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viceofdionysus · 2 days ago

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What if I scream about this forever???? This was incredible. Amazing. Rewrite my brain chemistry!!

First of all!! I love how cool and badass this reader is!! Her powers are so interesting!!

"Star spangled asshole." !!!! Perfect description of John, honestly.

I love the way John is constantly saving her and fussing at her! The fucking audacity of his comments about her outfit tho!! Screaming!! I love that he has zero chill and no ability to handle his jealousy.

Even when he's upset at her, he's looking out for her!!! That makes me feel so soft!!

"But he didn't need a gun." -> WHOO BOY!! I needed a moment!!

"I don't need a fancy title to protect women. Especially that woman." -> KING SHIT!! I love a man that will get blood on his hands for person he cares about.

HIS REALIZATION!! And his confession!!! UGH!!! So good!!!

AN ORAL LOVING KING!!!! You dropped this ->

I love how both times he asks and makes sure this is what she wants too!!

The vulnerability behind his bravado!! He actually makes me insane! I love how you wrote him!!

Your Hero [John Walker X Fem!Thunderbolt!Reader]

Word Count: 5148

Premise: You and the rest of the Thunderbolts are going undercover to catch an arm's dealer at his favorite night club. Someone tries to spike your drink, and Walker teaches the scumbag a lesson. A violent one.

Rating: Smut with plot. Reader is a mutant with the power to control blood, who John rescued from a bunker where she was held prisoner before the events of the fic. Oral Sex (F!Receiving), P&V penetration, fingering, sex outdoors.

Content Warnings: Graphic violence, John Walker being an asshole, terminally ill sibling in Reader's backstory, unprotected sex

Taglist: @stardustedseas @to-be-a-sunshine I wrote the fic

————

It shouldn’t have bothered you when John Walker blatantly ignored you and seemed to have a snappy comeback prepared for every time you tried to speak to him. He was like that with everybody.

It was just a part of his “charm.”

The rest of the group had already started warming up to you since you joined the New Avengerz—or whatever stupid name Val had you going by, and they were always quick to call him an asshole when he’d snap at you over seemingly nothing.

But unfortunately for you, you knew that he had a special reason to hate you—and you really couldn’t blame him, no matter how badly you wished he didn’t.

That just came with the territory of having your body piloted by a Hydra control chip for the past five years, using your mutant abilities to perform a series of high profile assassinations.

Your power over blood was always something that disgusted people, even other mutants. No one really liked to be around the girl who could halt the blood flow to a man’s heart without even touching him.

But then that government agent came to your door—or at least, you thought he was with the government. He told you that he knew all about your little sister’s illness, and how it was likely to be terminal without high end care.

A result of the gene you shared—stable in your DNA, but not in hers.

He told you he could make sure all of those expenses were taken care of, synthesize a cure from your own blood . . . if you came to work for him.

Top Secret. Covert.

You were told that you were going to disappear for at least the next ten years, but there was no way you could’ve known what was going to happen to you.

All you knew was that it was the only way to save your sister’s life.

So you signed your name on the dotted line.

You knew it wasn’t going to be pretty, but you could’ve never expected what was going to happen.

As it turned out, the “government agency” your new handler worked for was a Hydra hold out. And they weren’t relying on your willingness to kill on their behalf.

They installed a chip in your brain that piloted your body on their command, forcing your consciousness to take a back seat and watch every terrible thing they used your powers to do.

It came to an end last October, five years into your captivity, when the bunker where you were being held was hit with an EMP blast that fried all the tech inside—including your chip.

You may have been trapped in the lower lab behind a hermetically sealed door, but the hydra agents who’d made a toy out of your body were sealed in with you.

You didn’t give them quick deaths.

But that only left you locked inside the lab with their corpses, knowing that if no one came to get you, you’d have a much slower death by starvation.

Your saving grace came in the form of a series of loud bangs against the door, each one denting the thick metal further until it broke down to reveal your hero.

Fast forward to now, to the star-spangled asshole shoulder checking you on your way out of the meeting room.

“Excuse you, Asshole,” you grumbled, and he didn’t even bother to look back, flipping you off over his shoulder.

You peeled your eyes away from his retreating form, focusing on the task ahead of you.

Bucky briefed you all on the mission—the whole team was going undercover to catch a prolific arms dealer, one who liked to spend a lot of time at one particular nightclub.

At first, you wondered why the police didn’t just take care of it if it was that easy to find the guy, but apparently his security was great at spotting anyone coming for their boss.

And great at getting rid of them.

So it was the perfect job for a merry band of trained killers who had already proven incredibly difficult to kill.

The only problem was that the slippery rat most definitely had an escape route planned in case anyone came after him, so the team was going to have to go in looking the part.

As you pulled on a pair of fishnets and wiggled your way into the skin tight black dress that Valentina had sent for you, you couldn’t keep your mind off of Walker.

Even if he was a giant asshole half the time—okay, maybe a little more than half—he was still the one who saved you from that bunker.

He was still the one who saved your ass time and time again out in the field, since you were a massive target for anyone who knew what you were capable of.

You couldn’t even count the amount of times he’s grabbed you and pulled you behind his shield, holding you close to him with his unnatural strength and blocking you from gunfire.

Even through his body armor, you could feel the heat radiating off of him . . . and the heat in your cheeks.

But the minute the battle was over, he’d always put as much distance between the two of you as possible.

It was getting hard not to take it personally, no matter what the others had to say about it.

That was why it surprised you when you walked out into the hallway, and Walker’s booming voice carried down the corridor.

“You’re going on the mission in that?”

You whipped around to face him, and you realized that, for the first time since you’ve known him, he wasn’t wearing his usual red white and blue tactical gear.

He had a black muscle shirt beneath a navy blue button down that was left open just enough to show off a hint of reddish blond chest hair. His sleeves were rolled up—crisp, to military standards—over his muscular forearms.

Your mouth went a little dry, and you only realized you were staring at him when he raised an incredulous brow.

“It’s not like I chose it,” you protested, suddenly very aware of the dress’s plunging neckline when his eyes dropped to your chest, before darting back to your face as though he hadn’t just been checking you out. “Besides, we’re going to a club. We have to look the part.”

“Yeah?” He scoffed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Well I’m pretty sure if you bend over I’ll be looking at parts of you I’ve never seen before.”

Your jaw dropped in disbelief at his sheer audacity. You gave him an annoyed shove, but to your frustration he didn’t move even an inch, his intense blue eyes still burning into you.

“And why is it that you care, huh?” You fired back, holding his gaze. “You haven’t said one kind word to me since I joined the team, and all of a sudden I should be taking your fashion advice?”

He stared at you a moment longer, the finer features of his face twitching like he was going to blow.

“Fuck me, fine, okay,” he hissed, throwing his hands up in frustration. “What the fuck do I care if you spend half the night fighting off handsy strangers?”

He pushed past you, stomping down the hall the way he always did when something pissed him off—which was often—but you could’ve sworn he almost sounded . . . jealous?

Whatever it was, he stayed pissed off the whole ride to the club you were supposed to be infiltrating. He barely even looked at you, and if you did catch him looking, he turned away so fast you were surprised he didn’t get whiplash.

