. Sure, he’s real fucked up, but hell, you are too. You’re both trying to be better, all of you on the team are. Your present torment is self-inflicted, part of it being the sheer embarrassment. You can’t seem to let go of your ego, the little voice in your brain bullying you for wanting a man who carries around a shield shaped like a taco.

You’re being ridiculous.

You’re held back by a fear of screwing things up with him yourself, and therefore for the entire team. You don’t want to ruin what you all have. You’ve all had hard pasts, never really having a group of people that you could rely on till now. You wouldn’t destroy that because you were so, so very horny for one of your teammates.

So you distance yourself. You try not to look him in the eye, lest you start imagining him with his shirt off again. You feel like an old Victorian man who forced ladies to hide their ankles; looking at any part of John makes you feel like you’re going to lose it then burst into flames. Once you went to ask him something and saw him in just a towel, and immediately turned heel and left. He plagues your mind, beyond just the thought of sex. The thought of him, holding you in his arms, whispering into your ear, smiling down at you.

You do manage to forget how badly you want to fuck him when all of a sudden he’s hurling himself into danger, in front of a hail of bullets that his stupid shield barely covers.

“What the hell were you thinking?” you lecture him as the two of you climb back into the van. You’d been tasked with securing classified S.H.I.E.L.D files from a criminal organization planning to sell them. You’d managed to get them back, but not without a few scrapes and bruises. Honestly, you’re lucky neither of you died because of John’s recklessness, something you’ve told him multiple times now.

“I was thinking of what was best to keep us both safe.” he grumbles as he slams the driver’s door, turning the key in the ignition. “It was a tactical decision-”

“It was a tactical decision,” you mimic his deep voice. “You could’ve died! You’re lucky-”

“Lucky to be alive, I know, I know. What do you even care?” you turn to him, seeing the anger in his eyes, mixed with something else you can’t place.

“Why do I care? Because you’re my fucking friend, John, and I’d rather not see you filled with lead!” “Well, it doesn’t seem that way lately.” he scoffs, eyes moving back to the road.

“What did you say?”

“I’m saying, you’ve been acting crazy lately.” he slams a hand on the wheel. “One day, we’re friends, the next you act like I’m the dirt on your shoe. I-I don’t understand. What did I ever do to you?” he leans back in his seat, defeated. “You’re acting like you don’t care whether I live or die, so fine, if I die, what’s it to you?”

“John,” you sigh, trying to hold it together. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” he sits back up, angrier, more offended than upset. “I’m the one who’s being ridiculous? You’re the one being ridiculous! All this time-”

He rambles on, leaving your anger at him to simmer in your chest. It mixes with guilt, of being cold to him, not telling him why. He somehow manages to look handsome like this, passionate, full of emotion. Still, you feel your stomach twist knowing you did this, that you hurt him like this. “John, look, I’m-”

“No, I’m not done!” he interrupts. He continues to rant, getting into specifics of your treatment, your apology dying in your throat. What would you even say? I’m sorry I was mean to you, it’s because you’re too fucking attractive and I don’t know how to handle it?

You forget about all the reasons not to do this. You forget how annoying and brash he can be, all the embarrassing things he does you tease him for. You forget how screwed up you both are, about the team, about everything.

You just lean over the console, grab his face and smash your mouth to his.

He’s quiet, finally, still in shock of what is happening. The second his brain catches up to his body he’s gripping your shoulders, kissing you back with a force. It quickly turns open and messy, tongues desperate for each other as you act on months of frustration and feelings repressed.

You pull back when you run out of air, sliding back into your own seat as he does his. You sit, quiet, thinking about what you’ve done.

“Is that why?” His voice is hoarse from kissing.

You nod. “Yeah. That’s why.”

You’re both quiet again, reeling from your actions. He slowly unbuckles his seatbelt, climbs out of the car. You wonder if you’ve done something wrong, if maybe you misread him.

Then he’s opening your door, and before you can say anything he’s kissing you again, large hands cupping your face in them as he presses his lips to yours, hungry and needy.

He pulls away too quickly, looking at you with a ferocity in his eyes you’ve never seen before. “Do you want this?” he asks, voice low and warning.

“Yes.” you nod. “Jesus, John I’ve wanted you so bad for-”

You’re both throwing yourselves into each other, not even bothering to finish talking. John’s wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. You yelp as you quickly wrap your legs around him, clinging to him for dear life, still not breaking the kiss.

He kicks the car door shut and presses you up against it, tongue slithering along your bottom lip, asking permission. You give it, sliding your won against him, deepening the kiss. You feel a moan emanate from your throat as you do, feeling like you’re absorbing John into your very being.

