#challengers drabble

[castiwls]

please - a.d

Pairing; art x reader

Warnings; None

Notes; working on reqs rn :)

masterlist

"I know you told me three times already,” Art shifted slightly, his chin resting on your abdomen. “but can you say it one more time please?" His eyes were soft as he gazed up at you, a small frown pulling on the edges of his lips.

His words pulled your attention from the book in your hands and you hummed softly. He stared up at you expectantly as you watched him for a moment, you honestly thought he’d fallen asleep soon after you’d opened your book but apparently not. 

Art watched you for a moment, his face hardening ever so slightly before he reached over to take the book from you. He placed it on the bed before gently grasping your hand which now lay limp at your side and pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

His lips lingered for a moment, the smell of your perfume invading his senses. “Please.” He murmured dropping your hand. Your other hand found its way into his hair as your fingers gently ran through it. A tired smile grew on his lips as he continued to stare up at you, his eyes full of adoration. 

“I love you.” Your voice was barely a whisper yet his smile only seemed to grow as a hand squeezed at your waist. A warm feeling ran through his body as your words played over in his head. You loved him.

Content, Art hummed before leaning over to press a gentle kiss to your hip.

Maybe his wife didn’t love him in the way he wanted, but you did.

[ervotica]

i feel like art would have a babbling problem. like, he can’t stfu the closer he gets to cumming, so you have fun finding different ways to occupy his mouth while you suck him off or ride him. first instinct is sitting on his face or shoving your fingers in his mouth

// MDNI; art donaldson x reader

warnings; smut, oral (m receiving), praise, fluffy af ending, light dom/sub undertones, sub!art, art definitely has a praise kink i don’t make the rules 🫡

Art has always been loud— loud on the court, grunting and groaning as he plays, loud when he’s kissing you, breathy whines and gasps that you swallow greedily with your own mouth.

But most importantly, he’s loud in bed.

You always know when he’s about to cum; those corded thighs tighten around your head, back arching from the bed. His lips- rubied and swollen from your greedy mouth against his own- part around a moan, a drawn out whine, and an outright shout when your tongue laves across the tip of his weeping cock, drooling and flushed from your attention.

“Baby, baby, please,” he babbles. “Need it so bad. Gonna fuckin’ cum, please, baby.”

One of your manicured hands drags its way up his glistening chest, slick with sweat and littered with dark marks from your hungry teeth. He moans again, and you part his lips with a gentle thumb, pressing two digits flat against his tongue; he takes them greedily, suckling against the curve of your knuckles as you work him over with your other hand. You resist the urge to roll your eyes— always so obedient.

“Good boy,” you giggle. “Pretty baby.” He whines. You soothe him with a kiss to the tip of his cock.

His hips sporadically jerk as you seal your lips over him, sinking downward until the heavy length of him is settled snugly in your mouth. His chest stutters, a bare leg twining under your arm and round your waist until his heel presses into the base of your spine.

You know he’s cumming before he does.

His breath seizes, missing a beat. The muscles in his thighs tighten as he grinds further upwards into your warm mouth, and then he’s spilling into you with a sob.

His mouth is a wet throbbing around your knuckles, tips of your fingers still pressed to the dip of his tongue. You coast your thumb over the underside of his chin, pressing to the hollow of his throat— he preens under the attention.

“Shh, shh,” you coax. He bends at the waist, hooking a lithe hand under each of your armpits, and you’re dragged up and over his front until you’re nose to nose.

“Baby,” he sighs, nuzzling his cheek against your own. “Love you.”

“Love you too, pretty baby,” you coo. He’s almost limp underneath your weight, eyes half lidded and crinkling at the corners. “Can I have a kiss?”

He melts.

“You can have anything you want. C’mere.”

[slushfaerie]

you’re fire and ice, right? 

oh my god.

which one’s which? 

(wc: 406, fluffy til it isn't lmao)

art donaldson tended to run hot. he’d grab your icy hand while the two of you were out on a walk and let you share the warmth of the pocket of his hoodie.

you'd often find him walking around your apartment without a shirt, even in the winter, not that you minded. he'll kick off the covers and blankets while he sleeps with you in his arms. you were the only thing he wanted wrapped around him anyway.

he'll sit with you in the living room by the fireplace as it's storming outside. slips your somehow always-cold hand under his t-shirt, bare against his skin (and over his heart) to warm it up. makes a little sizzling “ssssss” sound at the feeling of your hand on him. gives you that goofy crooked grin of his. 

art eyes are smoldering as he lays you back on the couch, placing open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, smiling against your skin.

"always so fucking freezing, baby."

and art only wanted to help.

he runs his hands over your body, fingers skimming over your sides, your hips. feeling the goosebumps bloom on your skin beneath his fingers. he groans softly, the sound vibrating in his chest as he feels you shiver, not from the cold, pulling you closer until you're flush against him. captures your lips in a searing kiss, tongue delving into your mouth, nipping and sucking at your bottom lip.

art's hips had started to move on their own, grinding against you. he was already hard, his cock straining against the confines of his sweats as he ruts against you, seeking the heat of your core, pulling you closer to him. you felt good. too fucking good.

"gonna make me cum 'n my pants if you keep this up. that what you want?" he rasps into your ear, nipping your earlobe before soothing sting with his tongue.

the living room flickered with the light from the fireplace, the persistent sound of crackling melding with your moans.

"art," you whimpered, voice breathy and needy. "please...i..i need.." you couldn't even finish your sentence, too lost in the heady haze of feelings art was giving you.

and he knew exactly what you needed. could see it in the way your eyes glazed over with desire, in the way your body trembled against his. how your hips bucked up to meet his, seeking more friction, more heat.

the way your bodies melted together. like you were made for each other.

ᯓ❆⋆ for daddy @artdcnaldson ! i couldn't resist i couldn't stop thinking about dry humping art while it's storming outside :(

[wyniepooh]

Mess

patrick’s car was always in state of mess. the reason? probably you.

mdni; 18+. car action w patrick.

patrick’s car was a piece of junk. parts of the car seat were peeling, the windows forever had a sticky feeling about them, and the floor was often littered with fast food bags and cups.

and yet, you found yourself in the backseat of it, time and time again.

"your car smells like shit," you'd half-murmur to him, kicking away the various plastic containers with your feet as you attempted to crawl towards him. he'd sit back and watch you struggle for a second before dragging you onto his lap by the small of your back, strong arms wrapping around your waist and inhaling the sweet scent of your hair.

he'd grab your frantic wrists that are impulsively wiping down his dirty windows and hum a gentle 'shh' against your neck, whispering, "we're about to make it nastier anyways."

and you suppose he was right.

because once you were down on your knees and he was guiding your head towards him, once you were gagging and and forming a pool of saliva at the base of his cock, the sharp cups cutting into your skin no longer bothered you.

how could you even begin to care when you’re so focused on balancing yourself against the window as patrick drills into you from behind, a large hand on your lower stomach as he grunts, “you feel that? you feel me?”

You’d spit back at him, “you’re- you’re disgusting, patrick,” hand slipping from the condensation forming on the glass, your breath hitching as he grabs you up by the base of your neck and pulls your back towards his chest.