And when it was time to split up—it would’ve been suspicious if you all went in as a group—Walker was the last one out of the vehicle.

You could practically feel his eyes on you as he watched you in line, waiting for his turn to join the queue.

If you were honest though, it was actually sort of comforting.

It was silly, after all the dangerous missions you’ve been on—in and out of your own control—but standing here in a line with all these well dressed people, hearing the base of the music half a block away from the door, was making your heart race with panic.

You’d never been one for parties, even before Hydra ended your life as you knew it, and you were beginning to wish you’d worn those uncomfortable earbuds that Bob gave everyone.

Surely having something in your ears would be better than hearing all the noise around you.

And if you thought outside was bad, it was so much worse inside.

You would have rather been on the battlefield any day. At least when you got overwhelmed by bullets, Walker would swoop in and protect you . . . even if he did act like an ass about it later.

But here, you had to smile and dance along with the rest of the crowd, lest security catch on to the plan. If even one of you gave it away, the target could be evacuated before any of you can even find him.

At least you were allowed to have a drink or two to calm your nerves. If Walker’s shield couldn’t protect you from social anxiety, the fruity little number you were sipping on would have to do.

“Watch your drink.” You felt Walker’s breath on your neck when he leaned in to talk directly into your ear, tugging the hem of your dress down where you hadn’t realized it had started to ride up.

You spun around to face him, your cheeks blazing from the unexpected contact. “What?”

It was too loud to hear him if you stood at a normal distance, so he had to lean in close to talk to you, almost pressing his body against yours.

“I said, watch your drink,” He repeated, his expression painfully serious, contrasting with the colorful lights and the blaring music. “I don’t like the looks of some of the guys here.”

“Of course you don’t,” you huffed, smoothing your dress. “It’s a club, Walker. There’s going to be creeps.”

“Sure, but I don’t want to have to chase down some frat boy’s van if you get drugged.”

Every time he spoke and his breath fanned over your skin, it sent shivers down your spine.

It was no secret that John Walker did things to your mind—he was an objectively attractive man, and the fact that he always seemed to be coming to your rescue didn’t hurt.

But you couldn’t afford to think like that. He hated you.

Didn’t he?

“Who made it your job to be my personal bodyguard, huh?” You challenged, leaning back just far enough so you could glare into those intense blue eyes, now widened with shock. “I didn’t ask you to come and save me.”

He looked at you like you’d slapped him, and your heart constricted at the realization that somehow, in some way, you’d wounded him.

But you were on a mission, and now was not the time to be trading verbal punches with the ex-Captain America. If one of you got a little too loud, said something a little too personal, you could blow the whole mission.

On the retreat, you turned away from him, but he grabbed you by the arm, his grip like iron, whether he was trying or not. “We’re not done here.”

“Yes, we are,” you protested, trying unsuccessfully to pull your arm free.

He stared at you incredulously. “You thought you were going somewhere, huh?”

“I was going to the ladies room,” you spat. “Unless you want me to piss right here on your shoes.”

With that, he released you, but his eyes never left you, even as you pushed your way through the crowd to get away from him.

And it was a good thing too, because not thirty seconds after you sat your drink down on one of the small tables near the bathroom, one of the scumbags he’d clocked earlier leaned over and sprinkled something into your drink.

“Oh fuck no,” he forced through gritted teeth, and began making his own way through the crowd.

If the creep who had spiked your drink would’ve seen Walker coming at him, he would have been running for dear life.

Dropping any pretenses of blending in, Walker stalked toward his unsuspecting prey like he was in an active warzone, fingers twitching for the pistol concealed at his hip.

But even he knew better than that.

Draw a gun now, and not only would he blow the mission, but his new target would probably run before he could get a clear shot.

But he didn’t need a gun.

The man didn’t even notice him until Walker grabbed your drink off of the table and whipped it at him, shattering the glass in his face.

“What the hell, man?” He shrieked, but the music was too loud for many people to hear the commotion.

“You’re coming with me.”

It wasn’t a question.

Walker grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, his vice-like grip impossible to struggle out of as he dragged him out of the side door and into the alley.

“Let go of me, you fucking psycho!”

“Oh, I’ll let go of you.” Walker chuckled, a dangerous sound resonating in his chest.

Not even using half of his strength, he threw the man into the side of the dumpster, denting it with the impact and no doubt breaking a few of his ribs.

“Oh my god,” he choked out as Walker stalked toward him. “You’re fucking Captain America, aren’t you?”

“Not anymore,” he snarled, grabbing the other man by the front of his shirt.

He hauled him to his feet, only to punch him square in the face. The alley echoed with the sickening crack of a human nose breaking.

The scumbag dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, trying to cover his face, but the blood still oozed through his fingers.

Walker’s boot rested on the man’s head, pinning him to the pavement.

“But the thing is,” he pushed down harder, forcing an agonized sob from his victim. “I don’t need a fancy title to protect women. Especially that woman.”

Captain America or USAgent, it didn’t matter. He still had the strength to crush that man’s skull like a watermelon.

And he did it, just as you walked out into the alley.

“Walker, what the fuck?” You hurriedly shut the door behind you so that no one else would see the grizzly scene and raise alarm bells. “I thought I heard you outside from the bathroom window, but seriously, What. The. fuck?”

“I can explain—”

You put a hand up to interrupt him, before gesturing down to the corpse beneath his boot. “You can explain why you’re risking the mission by murdering a civilian?”

“That civilian spiked your goddamn drink,” he all but shouted, barely managing to rein in his volume. “You know, the one I told you to keep an eye on.”

“I-I wasn’t going back to it—couldn’t find a trash can,” you stammered, frozen under his intense gaze. “But I . . .” Your eyes flitted to the corpse, then back to Walker. “You did this for me?”

“Of course I did,” he choked out, a little quieter than before, though the effort was an obvious strain on him. “He tried to hurt you, and I couldn’t just let that happen.”

“You could’ve stopped him without eviscerating him,” you pressed. “I know you’ve got a temper, but this . . . ?”

You gestured toward the viscera and brain matter on the ground around him.

“Help me clean it up,” he sighed, breaking the lock on the dumpster before flinging the lid open. “Can’t leave a dead body just laying around.”

Your eyes narrowed on him. He was dodging the question, blatantly so, but that didn’t make him wrong.

Effortlessly, he lifted the corpse and tossed it in, while you used your power over blood to pull the rest of the mess—including what was all over Walker—into the dumpster along with the body.

“There,” you huffed as he shut the lid. “Good as new. Now, do you want to explain to me exactly why you popped that guy’s skull like the world’s most disgusting water balloon instead of doing literally anything less gross to get rid of him?”

You weren’t going to ask why he killed him—one less rapist piece of shit in the world was a good thing, as far as you were concerned.

But you knew full well that Walker knew a lot of ways to kill a man that were a lot less gruesome—more efficient, like everything else he did.

And since the two of you were supposed to be undercover . . .

“Do I want to?” he scoffed. “No, not really.”

He stepped past you, reaching for the door handle, but you grabbed the back of his shirt.

You couldn’t have stopped him if he was intent on moving. You both knew that. And yet, he froze in his tracks.

