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Pairing: Thor Odinson x OFC Fallon Smith (post Ragnarok - no Thanos)
Warnings: threats of violence. This story deals with themes of past spousal abuse to the extremes. There is a chance that all chapters may deal with tough or triggering themes. Please read with caution.
A/N: This chapter courtesy of Monday Wips on Patreon!
~
Thor stood at the head of the table in the conference room of the town hall, arms crossed over his chest, attempting and failing to not glare at his sister.
“And you trust him?”
Him being the FBI plant with the alias of Harper Lee, who’d spent the last week building a website for New Asgard.
Loki laughed. “No further than I could throw him.”
Thor didn’t snidely remark that she could likely throw the man quite far, even though he wanted to, and instead lightly tapped the wooden surface of the table.
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Joaquín has finally been returned home after being kidnapped. But he's changed, and he's not sure how you're going to feel about it.
Content: previous kidnapping, medical recovery, human experiment, human wings, cuddling, kiss.
For @fluffyjuly Day 16 - Wings | “You look amazing”
Masterlist | Marvel | Joaquín Torres
It'd been a month since Sam had pulled Joaquín out of the underground science lab he'd been kept in and three since you'd last seen him, happy and waving from his car before he was taken.
Sam had tried to prepare you for the changes in him, both physical and mental, but there really was no way to prepare for what had happened.
You could see him now, through the glass viewing window, in the physio therapy room where he was balancing carefully on his feet, finding his centre again.
And behind him, poking out through his basketball shirt, were two enormous wings. They were a rainbow of neutral hues, from black, through browns and taupes to a crisp white. The wings were folded against his spine, high above his head and brushing the back of his legs.
You'd spent such a long time feeling cold at the thought of Joaquín being gone, dead, not just in the line of duty but suffering somewhere you couldn't reach him. Couldn't tell him how you truly felt.
But now he was in front of you it came welling up and a sob ripped from your throat, your palm pressing against the glass.
"You can go in, if you want." Sam let his hand rest reassuringly on your shoulder.
"Does he even want to see me?"
"Why wouldn't he? Go on, I'm sick of listening to him talk about you."
"What — "
Through the glass, Joaquín took a break, leaning heavily to one side and drinking from his sports bottle and made eye contact. His face broke into a wide smile, his eyes lighting up and, behind him, his wings moved. At first it looked like a ripple, and then they shuddered open, spreading behind him in a sweep, and he began trying to walk over to the door on imbalanced feet.
"Joaquín!" You pushed through the door, unable to keep yourself away any longer.
"Hey, Angel, I missed you."
You flung yourself at him, forgetting about his balance and sent you both sprawling on the floor, tangled together with his wings wide beneath you.
"I missed you too, Quino." You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your face into his skin, feeling the feathers tickling your face.
"I thought maybe, it'd be weird to see me…and you might be scared."
You sat up, trying not to think about how you were now straddling his middle in a very undignified and unprofessional way.
"I was scared, but scared you wouldn't want to see me."
"We're idiots," you laughed, "and I could never be scared of you. In fact, I think your wings are beautiful, you look amazing, I can't believe it."
Joaquín's face softened, his hands sliding to sit on your waist.
"You really think so?"
"I know so."
And then he sat up again, wrapping you together and holding you close, his wings circling you both.
In DC | Enemies With Benefits | Bucky Barnes x Reader | Drabble
Despite your reservations, Bucky insists that you both crash at his DC apartment after a long mission.
Content: our enemies to lovers being very fluff (its just the fatigue, okay!) weird food combos, super sleepy Bucky and Reader. Pet names "baby doll" and "doll".
For @fluffyjuly day 15 - Sleepy | “Hold still for a moment”
And for @juniebjonesin picnic prompts "shouldn’t work, but it does.” / “Kind of like us.” / “Don’t say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Masterlist | Marvel | Enemies With Benefits| Bucky Barnes
"Are you sure this is okay?" You yawned, trying to hide it behind the back of your hand.
"Yeah, of course, why wouldn't it be?" Bucky unlocked the door of his DC apartment, a luxury he'd been unable to let go of, despite spending most of his time at the New Avengers Watchtower.
"I don't know, it's just, this is your private space." You sat heavily on the leather couch and half-heartedly kicked at your boots, very aware of how sacred this space must be and how delicate the push and pull of your relationship has been.
You were also aware you were still in your tactical outfit in his nice, neat, living room, but you were too tired to care too much, having been awake for almost thirty-six hours.