He pauses for a moment, and you take the time to catch your breath, body almost slumping over from exhaustion. You can feel the drum of his heart on your back, the scruff of his beard against your neck, and you can hear the grin in his voice as he mumbles, “you fucking love it.”

as he begins again from a new angle, a sharp yell escapes you, and you realize that you have no one else but yourself to blame for the mess in the car. the overwhelming pressure begins to build in your abdomen, and you mewl and thrash and bounce back against patrick, because there was no use in cleaning any of it anyways; after all, you’d just make another mess.

-

a/n: I rlly enjoy how we have all just accepted that patrick is a nasty fuck and that we all like it!

[amiseuvx]

overstimming art donaldson with a vibrator.

He'd been looking in your drawers for something before pulling it out - cheeks flushed as you'd laughed.

Cut to half an hour later, and he'd be gripping the sheets, teary-eyed and panting, while you hold the vibe over his weepy tip. "You gonna cum again? Give me another?" You tease, knowing he's on the cusp of overstimulation.

His hips jerk, his body acting on its own as his mouth drops open. between moans, he manages out a small, "Pl-please." Before his stomach tenses and he comes with a yelp a small spurt of cum leaking from his purple tip.

"Off. Turn it off, please." He whines, thrashing as you shift the vibe over him. "One more." You coo, leaning over to brush a hand through his sweat-drenched curls. "One more for me?"

His hips jerk when you press the vibe to his tip, but he nods. "For...ah...for you...please!"

[artydonsgf]

hi everyone here is art, tashi, and patrick with random headcanons i have of them<3 i have first time saying i love you headcanons coming up!

Art Donaldson

- incapable of fixing his face

- for example, if you guys are at a party n someone says something wild, he reacts SO viscerally

- literal whole body reaction

- extremely ticklish

- you found this out on accident, you were cuddling in bed and your foot poked him while you were adjusting yourself

- he reacted without meaning to and kicked you (not that hard)

- he felt so bad but you were dying from laughter, ofc he’s the ticklish type

- likes to bite you whenever you cuddle

- it started off as a joke but he genuinely loves to gently bite when you don’t expect it and hear your soft gasps in response

- it’s half because he thinks it’s cute n half because it kinda turns him on

- wants to impress you so bad that he’ll read up on something you like n then carefully drop it in the conversation

- he does it as nonchalantly as possible except it’s impossible for him to be truly nonchalant so he’s very obviously glancing at you with a small smile

- would unironically wear the i ❤️ my gf shirt

- little spoon champion

- likes when you’re little spoon but he LOVESSS when you’re big spoon

Tashi Duncan

- also totally incapable of fixing her face

- she can hide shock but she cannot hide dislike, if she doesn’t like something you will know

- hyperfixates on meals

- like she ate this breakfast wrap you randomly made for her for a month straight

- likes when you cook for her because she’ll stand behind you and hug you the whole time

- so dead serious about game night

- you are the love of her life but during game nights you are the enemy

- likes horror movies so she can cuddle up with you

- she’s not really that scared but it’s nice having you next to her when a jump scare pops up

- loves hand holding, she’ll seek out your hands n doesn’t even realize she’s doing it

- cute thing she does is she’ll craft backstories for random people you see walking down the street

- it’s hilarious because she gives very fleshed out background to people you see briefly

- “that guy? cheating on his wife with his secretary who’s also married and has a kid his age” she likes to make the stories messy

- will do anything to make you laugh, really truly obsessed with your face

Patrick Zweig

- he cannot whisper for the life of him

- sees a girl you had beef with in high school n he basically yells “oh my god is that the girl?? the one who had sex with your boyfriend??”

- it’s a mix of not caring n also just not being aware

- extreme tease but if you tease him back he’s heartbroken

- started doing this 👉🏽👈🏽 ironically just to fuck with you but he can’t stop doing it now

- “hey babe, can you please put my bag in the car?👉🏽👈🏽”

- it has consumed him

- extremely stubborn

- also very prideful, it absolutely kills him when he has to speak up n ask for something

- extreme staring problem

- if something crazy is happening in public, he’ll just stare even if it’s really obvious

- doesn’t let you carry your bag

- he can have 100 bags in his hands and he’ll still find a way to carry your little purse

just silly thoughts, enjoy!

[yeahtimesten]

disaster date w/ tashi duncan

you and tashi started off the year as total strangers, sitting next to each other during lecture by coincidence, because neither of you knew other people taking this class. but her taking a chance and grabbing the seat next to you proved worth it. every group discussion was the perfect blend of intellectual and humorous, the both of you making each other laugh about what you two were studying. the dynamic was so good, you were eager to take it outside the classroom.

and that’s why you found yourself sitting across from tashi at a swanky little sushi spot in the city off campus.

no, you weren’t sure if this was a date. yes, you asked her out. you felt maybe it was implied when you asked her to join you at dinner with a movie afterword. but the word ‘date’ actually never left your mouth. and you totally skirted around that word on purpose, unsure if she even liked women like that. and you were equally unsure if she had picked up on the fact that you did.

earlier in the night, you had picked her up at her dorm, and you were totally in shock at how she looked. clearly, she was beautiful, naturally and effortlessly. but the effort she put in for you tonight was enough to make your heart wrench and ache. her hair was slicked back into a long low ponytail, with her curls and waves on display. she wore a black off the shoulder long sleeve that showcased her sexy shoulders and collarbones. and navy blue jeans that hugged her ass in such an excruciating way. yeah, you were smitten.

you let her be on aux on the way into the city, and her choice in music had you both singing along. check on it by beyoncé, from her brand new album, played. you had listened to the song plenty of times since its release, but still managed to fuck up the lyrics of the fast part.

“girl, maybe we should just leave it to beyoncé,” she had said, and your cheeks were rosy in embarrassment. she felt bad and grabbed your shoulder. “i’m just kidding.” a beat of silence hung over you two, and at first she was actually nervous she hurt your feelings. until you burst out singing again, making her laugh as she joined along.

you arrived just in time for your reservation, but they stuck you at this tiny side table, and were too busy to accommodate for anything with a tiny bit more surface space. so your table was overloaded with cups, long sashimi and sushi roll plates, condiments, and sides of rice. you loved that she ordered food at restaurants just like you did. she told you to pick a dish and she’d pick a dish and you could both split and share, which is something you had proposed on other dates before and was refused.

with chopsticks, she reached over the island of dishes and plucked a piece of sliced yellowtail on top of a bed of rice, but upon pulling her arm back, her elbow knocked over her glass of water, promptly spilling it all over the table and herself. shocked, she just sat there as it spilled over, wincing, before her face released into a look of annoyance. you were stifling back laughter, and you could tell she was too. you reached over to pick up her glass, and she began to wipe up her spill with a napkin. you made the same mistake that she did however, as you lowered your arms back down to your own body, your elbow hit the handle of a spoon perfectly, catapulting rice across the aisle, leaving a trail of food that reached all the way to the next table over. tashi couldn’t hold back her laughter no matter how hard she tried, sending you into a fit that elicited snorts, which only caused her to laugh even harder.

“holy fuck, we’ve made a mess,” you state the obvious.

“they are gonna kick our asses out if we don’t get it together,” tashi jokes with you. and in this moment, her smile is dazzling. you could be so embarrassed right now, and maybe you were a little bit, but tashi made you feel so comfortable and at ease with just the way her eyes met yours.

you finished your meals and apologized profusely for the mess. you payed for the bill and you both shelled out a fat tip for the poor server who’d be cleaning up after you. as you walked down the busy downtown street of the city, your both bumping hips with each other, possibly due to feeling the cocktails you both had at dinner a bit. tashi spotted those electric scooters resting on a street corner, and her eyes lit up as she walked towards them.