“John.”

His first name felt foreign on your tongue, but hearing it made his heart feel constricted in his chest.

“I know you hate me for my past,” you choked out, still clinging to his shirt. “But we’re a team now. If I did something to you—”

“You think I hate you?” He whipped around, finally facing you. “Why would you think that?”

He genuinely didn’t understand.

He would’ve thought that the way he fussed over you, and the way he protected you on the field would’ve been enough to make that obvious.

Like the others always said—he’s an asshole to everyone.

It wasn’t personal.

But . . . maybe it was to you.

“Oh, I don’t know,” it was your turn to scoff. “Maybe all the things you say and do when we’re not on the battlefield.” You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head as you looked away from him. “I get it though . . . Hydra operative and all that, even if I didn’t exactly have a choice . . .”

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, taking a step closer to you.

Not softly, but not roughly either—probably about as gentle as a man with his strength was capable of being, he grabbed your face, dragging your gaze back to his shining blue eyes.

Blue eyes that glimmered with emotion you’d never seen before. Not from him, at any rate.

“You . . .” He sucked in a deep breath, looking so unsure of what he was going to say next. “You make me crazy, you know that?”

“What—?”

“No,” he interrupted you, bringing a finger to your lips. “Don’t talk right now, or I’ll lose the stones to say it.”

Your brows knitted curiously. You didn’t understand why he suddenly looked so nervous here in this alley with you, as opposed to when he was on the battlefield, fighting for his life.

“I want you,” he choked out, like he was jumping on a grenade—no helmet this time. “When I first took you out of that bunker, yeah, I had my doubts about you, but when I found out what you’d been through, all I wanted to do was protect you—told myself that’s all I wanted.”

“But, why are you always so mean to me?” You shook your head, wanting to believe him, but it didn’t make any sense.

He ran his hands through his hair, letting out an exhale and looking up toward the sky for strength. “God, how do I say this without sounding insane?”

“Sound insane,” you encouraged him, taking his hands and looking up at him with big doe eyes, hanging on his every word. “Tell me.”

He squeezed your hands, so gently for a man of his strength that it made tears well up in your eyes.

The control he had to have to not crush you . . .

“I have ruined everything in my life I’ve ever loved. My wife left me—took my kid with her, and I deserved it.” He sucked in a breath, and you didn’t miss the broken shudder. “I’m a broken man, and I don’t deserve to try again with someone new.”

“You were trying to push me away.” Your lips twisted into a frown, and so did his.

“Yeah.” He nodded, trying to sniffle back the tears that were threatening to fall. “Thought it’d be better that way.”

“It isn’t,” you protested, staring up at him like he was the full moon, and you were a moth hopelessly following the light. “I want you to kiss me.”

“What?” His eyes widened, and you squeezed his hands a little tighter.

“Kiss me, John.” You added his name this time, and his breath hitched. “If you want to.”

“I want to,” was all he said before pulling you closer, crashing his lips against yours.

The kiss was feverish, hungry—no, starving.

John Walker was not the sort of man to do anything in half measures, and a thrill coursed through your body when he spun you both around and shoved your back against the wall, knocking the wind out of you with his strength.

“Fuck,” he gasped, backing away and assessing you with fretful eyes. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, now get back here,” your voice was breathy, broken by lust.

You grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him back over you, and he picked up right where he left off.

His teeth found your bottom lip, and you could feel the growl that resonated against his chest in your own from the way he had you pressed against him.

“Are we really doing this here?” He murmured against your lips, leaning back just enough so that the tip of his nose was touching yours, possessively pressing his forehead against yours. “In the alley where I just crushed a guy’s skull?”

“Crushed a guy’s skull for me,” you corrected him, carding your fingers through his hair to pull him close again. You kissed the corner of his mouth, his jaw, his neck just under his ear before you whispered, “I’m down if you are—”

He was.

You barely got the words out before he was kissing you again. Then kissing your neck, then lower, lower still until he was down on his knees, looking up at you like he was in prayer.

His hands ghosted up your fishnet wrapped thighs, but he stopped at the hem of your too-short dress. “May I?”

His voice was raspy with need, and you were so turned on by it that you could barely answer. “Yes.”

Please.

Please, please, please.

You wanted him to touch you in that moment more than you’d ever wanted almost anything.

And he didn’t keep you waiting.

Ripping open your fishnets like he was unwrapping a present, he wasted no time pushing your panties aside, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder, and dragging his tongue across your pussy.

You let out a gasp, and he groaned his approval.

“So wet for me,” he practically purred, easily sliding two fingers inside of you as he watched your face twist with the effort to keep quiet. “So pretty too.”

He leaned forward again, his hot tongue dragging across your needy clit.

“Hmm,” he hummed. “So sweet.”

“John,” you begged, running your fingers through his reddish-blonde hair. “Please.”

“Since you asked so nicely . . .”

His voice was teasing, maddeningly so, but it was impossible to be mad at him when his face was buried between your thighs.

He sucked your clit between his lips, at the same time curling his fingers inside of you in a beckoning motion, rubbing that sweet spot and making stars start to form behind your eyes.

His name fell from your lips like a prayer, and he growled against your sensitive flesh, running his teeth along that pink bundle of nerves.

“Not fucking you until you cum for me at least once,” he grunted. “Not gonna take my time when I bury my cock in you—still have the mission to think about.”

If anyone else had said that to you, you might’ve been offended. But this was John Walker kneeling down between your legs. Of course he was still thinking about the mission.

The man was nothing if not a good soldier.

But he was everything to you. Especially right now.

It didn’t matter if the whole world looked at him like a dishonored reject, you knew him better than that. You knew that no matter what an asshole he could be sometimes, he was a hero.

Your hero.

You had to bite down on your own palm to stop yourself from screaming when your orgasm hit you, bliss crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Your juices poured down over his wrist, and he licked every drop clean, blue eyes fixed on your face.

“Fuck,” he groaned, palming himself through his pants. “You cum so pretty.”

You couldn’t speak. You were pretty sure that if you tried all that would come out was incoherent babble.

Slowly, he rose to his feet, leaning in and caging you against the wall with his arms as you looked up at him, helplessly lost in the headspace of your ecstasy.

“Gonna fuck you now”—He pressed his forehead to yours, drinking in the sight of you drunk on the pleasure he gave you—“If that’s okay with you.”

You nodded eagerly, and that was all the permission he needed to grab the back of your neck and pull you into a bruising kiss.

The taste of you on his tongue was almost too good to bear—evidence that he wanted you every bit as badly as you’ve been wanting him ever since he pulled you out of that bunker.

The sound of his zipper coaxed your eyes downward, and you watched him shove his jeans and boxer-briefs down his hips to reveal his cock—hard and ready for you.

You wondered if the serum had an effect on his size, or if he was just naturally gifted. Either way, your teeth sunk into your bottom lip in anticipation of the stretch.

Manhandling you effortlessly, he hoisted your legs up around his hips. He held you up with one hand, lining the head of his cock up to your soaking wet cunt with the other.

He slid into you slowly, inch by inch, his face twisting into a tortured grimace as he forced himself to wait for you to adjust.