"Well, you had to see it sometime. Hold still for a moment." Bucky sat on the footrest, bringing your boot into his lap and carefully unlacing each in turn before taking them back to a rack by the door.
"Thank you, for sharing it with me."
"It's just an apartment, babydoll," Bucky chuckled, shrugging out of his jacket and you ignored the casual way he'd started dropping pet names into your conversations.
Maybe it was only here in DC where you could be like this, rather than snapping and snarling at each other.
"I know," you watched him from the couch, propping your head on your hand, "but you deserve your privacy, Buck, I'd never want to intrude."
"You never could," he kissed the top of your head, and a warm feeling spread out from the spot at the knowledge that he really did trust you, this wasn't just a game in the tower or a fun distraction. "Do you want something to eat? A shower maybe? Then we should sleep?"
"Food, please?"
He smiled indulgently at you, "I've got some pickles and… yoghurt," Bucky sniffed the yoghurt and nodded, putting it on the counter, "and some leftovers from Ben's Chili Bowl and …"
"I'll take the yoghurt I guess." You dragged yourself to the counter and noticed the floor beneath you was warm. "Congressman Barnes has underfloor heating." You smirked.
"Thought your feet might be sore, I can turn it off and let your toes freeze if you like?" He smiled at you again and let you poke at him with a socked foot under the counter.
"Nah, it's nice. I like seeing this fancy side of you."
"I'm eating pickles." He said, as if that changed anything.
"I dunno, I like this you, domestic, settled, it shouldn't work but it does."
"Kind of like pickles and yoghurt."
"Kind of like us." You raised an eyebrow.
"Don't say that like it's a bad thing."
"It's not, I said like it! You're softening my edges." You dipped some bread into the chilli sauce.
"I softened your edges? Wow." Bucky laughed, "how rough were those edges, doll?"
You stuck your tongue out at him, your toe poking the meat of his thigh under the counter.
"I guess we balance each other out."
"I agree."
You ate quietly for a minute, the odd picnic at least satisfying your hunger briefly.
"Bedtime?" He asked, eventually.
"Bedtime." You agreed, taking his hand and following him through the dark house.
Author's Note: This is for @the-blind-assassin-12 A picture is worth 1000 words Challenge and the picture I got is posted below. Thank you for hosting sweets! This was so fun! I can't wait to do another! Thank you alll so much for reading and sharing! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰
Warnings: soft and sweet fluff, reader is pregnant and Djarin is doting and really slightly obsessed...which we love, Grogu is super cute as always!
PS I don't know what it is about this photo but I find it so sexy...
“Where the heck…?”
Grogu cocks his head to the side, his dark eyes blinking as he watches you search for the small stool.
“I could have sworn it was here…”
You push aside a bag of weapons. “Ah ha!”
Grogu’s small squeak of surprise makes you laugh.
“If we make too much noise,” you whisper to Grogu. “We’ll get in trouble. We have to be quiet.”
Grogu’s ears fall back and he presses his lips together. “Don’t worry. It’ll be worth it. They’re finally ripe!”
You carefully free the stool of it’s hiding spot and tip toe toward the cabin door, peeking around the edge. “It looks like he might be asleep…”
Grogu stands between your legs, doing the same. You secure the stool against the side of your body, trying to hide it as much as possible before you walk out.
“Come on buddy, let’s go pick some oranges!”
He waddles out the door after you, both of you passing quietly by Djarin who’s seated comfortably against the side of the cabin, seemingly resting.
You don’t notice his helmet turn as his gaze follows or hear his exasperated sigh before he asks, “what are they up to now?”
You can smell the oranges before the tree comes into view and when you round the cabin to the back it sits nestled between some rocks, growing tall against the backdrop of the mountains beyond.
Once you find a flat spot on the ground you set the stool down, turning to Grogu with a smile.
“I can’t wait for you to try one!”
He coos and holds out his open hands. “Ok, let me just get up here….”
You’re just finding your balance on the stool when you feel a pair of strong, warm hands at your waist.
“If you’re trying to give me a heart attack, it just might work.”
His words are soft against the shell of your ear as he presses your back to his chest.
“I just wanted some oranges,” you pout, turning to face him and resting your hands on his wide shoulders.
“What did I tell you about climbing on things,” he replies, helping you off the stool. “And lifting…”
You place a palm on his armored chest. “I know, I know…lifting heavy things and carrying too much and not eating or drinking enough and making sure I rest…”
“I love you,” he whispers, his hand gently sliding along your hip to the soft curve of your stomach. “All three of you.”