“have you ever ridden one of these,” she asks you. she looks about tempted to get on one.

“yes i have,” you admit. “and i do not suggest we do tonight, especially in your heels.” and she knows your right.

“we should come back some time and try them out,” she suggests, as she walks back to your side.

“maybe, but i’m sort of traumatized from the first time i did,” you laughed, and she gave you a puzzled look. you pulled out your phone and scrolled through your gallery, and handed her the device once you found it.

she grabbed your phone and immediately cringed at the image before her. she was looking at a photo of your thigh, all scraped up and bleeding. she studies it for a long time, and your cheeks start to flush because you realize a good chunk of your ass (in some cute panties at least) is showcased in the photo. she’s still looking at the photo mortified while you tell her about your drunken night out on the town when you and your friends decided to scooter around. you had mishandled a sharp turn and tumbled off, leading to a gnarly injury of road rash over a decent amount of your body.

“i have this crazy scar still there too, even though this happened like six months ago,” you told her.

“you’re going to have to show me that sometime, that’s crazy,” she says, glancing down at your legs. and as you step in front of her to navigate the busy walkway, you can feel her eyes still staring at your lower half, definitely checking out your ass to see if it compared to what was photographed.

the question of whether this was a date or not still remained as you two reached the theater. she insisted on not only paying for your tickets, but also for the popcorn, soda, and candy you both ordered too. was she just trying to be a good friend and pay you back, or did she want to treat you too?

the movie was proving to be a horrible choice. that was apparent maybe 20 minutes into the film. it was a late showing and despite it being the weekend, the theater wasn’t packed to the brim, just couples and small groups of people scattered evenly amongst the seats. except for the couple who decided to sit right in front of you two, despite having ample seating choices anywhere else. you wanted to feel bad for them, as you and tashi had been chatting and giggling and making fun of the acting in the movie the whole time, but they brought it upon themselves when they chose to sit directly in front of you two.

in the lull of silence between you two (that the people in front of you had been praying for), you decided rest your head on her shoulder. it was… a move, yes. that you overthought the whole time leading up to actually making it. you were terrified of creeping her out and making her uncomfortable by making a sudden move, but also extremely nervous that maybe she didn’t see this as a date at all, and just a hangout between two good friends, and that you making this physical connection with her was just you being an affectionate friend. but, she leaned her head on top of yours, and you melted a bit in your seat.

you sat like this for a while, until she went to readjust. as she pulled her head away, your hair locked into her hoop earring, pulling you along with her. you yelped and panicked, as she whispered apologies to you, and you to her. as you both desperately try to untangle your hair from her jewelry, you’re both laughing, a bit louder than the giggles from earlier in the showing. the couple in front of you finally turn your way, giving these terribly annoyed expressions, displaying some faux-intimidation hoping you two would quiet down. but that only sent you two spitting, attempting to hold back more laughter, unable to take them seriously.

as you both left the theater, you spotted the couple in the lobby talking to guest services, with stern looks on their faces as they demanded refunds on their tickets due to the excessive disturbance caused by you too. you’re both making fun of them, imitating their crazy faces as you exit the building. as you’re both laughing, tashi’s heel gets caught in the crease of the sidewalk, causing her to trip, but luckily you too were walking so cuddled up together you were able to catch her before she fell flat on her face.

“damn, i said you shouldn’t ride the scooter while wearing those shoes, i didn’t know they’d inhibit your walking as well,” you tease. she playfully slaps your shoulder and you two make the trek back to your car.

the city streets were quiet now, with only a few drunk college students hanging around outside the clubs they just got kicked out of, the only other sound on the streets were coming from the muffled music and cars whizzing by. the walk back was the most silent you too had been all night, but it was comfortable. you looked over at her and she was staring up at the stars, she admired how they sparkled as you admired her.

ok, even if this was a date, it was a disaster date. you had some quite horrible nights out with people, but nothing quite like what you experienced tonight. you could have been mortified by every mistake and accident. but tashi, despite being the epitome of grace and elegance in your book, made everything feel so comfortable and natural. if you weren’t crushing on her at the beginning of the night, you definitely were now. scratch that, this wasn’t a crush, you liked her. and you only hoped you’d get the chance to have a terrible night like this again with her.

once you reached your vehicle, you opened the door for her and motioned for her to get in, but she bumped it closed with her butt, leaning on your car. she grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you closer to her. your hands comfortably landed on her hips, as she stared into your eyes. your heart was racing now, unable to believe the physical contact being made.

“i had such a fun time with you tonight,” she said, voice sultry and alluring. she pulled you into her and planted the softest, most supple and sweet kiss upon your lips. “this was the best date i’ve ever had.”

[marvelstoriesepic]

I Would Let the World Burn

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Non-superhero!Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: You attend a public Avengers event as Bucky’s girlfriend for the first time, but things spiral from nerves to chaos in a matter of seconds. And when you’re caught in the crossfire, Bucky unleashes.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: violence; injury; PTSD elements; emotional distress; explosions; mass panic; allusions to death; protective!Bucky; nobody hurts his girl; seriously, he’s a little feral here

Author’s Note: I need protective Bucky all day and all night omg. Thank you so much, my love, for this absolutely amazing request!! I hope you'll enjoy ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

The lights are everywhere.

Glinting off skyscraper windows and camera lenses, bouncing off metallic armor and too-white smiles.

The voices are everywhere. They swarm like bees - the press, the fans, the murmuring of people watching people.

The flash of the cameras is a strobe light stinging the back of your eyes. Reporters shout questions like bullets, flinging them past your ears and into your chest.

You feel your lungs shrinking in your ribcage as if they’ve decided you’ve seen enough. Felt enough. Been too much.

You’re not supposed to be here.

Not in this crowd, not in this dress, not in front of a hundred reporters and their glittering cameras. Not in the spotlight. Not on the arm of the Bucky Barnes.

You tug at the hem of your dress, fingers nervous, breath catching on a sigh you don’t release. Everyone here looks like they belong - as if they were born to walk red carpets and sip sparkling drinks under light that only blinds you. You feel like an ink smudge on a page of golden script.

It’s the first time you’re out in the public with him. The first time the press will capture who’s been speculated to be the former Winter Soldier’s girlfriend.

Bucky spent the night whispering reassurances into your skin, but it seems you should have listened to his words rather than the feeling of his plump lips all over your body.

Your hand is in his, and his thumb traces slow circles against you, metal fingers warm from your skin. His other hand rests lightly on your back. He hasn’t let go of you once.

You look up at him.

And he’s already looking at you.

He looks perfect, tailored, controlled, dangerous in a way that makes people stare too long and then look away even faster.

His hair is swept back tonight, save for one defiant strand that keeps falling across his brow. You keep watching that strand as if it’s a lifeline. Like if you can count how many times it falls, maybe your nerves will shut the hell up.

You know he feels how tense you are.

He frowns, and it’s so soft it nearly breaks your heart. That Bucky Barnes can frown like that. As if you just told him you were fading into dust.

“Hey,” Bucky coos, voice soft, voice low, the world dissolving for a second into nothing but him and you. “You okay, sweetheart?”

You try to nod. But you can’t lie to him. Words jam in your throat, caught somewhere between the beat of your heart and the reality of who he is and who you are not.