It was considerate—you were beginning to realize that the man was considerate to a fault, always thinking of others even if it wasn’t actually what they wanted.

“Fuck me, John,” you told him, like an order from his commanding officer. “I need to feel you fuck me hard.”

“Darlin’, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.” You felt his breath on your neck as he leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Just remember—you’ve got to be quiet or we’ll blow the mission.”

“The mission,” you choked out, lips parting in a silent gasp when he slowly pulled out and suddenly thrust back in, with a grin curling the corners of his lips. “I almost forgot about that.”

“Good,” he all but purred. “The only thing I want you thinking about right now is me.”

He’s all you could think about, especially when he carried out your orders and fucked you like he meant it.

You had to grit your teeth against the pleasure.

His name was trying to tear itself out of your throat, and every time his cock rubbed against that sweet spot inside of you you felt like you were going to lose all composure.

Your body was still on fire from the first orgasm he gave you, still warm and reactive to every touch.

Every too-hard squeeze of your hip.

He gripped your soft flesh so tightly that you were sure it was going to leave a bruise.

Even though your mutant abilities would heal you quickly, you hoped you’d at least get the chance to see the pretty purple blooms in the shape of his fingerprints before they went away.

Just the thought tipped you that much closer to the edge, lost in bliss as he rutted into you like an animal.

Raw and passionate in the dark alley, illuminated only by the moonlight.

You couldn’t hold it back much longer—just a few more thrusts and you were going to scream.

He could see it on your face.

“Here baby,” he cooed, his wrecked voice giving away just how close he was, before covering your pretty mouth with his palm. “I’ll muffle your screams if you want to let loose.”

You had never been so turned on in your life. The passion, the control it must’ve taken for him not to wreck your insides with his unnatural strength.

All at once, the dam burst even harder than the first time, and you did scream into his palm when you went careening over the precipice of ecstasy.

He wasn’t far behind, and your cunt clenching around him only dragged him over that edge with you.

His thrusts became more erratic, and he sounded desperate when he whispered, “Gonna cum,” in your ear. “Where do you want—?”

“Inside,” you managed to form the word through your haze of bliss.

His whole body tensed, and a string of expletives along with a strangled moan of your name fell from his lips when he came, flooding your insides with heat.

He pushed into you a couple more times before he finally pulled out, letting you rest your shaking legs back on the ground as the evidence of your pleasure and his ran down your inner thighs.

“Fuck,” he groaned, chest rising and falling from the intensity of the orgasm. “Let me get that for you.”

He pulled off his shirt, not caring about the buttons that snapped off and scattered in the alleyway, before using it to clean your thighs.

Stuffing the ruined shirt into his back pocket, he turned his attention to your face again, eyes melting into yours.

“Tell me that wasn’t a one time thing.”

The confident bravado was still there, but you could see through it now—see the vulnerability around the edges.

“It wasn’t,” you promised him, carding your fingers through his hair to pull his lips against yours again, catching his bottom lip between your teeth before leaning back to look into his adoring eyes. “But we should get back inside.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat, looking away awkwardly. “The mission.”

You turned away from him, reaching for the doorknob, but he caught your wrist before you could open it.

“John—?”

He cut you off by dragging you into another heated kiss. “Just needed one more, to hold me over until the next time.”

Next time.

You liked the sound of that.

#John walker #John walker x reader #tb*#fic comment #spookieloop #queue

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viceofdionysus · 3 days ago

Text

Rest Day

Sam Carpenter x gn!reader WC: 687 Sam needs some comfort on a bad day Warnings: None Written for @monthlywritingchallenges Golden Hour Challenge - Day 28- "You make everything softer" - ☀️

The apartment is pitch black when you step inside, the curtains drawn against the afternoon light. You stand still for a moment, letting your eyes adjust as the door shuts behind you. At the last moment, you catch it, stopping it’s momentum and letting it shut quietly. Then you slip out of your shoes and pad softly further into the apartment. You navigate the apartment with ease, familiar with moving through the dark.

In the kitchen, you unload your bags, being as quiet as you can. The fridge light splits the dark, leaving you wincing as you set your items on the shelves. When you shut the door, you have to take several long seconds to blink away the lasting halos of light.

The bouquet, bright and cheerful, you leave by the sink to deal with later. It rustles as you set it down, and then the quiet settles back over the apartment. You slip out of the kitchen, heading for the bedroom.

“Sam?” You whisper as you slide inside.

If you didn’t know better, you’d say that it’s even darker in the bedroom than in the rest of the apartment.

“Sam.” You try again when there’s no answer.

There’s a groan from the bed and you smile. Carefully, you make your way to the bed and to her. As you slide under the covers, she shifts, making room for you.

“Hey you,�� You keep your voice soft, “Rough day?”

Sam shifts again, wrapping around you like an octopus.

“Didn’t sleep well,” She finally answers, “Woke up with a migraine.”

You run your fingertips down her back, feeling the muscles shake.

“That sucks, babe.” You say, finding a knot in her shoulder to work on.

She groans as you work, the knot finally coming loose after several minutes.

“That feels nice.”

“Good.” You kiss the top of her head, “When you’re feeling better, I’ll work on your full back.”

Sam is quiet again for a long time, “I hate this.”

You frown, wanting to take away all her troubles, “I know.”

“I should be fine. It’s been a year and I still have days where I wake up thinking they’re after me.”

“Hey,” You’re keep your voice gentle, but firm, “That’s enough of that. No one is expecting you to be 100% all the time, especially after everything you’ve been through.”

“I know, it’s just…”

“Just what? Sam, we all have bad days, it’s okay. Would you tell your sister that she’s not allowed to have bad days? Would you tell me that?”

Silence and then a quiet, “No.”

“You’re going to get up tomorrow and face the world, brave and determined as ever.” You tighten your hold on her, “But today you’re taking a rest. There will be days down the road where you need to take another rest and that’s okay.”

Sam sighs, acknowledging your words with a small nod. “You’re right. I know you’re right.”

You smile at her in the dark, “It’s okay to not be okay, Sam.”

“Thank you.”

Your brow furrows, “For what?”

“For being here. Being with me. Life has been hard these last few years, but you,” She hesitates, “You make everything softer.”

“I’m glad to help,” You brush your hand down her back, “But you don’t have to thank me for being with you. I love being here with you, all your light and shadows.”

You can’t see it, but you know she smiles. Sam shifts, pressing closer still, her hands tracing wherever she can reach.

“You really are the best.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

She laughs, like you knew she would, and shifts again. In the dark, her mouth brushes against yours, soft and lingering. You hold on as she swings her leg over your lap, settling over you, holding your face.

“You really do make everything better.” She says and kisses you again.

In a moment, you know, she’ll get up and open the curtains, letting the light spill back into the apartment and into her. But for now, you’re content to hold her for as long as she needs as she kisses you senseless.