He looks Grogu’s way, chuckling as he watches him study the oranges on the tree then focuses on you again, his hand caressing the gentle bump you’re growing.
The sweet moment is disrupted when you hear Grogu straining, his hand outstretched toward the top of the tree. With a disgruntled sound he falls back just before a bunch of oranges fall loose of the tree and onto the ground.
“He’s making me look bad,” Djarin grumbles.
You raise an eyebrow. “How?”
“I could have done that!” he says, hands resting on his hips.
“Not like that!” you tease.
Even though you can’t see his face you know he’s giving you a challenging glare.
“But I can do it like this,” he says and pulls out his blaster, masterfully aiming and shooting down three oranges in succession. Each one falls to the ground, not a spot singed and even a leaf or two intact.
Grogu’s ears fall and he looks at you with big eyes.
“Aww, you did great kid!” you say, patting his head softly. “Thanks!”
You start to reach for an orange but Djarin swoops in and grabs some before you can and you give him a pointed look. “I can bend down!”
“But you don’t have to,” he says in answer, ushering you back toward the cabin with his free hand splayed at your lower back.
Grogu follows behind already digging into an orange.
Once you’re seated comfortably just outside the cabin, cushioned by the blanket Djarin insisted you use, you show Grogu how to properly peel the orange.
“See,” you say, digging your thumb into the soft skin. “Just get it started like this then you can pull the off the rest.”
Grogu’s ears move up and down like antennae as he watches you, then he takes his own orange and sticks one of his fingers in. Some juice squirts out into his face, and he squeals before falling backward.
“Good start,” you giggle.
He tries again and stabs holes in the orange more than peels it before giving up and just biting into it, skin, and all.
“That works too” you smile.
Djarin comes back outside to join you, cup in hand.
“Freshly squeezed,” he says as he hands it to you.
Your eyes light up and you take a sip. “Delicious! How did you manage it?”
“Don’t ask,” he says and you hear the smile in his voice.
He sits down next to you then pulls the helmet from his head. You immediately run your fingers through his hair, tousling the already mussed curls. You pop an orange slice into your mouth, moaning around the juicy and sweet taste.
Feeling the weight of his gaze you turn your face his way, holding up a wedge of orange. His lips part and you feed him the piece, leaning closer when you notice some juice escape. You kiss the corner of his mouth.
“Thank you.”
It’s a whisper against his lips and he kisses you, tasting of sweet orange.
“For?” he murmurs as his fingers trace the column of your neck before splaying along your cheek, thumb delicately brushing your bottom lip.
“Searching the galaxy for an orange tree,…” you murmur, kissing him again. “And bringing it here.” Another kiss. “And planting it and making sure it grew.”
His eyes close, dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks as his smile meets your kisses.
“I told you,” he says softly. “I would give you the world. You simply have to ask.”
Author's Note: This is for @the-blind-assassin-12 A picture is worth 1000 words Challenge and the picture I got is posted below. Thank you for hosting sweets! This was so fun! I can't wait to do another! Thank you alll so much for reading and sharing! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰
Warnings: soft and sweet fluff, reader is pregnant and Djarin is doting and really slightly obsessed...which we love, Grogu is super cute as always!
PS I don't know what it is about this photo but I find it so sexy...
“Where the heck…?”
Grogu cocks his head to the side, his dark eyes blinking as he watches you search for the small stool.
“I could have sworn it was here…”
You push aside a bag of weapons. “Ah ha!”
Grogu’s small squeak of surprise makes you laugh.
“If we make too much noise,” you whisper to Grogu. “We’ll get in trouble. We have to be quiet.”
Grogu’s ears fall back and he presses his lips together. “Don’t worry. It’ll be worth it. They’re finally ripe!”
You carefully free the stool of it’s hiding spot and tip toe toward the cabin door, peeking around the edge. “It looks like he might be asleep…”
Grogu stands between your legs, doing the same. You secure the stool against the side of your body, trying to hide it as much as possible before you walk out.
“Come on buddy, let’s go pick some oranges!”
He waddles out the door after you, both of you passing quietly by Djarin who’s seated comfortably against the side of the cabin, seemingly resting.
You don’t notice his helmet turn as his gaze follows or hear his exasperated sigh before he asks, “what are they up to now?”