“I just-” you manage, but it’s a little shaky, you look around. “I feel out of place.”

Bucky tilts his head, brow still furrowed tightly. “Why?”

You open your mouth, then close it again. Try to explain how it feels to be ordinary in a sea of extraordinary. How it feels to be his, but not one of them. How terrifying it is to not have armor, or training, or anything more than love for a man who could kill with his pinky finger and kindness in his eyes just for you.

Bucky steps in close, crowding the noise out with the breadth of his body, his warmth, the familiarity of his scent - cedar and cold and something quietly him. His nose brushes yours, and it’s stupid how it grounds you.

“I’d rather be anywhere else,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. “I’d rather be nowhere. Just me and you. On a rooftop. Under the sheets. In the woods. I don’t care. Just not here. No noise. No cameras. No Stark in a tuxedo with a martini making bad decisions.”

You laugh, and it trembles out of you.

His smile is all softness and secret promises. His eyes are glinting. “But if I have to be here - then I'm glad it’s with you.”

The way he says it - quiet, low, as if it’s something he only ever told the wind - freezes everything inside you and sets it on fire all at once.

You blink, and the fear stutters. Collapses a little. Because it’s not you and the Avengers. It’s you and Bucky.

His lips graze your ear, then your temple, taking his time. He’s not bothered at all by the cameras flashing around you, capturing this moment, capturing the Winter Soldier going soft on his girlfriend.

You want to fall into him. You want to crawl into his chest and live there.

You let out a breath. It’s just beginning to feel okay. The world quiets just for a second.

Then it explodes.

There’s a metallic whine, a rumble like thunder swallowed by stone. The ground jerks beneath your feet as though it’s trying to shake you off. Screams tear through the air. A plume of smoke mushrooms in the sky as fire roars from the far end of the pavilion. People scatter. Glass shatters. Concrete buckles.

You don’t even have time to be shocked when Bucky already reacts.

He pushes you behind him so fast your teeth snap together. He doesn’t look back. His body shields yours, metal arm braced outward, flesh hand pressing you into his back, eyes scanning for threats.

Another explosion cracks through the sky, rips through the atmosphere like an angry god. And right after, the next explosion follows, punched through the sky like a fist made of fire.

You cough, eyes watering. There’s debris. Someone’s car door skitters across the ground like a dead insect. Tony’s suit whirs to life across the square. Natasha’s already sprinting. Sam is in the air.

Bucky is moving, dragging you behind a line of armored cars, his body is coiled with tension, his expression is deadly serious.

“Stay here!” he orders. It’s his soldier voice. Cold steel and no argument. He’s never used this voice on you before.

“Bucky-”

“Y/n, stay down,” he barks sharply, and you nearly flinch. But his tone is not filled with anger. It’s filled with fear. “Do not move until I come back for you.”

Your heart is pounding so hard you think it might break your ribs. Your head is shaking from side to side so fast, you can’t do anything. “No- Bucky-”

He cups your face, his hands stiff, his hold almost rough. He leans in. “Stay. Here,” he growls. “I can’t do this if I’m worried about you.”

His eyes tell you he already is. He will be. But he doesn’t tell you.

He waits for you to nod, although he doesn’t have the time. An almost aggressive kiss is pressed to your mouth, then to your forehead, and he is gone. Thrown into chaos, lost in the smoke and fury and shouts.

You barely register the space he leaves behind. The smoke moves like a creature through the crowd, making people disappear wholly. Somewhere nearby, there’s another explosion. The screams rise again, louder.

You crouch lower, press yourself against the cold steel of the car, try to breathe through the hammer in your chest. You want to do what he said. You try to do what he said.

But the panic moves toward you.

You don’t see where it starts. Just feel it. A shove. A push. Someone collides with your hiding place, someone is behind you and suddenly you’re on the ground. White-hot pain at your side. You fall hard enough to see stars. A sharp ache slices down your shoulder where debris must have caught you. Blood runs hot and slick beneath your dress.

Disoriented, you try to push up on trembling arms but they shake too much, and everything is spinning.

You don’t see the soldier until you turn your head and there’s a flash of metal in his hand. A knife.

“Y/n!”

It’s your name. It’s Bucky’s voice. It’s not a shout. It’s a roar. As if it was ripped out of his chest. As if he’s afraid of what he’ll find when he gets to you.

From fifty yards away, across smoke and bodies and fire, he sees the blood blooming on your sleeve. Sees your fingers twitch as you try to sit up. Sees the man with the knife coming too close.

And he is barreling through the smoke like something unholy, eyes wild, teeth clenched, hands balled to fists. The light behind his eyes just snaps.

He moves as though he’s been set free. No hesitation. No fear. No softness left in him. His face is stone, is fury, is death, is Winter Soldier. His arm gleams under the flames, a ghost of his past resurrected in defense of his present.

Bucky hits the guy with bone-crushing force, enough to send teeth skittering across pavement. A scream echoes once before it’s cut off. Another blow. Another. Fist to face. Elbow to jaw. A crunch that sounds like death and rage all rolled into one. His vibranium hand wraps around the man’s throat, and you swear you see something flash in his eyes - something ancient and broken - before Bucky picks him up and slams him against a crumbling wall. Again. And again.

It’s not strategy. It’s not mercy. It’s pure rage.

Somewhere, Steve yells his name like a warning.

Bucky doesn’t stop.

“Bucky-” you croak, blood warm down your arm. You try to sit up.

In an instant, he turns back to you, easing up on his brutal hold and the soldier crumples to the ground. Bucky’s whole body is tight with adrenaline, his breath sawing in and out as though he ran through a warzone - which he kind of did. For you. His eyes find yours and shatter.

He’s at your side in half a breath.

“Baby,” he whispers, hands on your face, on your shoulder, trembling now. “No, no, no. You weren’t supposed to be- I told you to stay-”

“I tried,” you defend weakly, dizzy. “I didn’t- I’m okay. I think. Just- grazed me, maybe-”

But he’s not hearing you. Not through the panic tearing holes in his composure. His hands flutter, unsure where to land without hurting you more. His voice drops, gravelly and hushed. “I shouldn’t have brought you here. Shit, I should’ve known-”

“Hey.” You grab his wrists. “Bucky.”

He stills, but he won’t meet your eyes. Your thumb brushes the inside of his wrist. “I’m okay.”

But he’s too far in his head.

He wraps you in his arms in seconds, cradles you as if you’re made of moonlight and scripture, as if you’re hallowed and half-broken and held together by threads only he can see.

His metal hand supports your back, curved protectively around your spine. His other hand is pressing your legs into his chest.

The darkening sky is still full of smoke and sirens.

Colors smear across the sky like blood in water. Reds and blues. Shouting and static. Flashing lights and fractured ground. Somewhere nearby, someone is screaming. Somewhere farther, something explodes.

But not for him anymore. He doesn’t seem to hear anything. Doesn’t seem to listen to anything other than your breathing, your pulse.

He walks fast, but carefully. Erratic feet cut through rubble, his jaw is locked so hard, his body so rigid, he surely is in pain from holding all that tension. His eyes are storm-dark and unblinking. No one stops him. Not Steve. Not Tony. Not even the medics who see the look on his face and take a cautious step back as though maybe the devil borrowed his bones tonight.

He never trusted any random medic to look you over. It has to be someone he knows.

You whisper his name.

Soft. Breathless. Almost an apology.

And he almost drops to his knees.