#sam carpenter #golden hour challenge #monthlywritingchallenges #scream franchise #sam carpenter x reader #gn!reader #x reader

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viceofdionysus · 4 days ago

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Hey horny writer lil heads up for you guys, the “ai” google is forcing into docs to “scan for grammar errors” has been proved to also be scanning for spicy content and multiple ppl have already got notifs saying like “we’re sorry, there was a system error and some of your work was lost” and it was only the horny stuff so uh

Pleeeeease back up your files !!!! Don’t lose your horny to a robot, that’s Doc’s job, not Docs’…

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viceofdionysus · 4 days ago

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July Writing Challenge from @/monthlywritingchallenges (x)

All readers are Gender Neutral Day 1 - In the Gold - Sam Wilson Day 3 - Afternoon Nap - Jim Hopper Day 4 - Golden Rest - Halsin Day 6 - To See You Smile - Lucy MacLean Day 8 - Golden Glow - Gale Dekarios Day 9 - Yours Always - Arthur Morgan Day 10 - Between - The Howards Day 11 - Kissin in the Dust - Joel Miller Day 12 - Followed - Darth Maul Day 13 - Silence in the Rain - Jack Abbot Day 14 - Above the Clouds - Natasha "Phoenix" Trace Day 16 - Recovery - Ulysses Klaue Day 17 - Take a Break - Alfred Pennyworth Day 18 - Breathless - Logan Howlett (Wolverine) Day 19 - Different Worlds - Selina Kyle (Catwoman) Day 21 - This Moment - Michael "Robby" Robinavich Day 22 - Snapshot - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Day 25 - Confession - Trinity Santos Day 26 - After the Rain - Jack "Whiskey" Daniels Day 28 - Rest Day - Sam Carpenter Day 29 - Drawn Together - Beau "Cyclone" Simpson

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viceofdionysus · 5 days ago

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take my hand 🫴 let's write self-indulgent fanfic together forever

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viceofdionysus · 5 days ago

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After the Rain

Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x gn!reader WC: 835 The rain finally relents, letting the sun shine Warnings: None Written for @monthlywritingchallenges Golden Hour Challenge - Day 26 - Golden Fields - ☀️

The rain has been steady for days, a constant patter on the roof, offering not even a glimpse of sunlight. You sigh, stepping away from the window, turning to face your living room. You think about cleaning something, but after so many days of rain, your entire house sparkles like it came from a showroom. Movement at the end of the hallway catches your attention. Jack grins at you, lazily and handsome.

“Feel a lil stir crazy, darlin?” He asks.

You nod and he opens his arms to you. He’s warm and comforting as he wraps his arms around you, tucking you against him.

“Come on. I’ll make you a snack and we’ll watch something together.”

It only takes a few minutes of the TV playing softly and the rain tapping on the roof before you’re lulled to sleep. Jack smiles softly at you, running his fingertips over the edges of your face.

When you slip out of sleep, there’s a warm light in your face. You squeeze your eyes together, annoyed at the sunbeam. Then realization dawns. Your eyes snap open as you push yourself into a seated position.

“Well would you look at that.” Jack takes a seat behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder, “The sun does still shine.”

When you turn around, you realize he’s changed. Your brow wrinkles, but he just keeps smiling at you.

“Thought we’d take a walk, enjoy what little sunlight we have today.”

“Jack,” You slide over next to him, taking his face in your hands. You kiss him softly, sweetly.

“You keep that up, we may not make it for that walk.” He winks as you shake your head.

“You’re such a tom cat.” But you’re laughing as you go to change.

When you come back, he’s holding your shoes out to you. You take them gratefully, making quick work of putting them on.

“Ready?” He asks, holding his hand out.

You take it, letting him help you to your feet. “Ready!”

Outside, the air is warm and clear, the smell of the rain still lingering. The blue sky stretches on for miles, the sunshine spilling down and reflecting off the rain drops. Jack watches from the porch as you let your head fall back, just taking it in. He lets you have your moment, before slowly descending the short set of steps.

“Come on.” He circles an arm around your waist, leading you towards the nearby path.

“It feels so nice out here.” You sigh happily.

“The rain’s been good for us.” He says, “But I’ve missed the sunshine.”

Around you, you hear rustles and squeaks as the animals start to come out, investigating this new world. Jack leads you through the trees, stopping to let you watch the birds flit between branches and the squirrels playing. When you finally, break through the trees, you smile. The golden fields wave in the playful breeze, whispering to each other.

“This is beautiful.”

Jack steps up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. “Most beautiful thing in the world.”

You smile, leaning back against him. “Harvest this year will be good.”

He makes a sound of agreement, eyes closed as he takes in the sunlight.

“You know, I think there’s something that you need to do today.” You say, and he hears the playful edge in your voice.

“And what’s that?”

You grin and slip out of his arms, already running.

“Catch me!”

He laughs, taking off after you. After so many long days cooped up in the house, it feels good to run through the fields, his boots sinking into the soft earth, following the sound of your laughter.

The tall stalks of grain dance around you as you run, bopping out of your way as the breeze dances. The sunlight catches on the raindrops caught on them and sends them into mini rainbows. You hold your hand out, letting the golden grains brush gently over your skin. You laugh, bright and warm. Behind you, you can hear Jack, laughing with you.

You lead him around and through the fields. You know that he could catch you if he wanted to, but for now he’s content with letting you lead him on a merry chase.

And then you break through the field, finding yourself at the top of a small hill, never ending green stretching out before you. And you feel his arms come around you, toppling you. Jack cushions you as you roll down the hill, your laughter mixing with his.

“Does that make us Jack and Jill?” You ask him at the bottom, breathless with laughter.

“I suppose it does.” He tilts his head and kisses you.

You make a small, pleased sound, shifting deeper into the kiss. Jack tracing his hands along your sides, spurred on by the dancing breeze.

Overhead, the sky turns to golden glory as the sun starts her descent. The colors paint the sky, but you and Jack are too caught up in each other to notice.

#jack daniels x reader #kingsman the golden circle #Jack whiskey Daniels #golden hour challenge #monthlywritingchallenges #x reader #gn!reader #Jack Daniels #agent whiskey

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viceofdionysus · 6 days ago

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Confession

Trinity Santos x gn!reader WC: 1144 A hard day in the ER leads to a pair of confessions Warnings: Mention of patient death, swearing Written for @monthlywritingchallenges Golden Hour Challenge - Day 25 - Fingertips Brushing - ☀️

She’d frowned the first time it had happened. You’d been handing her paperwork for a patient and your fingertips had brushed. Electricity had shot up your arm, quickly dampened by her frown

“Sorry.” But she’d just brushed you off, turning without a word.

“Well fine then.” You rolled your eyes at her back, vowing to do your best to stay out of Trinity Santos’ way.

But the universe must have been looking to have some fun at your expense. Every time something happened in the ER, Robby assigned you and Trinity to work together. And you kept brushing against each other; fingertips, knuckles, shoulders. She frowned each time, quickly moving out of your space.

“Whatever.” You muttered. Not your problem if she couldn’t handle a little contact.

But it grates, watching her throw an arm around Whitaker's shoulders, laughing with Garcia, trading gossip with Princess. Wondering why she’s so easy with them, but with you it’s all frowns and straight to business.

“You know, if you keep looking like that, your face is going to freeze. And then you’ll have permanent frowny face.” McKay leans against the desk next to you, following your gaze.

“What is it about me?” You ask her without meaning to.

“What do you mean?” She knows, but she wants to hear you say it.

“Why does Santos seem to hate me?”