You can smell the oranges before the tree comes into view and when you round the cabin to the back it sits nestled between some rocks, growing tall against the backdrop of the mountains beyond.
Once you find a flat spot on the ground you set the stool down, turning to Grogu with a smile.
“I can’t wait for you to try one!”
He coos and holds out his open hands. “Ok, let me just get up here….”
You’re just finding your balance on the stool when you feel a pair of strong, warm hands at your waist.
“If you’re trying to give me a heart attack, it just might work.”
His words are soft against the shell of your ear as he presses your back to his chest.
“I just wanted some oranges,” you pout, turning to face him and resting your hands on his wide shoulders.
“What did I tell you about climbing on things,” he replies, helping you off the stool. “And lifting…”
You place a palm on his armored chest. “I know, I know…lifting heavy things and carrying too much and not eating or drinking enough and making sure I rest…”
“I love you,” he whispers, his hand gently sliding along your hip to the soft curve of your stomach. “All three of you.”
He looks Grogu’s way, chuckling as he watches him study the oranges on the tree then focuses on you again, his hand caressing the gentle bump you’re growing.
The sweet moment is disrupted when you hear Grogu straining, his hand outstretched toward the top of the tree. With a disgruntled sound he falls back just before a bunch of oranges fall loose of the tree and onto the ground.
“He’s making me look bad,” Djarin grumbles.
You raise an eyebrow. “How?”
“I could have done that!” he says, hands resting on his hips.
“Not like that!” you tease.
Even though you can’t see his face you know he’s giving you a challenging glare.
“But I can do it like this,” he says and pulls out his blaster, masterfully aiming and shooting down three oranges in succession. Each one falls to the ground, not a spot singed and even a leaf or two intact.
Grogu’s ears fall and he looks at you with big eyes.
“Aww, you did great kid!” you say, patting his head softly. “Thanks!”
You start to reach for an orange but Djarin swoops in and grabs some before you can and you give him a pointed look. “I can bend down!”
“But you don’t have to,” he says in answer, ushering you back toward the cabin with his free hand splayed at your lower back.
Grogu follows behind already digging into an orange.
Once you’re seated comfortably just outside the cabin, cushioned by the blanket Djarin insisted you use, you show Grogu how to properly peel the orange.
“See,” you say, digging your thumb into the soft skin. “Just get it started like this then you can pull the off the rest.”
Grogu’s ears move up and down like antennae as he watches you, then he takes his own orange and sticks one of his fingers in. Some juice squirts out into his face, and he squeals before falling backward.
“Good start,” you giggle.
He tries again and stabs holes in the orange more than peels it before giving up and just biting into it, skin, and all.
“That works too” you smile.
Djarin comes back outside to join you, cup in hand.
“Freshly squeezed,” he says as he hands it to you.
Your eyes light up and you take a sip. “Delicious! How did you manage it?”
“Don’t ask,” he says and you hear the smile in his voice.
He sits down next to you then pulls the helmet from his head. You immediately run your fingers through his hair, tousling the already mussed curls. You pop an orange slice into your mouth, moaning around the juicy and sweet taste.
Feeling the weight of his gaze you turn your face his way, holding up a wedge of orange. His lips part and you feed him the piece, leaning closer when you notice some juice escape. You kiss the corner of his mouth.
“Thank you.”
It’s a whisper against his lips and he kisses you, tasting of sweet orange.
“For?” he murmurs as his fingers trace the column of your neck before splaying along your cheek, thumb delicately brushing your bottom lip.
“Searching the galaxy for an orange tree,…” you murmur, kissing him again. “And bringing it here.” Another kiss. “And planting it and making sure it grew.”
His eyes close, dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks as his smile meets your kisses.
“I told you,” he says softly. “I would give you the world. You simply have to ask.”
This was so heartwarming and cute, but the moment that absolutely melted me was the ending when it turns out Din found an orange sapling for you somewhere among the galaxy and planted it for you! 🥹❤️
Pairing: Din Djarin x reader/The Mandalorian x reader (princess!reader)
Word Count: 1000
Summary: I didn't add much plot here bc I wanted to keep it to the 1k word count but here's some back story: basically Mando got a job to rescue you (a princess) from the Hutts and he accepts it begrudingly and after the successful (of course) rescue he finds you're sassy and lovely and perfect and he's mad about it. He basically wants to keep you locked up (maybe he's a slight bit darkish) and safe until (if) he returns you to your father but you don't make things easy for him and maybe just maybe you want to stay.