“I’ve got you,” he rasps, hoarse and urgent. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

You know you are. But he doesn’t.

Your fingers curl in the collar of his suit jacket. His real name - James - lives on your tongue but never quite makes it out because he’s holding you too close, and perhaps saying his name might crush him completely.

He smells like smoke and ash and steel and blood. Your temple is tucked against the curve of his neck, where his pulse thunders beneath the surface. He’s warm and shaking.

He bursts into the quinjet that brought you here like a man on fire, like a man trying to outpace grief, and he yells something sharp. He lays you down - reluctantly, tenderly, surrendering - onto a stretcher, but his hands don’t stop touching you.

He’s a storm with a purpose, and that purpose is you.

You, safe.

You, whole.

You, alive.

“Bucky,” you try to ease, blinking up at him, face pale under flickering emergency lights. “I told you, baby. It’s not that bad.” Your voice is soft. Slow.

“You were on the ground.” His voice cracks.

“I was on the ground for like two seconds-”

“You’re bleeding.”

“It stopped, baby. Okay? There’s no fresh blood.” You are close to whispering.

Bucky doesn’t seem eased, though. He sits beside you. Big body bent in half, elbows on knees, one trembling hand reaching to gently - so, so gently - brush your hair from your forehead.

And then he says it.

“I would’ve burned the whole goddamn city to get to you.” Quiet. Like a vow. Like a confession. Like faith. Like a truth, he doesn’t know how to carry anymore. “I would’ve torn down buildings with my bare hands if I didn’t see your breathing. I don’t care who saw. I don’t care what they think-” his voice breaks, his breaths spill all over his words. “I can’t be okay without you.”

You stare up at him. Your throat is tight, eyes are stinging. Because he doesn’t say things like that. Not often. Not out loud. You see it in his eyes every day, in the way he looks at you, in the way he treats you. But it’s something else entirely to hear him form those words and let his tongue roll them out.

He presses his forehead to yours. His breath ghosts over your lips. His eyes are closed. His hand cups the back of your head.

He’s holding you so close to him, as if he’s never intending to let go ever again.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 15: “what are you wearing?” “it’s laundry day!”

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

When Spencer Reid opened the door to your shared apartment, he didn’t expect to hear the speakers in the living room blasting one of those modern songs he didn’t know the name of. You were home, that much was certain.

You had known each other for a few years, so it wasn’t difficult to agree to be roommates while Spencer found something permanent in the city. It was just his first year working for the FBI, and with the expenses required for his mother in the sanatorium, everything was becoming more financially complicated. Your parents, who already knew he was a good man, preferred to host that tenant rather than anyone else.

Your roommate tried to call out to let you know he was there, but thanks to the music, you had no hearing. Resigned, he tried to walk over to lower the volume, and that’s when he saw you.

You were holding a basket full of clothes, but the peculiar thing about the situation was that you were only wearing the bottom part of what he assumed was a bikini. Reid let out a scream at the sight of you, and you almost dropped the laundry you were holding, which would have completely exposed your tits.

“Jeez!, what are you wearing?”

“It’s laundry day!” you shouted back, as if trying to justify yourself. Spencer had already covered the side of his face with his hand, a clear sign that he didn’t plan on looking at you.

“And why are you naked?!”

“I’m not naked, Spencer. Almost.”

“It’s the same thing! Put… put on some clothes, please.”

“Have you never seen a naked woman?”

“No! I mean, yes! Just… put something on, will you?”

“You’ll have to lend me some clothes. All my clothes are in the washer.”

“Take whatever you want from my wardrobe, okay?” He couldn’t see you, but from the sounds he heard, he assumed you had dropped the pile of clothes and then headed to his room.

The young man felt his heart racing beneath his chest, and for a second, he wondered if it would be wise to leave, stay, lock himself in his room, and never talk about this again, or simply laugh at the situation.

A minute later, he heard footsteps coming back, and he hoped with all his heart that when he removed his hand from his face, he wouldn’t find you in an indecent state again. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case, but the image in front of him was still worse.

“You seldom wear these,” you observed slyly, extending the bottom of the oversized T-shirt you were wearing.

It had a faded print of a national park or something, and it was huge on you. Below, you were wearing joggers that Spencer doubted even belonged to him, as he had never dressed in things like that. He would probably donate them after this.

But Spencer didn’t feel shocked by the clothes; he was shocked by the person wearing them. The T-shirt made it clear that you were still wearing nothing beneath it, and just seeing you in something of his sent a shiver down his spine.

He lied when he said he had seen naked women. He hadn’t seen any—well, unless the beach and television counted.

“Do you know how dangerous it is for you to walk around like that? Some pervert could spy on you through the window, or if there’s an emergency and you have to leave, how will you do it?”

“Oh, calm down, honey. I knew you were the only one with keys to the apartment, all the curtains are closed, and I highly doubt that if there’s an emergency, anyone would notice me,” you laughed, as if it weren’t a big deal.

You watched him for a second, as if waiting for him to say something more, but you continued to receive that expression of disapproval.

“Just be more careful, okay?”

“I will,” you said calmly as you approached to hug him. “And I’d like you to come in with a: Hi, good afternoon, I’m back, how are you? Instead of that scream you let out.”

“I would have greeted you that way if it hadn’t been for your music blasting. One day you’re going to go deaf.”

“Oh, uh-huh.”

You had already started to walk in the other direction, but he, dissatisfied, followed you.

“I’m serious! There’s a study that proves it. Loud sounds can damage the parts of the inner ear that detect sound and send signals to the brain…”

“Do you want to wash your clothes too?” you interrupted, turning to look at him. He almost bumped into you. “There’s still space in my laundry load. That shirt you’re wearing right now looks a bit dirty.”

“You’re right, it is,” he reflected, looking down at a coffee stain. “Let me go change and I’ll be right back to give it to you, okay?”

He couldn’t see you shake your head, and he also couldn’t hear your reproachful words as if something displeased you. The matter was forgotten, at least for that afternoon, and you both continued with your usual tasks. Spencer ordered Japanese food for dinner, and you shared a pleasant time before going to bed. You had his clothes on the entire time.

The next day, when Derek and Elle approached to talk to him, Reid couldn’t help but tell them about the scandalous scene he had encountered upon arriving home, hoping to rid himself of the feeling of embarrassment that had arisen in him.

Unfortunately, it was quite the opposite because both agents increased their smiles as he progressed with the story.

“My boy, I think that was a pretty direct hint.”

“What do you mean?” he murmured, looking genuinely lost. Elle just gave him an amused look, almost pitying, for Morgan to continue speaking.

“She didn’t want to do laundry! She was probably looking for something more.”

Spencer frowned and showed a thoughtful expression. The woman beside him laughed and intervened to save him.

“What Morgan is trying to say is that maybe it wasn’t an accident that you found her in that state. She knows what time you usually arrive, right?”

“Yes. But why would she want to be naked when I got here?”

His two friends shared an amused and conspiratorial look, unable to believe that a guy as intelligent as Spencer could be so bad at picking up signals.

“Maybe because she wanted you to see her naked…” Morgan began, hoping he could connect the dots. “Because she likes you, maybe?”

The young man felt all the blood rush to his cheeks. I mean, that biologically wasn’t possible, or otherwise he would die, but for this case, a hyperbole is quite valid.

“You mean she wanted… to do it with me?”

“Bingo! We have a winner.”