“She doesn’t hate you.”

You roll your eyes, finally turning to look at her, “Yeah, okay.”

It keeps happening, no matter how hard you try. It’s like you’re drawn to her, a magnetism you can’t seem to fight. And it’s fine, or at least you tell yourself that it is, but the frowns and the distance weigh on you. But then one afternoon, deep in a never ending shift, it stops being fine.

The patient codes and you manage to get him back. But then he codes again and despite your best efforts, you can’t drag him back.

“Come on! Dammit!”

Robby lets you work on the patient for a few more minutes before gently making you step back. “Call it.”

“Fuck.” You gasp, emotions rising high and fast, “Time of death is 1724.” You say, fighting the lump in your throat.

“Clean up and then take a few minutes for yourself.” Robby says, his voice still gentle.

You nod robotically, already going through the motions.

Two steps outside the room, your vision blurring, you bump into someone.

“I’m so sorry.” You say, turning towards them and finding Santos frowning at you. And it’s too much, “Oh fuck you.” You snap and whip around.

The ER parts ways for you, letting you storm out. Whitaker looks at your back and then at Santos.

“What was that about?” He asks, but Trinity just shakes her head.

“I’ll talk to her.” She says, leaving a bewildered Whitaker behind her.

For once, the ambulance bay is quiet. That’s where Trinity finds you, pacing angry from one end to the other, gesturing widely. She watches you, dark eyes tracking the movements of your hands. It takes you a few turns, but finally, you spot her out of the corner of your eye and come to a halt.

“What do you want?” You ask, angrily brushing tears from the corners of your eyes.

“Heard you lost a patient.”

“So you came to gloat? Because the great Trinity Santos would never lose a patient right?”

She grimaces, recalling her half drunken boast from a few weeks prior.

“I came to make sure you’re alright.”

“Why?” You shout, “You don’t even like me, so why the hell do you care if I’m alright?”

Shock darts across her face, leaving her mouth gaping as she processes, “You think I don’t like you?”

“You made it pretty clear, Santos. Every time we touch, you look at me like I’ve committed a crime.”

“That’s not,” She bites her lip, trying to figure out the words.

“That’s not what? Say what you have to say so I can have my breakdown in peace.”

When she's still silent, you scoff and turn away from her. You don’t make it more than a few steps before she’s wrapping a hand around your wrist.

“I’ve never felt sparks before. When someone’s touched me, it’s always just been a touch. But every time you touch me, there’s this feeling and I…” She trails off, looking faintly appalled at her confession.

Everything stops, “What?”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“You…sparks?”

“Oh fuck.” She looks like she might throw up. You start to smile.

“You feel sparks when I touch you.”

“Don’t.” She shakes her head, half turned back to the door. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

You wait until she’s turned away, heading for the door, “So why did you?”

Her shoulders raise and then lower and you can see the way she’s struggling, “Because you looked so wrecked.” The confession is quiet, barely audible, but it’s enough.

“Trinity,” You cajole her quietly. “Look at me.”

Slowly, she turns, eyes squeezed shut.

“You’re doing a very bad job of comforting me.”

“I’m not good at this!” She snaps, eyes opening with a blaze. And then she realizes you’re teasing her. “Oh.”

You start to close the distance between you as the sun starts to sink low, casting shadows into the bay, “Trinity,” You savor her name on your lips.

“You just lost a patient, this is a bad time. Your emotions are probably all over the place. I should have just left it alone.”

“Oh, don’t back down now. That’s not your style.”

She looks at you, sees the challenge in your eyes, the competitive fire in her stoking in answer.

Trinity takes the last few steps towards you, reaching for you. She cups your face in one hand, the other trailing down your arm to your hand. With your fingertips brushing, her thumb stroking along your cheek, she leans into you. She kisses you like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do, hard and fierce and demanding. Her lips are unrelenting as she takes you deeper. And finally, she starts to soften, lowering those infamous walls of hers.

When she pulls back, her eyes are hesitant in a way they aren’t normally. “I shouldn’t have done that. That was too much.”

“Trinity,” You let your hands rest on her hips, “That was exactly what I needed.”

“Yeah?” And there’s a glimmer of that confidence, that cockiness that shouldn’t be so damn attractive.

“You just made a very bad day better.”

She grins, “Let me try again, I can make it go from better to great.”

And you laugh, just like she wanted you to. The sound warms something in her, has her tugging you back into her.

“Trinity Santos, you might just drive me insane.”

“You’ll love every minute of it.”

“Yeah,” You shift to kiss her, “I think I will.”

#trinity Santos #the Pitt #golden hour challenge #monthlywritingchallenges #Trinity Santos x reader #gn!reader #x reader

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viceofdionysus · 7 days ago

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Jess!!!! AAHHH, this is so good!! I'm grinning, I'm blushing, I'm in love with it!!!

The way you used 3's throughout was so perfect!! That's such a fun movie callback and I enjoyed every time it happened!!

Him shaking her hand!! That's so cute! And so perfectly Clark.

"The eager press of his mouth against yours. Already a hint of familiarity, in his touch and the way he gripped your waist." -> This is so sweet and soft.

THE WAYNE ENTERPRISES MENTION!!! My curiosity is piqued!! Such a fun little nugget!

"And as your eyes drag down - big." -> Excuse me while I take a lap. WHEW

"I definitely want whatever you want." -> LOVE THAT

O H !!! My brain short circuited when he started lifting her up and down on his cock.

The bed breaking is such a perfect detail!!

Jess, my friend, this was amazing! Definitely a favorite read!

— bring me sunshine

clark kent x f!reader

rated e - 3k

tags: good things come in threes, smut with feelings, first time together, oral sex, multiple orgasms, reader mentions being on bc, bit of a size kink, PiV

a/n: in love with the thought of his clark kent-ing slipping because he’s so overcome 💕

It’s been three months since Clark Kent first stepped into Jitters Coffee. Three weeks since you memorized his order - medium mocha, whipped cream, chocolate curls - and plucked up the courage to say hi.

Three days since your first date at Mo’s Cafe. Three hours since the third - conversations and texts spanning the time between.

And three minutes since you came against his tongue.

It’s been three months since Clark Kent first stepped into Jitters Coffee.

Standing a head taller than your regulars. Impossible to miss, and his smile quickly became a fixture in your daydreams.

Three weeks since you memorized his order - medium mocha, whipped cream, chocolate curls - and plucked up the courage to say hi.

Unable to help grinning at the way he leaned over the counter to shake your hand. Old school and sweet, and it stuck with you as much as he did.

Three days since your first date at Mo’s Cafe.

Your number inked carefully on the cup - he had called the second he saw it. Turning when he heard your voice answer, those blue eyes finding yours from across the street as he lingered outside the Daily Planet.

Smiles and salty fries dipped in milkshakes - long conversations lasting after close, Clark’s hands shoved deep in his pockets as he walked you home.

Three hours since the third - phone calls and snuck-in lunch breaks spanning the hours in-between.

Anticipation hummed beneath your skin this morning, as he turned and waved after grabbing his coffee. Heat pooling low, with lingering looks and fingers that brush, entwine, squeeze.