He shifts one hand to holding you up as he fiddles with the backseat door, yanking at it unsuccessfully. He finally pulls back, much to your dismay, to pull the damn thing open properly.

“There you go.” you joke.

“Shut up.” he mutters, before pulling you back from the side of the car and gently carrying you into it, laying you on along the backseat.

“Take your clothes off.” he huffs, fiddling with his own as he climbs in, stripping himself of his weapons. You do the same, pulling off piece after piece of tactical gear.

There’s kevlar everywhere, bulletproof vests thrown haphazardly in the trunk, knives discarded in the front seat. Somehow in a lust-induced craze, the two of you still manage to have some form of organization.

You’ve barely pulled off your shirt before you peer over at Walker, face turned red from exertion, cheat heaving with heavy breaths.

And god, you love looking at his chest. Your eyes meet his, flitting back down in silent communication. Without a word, he nods and you’re on his, straddling him as your hands run along his broad shoulders, teeth nipping at his neck before you kiss the small bites.

He groans, head falling to the crook of your neck as he takes you in, hands gripping your hips like you’ll vanish he doesn’t.

“God, so fucking pretty.” he mumbles, grabbing your chin to pull you back in for anther kiss. One hand trails down towards your arching core, tugging at your waistband. You quickly move to help pull them down, you and John struggling together until finally, the dreaded things are gone.

He doesn’t bother dealing with your underwear, just pushing your panties aside as he brings a finger to your soaked cunt, you gasping at the sensation of his touch.

“So fuckin’ wet, too, Jesus.” He trails his digit alon you till he reaches your clit, flicking it, eliciting another sharp gasp from you. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

He brings two fingers to your hole, running them against your folds, coating them in your arousal as you groan. “Fucking Christ, John, please.”

“You’re even mean when you’re horny.” he chuckles, you glaring down at him in return as you lower one hand to the bulge in his pants, squeezing it to a sharp inhale from John.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” you palm at his crotch as he tries to form some kind of words. Finally, he gives up, instead pushing his fingers into you, at last granting you the friction you’ve longed for. It’s so much better than those nights you’ve laid along in your bed, picturing him above you as you pleasured yourself on your own fingers. His are thick and calloused, and feel fucking incredible as you pushes in and out of you with ease, eyes never leaving your face.

“God you’re gorgeous,” he mumbles out, “so fuckin’ tight just on my fingers. God, wanted this forever…”

“God, please, John, need you too-”

“Gotta cum on my fingers before you can cum on my dick, baby.” you clench around him at the pet name, John smirking at the feeling as he quickly adds a third finger. Your nails dig into his bare shoulders as he moves within you, your head thrown back and eyes shut in pleasure,

“Look at me baby.” you obey, opening your eyes to see John’s flushed countenance, blue eyes dark and wide as you drink you in. “Go on, cum for me.”

He scissors his fingers within you, and with a cry, you do. You thank God you’re parked in the middle of some forest in the middle of nowhere as you moan, riding the wave of ecstasy. John doesn’t stop, keeping his pace till you start to come down, taking deep breaths as you loosen your grip.

“You cut me.” you blink, John nodding to his shoulder. You see the places where your nails have left crescent marks, breaking the skin.

“Oops.” you shrug, still out of breath from your orgasm. “Something to remember me by?”

John purses his lip. “Only fair I get to leave a little something for you.” he turns his attention to your collarbone, kissing and sucking a bruise into it as he circles his thumb on your clit, making you yearn for more even after one orgasm.

“John, please, for fuck’s sake…” you mumble incoherently. Your brain is wired to tease him and even his fingers inside of you will not change that.

He lifts his head, looking down at the bruise he’s left with pride. “Something to remember me by.”

“You are such a teenager.” you sigh, hand reaching down to undo his belt.

“You’re the one begging me to fuck you.” he grins. His hands meet you there, tugging the leather off and tossing it away as he yanks his tactical pants down just far enough to free his cock.

You can’t help it, you gape it at. He’s thick, and long, a vein running along the underside where you can clearly see. It curves slightly up against his stomach, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. If you weren’t on top of him, you’d lean down and lick it off.

“Shit, do we need a-”

“You’re good. Can’t get pregnant.” you’re already lifting your hips, trying to position yourself over him.

“See, begging.” he teases as he lines up with cock with your cunt, tip rubbing along your folds. “You ready?” he asks earnestly, looking up at you with genuine concern,

You nod. “Walker, if you don’t hurry up and fuck me I swear-”

With that, he pushes into you, silencing you with a moan as you feel yourself stretch around his cock. He’s not too painfully big, the kind of sharp pinch that makes the feeling just that much more sinful.

He groans, head rolling back as he clutches your waist. You’re sure if you looked down you’d see his knuckles turned white.