Author's Note: This is for @the-blind-assassin-12 A picture is worth 1000 words challenge and the picture below. Thank you bunches for hosting sweets! I didn't take it quite as literal this time- just the idea of a 'game.' Thank you all so much for reading and sharing! Much love always!❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰
Warnings: reader is sassy, Mando is maybe a bit darkish but we love him for it, lots of tension and flirting, it's sexy and definitely spicy
You unlock the door, easing it open while the hinges let out a groan. Your pulse races as you pause. Nothing. Yet.
You race down the corridor of the ship toward where you remember the food storage to be.
After searching as quietly as possible you find the hidden exotic fruits from Coruscant, snatching one and devouring it. You lick each finger clean, so distracted that you forget why you shouldn’t be in here.
Until a soft growl shatters the quiet.
Slowly, you turn and there filling the doorway, broad shoulders spanning the width, arms braced on the frame, is the Mandalorian.
He’s breathing hard, and you can’t help but drink in the sight of him. Even covered in armor from head to toe it does nothing to hide the thickness of his thighs and the wide spread of his hands and long fingers.
His head cocks to the side. “Enjoying the view?”
“Shouldn’t you be asleep.”
That’s all the answer you’ll give him as you reach for another fruit, taking a bite and letting some juice trickle down the corner of your mouth.
He drops his hands, fingers flexing at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to grab you. You take a step back as he moves closer. With his next breath he has you caged against the wall, palms flat on either side of your head.
His hand curves around the back of your neck and he dips his head with a deep inhale. Your breath hitches and you lick your lips, savoring that last taste of fruit that dripped from your mouth.
He hisses out a curse. “You’re playing a dangerous game Princess.”
“And it looks like I’m winning,” you purr as you slip the fruit between your bodies and take another bite.
“Want some?” you ask after your tongue traces your lips again.
You hold up what’s left of the fruit, expression full of taunting as you lean into him.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says, voice gritty with his barely contained restraint. “You’re going to go back to the storage room and go to sleep.”
Silence… and in it only the rasp of your mingled heavy breaths. You wait, studying him and even with his face hidden you can feel the heat radiating off him, see the tension in his shoulders.
“And what are you going to do?” you ask, bringing the fruit to your lips once again.
He tracks the movement before he grabs it from your hand.
“You could have just asked nicely,” you smile. “I’ll share.”
Even though the fruit is in his hand you lean forward and take one last bite, slowly, licking at the juices before they run down his gloved fingers.
“What,” he grits out, “do you think you’re doing?”
“Just playing the game,” you croon.
A low growl escapes him. “Listen to me very carefully.”
His arm snakes around your waist and he drags you into his armored chest, ghosting the back of his knuckles along the curve of your spine. You shiver.
“Keep pushing…” he warns.
You tentatively lift your fingers, curling them under the bottom edge of his helmet. His breath hitches and he goes still.
“And?” you ask, lashes lowering as you deliberately begin to pull upward, your eyes tracking every inch of skin you reveal.
His palm slides to the dip of your waist, fingers splaying wide and tightening in their grip.
“Princess,” he groans, voice dropping lower, rougher.
You pull a little more, exposing the strong column of his neck. His fingers squeeze harder, his other hand still resting above your head, fingertips digging into the metal wall of the ship, nearly bending it under the force.
His grip loosens and his hand drifts lower, toying with the gathered fabric of your nightdress.
Your eyes fall shut at the brush of his fingers over your bare skin, but you continue your gradual reveal of his face, lifting the helmet just high enough to show his lips. He presses even closer, his warmth seeping through and searing your skin.
Just the sight of his mouth makes sparks ignite through your body, his lips parted with every ragged breath he takes as you keep pushing…keep pulling. His nose comes next and you memorize the shape, holding your breath until your eyes lock with his, deep brown and framed by even darker lashes.
His helmet falls with a loud thud to the floor, and your fingers reach for his mussed hair. Cautiously you slide them through, relishing in the way your name leaves his lips in a raspy prayer.
“Take off your gloves,” you say. “I need to feel your skin against mine.”
He sways closer, his eyes dropping to your lips and lingering even as he releases you briefly and tugs the gloves from his hands. His palms once again flatten on either side of your head as if he’s afraid to touch you.
His chest rises and falls faster, hands flexing until they fall to your waist. His touch is gentle for only a second before it’s everywhere; tracing the curve of your back, the softness of your shoulder, the edge of your collarbone.