You’ve thought about it long before it happens.

The eager press of his mouth against yours. Already a hint of familiarity, in his touch and the way he gripped your waist. The warm curl of his cologne around you, and the way you parted so easily for him when he deepened the kiss.

His bulk blocking you from the street, feet following when your fingers finally twisted around his tie and tugged.

And three minutes since you came against his tongue.

That had been a surprise.

You hadn’t known what to expect from this corn-fed, Kansas man. Pretty eyes framed beneath dark curls. A kind mouth that smiles too easily.

Flushing at your own sweet words. Two fingers pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, as his head ducked.

The kind of man you could open up to, when you were ready.

Not ready to pick at that knotted web that had lead you to Metropolis from Gotham. The job at Wayne Enterprises that you’re not even sure how to begin to put on your resume - but you think that if anyone would listen, you’d want it to be him.

So sure that you’d be corrupting him.

But there had been an assurance in the way his mouth met yours, as the front door shut behind you. The careful way he lead you through your house, as if he didn’t need the hushed directions murmured out against his lips. As if he already knew where to go.

Your clothes carefully peeled off - reverently, left folded on your bedside table.

“I don’t do this often.” He had confessed, in between kisses.

Between the flit of his tongue against yours. Lips pressed against your cheek, then your jaw. Hungry and unhurried.

Eyes shadowed by curls, when his mouth dragged against your collarbone. Too big for your mattress, having to fold himself to fit.

“Take girls to bed?” Your brow raised, amused -and his eyes had dropped.

“No.” His head shook, a huff. “Yes. Not just that-. Date, I guess.”

The words had sent a spark alighting in your chest. Radiating, filling up the cavern behind your ribs, tracing down your veins until it pulsed between your thighs.

“Too busy writing about what everyone else is doing?” Your lips tugged up at the corners. Fingers loosened his tie, traced along the buttons.

“Something like that.” Another look, before he added, “I just want you to know that I-“

It hung - open ended - but you were ready to fill this, if nothing else.

The first three button tugged free, and your hand pressed against his heart, “I like you too, Clark.”

Something in him loosened. A sigh and a soft smile. Glasses left folded on top of your sweater, as he inched down - your thighs parted around him.

Struck by how blue his eyes were, when they flicked up to meet yours. You don’t know how you missed it the depth of them - a cloudless sky on a bright, summer day - as often as you looked.

But there’s something different about them.

About him, about the mouth that pressed against your hip. Against the elastic band of your underwear, then the damp spot against the silk.

About the deep groan - pitched low - when you arched into him. Breathless as his fingers hooked your underwear to the side. A murmured-out string of small-town interjection, as his thumb slid against slick skin.

As if you were truly seeing him for the first time.

There’s another murmur of his name - more instant - before he’d given in. Head ducking, letting his tongue flatten against your clit.

Groaning at your taste. Something tentative in his movements, until he caught the hitch in your breath, the way your hips moved to meet him.

A hand fitting against the curve of your ass, palm splaying wide, as it tipped you up to meet him. Slipping beneath later, until he could tease the tip of his middle finger between your thighs.

Pleas had tumbled from your lips. Your hand found his free one - flattened against your belly. Dragging it up to the swell of your tits, letting him cup you.

Your own had wound in his hair. Pushing back the thick curls as those eyes fluttered shut. A single one breaking free, dipping across his forehead as he slowly worked you open.

And as the pleasure swelled, your mind flicked back to before. Wondering how he could have you this close this quickly. If he was just a quick learner. Or if there was something more between you - if he felt that connection, too.

The thought left just as quickly. Too much - not enough room left for wondering as the orgasm crested inside. And then, breaking - crashing over you.

Letting your thighs clamp around his ears, and all he did was groan against you. Breathless and unyielding until you were boneless, legs finally splaying wide as stars burst behind closed eyelids.

And somewhere between then and now - in that timeless stretch of space - he wound up beneath you.

An easy shift as he had stretched out on the mattress - helping you hook a thigh over his hip, palms flattened out on his chest.

And it’s as you come back to yourself- you’re not sure how you missed this, either.

A slight twinge in your hips, as your thighs widen to straddle him. His dress shirt tugged fully open now, exposing a peek of his chest and the tight cling of the white undershirt.

Just how broad he is, beneath the ill-fitting clothes and the curl of his shoulders. Not cut, not exactly. You couldn’t picture him hitting the gym as dawn broke, with how busy he was. Just - solid. Impossibly so, as the muscles flexed beneath your spread-wide palms.

And as your eyes drag down - big.

You want him, and you’re not sure he realizes just how much. How the feel of his fingers, buried deep and crooking - the flick of his tongue and the way he was moaning into you - only made your hunger grow.

Nestled in your pillows, content. Smile loose and tasting of you, when you lean forward to kiss him - his arm quick to loop around, keep you close.

Feeling the sharp exhale against your cheek, when your hand drops to work at the silver belt buckle.

“Don’t have to.” He breathes, chasing your mouth when you lean back, “That, I mean, this is enough.”

But he does nothing to stop you. His hand warm, as it spans the back of your neck. Solid as it curves against your spine - the softest nudge until your forehead is pressing to his.

“You don’t want me to?” You coo - the button popped, zipper dragged down.

“Well-” It cuts off as your hand dips beneath - the groan after pitched low. Your fingers dragging down velvet skin, teasing across a thick vein.

The rest come in a rush, as you finally wrap around and squeeze. Marveling at the way he fills your hand, fingers stretching to meet, and you would swear you felt him throb in your grip.

“I definitely want whatever you want.”

You laugh, and he smiles back.

“I want to ride you.” You admit - something that you might have been shy about saying, if it was anyone else.

But the way he looks at you - has been, that little nod and the way his hips lift so you can free him - it sends a rush of boldness through you.

Enough that your hands reach behind. Loosening the pretty bra that you wore for him, the strap twisted against your shoulder. Lifting enough to peel the slick underwear down your thighs, kick them free.

Those eyes dark - stormy - when you’re pressed flush again. Your own admiring the parts of him you can see - flushed skin, the dark hair that leads down.

Human perfection, if there was such a thing.

“It’s been a while for me, too.” He’s nestled against you - thick and hard and warm, “I’m on birth control. Is this okay, or-?”

A roll of your hips against him - bare, and a sharp breath is inhaled through his nose. His eyes finally pulling away - bright, as they drag over you. Lingering on your abdomen, dropping to where he juts between your thighs.

“Yeah.” Clark husks, “Yeah, baby.”

He’s called you other things. Your name - laughing, exasperated, blushing. A soft ‘hey, sunshine’, in greeting in the weeks that had passed, with the way you grin so bright and so early for him.

But this - baby - how soft and sweet and possessive it sounds-

Something inside you flips.

And you think - you just might be falling.

His thumb brushes against your hip, “That’s good. Uh, great. I mean-”

A self-deprecating huff.

“Yes, please.”

Another hushed laugh, your teeth biting down against your bottom lip as you lift up.

Hovering, then - the head of his cock slick, as it rubs against you. Inhaling a breath, preparing to drop down - to take him - when his eyes make an effort to pull up.

Hands moving before you can process them. Catching around your waist, holding you in place.