“Jesus Christ, this fuckin’ perfect pussy,” he mumvles incoherently as he pushes deeper into you. “SO fuckin tight for me, baby.”

Then finally, he sheathes himself fully, with a downright pornographic moan escaping your throat at the sensation, John gives you a moment to adjust, the two of you sitting in silence, save for your shared panting and occasional groans.

You’ve never felt so full, stuffed to the brim with JOhn’s cock, feeling the head just kiss your cervix within you. You breathe deep as you adjust, feeling every part of him, every ridge, vein, curve of his cock.

“God, John, so big, Jesus…” you trail off as your brain shuts down, thoughts of anything else besides the man in front of you and his dick inside you fading away into static.

“Taking it so good.” he brushes a fallen piece of hair out of your face, a gentle gesture compared to his usually annoying countenance. “So pretty when you’re full of me.”

You nod sharply, your brain still fuzzy with lust and pleasure. You lift your hips, his cock rubbing against your walls before you slide back down, moaning as you do.

You pick up the pace, riding him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, because it’s all you’ve wanted for fucking weeks and he feels so fucking good.

John sucks another bruise into you, this one on your neck, groaning out incoherent expletives as you bounce in his lap, moaning loudly with ecstasy.

Still, you’re exhausted from your mission and your previous orgasm, your pace beginning to falter. Your eyes meet John’s, and without a word he wraps his arms around you, rolling the two of you onto the seat, you on your back with him above you.

You rake your nails over his back, leaving even more scratches as you writhe beneath him. That gentle moment from earlier feels long-gone; John is rough with you, each thrust pounds into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass as you wrap your legs around his waist, trying to pull him in deeper, as deep as he can possibly get. His mussed blond hair frames his face as he fucks into you, his expression concentrated and determined.

“Feels fuckin’ perfect, perfcct fuckin’ girl beensth me, God I’ve wanted you so bad, so perfect and good.”

“Wanted you too.” you manage to pat out, looking up into John's eyes. “So handsome, John, you’re so good.”

Oh, he liked that. He moans outright, loudly, his thrusts managing to become even harder. You give a raspy moan in reply.

“Like when I tell you how good you are?” you pant out as you give him a dastardly smile, to which he just grunts in response, “So fuckin’ good, John, love your cock, God, let you fuck me forever.”

You’re a little cockdrunk, or a lot, head spinning as you clench around him, John pressing his mouth against yours in a bruising kiss. Maybe to shut you up, maybe because he wanted to, who knows. You just know you can feel the pressure building in your stomach, another orgasm on the verge of breaking loose within you.

“John,” you move a hand to his face, running through his beard, gripping the fine hairs as you seek something, anything to hold onto. “Gonna cum, ‘m close.”

“Go on, baby.” he grunts, thrusts growing faster and more erratic, his cock barely leaving you before slamming back in. “Cum all over my cock.”

You grip his shoulders, crying out his name as you cum again, seeing stars as you feel the white-hot waves of pleasure crashing over you. John follows shortly, sheathing himself deep inside you, where you can feel the heat of him cum painting your walls.

He gives a few weak thrusts, as if he’s trying to fuck his cum further into you. You just groan, eyes squeezed shut, body still feeling like it’s on fire.

When you open your eyes, you see him above you, panting as he comes down to Earth. He looks even more handsome like this, all sweaty and messy and smelling of sex.

“Was that,” he exhales, still trying to catch his breath, “Was that good?”

You just stare up at him, before a laugh manages to escape you. He looks a little sad before you pull him down by the nape of his neck, kissing him again, soft and slow.

“Yes,” you say as you lay your head back against the seat. “That was good, John.”

He smiles, not the usual cocky and self-satisfied look, but a genuine smile, a sense of satisfaction flowing through him. He presses a kiss to your collarbone, atop where he’s left a hickey, then to the other, then a third peck to your lips. You giggle a little, running your hands through his messy hair.

“If I’d known all it took to make you stop being an asshole was fucking you, I woulda done it a lot sooner.”

“Well, technically I was the one fucking you”

You groan, exasperated. “God, the fucking technicalities with you.” you look back up at him, tilting your head as you smile. “Am I gonna have to do this again to make you stop?”

He just shrugs, a mischievous look on his face. “Guess so.” he rolls his hips against yours once more, and you can already feel him getting hard again within you.

“Jesus, fuck John…” you’re still barely recovered from the first round.

“Hey, thank the serum.”

a/n: Shoutout to the Tiktok comment where someone called him Captain Crashout bc i immediately jotted that shit down for later use. And thank all of you who've shown my fics so much love!!! I started this as a hobby to practice my writing and I'm genuinely shocked that people really enjoy these.

It ain't much but it's honest work :)

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