You’re aching for him, your gazes locked as you lean in, needing to feel the press of his lips against yours. His lips hover just centimeters away, his warm breath fanning your cheek, his calloused fingertips trailing along your delicate neck. His head dips, lips brushing yours in a barely there kiss.
“This little game you’re playing,” he whispers against your lips.…”I’ll win.”
His free hand drops to your waist to pull your hips flush to his. “And when I do, I’m going to have you every way I want.”
You feel him hard and throbbing pressed between your legs and you can’t stop the roll of your hips and the whimper that escapes your lips.
“And by the time I’m done the only name you’ll remember is mine, and all the ways I made you scream it.”
Pairing: Din Djarin x reader/The Mandalorian x reader (princess!reader)
Word Count: 1000
Summary: I didn't add much plot here bc I wanted to keep it to the 1k word count but here's some back story: basically Mando got a job to rescue you (a princess) from the Hutts and he accepts it begrudingly and after the successful (of course) rescue he finds you're sassy and lovely and perfect and he's mad about it. He basically wants to keep you locked up (maybe he's a slight bit darkish) and safe until (if) he returns you to your father but you don't make things easy for him and maybe just maybe you want to stay.
Author's Note: This is for @the-blind-assassin-12 A picture is worth 1000 words challenge and the picture below. Thank you bunches for hosting sweets! I didn't take it quite as literal this time- just the idea of a 'game.' Thank you all so much for reading and sharing! Much love always!❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰
Warnings: reader is sassy, Mando is maybe a bit darkish but we love him for it, lots of tension and flirting, it's sexy and definitely spicy
You unlock the door, easing it open while the hinges let out a groan. Your pulse races as you pause. Nothing. Yet.
You race down the corridor of the ship toward where you remember the food storage to be.
After searching as quietly as possible you find the hidden exotic fruits from Coruscant, snatching one and devouring it. You lick each finger clean, so distracted that you forget why you shouldn’t be in here.
Until a soft growl shatters the quiet.
Slowly, you turn and there filling the doorway, broad shoulders spanning the width, arms braced on the frame, is the Mandalorian.
He’s breathing hard, and you can’t help but drink in the sight of him. Even covered in armor from head to toe it does nothing to hide the thickness of his thighs and the wide spread of his hands and long fingers.
His head cocks to the side. “Enjoying the view?”
“Shouldn’t you be asleep.”
That’s all the answer you’ll give him as you reach for another fruit, taking a bite and letting some juice trickle down the corner of your mouth.
He drops his hands, fingers flexing at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to grab you. You take a step back as he moves closer. With his next breath he has you caged against the wall, palms flat on either side of your head.
His hand curves around the back of your neck and he dips his head with a deep inhale. Your breath hitches and you lick your lips, savoring that last taste of fruit that dripped from your mouth.
He hisses out a curse. “You’re playing a dangerous game Princess.”
“And it looks like I’m winning,” you purr as you slip the fruit between your bodies and take another bite.
“Want some?” you ask after your tongue traces your lips again.
You hold up what’s left of the fruit, expression full of taunting as you lean into him.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says, voice gritty with his barely contained restraint. “You’re going to go back to the storage room and go to sleep.”
Silence… and in it only the rasp of your mingled heavy breaths. You wait, studying him and even with his face hidden you can feel the heat radiating off him, see the tension in his shoulders.
“And what are you going to do?” you ask, bringing the fruit to your lips once again.
He tracks the movement before he grabs it from your hand.
“You could have just asked nicely,” you smile. “I’ll share.”
Even though the fruit is in his hand you lean forward and take one last bite, slowly, licking at the juices before they run down his gloved fingers.
“What,” he grits out, “do you think you’re doing?”
“Just playing the game,” you croon.
A low growl escapes him. “Listen to me very carefully.”
His arm snakes around your waist and he drags you into his armored chest, ghosting the back of his knuckles along the curve of your spine. You shiver.
“Keep pushing…” he warns.
You tentatively lift your fingers, curling them under the bottom edge of his helmet. His breath hitches and he goes still.
“And?” you ask, lashes lowering as you deliberately begin to pull upward, your eyes tracking every inch of skin you reveal.
His palm slides to the dip of your waist, fingers splaying wide and tightening in their grip.
“Princess,” he groans, voice dropping lower, rougher.
You pull a little more, exposing the strong column of his neck. His fingers squeeze harder, his other hand still resting above your head, fingertips digging into the metal wall of the ship, nearly bending it under the force.