“Wait, sunshine.” His fingers pinch, voice strained, “Hold on.”

“Clark.” It comes out short. A shift of your hips as a very human impatience thrums through you both, but it’s fruitless. It’s like pushing against a man of steel, impossibly strong.

“I know,” He breathes, “I know. Just, please-”

You slacken, at that. At the way his lips part, the press of his fingers, denting your skin.

Letting him take over. Achingly slow in the way he lowers you down. Your gasp rattling through your chest at how he sinks inside you for the first time - the slick slide and the pressure as you make room for him.

And then, back up.

Only to repeat, again.

A whine ripping free as you take another inch. Lifted, his cock left shining and glossy and a heartbeat of a minute where you’re so painfully empty - before you’re stretched around him again.

Moving you like a doll. You might have more thoughts about that if your head wasn’t so blissfully blank and so wholly consumed, all at once. Eyes snagging on his - how he hasn’t looked away, hasn’t blinked, once.

Fixed on your face. Every expression flicking across it, even the dip of your eyes when you hadn’t been able to help it. Dropping down, needing to see how he looks, half-nestled inside you.

Every second of pleasure that flits across your face, it is caught and captured. And when he shifts you - angling your hips, sinking deeper - it drags him across a space inside you that feels otherworldly.

Your fingers wrap around his wrists, as you beg him not to stop. That experimental bounce becoming intentional. Focused, until you can feel that tension winding deep inside you. Knees pressing into the bed as you try to move with him, that burn in your thighs melding with the mind-numbing pleasure.

Head tipping back, eyes closing when it becomes too much. When you’re left, muscles stringing tight - his name coming in a rush as you clench down hard around him.

His answer comes - breathless and lost as your world closes in around you.

“Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

It’s so different than the first.

You don’t know if you’ve ever come this quickly or felt this full - his pace slowing as your nails dig into his skin. Panting through the waves of bliss that wash from your spine to your toes.

Clark’s breathed out “That was, oh my gosh-“ would make you laugh, if it didn’t feel like he was taking up the space between your lungs.

If your mind wasn’t fuzzy, clinging to him as you lost your rhythm - depending on him to keep moving you through it.

And it’s this, that finally has his eyes dropping. Lingering on the slow bounce of your breasts. Caught on the soaked, slick shine against his curls and the base of his cock - the tight pulse as your pleasure wanes and the clenching promise to take every drop he gives you.

Letting you take over, now. That control loosening with the way you take him to the hilt, molded around him. Your hands lowering to his chest. Feeling the thundering of his heart, a pace that matches yours.

Letting your hips roll. Letting himself watch, stretched out beneath you and just as enchanted as before.

An encouraging sound when your hands lift to tease your tits. His cock jerking inside you, another bitten back curse when a hand drifts down.

His tongue dragging across his lower lip - a rough, bitten-back groan as you part yourself. Fingers splitting to feel him, dragging through your slick. Circling two fingers against your clit.

“You’re beautiful.” He says it so plainly, so suddenly, that you can’t help but believe him, “Should’ve done this before.”

You smile, “Should have given you my number sooner, huh?”

He can only nod, and it only spurns you on.

The third tears through you, soon after - brought on with the with press of your fingers and the slow rock of your hips. His own palms flat against the mattress soon after your second, the tips digging into the sheets.

Teeth gritted like he’s in pain, the rough exhale of breath each time you shift up on your knees.

Drop back down.

Holding himself back, for just a little longer. Until he could feel you squeeze around his cock a second time.

He doesn’t make it long. That thread of self control fraying, snapping.

“Fuck.” It punches from him like a bullet, unexpected and ragged and harsh through soft lips, “You feel so good, baby. I think I’m gonna-”

His hands shift. Feather-light against your hips, like he can’t help but touch you again. Needing an anchor.

A shake of his head, as if retracting his previous statement - amending it.

“You’re going to make me come.”

Goosebumps prickle across your skin, and it only makes you double your efforts. The pleasure still an echoing memory each time your hips bounce against his, each time he rubs against that spot inside you again.

“Want you to, Clark.” It’s breathless, “Please-”

And it’s only now, on the brink, that he moves. Thrusts that stay shallow, deep and grinding inside you as his jaw tightens. The scrape of nails against your skin, muscles strung tight.

And then your name is on his lips in a soft moan. Tugging you down and flush, taking every inch as Clark spills inside you - your name a drawn-own gasp that lingers in the air, after.

It has your back arching, the fullness. The heavy jerk and throb, the panting breath and the leaded, sex-drunk weight of your limbs. Bringing you down to meet him, as his arms envelope you. Hips rocking together, until he finally goes still.

There’s a prolonged and blissful moment, after.

His head tipped back, with you spread out over him. Face nestled in the curve where neck meet shoulder - lips at his throat, feeling the fluttering thrum of his heartbeat as his fingers trace senseless patterns along your spine.

The warmth of him flooding inside you, leaking out - and it almost feels like you’re weightless. Hovering above the mattress. Frozen in time and space.

But then, it becomes more than just a feeling. The soft drag of your toes against the bedsheets, the bent curve of your legs lengthening.

Your eyes slipping open to see how his shirt pools beneath, gravity pulling the fabric down to the bed below.

“Clark?”

His eyes open, and then - you’re falling.

No more than a short distance - a foot or two at best - but your heart is leaping to your throat, and the sound of his back colliding with the mattress sends a shudder through the room.

A groan, and then the worn particle board is cracking in its frame. The legs beneath the footboard snapping, tilting the bed on its axis for a terrifying second before the headboard follows - sending the bed crashing against your rug.

You’re left staring at him, wide-eyed.

His expression matching your own, and it’s so unexpected and his face is so comical that you can’t help the laugh that’s barked out - your palm slapping over your mouth to muffle the sound.

“Oh no.” He gasps - a hand sheepishly drawing over his face, “Oh golly. I’m so sorry. I-”

The briefest hesitation, but then your mouth is tipping to his. Stealing a kiss - too chaste, after everything - and red blooms across his cheeks.

A small grin, as he finishes.

“I can explain.”

I saw superman this week and oh my god clark was so sweet I couldn’t stand it 💖 thank you so much for reading and I really hope you like this!

#Clark Kent #Clark Kent x reader #eupheme #fic rec #superman 2025 #fic comment #queue

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viceofdionysus · 8 days ago

Text

AAHH!! This was so good!! I love the banter and the relationship between them so much!!

Your descriptions of shirtless John??? I needed a minute after that. They were were incredible. I loved how once she notices how hot John is, she can't stop.

"You feel like an old victorian man who forced ladies to hide their ankles" Okay, I love this. It made me giggle, but also I 100% understand. He has to cover those tits up or no one will act right.

The confrontation!!! I loved how upset John was and how he confronted her about avoiding him!

"You lean over the console, grab his face and smash your mouth to his." YES!!! Get it girl!! I loved how quickly he goes from stunned to into it!

They're so desperate for each other!! I love to see it! And the MARKING!! Yes!!

I love how you wrote John's need for praise and validation in this! It's subtle, but also clearly there.

⟡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 :)

#starrbishops #fic comment #John walker #John walker x reader #tb*#queue

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