He didn’t even know why he had told his work colleagues that. At that precise moment, he was quite regretful for having even opened his mouth.

“But… but she’s not like that. Why would she...? She can’t like me; it must be something else.”

“Oh, come on, Reid. Is it that hard for you to accept that that skinny body and your deer eyes can conquer a woman?” Elle murmured, entertained by how things had developed.

Those two could see the gears turning in the younger man's head.

“Do you think I should talk to her? Ask her?”

“Are you crazy or something? Of course not!”

“Then what do I do?” he implored Elle, feeling completely ignorant on the one topic he couldn’t study: women.

“Return the favor,” Morgan suggested with a shrug. “You know, the next time you do laundry, just stay in your underwear, wait for her to arrive, and voila. Maybe being on the other side, she’ll dare to do what you won’t.”

“Oh God, this is horrible,” the young man lamented, hiding his flushed face between his hands. At that moment, the three were called by Chief Gideon, and they had no choice but to get up and go to the conference room. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Calm down, kid. Who do you think we are?” Morgan reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder. A second later, he saw Agent Aaron pass by. “Hotch! Guess what Reid just did…”

“Morgan!” he shouted, rushing forward to prevent his embarrassing secret from becoming public knowledge.

Feeling somewhat fearful, he followed the advice his coworker had given him, and he didn’t need to ponder much about the question he had in mind. You definitely liked him.

[castiwls]

my world - a.d

Paring; dad!art x mum!reader

Requested; anon

Synopsis; domestic mornings were all he'd ever dreamed off

Warnings; none

Notes;he is the definition of a girl dad. Also kinda canon diverent I guess I never named the daughter so you can pretend its his daughter from the film if u want :) reqs and inbox are open !

Masterlist

The feeling of a weight landing on your chest woke you from your sleep. A small giggle broke through the silence of the room and you felt a smile grow on your lips as the sound reached your ears.

“What do you think you're doing?” Art grinned reaching over to hook an arm around the toddler's waist. Another giggle erupted from her as he pulled her over to his chest. “I’m hungry.” She nestled her face into her father's neck as he ran a hand gently up and down her back. 

“You're hungry?” He repeated watching as she raised her head with an enthusiastic nod. “Pancakes.” She grinned.

“You had pancakes yesterday missy.” You turned to face the two, pushing yourself up on your elbow. Your daughter smiled picking absently mindedly at Art’s top.

Your husband turned his head to look at you, a tired smile on his face. “But you can never have enough pancakes.” He joked using his free arm to pull you closer.

You hummed softly leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips before laying your head against his shoulder. Art settled further into the pillows, a content smile growing on his lips as he watched you go back and forth with your daughter for a moment. 

After a moment you turned your attention to him leaning in and using a hand to cover your mouth. “What do you think.” Your eyes darted to the little girl who grinned bouncing slightly on his chest. 

Art huffed slightly using the hand which had previously been rubbing her back to stop her from bouncing. “Does she get pancakes?” 

Art hummed pretending to think for a moment. “I don’t know.” He grinned pressing his lips to your cheek for a moment. “Only kids who clean up their toys get pancakes.”

A small gasp left the child on his chest before she scrambled off the bed running off to her own room. “Smart.” You grinned as he turned on his side, now fully facing you. 

You both knew her room would most likely be a mess of toys and blankets after she’d begged Art to build her a fort last night so she and her teddys could have a sleepover and part of you was dreading going anywhere near her room.

“Someone had to clean it.” Art pressed his lips to yours for a moment. “Plus now we have at least 10 more minutes.” He brushed his nose against yours before capturing your lips again. 

This was all he’d ever wanted in life. Sure he loved tennis but he loved this so much more. A small sigh left your lips as you felt him move to press kisses along your jawline. With a gentle push to your shoulder, you rolled onto your back and Art was quick to fill the space between your legs.

After a moment he pulled back before laying his head on your chest. Art stared up at you, his eyes softening with adoration as you gently racked a hand through his hair.

“I love you.” He whispered turning his head to press a kiss to your arm, he let his lips linger for a moment before pressing another kiss and laying his head back. 

“I love you more.” You smiled watching as he shook his head. “That’s impossible.”

[ervotica]

i’m at work and this is so fucking nasty, but who fucking cares—

thinking about patrick being obsessed with you creaming on his cock. he gets so excited when you’re ovulating, he just spends an insane amount of time watching his fat cock glide in and out of your hole. you could be whining, shaking, begging him to fuck you harder but he ignores you because he’s so in awe of just how. fucking. pretty.! your pussy looks covered in cream, walls gripping onto his thick girth for dear life.

when i tell you i need this man. i fucking need him. NEOW.

warnings; smut, 18+, p in v sex, unprotected sex, sorta edging (pat is a tease)

you tell him you’re ovulating and just watch his expression light up with unbridled glee. he’s got you on your back in no time, ankles slung over his hips as he rocks into you, agonisingly slow, eyes trained on the way your hungry cunt sucks him back in the moment he pulls back.

you’re whining, grappling for purchase against his sweat slick chest and pushing your hips forward in hopes he’ll drive into you with more force, but all he does is suck his teeth and pin you back by means of a hand pressed to your lower stomach

“i know, i know,” he whispers, and god, he can’t even look at your face, so enamored with the creamy ring your cunt has made on the base of his cock, thick and white and squelching with every rut of his hips.

he pulls the fat tip out and you squeak, hole spasming as it mourns the loss of his thick length breaking your pussy open. it’s shining with slick, dribbling precum in fucking buckets, and a visceral red that has your insides churning with need.

“pat, please,” you cry, big crocodile tears gathering at your waterline.

“okay, baby,” he placates. “you need it? you need my cock that bad?”

you’re pretty sure you’d say anything at this point as long as it makes him put it back in - and he knows it, knows when you get fussy like this he can get you to agree to pretty much anything. so you nod, twining your fingers in the dark curls at his nape and tugging as he feeds his cock back into you, inch after torturous inch.

“attagirl,” he murmurs. “you ready to cream round me? hm?”

your mouth hangs agape when he ups his pace, finally.

it’s no time until you’re creaming round him, gushing and matting down the dark hair that dusts his thighs, shaking round him. until he starts from scratch, slowing the pace to watch your swollen little pussy split open for him all over again.

[slushfaerie]

coming home to tashi, art, and patrick after a hard day.

note: fluff and feelings ft. tashi/art/patrick bc that’s what came from my brain on a random morning at 2am. a lil drabble for anyone who could use some gentleness

it's a bit like a game of human Tetris, all strategized around the foundation of you, seated on the couch and wrapped in a blanket.  

a small smile appears on Tashi's face as she feels you release the sigh you've been holding in, her presence grounding as you rest your head on her shoulder.

Tashi revels in your trust in her — the trust that she knows exactly what you need and will give it to you. she's so soft despite the strength of the certainty she makes you feel; you practically cling to her. what you might not have realized yet was the comfort you offer her in return. how she settles right back into you.   

Art sits on the plush rug at Tashi's feet, lounging with his back against the cushions of the couch. he practically melts as her manicured nails massage his scalp. Art's gentle fingers mindlessly caress the soft skin of her calves, their intimacy practiced, almost hypnotic. you can’t bring yourself to look away, admiration and even a little bit of doubt of your worthiness creeping into your mind as you-

“don't be shy, he likes it."

Tashi's voice rings out in the room, pulling you out of your trance.   