His grip loosens and his hand drifts lower, toying with the gathered fabric of your nightdress.
Your eyes fall shut at the brush of his fingers over your bare skin, but you continue your gradual reveal of his face, lifting the helmet just high enough to show his lips. He presses even closer, his warmth seeping through and searing your skin.
Just the sight of his mouth makes sparks ignite through your body, his lips parted with every ragged breath he takes as you keep pushing…keep pulling. His nose comes next and you memorize the shape, holding your breath until your eyes lock with his, deep brown and framed by even darker lashes.
His helmet falls with a loud thud to the floor, and your fingers reach for his mussed hair. Cautiously you slide them through, relishing in the way your name leaves his lips in a raspy prayer.
“Take off your gloves,” you say. “I need to feel your skin against mine.”
He sways closer, his eyes dropping to your lips and lingering even as he releases you briefly and tugs the gloves from his hands. His palms once again flatten on either side of your head as if he’s afraid to touch you.
His chest rises and falls faster, hands flexing until they fall to your waist. His touch is gentle for only a second before it’s everywhere; tracing the curve of your back, the softness of your shoulder, the edge of your collarbone.
You’re aching for him, your gazes locked as you lean in, needing to feel the press of his lips against yours. His lips hover just centimeters away, his warm breath fanning your cheek, his calloused fingertips trailing along your delicate neck. His head dips, lips brushing yours in a barely there kiss.
“This little game you’re playing,” he whispers against your lips.…”I’ll win.”
His free hand drops to your waist to pull your hips flush to his. “And when I do, I’m going to have you every way I want.”
You feel him hard and throbbing pressed between your legs and you can’t stop the roll of your hips and the whimper that escapes your lips.
“And by the time I’m done the only name you’ll remember is mine, and all the ways I made you scream it.”
His fingers squeeze harder, his other hand still resting above your head, fingertips digging into the metal wall of the ship, nearly bending it under the force.
I got goosebumps 😍 I love the vibe you established in just 1K, Jo!! I think everyone wins in this game they’re playing 😏😏😏
Red Scrubs | Bob Reynolds x OXE Experiment!Reader | One shot 1.3k
Bob wakes up next to you in the desert with no memory of what happened in the vault.
Content: canon-divergent, what if Bob wasn't the only experiment? What if you were worse! Bob is a sweetheart. Memory loss.
For @fluffyjuly Day 14 - “You stayed?”
And @juniebjonesin picnic prompts - quiet affection / yearning
Masterlist | Marvel | Bob Reynolds
It's hot, it's far too hot and Bob isn't entirely sure what he's going to do about that but considering you've been out cold for almost an hour, he figures it's probably his responsibility.
He'd woken in the blazing sun wearing hospital scrubs with what looks like bullet holes in them. His are blue-green, yours are red.
Something itches in the back of his mind that you need to run, but he's not entirely sure from what. Just a growing sense of dread and a desire to be literally anywhere else.
He can see dust in the distance, cars driving along a road maybe? And part of him knows that could be the easiest way out of this. Following the road to a town and then calling for help.
But he also can't remember who he's running from, what if they follow him? What if they answer?
Bob doesn't have the best relationship with the police and he's not keen to see if it's changed since the last time he was cuffed in the back of a cruiser. He's fairly sure there's at least one warrant out for him and he isn't overly keen to find out if it's still outstanding.
There is a building though, and from this distance, it looks abandoned. At least it might shelter you both from the sun for a while.
With some effort Bob rolls you onto your back, checking your face and temples for any bleeding. It's a beautiful face, one that tugs on his memories in a way that has his gut twisting. But nothing clear surfaces.
It tracks, his memory has been terrible for years, since he started using, and he doubts that whatevers happened to him in between will have helped.
Unlike his scrubs, yours are mostly intacked, apart from one hole at your shoulder. There's no blood there, but there is a neat circle punched out of the fabric. Looking down. He can see a wider circle on his own chest in the same place.
Did you get in front of him? And then he what? Took the rest of the bullets and lived? Whatever you'd both taken it had to be crazy.
At least there was no blood, just your floppy body.
"Hey," he taps your cheek gently, "hey wake up."
Your eyelids flutter, your hand shooting up to wrap around his wrist, and then you're sighing into his palm.
"Can you walk?"
You shake your head, but Bob manages to get you half to your feet, your weight leaning against him as you both stumble through the dry grass and rocks of wherever the hell you ended up.