Art shudders as you comply and tangle curious fingers of your own in the soft blond strands, tethering you both back to Earth - to each other in this moment.   

as Art's left cheek turns to rest on Tashi's thigh, you feel your breath catch as you observe impossibly long lashes framing a gaze full of what could only be described as gentle adoration for her. for all of you.   

Patrick's head lies on your stomach, his pillow of choice, long legs lazily draping over the left arm of the couch. you feel glimmers of peace as your arm wraps around him, palm coming to rest over the steady beat of his heart. your own heart races as he covers your hand with his. it’s so much bigger than yours.

things are easy with Patrick. always have been. a look down reveals the dimpling of his cheeks as he opens his mouth to say whatever crosses his mind first. familiar smile lines grace you with their presence as Patrick makes you all laugh, and it kind of feels like coming home.   

they hide your phone (Patrick says you'll never find it. it's tucked into the waistband of his pants) and put on the sappy movie you've been begging them to watch, just to take your mind off of everything.  

"just be here with us, baby." 

they had a point. currently, the only thought in your head was how you needed them as close as possible. would it fix everything? probably not. 

but maybe it could help.

[yameoto]

thinking about mean tennis!coach art donaldson. u wanna throw a tantrum about whiffing your match? you wanna blame his coaching and not your lazy fucking playing? you’ll stop whining when he yanks your skirt up your tight little ass. bends u over the net like the good for nothing slut you are. forget tennis. could be a hooker with that pretty fucking ass. look at you, thighs quaking. cunt dripdrip dripping onto the tennis court. you’re just begging to be fucked by the handle. but only good girls get that, no? only winners. he’s gonna spank your ass so red and raw with the back of his racket you’ll have the crosshatching burned onto your skin. oh, don’t cry. it’ll look pretty. he hasn’t even started yet! now, ass up, sweetcheeks. unlike you, he doesn’t miss.

[amiseuvx]

artashi rewarding their girl

"You did so well." Tashi's words fell on deaf ears almost as her fingers worked a second high from your already strung-out body.

A grin curled at her lips as you cried out, your back arching pushing your hips into her touch while her fingers rubbed slow circles into your swollen clit.

"That's it. Breathe, baby." Her fingers pulled away, pressing to your lips where they were granted immediate entry. A small whine left your lips at the taste of your own arousal, but ever obedient, your tongue wrapped around her fingers.

They were completly obsessed - understably so. Ever since Tashi had snatched you from the juniors ciricut you'd had win after win after win.

if that was due to her harsh training or the benefits that came along side you were unsure but the rewards outweighed any training she could put you through.

In your haze, you'd almost forgotten about the third person in the room, only remembering when large hands gently pried your legs apart. Art's thumb rubbing circles into the junction of your thigh.

"One more." He murmured, pulling your hips towards him as Tashi slipped behind you, her fingers still knuckle deep inside your mouth.

You whimpered around her fingers when his head bumped against your aching core, your eyes screwing shut as your stomach clentched at the overstimulation.

You'd take it.

You'd take anything for them.

"Good girl..." Art breathed as he pushed deep in one motion, your fingers scrambling for purchase against Tashi's arm.

"So perfect." He breathed, one hand reaching up to brush away the hair plastered to your skin, his own eyes fluttering as you clenched around him.

Tashi's fingers pulled back, her lips pulling into a grin at the breathy "ah, ah, ah" that left your mouth before her lips covered yours, her tongue claiming your mouth.

A sharp reminder that you belonged to them.

[artydonsgf]

If you're alright with NSFW prompts, can you think of any kinks the three might have?

hi anon! thank you sm for your request<3 honestly, this account has challenged me so much because i’ve never really written nsfw stuff before. it’s really fun actually! enjoy nsfw headcanons with art, tashi, and patrick

Art Donaldson

- completely submissive in bed

- he likes when you’re rough with him

- hair pulling, biting, nails digging into his back

- needy as fuck, any time you start to slow down, he’s kissing you n begging you to keep going

- loves praise, he’ll do anything to get it

- quick to try new things if you want to

- total begger

- likes being overstimulated

- the idea of being completely overwhelmed by you is so hot to him

- really likes it when you blindfold him

- your touch becomes a million times more exciting when he has no idea where it’s going to come from

- he also likes it when he’s slightly restricted

- not too much because grabbing your hips when you’re on top of him is his favorite thing

- always on the bottom, you have total control

- king of whimpering and moaning and begging (a/n: i need him)

- soft breathy whispers telling you that you’re so beautiful, you make him feel so good, etc

- begs to touch you, he lowkey can’t believe that you’re his

- asks for consent in the most slutty desperate voice ever (it’s very hot)

- desperate, needy, and pathetic is the best way to describe him in bed

- great at aftercare, it’s him showering you in kisses thanking you for rocking his world

- seriously, he’s so gentle and sweet and he always makes you food after

Tashi Duncan

- likes watching you on your knees

- any position where you’re under her does it for her

- likes it when you suck her fingers

- loves when you’re loud

- likes to have sex in non-traditional places

- the car, the shower, downstairs, kitchen, etc

- doesn’t want to share you with anyone but sometimes she wonders what it would be like watching you fuck someone else

- high sex drive

- i mean come on, you’re with the most competitive n passionate woman in the world, did you think that wasn’t gonna translate into bed?

- doesn’t let up even in bed, she makes you work for every ounce of pleasure you want

- you’re spoiled by her but that’s only once you work to get there

- obsessed with giving you hickies

- loves it when you dress up in pretty lingerie

- she slowly undresses you, kissing you everywhere as she goes

- loves buying you lingerie too

- aftercare is the best with her

- you guys shower together and softly whisper sweet words to one another

- you change the sheets together and settle into fresh sheets feeling nice and clean

Patrick Zweig

- total exhibitionist

- likes the thrill of almost being caught so you often find yourself with his hands down your pants in dark corners of parties

- likes being marked

- if he’s not walking away with a million hickies did yall really fuck?

- likes to go without a condom

- obviously with your consent and making sure you’re on birth control

- likes to come on your face when you give him blow jobs

- seeing you covered in his cum makes him hard all over again

- total brat, he does everything possible to rile you up

- he’s also a complete tease, he loves making you beg for him to keep touching you

- loudddd

- neighbors three doors down can hear his moaning

- he’s not even exaggerating either, bro just really can’t help himself when you’re fucking him

- likes it when you dress up in cute outfits

- he barely sees it because he’s so eager to rip it off but the brief moment he does look, he loves it

- aftercare is always sweet but pretty short because sex with you is like his version of melatonin

- besides staying awake for the general clean up, he’s normally out like a light afterwards

- even with quickies, he’s always falling asleep

- pussy so good you put his ass to bed🙏🏾

hiiii idk if this is that good, i spent so long reworking it cause i hated it. butttt i dont wanna keep anyone waiting so i hope you enjoyed<3

[fluffylino]

minho is felix's bestfriend and also happens to be your sworn enemy. he comes over one evening.

whats the worst that could happen...