The building looks further away now if possible. But together you pick your way towards it.
On closer inspection, it looks like an abandoned garage, maybe there'll be some running water, what if there's food?!
Bob picks up the pace and beside him you try to keep up, your feet dragging.
He doesn't remember what kind of man he was before what is clearly the worst trip of his life, but he knows he'd never leave you behind. He knows he's not the kind of man to leave anyone behind, but certainly not you. With renewed energy, he picks you up, hooking his arm under your legs.
He takes a stumbling step, but then he finds his balance. Despite the heat you tuck your face against his neck, your breathing shallow. It feels sticky on his skin but the mostly regular inhale and exhale helps him keep a slow, but solid, pace.
He was right, the garage is abandoned. A calender displaying a mostly naked woman tells him it was last used in 2019.
As soon as he has you settled in a shady spot, he tears it off the wall and drops it into the waste paper bin.
Mercifully the tap is still working, ice cold water bangs out of the pipes, rattling the entire sink. He runs it for a few minutes, just in case, and then fills a cracked mug to the brim, sipping slowly.
He can feel your eyes on him from the main garage room, so he brings the mug through and holds it up to your dry lips.
"You stayed with me." You croak the words out slowly and it takes Bob a moment to process them.
"I couldn't leave you in the desert."
"Not just the desert, before."
"I don't really remember before." He hands you the mug so you can have the last drink.
"Oh," you close your eyes and sigh.
You look sad again and he isn't sure why, he wants to make you happy.
He saw a few cubbies in the backroom, maybe there's food.
Bob hurries around, refilling the mug and looking for anything left behind, returning after a few minutes with some Twinkies and a fruit roll up.
"You must be hungry."
You crack an eye and take the offered treat, eating it slowly and savouring every bite.
The calm look on your face makes Bob feel better too, and he wants to keep it that way for as long as possible.
"Let's stay here for a while, then we'll figure out our next steps."
Your hands moves across the concrete floor and covers his, there's dirt beneath your nails and your skin is dry, but the weight of your palm is a reassurance he'll be searching for for a while.
"Thank you, Ba—Bob." You close your eyes again, catching your words, and there's that tug at Bob's memories again, making his stomach churn.
"You're welcome."
Before he can process anything else, the door opens and a cross looking man in leather is marching in, followed by a familiar group of sorry looking anti-heroes.
"Bob!" There's a blonde woman with a bloody nose and a dirty face looking very excited to see him.
His memory pulls again.
Yelena.
She's wriggling in her handcuffs to try and get closer to him and the action reminds him of something. A tunnel, no, a tower, a silo, an elevator shaft.
"Uh—hi," he didn't think he could possibly feel anymore confused than he already was.
"This is Bob?"
"Yes, Bob!" The group choruses, and a tall man with a scruffy beard a dust bin lid — no — that's Captain America — was Captain America follows up with a muttered, "how many times, Bucky."
That's who he is, the man in leather, Congressman Bucky Barnes, what on earth is he doing —
His train of thought is interrupted by a loud ringing and Barnes answering the phone.
"Yes," his voice softens, "Mel… yes, I found them."
There's a series of protesting noises from the assembled, tied up, group.
"If I tell you that I found your experiments too, you'll do the right thing, won't you — yes plural."
Barnes squints over at you both and Bob can feel you shrink behind him, curling your body inward, arms around your knees. He leans over, covering you from Barnes' eyeline.
"Two, Bob and I dunno, Bob's friend. He's in blue, yes."
Bob looks down at his scrubs.
"— and she's in red. Yes she, yes red — oh. Right. Okay."
Barnes puts the phone down and slides it into his back pocket.
"Robert?"
"You can just call me Bob."
"Your friend there, what's her name?"
"I can't remember," bob shrugged.
"Ma'am, do you remember?" He's obviously trying to be nice, but he looks ready to fight.
"Uh— I'm not sure, I just remember following Bob out of that basement and then now I'm here."
Barnes looks at everyone and circles a finger. "We need to get out of this building, you too Robert."
Bob looks at you instead, tears in your eyes.
"Why are they frightened?"
"I don't know," you choke out. Maybe you do know, maybe you've seen a video of why and maybe you can feel why bubbling in your body the more frightened you become.
"Robert," Barnes says gently, "she may be dangerous, why don't you come outside with us?"
Even Yelena is looking pointedly at the door, imploring him with her eyes.