-contains mature themes

frustration.

pure frustration was what you were feeling. was it really this difficult to operate a toy?!

a damn vibrator that too. a simple little vibrator. internally embarassed by your lack of 'skills' in using it.

maybe you were pressing down on the wrong setting. cause everytime it reached the highest vibrations, it would go back to the lowest setting, a few seconds after.

you didn't even feel like continuing because of how pissed of you were. what a bad way to ruin your fun.

it had been month since you last felt like you should treat yourself. get yourself off to be very specific.

and when you decide to finally try out your very first vibrator, the universe decides its not your day.

stepping out of the bathroom, still uncomfortable with the sensitivity between your legs. unintentionally edging yourself and eventually giving up entirely on trying to make yourself cum.

you blamed it on the vibrator. that darned cursed object.

flinging it on the bed in annoyance.

a small little sticky note is placed on the lamp on your bedside table. its from felix.

he had yelled goodbye while you were still showering (more like struggling). and you had yelled back, acknowledging him.

i'll be going out with chris for an hour or so. minho-hyung will be coming to our room in 20 minutes. im sowwy but he really needed a place to chill at...seungmin is studying and needs no disturbances....so i told minho he could stay in our room for a couple hours.

don't worry, bubssss i'll be back soon so things don't get awkward between yall!!!

MAYBE TRY AND GET ALONG?!

- lixie ☆

now this pisses you off even more. why the hell was everything going exactly the opposite of what you wanted.

lee minho was the last person you'd want in your shared dorm room. minho was literally gonna be coming here.

it had been almost 15 minutes since felix left. that means he'd be here anytime soon. before you even get the chance to hang your towel on the back of your chair, someone knocks on the door.

"fuckin minho of all people"

its real frustration at this point. nevertheless you open the door for him. taken aback by the attire he's in.

it was the very first time you'd ever seen him so...put together? dressed up?

what you meant was he was in semi formal attire ; a mixture of badboy or rather biker boy vibes.

"whats up with the outfit" you say, gesturing to him entirely. pointing out the leather jacket he had thrown on. it fitted him well. a bit too well.

the ripped jeans hugged his thighs. thick and muscular. a reminder that he works out and is a dancer.

"do i need a reason to wear what i feel like wearing?"

his cockiness has your fists itching to punch him straight in the nose. he huffs out a deep breath, walking right into the room. as if he owned the place. he had been here a number of times with felix. but it still pissed you off.

"fuck off" you mutter under your breath. closing the door and walking back to your bed.

that is until you see him plopping himself down on your bed. YOUR BED.

"what'd you say?" minho repeats. he has a few raspberries in his hand.

did he carry them all across campus..to eat them here ? you sometimes question his questionable habits and ways of thinking.

"don't feel like telling you" you cock back. placing your hands on your face and sighing.

were you that needy that for some reason his cologne made your breath fasten-

"what's gotten you so..." his voice trails off, beginning to question why you were so irritable. "...hot and bothered."

"i am not hot and bothered so kindly shut up"

you blurt out, blinking at him and thats when you realise.

where had you thrown the vibrator? did you put it back in your hiding spot or was it still in the bathroom...

"this says otherwise." and to your worst nightmare, minho is holding up the toy.

its like your blood runs cold. theres nothing you can say. or do. except go speechless and motionless.

"pretty cheap, don't you think?" observing it so casually. you feel yourself get wetter. his fingers catching it mindlessly.

"s-stop playing around with it" you stutter, suddenly feeling shyer than ever.

minho smirks and you unconciously press your thighs together.

"it doesn't work properly, does it."

switching it on. it buzzes loudly in the silence of the room. its vibrations are hardly anything.

you've had enough and you grab his wrist. pausing in shock when the buzzing becomes louder. you can feel it vibrating.

he presses down on it harder and it nearly vibrates out of his grip.

how had he managed to get it to its highest setting-

"did you cum? or are you just staining your panties right now as we speak." he snorts out, manspreading.

"cause this wasn't even switched on properly"

☆

you find yourself laying on your back. his hand slithered past the waistband of your pants. pressing it right over your cunt. teasingly moving the rounded tip up and down.

"needy pussy"

he's on top of you. smirking and observing every single change in your expressions.

"min-hho-" squirming under him. your hands flying down to weakly tug on his wrist. eyes struggling to stay focused.

"i must admit. hearing you say my name like that makes me want to see how you'll be if I fuck you"

sadistically keeping his pressure firm. nudging it under your panties.

"you're so much better like this, baby"

minho smirks. chuckling at the way you push yourself deeper into the bed. hips bucking upwards to escape his teasing. its cold when it comes in contact with your clit. the tips of his fingers rubbing into your folds everytime he played around with the toy.

"lee.minho a-ah" you writhe out, voice turning whiny. the familiar sensation builds up. except its more intense than ever.

he purposely turns the setting lower and you whimper in disappointment.

"maybe if i rub this..." pushing the vibrator all over your folds. a breathy gasp escaping his lips at how slicked up your cunt was.

"...or maybe if i touch this soaked cunt" dropping the vibrator and slipping his index finger through your slippery swollen lips.

"shit baby, did i get you this wet." and you know he's going to tease you for days if not months.

"you hate me, d-don't you" you whisper,shooting him a glare when he traces a digit over your clit.

eyes widening and breath quickening with how he maintains eye contact with you. bringing his head down to grunt in your ear. his fingers slapping your pussy meanly.

you whine, gripping his biceps. the leather jacket thrown on the edge of your bed.

"i hate you alright." he whispers, rubbing into your wetness slowly. minho chuckles. "filthy girl. you're throbbing on my fingers"

"i hate you so much that i jerk off to your pictures or that tone you use when you're pissed at me...i hate you to the point I cum so hard just picturing you taking my dick"

you can't control the fluttering feeling. coating his fingers even more so.

"i h-hate you more"

theres no heat in your words. gasping and legs quivering against his thicker thighs. keeping you open, unable to close your legs around his hand.

"hm, you do? tell me how much you hate me, kitten"

"i d-do...f-fuck" eyes rolling back in pleasure. desperately trying to chase your orgasm but he doesn't let you.

"yeah? you hate me so much that you're letting me touch you." minho says, voice going deeper. his ears are a shade of red and his lips parted.

"you're wet and begging for more under me. is that cause you hate me, sweetheart. or is that just you being you"

he quickens his pace. circling hard over your swollen and aching clit.

till you're throwing your hands around his neck. pulling him onto you entirely while you cum. its the hardest you've ever orgasmed.

maybe it was cause it had been so long...or you were sure it was because of him.

"there we go, good kitty" riding your high.

taking you by surprise when he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek. so you push a few strands of hair out of his face. not letting go of him just yet.

"don't call me that" you whisper, struggling to hold in your smile. his lips curve upwards into a subtle smirk. kissing your neck slowly..

"but now that I know you're so pliant, i claim you as one of my cats"

your legs giving in when he gets up. wiping his coated fingers on his jeans. it leaves a wet stain.

"again as I said." you lift your head up, confused.

"this thing is useless!" grabbing the vibrator like he had personal beef with it. flinging it casually somewhere behind you.

"choose me. customize, personal talk, boyfriend material, protection...all in one package, baby"

pointing to himself.

he reaches over to the abandoned raspberries on the counter. walking back to stuff one small red berry in your mouth. smiling when you savour it.

"good kitty"

.

.

"is that minho hyung's jacket you're wearing?" felix' eyes widen. wondering why you were wearing the leather jacket.

"yeah and he told me i could wear it when i meet him for dinner tonight" you reply, lacing your boots up.

"YOU'RE HAVING DINNER WITH HIM?!"

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I wanna be his dinner- GOD HE'S SO ARGHSBSJAKJW HAHAHAHIWHEHSHS